Corn, greens and teachable moments

Our shop vac died. Gage and I went to town and shopped for a new one. Of course, that made him hungry, so we went to Cracker Barrel. I have been trying to teach him manners, empathy, respect...all that stuff that seems to escape teenagers these days...so I strive to nab opportunities in real life and turn them into educational moments.

Sitting at the table beside us was an older couple who had come in to eat their lunch. Everything was going grand until the waitress (who was also a new employee) brought them corn instead of cornbread stuffing and horror of horrors - forgot the vinegar for their greens. Their unhappy griping, then demeaning words sure weren't nice, and something that could have been taken care of with a simple reminder or request had two managers and waitress hovering over their table, apologizing over and over.

I looked at my 14 yr old. His eyes were huge. I asked him if that was the proper way to handle a mistake. He looked at me, shook his head and said, "it's just a bowl of corn".

Yes, the waitress made a mistake. No, it is not improper to ask for what you ordered or to ask for it to be fixed. But, it sure is improper and shows a great lack of character when you berate someone. Now, the waitress was nervous, scared and I'll guarantee you that she will never forget their faces should they ever be seated in her section again.

So, thank you to Mr and Mrs X. You provided the perfect opportunity to remind my son that life is short and precious, and that he sure doesn't want to be remembered for acting nasty over a bowl of corn and some vinegar for his greens.

Buy the pie...

Isaiah 32:17 and 18
And the work of righteousness shall be peace; and the effect of righteousness quietness and assurance for ever. And my people shall dwell in a peaceable habitation, and in sure dwellings, and in quiet resting places.

I am a people pleaser. My goal is to make everyone, as much as possible, happy. I do not like for folks to be upset with me, or to think I haven't done my part.

But when I try to accomplish too much, I run dry, get anxious, feel stressed. I become overwhelmed. My feelings start to shut down. I end up procrastinating and hide.

And when I do too much for others, I don't leave enough time for myself. I want to do it all. I want to be the great wife, the loving mom, the caring daughter, the supportive sister, the faithful Godly servant, the I'll-be-there-for-you-friend, the smiling stranger, and I want to teach those sweet faces of the youth choir just one more Christmas song. Learning to choose what is best for myself and my family is hard. Most of the time, I get so tired I almost collapse before I quit.

So, my Christmas gift to myself this year is to learn to choose. I am going to try hard to make myself choose and learn to say "No" when needed. Try really, really, really, really hard to make myself learn to choose. And I am also going to work on the hardest part of all, which is to learn how to forgive myself for not doing everything that I feel I am supposed to do.

I was grocery shopping...shoving my buggy through aisle after aisle of shelves and coolers. Putting one foot in front of the other was just automatic as I gathered up my groceries. I have been so very blessed with a hardworking husband who has always provided us with money for our needs, but it can get hard to see the blessings when I am struggling to get through a day.

Rounding the corner, I came face to face with an elderly lady who was in the process of putting a boxed, frozen pie into her cart. She smiled at me, gestured to the glass-fronted freezer and said "They are on sale. There's no sense in making it from scratch when these are almost just as good."

I stopped. I had never entertained the thought of not making a pie from "scratch". I had always cooked everything from the beginning to the end. It had to be real. Partly because cooking is a hobby for me and something I love do, but partly it was because I had to "do it right and not take shortcuts."

My tired emotions must have been written all over my face, because this kind lady stood beside my cart and encouraged me...telling me it was alright if events in my life wasn't going according to plan. I then realized if I didn't purchase a frozen, boxed pie, we weren't going to have pie at all. Because I didn't have time or energy to make a crust, measure sugar, flour and milk, stand over the stovetop and make a pie. With a wink she said "Let someone else do the cooking".

So I followed her direction. I bought one of the frozen pies. I took it home and let it thaw. We had coconut cream pie. And it was delicious. My husband was delighted over such an unexpected surprise and treat. We ate pie; pie we would not have had, if I had been determined to do it all.

I thought back to the Christmas seasons before...where I had scheduled so many activities with others that I had completely neglected my husband and son. I had baked and cooked for others until I had forgotten that we didn't have anything special in our own home. Once, it was Christmas morning, and not one gift had been wrapped at our house. I was exhausted and didn't really care if presents were in WalMart bags and we ate bologna sandwiches...because the turkey was still frozen.

