Do you have anyone in your life that can be two different people? Nice a pie, I guess for as long as they can stand it, and then just plain mean, the next? Too bad, if you do. I sympathize.
What's the solution?
11/10/08
Dr. Jeckle and Mr. Hyde
11/8/08
Eyes to See
I adored my grandmother. Even more so now that she's gone. My memories of her are profound and the lessons she taught me, enduring. She not only taught me well, but she led by example. Even though it has been nine years since she has passed, I still take her advice and follow her lead. I follow her, for she followed Christ.
As for me, I really don't know what it means to do the big things; things of great importance, of fame or lofty merit. Ours is the way of a servant. I take care of the small, or base needs that have a part in sustaining a group, or human family. My grandmother referred to it as "helps"; mentioned as one of the gifts of the spirit in the New Testament, the overlooked one. Yes, it's the little things that often go unnoticed by others that are of great importance. Can you serve God by doing "the little things?" You bet you can and the field is wide open, pick any position, start anywhere. There is not much competition in doing the little things, so it's often a quiet work,(peaceful) and the good thing is that there is no struggling over who gets to do what, or deliberating on how we are going to do it, you just prayerfully proceed and "do with your strength what your hands find to do." (smile) Ahh, the secrets of the lowly are sweet.
So, to continue on in that vein, I'll say that every now and then we see something that needs to be done. My grandmother used to say, "Not everyone has eyes, not everyone can see. If you see something that needs to be done, do it." So simple, so plain, so elementary; no committee needed. With so few available to do the little things, maybe it has more to do with eyesight; being able to focus on the small, sometimes thankless tasks right before our eyes.
Well, recently I took notice of something, I saw something that required more than love and concern, I saw individuals who once were so strong, beginning to experience afflictions and in some cases, seemingly, great difficulty. It is almost like it happened overnight. It didn't of course, but one day I woke up, I saw with my eyes, and I realized that they were in need of care. I didn't vow, because I hesitate to make a vow, yet in my mind and heart I knew that I must be mindful and begin to care for them in an active way...like my grandmother would have. (She would have been on this, long before my eyes were open. Her eyesight was that of a hawk and her flight swifter than an eagle when rushing in to help.)
When people have been an integral part of a group; always there, leading the way, in church all the time, never missing a thing - and the tables are turned, they being the one in need, I think they are easily and unfortunately overlooked because they've always been so strong. They may even turn away help when someone asks if they need anything; they are used to being a helper and not the one helped. (My grandmother used to sternly warn us not to say, "if you need anything, give me a call." She didn't believe in that. She believed in visiting the sick, the shut-in, the poor, etc. and taking something for them, even if it were just a few apples (Her apples were usually surrounded by a crust, called pie) or a pot of soup, anything as a token of love and concern. Concerning bringing something she also used to say, "When visiting the sick, take roses, not thorns." In other words, mind your conversation, let your words be seasoned with grace; words that uplift.
So, this recent awakening caused me to think back at something she committed herself to, a big commitment which lasted for years. I'll start by saying that our family is one of those that always had Sunday dinners where it seemed as though everyone was invited, there was always room for one more and plenty of food. (Thank God, he has blessed us with plenty) I remember my grandparent's house especially being one that was full of "the saints". (The scripture uses that word in reference largely to the living fold of God, not the deceased.) Anyway, there was a family in our church who traveled quite a distance to get to church. Not everyone prepares a Sunday dinner and invites others in. Because of this, that particular family did not often get an invitation for dinner. My grandmother hated to see them going home without any type of refreshment. She vowed within herself that they would never go home without a meal or at least an invitation. I remember them being at my grandmother's table every Sunday for years. Even well into the time where it was becoming difficult for her to manage. She had an expression, "We have to help to roll them over the tide." What tide? The tide that takes them on into the next life. And she did. It seemed as though that was probably her last BIG JOB, and that in totality, went largely unnoticed by others. But not me. To me, that was greatness. With my eyes I saw it, from beginning to end, I beheld an example.
And now fifteen or so years later, this is what comes to mind when I look upon our congregation and I see the needs of the saints. My grandmother is gone, the strength of our elderly is now fleeting, and it is my turn to look after the aged. I think I'll prepare a little extra food today, enough to share. I think instead of going shopping or busying myself with the unimportant, I'll make time for a visit. Come with me.
"And of some, having compassion, making a difference." Jude 1:22
I made pie! And, it's edible!
Ok, it's no big secret I'm not what you would call an accomplished cook. I come from a long line of good cooks on both sides of my family. I just didn't get that particular gene. Oh, I can cook enough to keep me alive. I have a few things that I make well, that my family actually asks for. I can make killer mashed potatoes, from scratch. That's my contribution to Thanksgiving dinner. I make a sugar cookie that my niece loves and has renamed for herself. (Which I thought was cute so I started making them in the shape of an "F" for Faithie, should have had forethought there, now I have to make them like that every time .)
