"Mom cooked an awesome supper last night, " I heard my husband tell our son today. He told him about the mess of fish I fried that he had caught months ago when the weather was warmer. I had frozen them, but they tasted fresh caught and were delicious!
We enjoyed our meal, especially when we reflected that the fish were free; all we had to do was pull them out of the water. There is something almost miraculous about getting food straight from nature. It is amazing that we can pull vegetables right out of the ground if we raise a garden. Makes you appreciate your Creator.
Savoring the crispy, browned fish last night made me think of the song, Come and Dine. "The disciples came to land, thus obeying Christ's command When the Master called unto them 'Come and Dine.' There they found their hearts' desire, bread and fish upon the fire Thus he satisfies the hungry every time."
The story is found in John 21 when after the resurrection Jesus appeared to the disciples while they were fishing. They had caught nothing, but in the morning, Jesus, whom they did not recognize, called to them from the shore, "Children, have ye any meat?" To their negative answer, He spoke, "Cast your net on the right side of the ship, and ye shall find," John 21:6.
John realized it was the Lord, and when Peter realized it, he put on his clothes and jumped into the sea in his eagerness to see Jesus. (Since he put on his garment, I wonder if he was planning to walk on water!) Jesus had performed a similar miracle as recorded in Luke 5:1-11 when He called them to be His followers, saying, "Fear not, from henceforth thou shalt catch men."
Now Jesus was getting ready to go back to heaven. He knew Peter needed encouragement and needed to confirm his commitment to Christ, since he had recently denied Him three times. Correspondingly, Jesus asked Peter three times if he loved Him. Jesus changed Peter's name from Simon to Peter, or from a pebble to a rock. He told him to "Feed my sheep." As a leader of the church, he would become a fisher of men. The best kind of fishermen for us to be!
Friday, February 7, 2014
Thursday, February 6, 2014
Heartthoughts: Waxing Nostalgic
What? No plastic wrap? I thought when I was looking over the store shelf display of foil, freezer bags and storage solutions. Well, there was wax paper, something I hadn't bought in years, so I grabbed a roll of that.
Later, cutting off a length to cover a bowl of leftovers, a wave of nostalgia surfaced as I stared at the thin, waxy sheet. Growing up, wax paper was a staple at our house. As a fifth grader, it was my morning chore to pack five brown-bag lunches for me and the four of my brothers who attended our country school. Three little brothers were still at home.
Assembly line style, I carefully wrapped, folded and tucked the ends of the waxed paper under the sandwiches, which might be fried egg, bologna, or PBJ. After a hungrily bolted lunch and after the paper bags had been carefully creased, folded and stuck in a desk or back pocket for use the next day, we hit the playground, often carrying a left-over from lunch: a sheet of wax paper. It came in handy to sit on for a super-slick ride down the tall, humped slide! Quite a thrill unless your feet didn't catch you in time and you had a hard landing!
Then there were the craft projects in school, when we gathered fall leaves and preserved them between sheets of waxed paper sealed with a warm iron that our craftsy teacher magically produced. The word, re-cycling, hadn't come into our vocabulary then, but we were experts at it.
The frigid temperatures and crunchy snow outside yesterday put me in a baking mode again. I had everything I needed for a cake, except frosting. With a yen for the fluffy sweetness of a divinity-type icing, I looked up 7-minute icing on the internet. (I may be nostalgic, but I still like the modern conveniences.)
The procedure sounded too complicated with double-boilers and mixing over the stove for seven minutes, then I remembered Mama just pouring boiling sugar-syrup into the egg whites and beating them. I could do that! Down-sizing the ingredients a bit and accommodating the recipe to my needs, I was feeling a bit iffy about the whole thing. But the frosting materialized beautifully in the whirring beaters as I poured in the boiling syrup, and it was delicious! Thank you, Mama! And thanks for the memories! (But how am I going to cover the sticky cake with wax paper?)
Later, cutting off a length to cover a bowl of leftovers, a wave of nostalgia surfaced as I stared at the thin, waxy sheet. Growing up, wax paper was a staple at our house. As a fifth grader, it was my morning chore to pack five brown-bag lunches for me and the four of my brothers who attended our country school. Three little brothers were still at home.