I have not been treating myself right. I'm not being nice to me. I'm not being kind to me. I have forgotten myself. And because I have mistreated me, I have slighted the rest of my family. I'm not at my best, I'm not as happy and focused on my greatest treasures as I can be.

I am sure that I am not the only woman who continuously wrestles with doing too much; promising more than I can comfortably deliver. However, going forward, I am dedicated to working on it...one step at a time. By taking out time and reserving a calm space for me, I will show more love to my family. I will have more clarity to hear God's soft instructions. My destination is to became a better wife, more structured mom, and faithful daughter, sister and friend.

Time is precious. So are we. Let's buy the pie and have ourselves a Merry Christmas.

Goodbye, wallpaper, goodbye...

There are some things I should have never done. One of those things is put up wallpaper.
My advice? Don't do it. Never. Not Ever. Unless you want it there when you die. If it's already there, just leave it for your kids. Seriously.

I have never been so tempted to paint over something in all my life. But, instead, I am stripping it. And calling myself names, for ever thinking it was a pretty piece of paper. It's been up 14 yrs. It's time to go.

I enlisted the help of my 13 year old kid. He is always needing money, therefore, I am always thinking up jobs for him to do. We have sprayed, scraped, wiped, washed, painted. The wallpaper is finally gone.

While we were sweating and glaring at the wall (and each other), I thought of the verse in the Bible from Jeremiah 23:24.
Can any hide himself in secret places that I shall not see him? saith the Lord. Do not I fill heaven and earth? saith the Lord.

You see, after we scraped off the wallpaper, I could see the drywall imperfections, paint runs, and the bumps from daily living. It had just been covered up by gaudy printed wallpaper.

How easy is it for us to just cover over the blemishes of life. The scars and imperfections can be seen only in private, in our minds and hearts. I don't want to expose my disfigurements to the world. So I put on a layer of glue, pick out a pretty piece of paper and cover it up, smooth it out and cover up the flaws.

However, the paper becomes faded, the glue dries and turns loose, and we are faced yet again with the misshapen parts of our lives. So we are forced to scrape and clean, and prepare to hide yet again.

Wonder what would happen if we all fixed what we could. Fill in some holes and dents, sand the rough spots and roll on a fresh coat of paint. Then embrace what we cannot change. Strengthen the weaknesses in each other. Build up the low self-esteems. Love with all our hearts.

There is no way we can cover all our scars, all our impairments and shortcomings. But we can learn to love ourselves the way God created us and the way he has molded us through our journey. Lose the concealing wallpaper. There is no such thing as a perfect woman...but we can be real. And true. And that makes us a greater, stronger and more confident woman in Christ and in life.

Tea is for sisters...

For he satisfieth the longing soul, 
and filleth the hungry soul with goodness.

Psalm 107:9

My sister and a wonderful friend hosted a beautiful, scrumptious afternoon tea for all the ladies in our church. Tea is defined as a light meal with finger sandwiches and such foods, and the purpose is to tide us over until lunch or dinner.

When I was thinking about the meaning of the “proper English tea” I began to think of everyone who makes up our sisterhood.

I have a natural sister. I do things for her just because of who she is and just because she asks. She invites me to go shopping with her just so we will have time to talk. She can get me to make her a chocolate pie and watch her kids.

I will give her a gallon of milk because I know she is too tired to run to the dollar store, give her eggs because her 5 year old dropped and broke the whole dozen, sew on buttons or purposely cook extra at dinner so we can eat lunch together the next day. She takes me out to eat Asian Cuisine, because she knows it's my favorite food. She also makes those awkward phone calls/conducts conversations for me, because she knows that any type of confrontation makes me nervous.

My sister knows more about me than probably any other woman on the earth, and vice versa. She can tell when I'm excited, tired, overwhelmed, and the reason I'm feeling grumpy or in control. I know when she has a new project in mind, if she's stressed, got it all together, or when she is ready to ship her dog to the pound because it ate her greenhouse plants and daughter's new dress. I also know when she's exhausted and ready to send all her kids to bed without bedtime stories. I am the aunt who rescues them with stories, songs and tucks them in. Her children are my second set of kiddos.