Aside from that I am NO Martha Stewart in the kitchen. It has never really bothered me, I can't be all things to all people. My interests growing up were always elsewhere. I loved books and anything musical or mechanical. I was happy helping my dad in his shop. My dad is a welder by trade, and I learned how to weld. Not exactly my life's ambition, but I can do it. When computers came along I was in my element. So, when I say that I'm not an accomplished cook, you can see the pattern.
I was talking last week with J, she mentioned that she bought some squash she was going to make pies out of. We've had this particular discussion before. Her recommendation is that Hubbard Squash makes the best pie, better than pumpkin. I like squash as a vegetable, so after work I went to the grocery store to pick up something for dinner, and thought I'd look for a Hubbard squash. They actually had a golden Hubbard squash, so I bought it. It had to weigh about 5 lbs, it was huge but I thought, whatever, I like squash. I took it home and baked it, scooped it out, used my hand mixer (yes, I have one) to make it smooth and happily ate it for dinner. Pretty proud of myself for having done this, instead of buying the frozen block of squash, which is my usual wont. I was satisfied.
A few days later, I was again talking to J, I mentioned the squash. I think J was a little surprised. She is well acquainted with my lack of prowess in the domestic arts. I should say here that aside from one little soup snafu, J IS an accomplished cook. I've been in her home enough to witness it, and since I'm an accomplished eater I can attest to this first hand. She quizzed me a bit on my methods of baking the squash. I mentioned that I had quite a bit left over. She said make a pie. I said I wasn't sure I was ready for that. She assured me it wasn't that difficult and that I could follow any pumpkin pie recipe, and I wouldn't even really need a crust, because it was really more like a custard anyway. I said I just might do it. Especially since I didn't really need a crust. I knew I wasn't ready for that. (I've heard stories from experienced bakers lamenting their inability to make a flaky crust. I know my limits!)
So, last night I made the pie. I was a little nervous but decided no one really needed to know if it was terrible. Emboldened by my decision to bake, I Googled "easy pie crust recipe" and found one that had 4 ingredients that according to the directions, uh, recipe, was supposed to be made right in the pie plate. This was my kind of crust recipe! No rolling out the crust? Fantastic! Especially when I don't even own a rolling pin!
So, I did it. I waited impatiently for the pie to cool. (Which I remembered was important from something I read years ago.) I cut it and took a bite and surprise! It was edible! Not only edible it was actually good! I sent an email to J to let her know of my success. She sent one back that said "I knew you could do it." Now, that's a true friend. Anyone that can offer support and encouragement when all practical experience says opposite, you want to keep that person in your circle.
Today I'm taking a piece to my mom. That's the real test. If she thinks it's good then I'll know. If J lived closer I'd bring her a piece too, but I think driving four and a half hours to make her taste something I made is a bit extreme. :) And, in case you were wondering, the picture is actually my pie.
11/5/08
Election Day Chuckle
Yesterday I did my civic duty and voted. Now don’t worry this post will not be about politics in any way, shape or form. I’m a firm believer in keeping my political opinions private and quiet. I was, however, a bit worried about all the news reports that said I’d have to wait in line 4 hours to vote, but thankfully that was not the case in my precinct.
Walking into the school where my precinct is located is always an experience. It’s like running the gauntlet or some weird adult version of trick or treat crossed with Election Day. Every local candidate has there representatives out in force. They are handing you their last bits of information, I guess hoping that you’ll change your mind at the last minute and vote another way. Whatever. I’m pretty much decided by the time I reach this point. In my state you can’t have any political handouts visible where you actually cast your ballot. Knowing this I began shoving all the paraphernalia I collected on my short walk into the building into my purse. Keeping it out of sight, not wanting to create a problem or a scene. Wouldn’t that have been fantastic, appearing on the local news because I forgot to stow the free nail file I got on my way in? I shove all the junk away and wait my turn. Cast my vote and head home. The whole process only took about 30 minutes. Thank goodness. When I got home I began to empty my pockets and my purse. I begin to examine the stuff I collected. A ubiquitous nail file. (I think my mom has one from every election she’s actually voted in.) A Hershey’s mini wrapped in another candidates logo, assorted pamphlets and cards of information and the thing that made me laugh the hardest. A dinner mint in the wrapper pictured above.
Upon close inspection of said mint, you will notice that it is a very poor replica of a $5,000 dollar bill. Never mind that the $5,000 bill had a picture of James Madison on it and was virtually discontinued by 1969, and this mint wrapper has a lovely likeness of Albert Einstein on it. Here’s the part that made me laugh, when I looked closely at the wrapper I noticed it says on it: “THIS NOTE IS NOT LEGAL TENDER.” Well, duh! Seriously? I can’t really use this teeny, tiny $5,000 bill to purchase something? What a gyp! I laughed for about 5 minutes. When I calmed down, something came to me. You know when you see some weird warning or disclaimer it is because someone has actually tried to do whatever the warning or disclaimer is telling you not to do. Which just started me laughing all over again. I can see it now, someone walking into a store to purchase something, and handing over the mini mint wrapper as payment. It boggles the mind. I wish I could remember which candidate was handing them out; I’d send them an email to tell them they made me laugh, in a good way.
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