Assembly line style, I carefully wrapped, folded and tucked the ends of the waxed paper under the sandwiches, which might be fried egg, bologna, or PBJ. After a hungrily bolted lunch and after the paper bags had been carefully creased, folded and stuck in a desk or back pocket for use the next day, we hit the playground, often carrying a left-over from lunch: a sheet of wax paper. It came in handy to sit on for a super-slick ride down the tall, humped slide! Quite a thrill unless your feet didn't catch you in time and you had a hard landing!
Then there were the craft projects in school, when we gathered fall leaves and preserved them between sheets of waxed paper sealed with a warm iron that our craftsy teacher magically produced. The word, re-cycling, hadn't come into our vocabulary then, but we were experts at it.
The frigid temperatures and crunchy snow outside yesterday put me in a baking mode again. I had everything I needed for a cake, except frosting. With a yen for the fluffy sweetness of a divinity-type icing, I looked up 7-minute icing on the internet. (I may be nostalgic, but I still like the modern conveniences.)
The procedure sounded too complicated with double-boilers and mixing over the stove for seven minutes, then I remembered Mama just pouring boiling sugar-syrup into the egg whites and beating them. I could do that! Down-sizing the ingredients a bit and accommodating the recipe to my needs, I was feeling a bit iffy about the whole thing. But the frosting materialized beautifully in the whirring beaters as I poured in the boiling syrup, and it was delicious! Thank you, Mama! And thanks for the memories! (But how am I going to cover the sticky cake with wax paper?)
Wednesday, February 5, 2014
Photo Finish
My new internet fascination is viewing the surprise presentation of "movies" of all my Facebook friends. It's an innovative idea that everyone seems to like, but it's also a little unsettling to realize someone analyzes all your posts, makes independent selections of what you'd like to see, then sets them to music. (Although, of course we all realize that we give up control of our entries the minute they are published.)
The shots we have shared are usually those putting us and our subjects in a good light, even though they may be of funny or unguarded moments. In most, we have carefully posed and dutifully smiled, with some being even of our most important and formal moments, such as wedding or graduation pictures The best are almost always of babies and children, who are completely unselfconscious in their innocence and cuteness.
They say when we die, a movie of our entire life plays out before us. I have a friend who had a near-death experience when she almost drowned, and she said that happened to her. She was a young girl at the time and still recalls the scenes of her childhood flashing through her mind.
We know that the Bible says that we will all stand before the judgment seat of God at the last day. Perhaps there will be a playback of our lives that will bear evidence of our earthly behavior. If so, we would not be able to select just the flattering pictures or those when we were doing a good deed, but every scowl or grimace and hateful thing we have ever done would be on display.
There is one caveat, thank God, and that is if you have trusted Jesus as your Savior, your sins are blotted out. Even so, Christians will be judged at the judgment seat of Christ according to their works and and receive or lose rewards accordingly. I Corinthians 3:14, "If any man's work abide which he hath built thereupon, he shall receive a reward. (15) If any man's work shall be burned, he shall suffer loss: but he himself shall be saved; yet so as by fire".
What kind of picture does that present for us as individuals? Now is the time for us to make our "calling and election sure" (II Peter 1:10).
The shots we have shared are usually those putting us and our subjects in a good light, even though they may be of funny or unguarded moments. In most, we have carefully posed and dutifully smiled, with some being even of our most important and formal moments, such as wedding or graduation pictures The best are almost always of babies and children, who are completely unselfconscious in their innocence and cuteness.
They say when we die, a movie of our entire life plays out before us. I have a friend who had a near-death experience when she almost drowned, and she said that happened to her. She was a young girl at the time and still recalls the scenes of her childhood flashing through her mind.
We know that the Bible says that we will all stand before the judgment seat of God at the last day. Perhaps there will be a playback of our lives that will bear evidence of our earthly behavior. If so, we would not be able to select just the flattering pictures or those when we were doing a good deed, but every scowl or grimace and hateful thing we have ever done would be on display.
There is one caveat, thank God, and that is if you have trusted Jesus as your Savior, your sins are blotted out. Even so, Christians will be judged at the judgment seat of Christ according to their works and and receive or lose rewards accordingly. I Corinthians 3:14, "If any man's work abide which he hath built thereupon, he shall receive a reward. (15) If any man's work shall be burned, he shall suffer loss: but he himself shall be saved; yet so as by fire".
What kind of picture does that present for us as individuals? Now is the time for us to make our "calling and election sure" (II Peter 1:10).