We don't always get along. Shocker, I know; but we are very, very different. She is one flavor of tea and I am sure another. Most of the time we balance each other, but sometimes we are like sandpaper scuffing nerves. We have really different lives. There are days we talk several hours, and there are times we go a couple days and almost lose track of what's happening. Yes, life can change that quick. But she's my sister. It's an unexplained bond. We didn't have to create the love, it's between us because we are sisters.

Just like many of us have natural sisters, we have sisters in the Lord. We do things for each other just because. We uplift each other in prayer. We watch each other's children grow. We sense when one is fighting a battle, and when we find out someone is in pain, we all feel it.

We come from very diverse backgrounds. We all struggle with different problems. Our hearts have been broken by situations beyond our control. Our marriages are in different stages. Our children are different ages; some have one and some have more. There are ones of us who are laid back and easy going, while others are more intense and like a place for everything and everything in it's place.

We all have something different to offer.
Some of us are the sandwiches/savories, making sure the needs are met and no one goes hungry.
Some of us are the sweets. We love to do extras just because we know it makes others feel special.
Some of us are the plates, saucers and utensils. We love to serve and the satisfaction of seeing others be able to use what we offer is our blessing.
Some of us are tablecloths. We pray the covering of God for our sisters and their families.
Some of us are napkins. We are gifted in being able to smooth messes and help restore to like new.

Some of us are teapots. We can withstand a lot of heat and pour out more than we need to take in.

But we all are teacups. We desire, and even crave, the filling up of friendship, acceptance and love. We all have vastly different experiences and knowledge to bring to the the table. And we cannot know the sweetness of sisterly fellowship without coming together, sharing ourselves, sharing our struggles, weaknesses and strengths.

It is my desire to not only stay full, but have extra. I pray I will have enough to share with a sister who needs to have a tea...the nourishment to tide her over until the next meal is prepared.

Thou shalt preserve me...

Thou are my hiding place; thou shalt preserve me from trouble; thou shalt compass me about with songs of deliverance.
Psalm 32:7 KJV

Our pastor has a saying:
Get all you can.
Can all you get.
Sit on the lid.

In other words, get all you can of God's love, mercy, forgiveness, joy, patience...all those good things.

Then when you get your hands on it, keep it.
Hide it deep in your heart.
Practice it daily.
Pray for it hourly.
Make it your way of life.

Holy living doesn't come by accident.
The virtues of patience and contentment do not come without practice.
Forgiveness and mercy do not come without pain and maturity.
Sometimes these attributes only come from life's pain and yes, even misery.

Many times we have to experience hurts, heartache, disappointment, shock and grief to realize that God is big enough to provide for us in our time of need.

If I hadn't prayed daily, hourly, for patience when my son was small, I wouldn't have enough to even begin to tackle these teen age years. I still stop in my tracks many times during the day to ask, pray, beg for patience.

I knew I had asked (out loud) maybe too much, when my then-three-year-old son was juggling an armload of little plastic trucks. He looked at the trucks laying around his tiny white socked feet, the tilted his blue eyes toward the ceiling. "LORRRRD, GIVE ME PATIENCE!!!" He used that same tone I used...desperation mixed with some frustration and panic.

However, I learned that every time I was given the gift of another day of love and tolerance, I added it to my can and put on the lid, preserving it for the next part of my life. I didn't want to lose that hard earned tolerance.

In my can, I have placed patience into the mixture of forgiveness for past hurts.
I combine the forgiveness with contentment of trading my career to be a mom.
I mix contentment with the choice of love for when every family member feels grumpy.
The contents of my can are the balm of daily living. Full of my daily prayers for forgiveness. Full of my praises of thankfulness. Full of salvation's joy. Full of tears of comforted pain. Full of answered questions.

It is such a wonderful blessing to be able to share the contents of my can with my family and my friends.
And I have found that when I open my heart to share, I am able to receive the sweet goodness that has been preserved by my friends. Together we find the miracles of joy, wonder and praise.

We will be happy...