Tuesday, February 4, 2014
Do as Unto the Lord
"Everything you do is ministry!" my husband announced when he came home from Bible Study last night. "I've come to the conclusion that everything a Christian does is ministry," he reiterated.
"Does that mean when I cook, it's ministry?" I asked. He said it was. Wow! Maybe he means it was ministry to him! So that means when I got up this morning and made rolled-out biscuits, gravy, ham, eggs and grits, it was ministry! (I know it was good!)
And when he fell asleep after breakfast on this snow day, it was ministry when I pulled off the sheets, did a load of laundry, cleaned the kitchen and made the bed? I know it was ministry when he cleaned the bathroom for me (while I was making a pot of homemade chicken soup for lunch).
I suppose it was kind of a domestic ministry when I spent a confined afternoon emptying out a bureau, cleaning every drawer, sorting socks, pajamas and shirts and arranging them in neat stacks.
Was it ministry when I shared a video on Facebook of Chinese Christians receiving a shipment of Bibles and their awed, emotional response? Or when I took a stand online against abortion by letting my stance be known? Or gave a kind response to or agreed to pray for someone in need among my internet contacts?
There are many ways to minister, and if I can go by my husband's response, the chili I made for supper was ministry ("This is the best chili you ever made!").
Our daughter called last night asking for prayer for her university son. An overhead pipe broke in his dorm room and flooded and ruined everything. Not only that, he has come down with flu, besides having to resettle in barren, temporary quarters. Prayer is a ministry, too, one in which we are glad to bear one another's burdens and lift them up to God in believing faith. Probably the most important ministry of all.
"Does that mean when I cook, it's ministry?" I asked. He said it was. Wow! Maybe he means it was ministry to him! So that means when I got up this morning and made rolled-out biscuits, gravy, ham, eggs and grits, it was ministry! (I know it was good!)
And when he fell asleep after breakfast on this snow day, it was ministry when I pulled off the sheets, did a load of laundry, cleaned the kitchen and made the bed? I know it was ministry when he cleaned the bathroom for me (while I was making a pot of homemade chicken soup for lunch).
I suppose it was kind of a domestic ministry when I spent a confined afternoon emptying out a bureau, cleaning every drawer, sorting socks, pajamas and shirts and arranging them in neat stacks.
Was it ministry when I shared a video on Facebook of Chinese Christians receiving a shipment of Bibles and their awed, emotional response? Or when I took a stand online against abortion by letting my stance be known? Or gave a kind response to or agreed to pray for someone in need among my internet contacts?
There are many ways to minister, and if I can go by my husband's response, the chili I made for supper was ministry ("This is the best chili you ever made!").
Our daughter called last night asking for prayer for her university son. An overhead pipe broke in his dorm room and flooded and ruined everything. Not only that, he has come down with flu, besides having to resettle in barren, temporary quarters. Prayer is a ministry, too, one in which we are glad to bear one another's burdens and lift them up to God in believing faith. Probably the most important ministry of all.
Monday, February 3, 2014
The Girl Who Loves Books
"I want one of your books, Sister Thelma, the first one," a church friend announced recently. I told her I'd bring it to her, but I repeatedly forgot. Until yesterday, when I handed it to her in Sunday School. When she asked how much, I gave her a discount price, and she said she was going to buy the next one next month.
The only thing about it is, she can't read! Kandy is usually carrying a book of some kind, though, from her "reading" class. There is a volunteer-taught literacy program she has been a part of for at least the six years I have known her. She often totes around such classics as The Call of the Wild," by Jack London, or a biography of Abe Lincoln. She especially likes books with dogs on the cover.
"Can she read any of that?" I once asked a mutual friend, since I had asked Kandy to read something once and she was unable to except for the simplest words, and was told, "In a way she can. For instance, she might see the word 'automobile' and call it 'car.'"
Kandy often does her "homework" in church. That is, she copies pages and pages of any printed material in her beautiful handwriting, and proudly shows it off, but she doesn't know what it says! Although she is in her mid-sixties and a great-grandmother, her mental age is about 6. Kandy plays with Barbie dolls and loves to tease and frolic with kids of that age.
Although usually sweet-tempered, sometimes this "young lady" stalks into church or Sunday School with arms folded across her chest and announces loudly she is "mad" at somebody (usually her aggravating son who lives with her), or a friend who has inadvertently hurt her feelings with well-meaning correction or advice. Her venting doesn't last long, though, and soon she is all smiles, her happy grin crinkling her eyes.