Hebrews 10:24 KJV
And let us consider one another to provoke unto love and to good works

Why is it to so hard for us to just encourage one another?
When did just living turn into a personal competition?
What made us into snippy women who cut each other up with our words?
What gave us the reason to make others feel bad so we feel better?
Who gave us the right to make someone else cry?
Who do we think we are, to belittle others just because they have a different way of doing things?
When did we develop the thinking that just because we have some material goods, that we are better than those who struggle?
Who told us that having a totally natural birth makes us superior to those who love epidurals?
When did we lose our empathy for others?
Why do we tear each other down?
   Just for having another opinion.
   Just for liking different food.
   Just for having a different favorite color.
   Just for liking a van instead of truck.
   Just for shopping at one store instead of another.
   Just for liking to be early instead of late.
   Just for loving a donut.
   Just for being thin.
   Just for carrying around baby weight for 20 years.
   Just for being who we are.

I'm not talking about sins. I'm not talking about illegal activities. I'm not talking about things that adversely affect other's lives.

I'm talking about being sarcastic. I'm talking about being rude. I'm talking about being mean.

There is no room for that in a tribe of women.

My child attends public school. One of my close friends home schools her children.
I love to cook and grocery shop. One of my close friends eats at a restaurant almost every night.
I have a friend who loves to spend and shop. I like to shop and look; it's hard for me to spend.
I have a messy craft room that spills over into other parts of the house. One of my dearest friends doesn't even sew enough to put on a button.
I have a friend who utilizes reusable shopping bags. I take those free plastic ones.
I procrastinate and work at the last minute. My friend has a list and plan for everything.
I have one child, and no desire to add another. Many of my friends are moms to several children and would welcome even more.

We are all different. We have backgrounds and heritages, traditions and cultures, convictions and beliefs that shape us.

We have different goals and priorities. Does that make me a better woman? Does that make me a better mom? It makes us different. Varied. Not the same.

My niece asked me why her eyes were brown. Her sister's eyes are blue. Mine are green.
I explained that everyone is different. What if everyone looked like each other? What if everyone had blonde hair? What if everyone had brown eyes? What if everyone was tall or short? What if we all drove white cars - no red trucks or gray vans? What if everyone had a dog for a pet and there were no cats or rabbits or sugar gliders?
"Oh, that would be really boring", she said. Yes, it would, I agreed

So, when we learn to truly love.
When we learn to truly forgive.
When we learn to truly pray.
When we learn to truly uplift.
When we learn to truly support.
When we learn to truly grieve.
Only then will we learn to truly live.
And we won't be boring. We will be truly happy.

July 4th...

Yesterday was Wednesday, July 4^th. Last night was July 4^th. Independence Day. Patriotic Pride. Love of County. God bless the USA. Let the flag wave high.

We went to the fireworks tent on our way to church last night. I would have been quite content to not light money on fire. However, we made the decision several years ago to add a boy to our family. We now do a lot of things we used to not do.

Driving through town on the way home, fireworks were popping and booming. Smoky haze was hanging low over parking lots and buildings. Vehicles and gaggles of people meandering everywhere. Drive-thrus backed up to the point getting a snack was a chore.

Once we arrived home, Gage and Jason and I stood outside in the sweltering humidity with the night bugs. And lit firecrackers. Since Gage likes noise more than show, we had an arsenal of bottle rockets and Black Cats. Soon our front yard was cracking and popping and the white smoke swirled around us. The dog howled a time or two, and I heard the excited chatter of a pre-teen as he dug through a crinkly sack of assorted dollar bills aka fireworks.

The pops and whistles, bangs and haze made me smile last night and will make me smile tomorrow night. From our neighbors across the creek, I heard racket off and on all night, and will for days to come. Sure, I could be irritated that they are making noise...that we have to make double sure the dog's pen is secure and then at random times we will be shook out of our shoes at 2am by a rambunctious who makes noise just because they can.

But, those pops and booms could be real artillery and the slight irritation could be legitimate fear. The whistles of bottle rockets could be the droning of war and the screams of excitement could be my own...mixed with sheer panic as I gather my family around me.

Because of a bloody price that has been paid, we are free to loudly celebrate...on the 4^th, the 5^th, the 10^th and even the 31^st. We can watch the stars and sit on front porches without fear. I can watch my son scurry around the yard with a flashlight and be glad he isn't hunting for a place to hide or worse yet, be carrying a man's load of war.

Because of the bloody price that has been paid, we are free to gather, eat watermelon, drink iced tea and enjoy our southern roots. We can be thankful. Ever so thankful. Ever so grateful. And some noise for the month of July is a very small price for me to pay.