At Christmas time, Kandy made her own cards with surprisingly accurate likenesses of recipients and their families drawn in her signature elementary-school style and passed them out at church. Few can resist this friendly soul who loves the Lord with all her heart. Jesus said in Matthew 18:10, "Take heed that ye despise not one of these little ones; for I say unto you, That in heaven their angels do always behold the face of my Father which is in heaven."
Besides, one of my books may soon be the one Kandy is showing off!
The only thing about it is, she can't read! Kandy is usually carrying a book of some kind, though, from her "reading" class. There is a volunteer-taught literacy program she has been a part of for at least the six years I have known her. She often totes around such classics as The Call of the Wild," by Jack London, or a biography of Abe Lincoln. She especially likes books with dogs on the cover.
"Can she read any of that?" I once asked a mutual friend, since I had asked Kandy to read something once and she was unable to except for the simplest words, and was told, "In a way she can. For instance, she might see the word 'automobile' and call it 'car.'"
Kandy often does her "homework" in church. That is, she copies pages and pages of any printed material in her beautiful handwriting, and proudly shows it off, but she doesn't know what it says! Although she is in her mid-sixties and a great-grandmother, her mental age is about 6. Kandy plays with Barbie dolls and loves to tease and frolic with kids of that age.
Although usually sweet-tempered, sometimes this "young lady" stalks into church or Sunday School with arms folded across her chest and announces loudly she is "mad" at somebody (usually her aggravating son who lives with her), or a friend who has inadvertently hurt her feelings with well-meaning correction or advice. Her venting doesn't last long, though, and soon she is all smiles, her happy grin crinkling her eyes.
At Christmas time, Kandy made her own cards with surprisingly accurate likenesses of recipients and their families drawn in her signature elementary-school style and passed them out at church. Few can resist this friendly soul who loves the Lord with all her heart. Jesus said in Matthew 18:10, "Take heed that ye despise not one of these little ones; for I say unto you, That in heaven their angels do always behold the face of my Father which is in heaven."
Besides, one of my books may soon be the one Kandy is showing off!
Sunday, February 2, 2014
Kitchen Kut-Ups
I seem to be losing my touch in the kitchen! A few nights ago I was toasting garlic bread in the oven and managed to singe my hand with the broiler! Instead of retrieving the toast, I pulled out a hand bearing a brown, toasted streak above my thumb! Ouch!
The next day, cutting dumpling strips, I sliced across two of my fingers! (Not deep, thankfully, but they sent me scurrying for peroxide, antibiotic ointment and band-aids!) Not only that, I have a sore cuticle from not wearing rubber gloves to wash dishes.
Maybe I've just been in too much of a hurry, getting supper on the table and remembering the toast as an afterthought. Howard had cooked the evening meal two nights while I was under the weather, and I had to get back into the swing of things.
I had decided to make chicken and dumplings for our church dinner today, so a couple of days ago I bought a nice hen and asked the store employee where the frozen dumplings were. She had never heard of them, and directed me to the frozen noodles. She managed to find one package of dumplings hidden behind the noodles. "We have a truck unloading," she offered, "Wait here and I'll go check for some."
I took a couple of packages from the box she brought me, then second-guessed my decision and worried that it might not be enough. That's when I remembered flour tortillas could be used as a substitute and cut my fingers slicing them.
The finished product was a success, despite my struggles with my old crockpot. Taking it from storage and finding the plastic lid with a crack in it and the temperature knob missing made me wonder if the word "crackpot" would enter someone's mind. I felt better when a parishioner told me my chicken and dumplings were "outstanding." Like most church dinners, there was an excess of food, leaving me some for leftovers.
Immediately following the meal, we had our annual church business meeting, and Howard was elected unanimously as board member! Still on a high from last night's Singspiration, he must have thought this was turning out to be his day! Then late this afternoon he got a call from the coordinator of last night's event asking him back for a return engagement. "I didn't know we were that good!" I heard him giving a phone message to our son. "He really piled it on us, saying several people told him after we left how much they enjoyed it!"
I think I'll go heat up a bowl of the chicken and dumplings for him, if I don't hurt myself in the process!
The next day, cutting dumpling strips, I sliced across two of my fingers! (Not deep, thankfully, but they sent me scurrying for peroxide, antibiotic ointment and band-aids!) Not only that, I have a sore cuticle from not wearing rubber gloves to wash dishes.