Deviating from the original...

Believe it's time to go to the grocery. I'm goggling ingredients-on-hand to figure out what I can cook. No cheese. No coffee creamer. No veggies. No fruit. No rice. I do have a pound bag of frozen chicken breasts. And bacon. So...last night I dug around and found enough stuff to cook a dinner. It wasn't as lean as those nights where we ate egg sandwiches for three days or hot dogs with a piece of cheese, but will be getting pretty close if I don't stop by the grocery.

I tried a new recipe. I had no shredded Monterey Jack cheese, so I used the slices of Swiss that was languishing in the back of the fridge drawer and went heavy on the grated Parmesan...the kind that never goes bad and lives in a plastic jar. No Ranch dressing mix, so I used Ranch salad dressing out of the bottle. By the time I finished, the only thing in common with the recipe I started with was the chicken and bacon.

So, in other words, I just used this recipe as a "idea" and then went with my own concoction. Or as the hubs says, "you deviated from the original". And I find myself doing that quite often, as I love to cook and get bored with the same dinner again and again.

As I was sitting here this morning, drinking my coffee (no creamer, so I am using the last of my kid's chocolate syrup and milk cause I can't get down as much as I need when it's black) and reading my Bible, I realize that many times life doesn't turn out the way I expect it to. The end result isn't predictable and sometimes not even fit to eat when I deviate from the original recipe. I am sure that the dinner we ate last night tasted NOTHING like the dinner that the original recipe produced. So, if I want my life to turn out to be what my Heavenly Father intended, I need to adjust myself to fit the recipe God made for me. Things will turn out much better if I just go by what he's laid out for me. Instead of deviating along the way. When I've messed life up, it's not nearly as easy as throwing out a meal and serving everyone cereal in fancy bowls. I can't rewind a day, week or month that I lost because I "fixed" something I should have left alone. My prayer today is for the Lord to help me adjust even the smallest detail to his will. Pray for His direction and guidance. I am not only living for myself, but for my family. My husband. My son. And I can't afford for them to go without what I am to be providing. So, here is the recipe I ended up with.

Deviated Ranch Parmesan Chicken 400 degree oven/20-25 min or until chicken is done 9X9 pan 2 Chicken breasts, trimmed and cut into cubes 2 Tablespoons liquid Ranch dressing 4 Tablespoons of sour cream 1/3 cup grated Parmesan (plus 1/4 cup for topping) Salt/Pepper and other seasonings of our your choice Three slices or shredded cheese of your choice (I used Swiss) Six slices pre-cooked bacon 1/2 Tblspn Olive oil

Preheat oven to 400. Coat baking pan with the olive oil. Using a mixing bowl, combine chicken, Ranch dressing, sour cream and 1/3 cup Parmesan along with seasonings. I use a Smokey Mesquite Pepper seasoning in addition to the traditional salt/pepper. Pour into pan. Cover and bake until chicken is done (internal temp of chicken needs to be 165 degrees). Should be approximately 20 minutes. Take off cover, put on cheese and bacon. Return to oven and cook an additional 5 minutes until cheese is melted and bacon is crispy.

It was a bit juicy, but that "gravy" was good on green beans and potatoes.

More than enough...

2 Samuel 22:29-33
For thou art my lamp, O Lord; and the Lord will lighten my darkness.
For by thee I have run through a troop: by my God have I leaped over a wall.
As for God, his way is perfect; the word of the Lord is tried: he is a buckler to all them that trust in him.
For who is God, save the Lord? and who is a rock, save our God?
God is my strength and power: and he makes my way perfect.


There are times I get weary.
There are times I get tired.
There are times I feel whiny.
There are times I am discouraged.
There are times I am overwhelmed.
There are times I have questions.
There are times I have dark days.
There are times I have obstacles.
There are times I have issues.

Then I read verses like these.
There won't always be sunshine, but He is my guide in the darkness..
There will be trials and fight for survival. He gives me the ability to outrun it.
My strength is weak and putting one foot in front of the other is often a chore. He gives me power I never knew I had.

I have a rock in my life, which has become the foundation of all that I do. Am I perfect, no? However, with God, I will have the strength to run and leap.
I will be able to hide behind his shield and find rest.
God is my strength and power.
He makes my way perfect.
That is more than enough.