Maybe I've just been in too much of a hurry, getting supper on the table and remembering the toast as an afterthought. Howard had cooked the evening meal two nights while I was under the weather, and I had to get back into the swing of things.
I had decided to make chicken and dumplings for our church dinner today, so a couple of days ago I bought a nice hen and asked the store employee where the frozen dumplings were. She had never heard of them, and directed me to the frozen noodles. She managed to find one package of dumplings hidden behind the noodles. "We have a truck unloading," she offered, "Wait here and I'll go check for some."
I took a couple of packages from the box she brought me, then second-guessed my decision and worried that it might not be enough. That's when I remembered flour tortillas could be used as a substitute and cut my fingers slicing them.
The finished product was a success, despite my struggles with my old crockpot. Taking it from storage and finding the plastic lid with a crack in it and the temperature knob missing made me wonder if the word "crackpot" would enter someone's mind. I felt better when a parishioner told me my chicken and dumplings were "outstanding." Like most church dinners, there was an excess of food, leaving me some for leftovers.
Immediately following the meal, we had our annual church business meeting, and Howard was elected unanimously as board member! Still on a high from last night's Singspiration, he must have thought this was turning out to be his day! Then late this afternoon he got a call from the coordinator of last night's event asking him back for a return engagement. "I didn't know we were that good!" I heard him giving a phone message to our son. "He really piled it on us, saying several people told him after we left how much they enjoyed it!"
I think I'll go heat up a bowl of the chicken and dumplings for him, if I don't hurt myself in the process!
Saturday, February 1, 2014
Who Knew?
"What do you want to do about lunch?" I asked my husband when I met him at McDonald's after my hair appointment. He'd been relaxing with a cup of coffee, but he assured me he hadn't eaten anything.
"Do we have any leftovers?" he asked hopefully. We didn't, so the perpetual back and forth about where to eat began. It's a tough choice, since I usually can't taste much, therefore no place pleases me, and the places I do pick, he doesn't like, and vice-versa.
Just then the phone rang, and a little voice said, "Grandpa, would you and Mimi like to eat lunch with us?" What timing! He agreed, and she said, "12:00 o'clock!" We would be there, for home cooking, the only kind I really enjoy. Thank you, Lord, for such a surprise.
Our son in Houston had lost his wallet, and it had been missing for a few days. I asked him if he had cancelled all his cards, and he said he hadn't, for he knew he had had it last at home. I suspected that their four-year-old daughter had lost it, for she is fascinated by the cards, license, and photos in it. She has been allowed to explore it under her father's watchful eye, but she has been known to playfully take it out of his pocket.
I was about to despair that he would find it in their three-story house, but today he announced the glad news that it was found. Maddie, their youngest daughter, had told him, "I don't remember where I hided it." It was found in the baby's diaper stacker that hung on his crib in the room where she likes to hide. Again, thank you, Lord, for the surprise ending!
Tonight my husband sang at a Saturday night gospel singing, to which he had invited another of our sons and a couple of others to sing with him. He wasn't sure if they all could make it, but they showed up and it turned out well. After their portion of the program, our son picked up his mandolin and was preparing to leave when he stopped by my table and exclaimed exuberantly, "Mom, if Dad hadn't asked me to help him tonight, I would never have opened my mandolin case and found my lost $500 glasses! Now I can see!" God loves to surprise us!
"Do we have any leftovers?" he asked hopefully. We didn't, so the perpetual back and forth about where to eat began. It's a tough choice, since I usually can't taste much, therefore no place pleases me, and the places I do pick, he doesn't like, and vice-versa.
Just then the phone rang, and a little voice said, "Grandpa, would you and Mimi like to eat lunch with us?" What timing! He agreed, and she said, "12:00 o'clock!" We would be there, for home cooking, the only kind I really enjoy. Thank you, Lord, for such a surprise.
Our son in Houston had lost his wallet, and it had been missing for a few days. I asked him if he had cancelled all his cards, and he said he hadn't, for he knew he had had it last at home. I suspected that their four-year-old daughter had lost it, for she is fascinated by the cards, license, and photos in it. She has been allowed to explore it under her father's watchful eye, but she has been known to playfully take it out of his pocket.
I was about to despair that he would find it in their three-story house, but today he announced the glad news that it was found. Maddie, their youngest daughter, had told him, "I don't remember where I hided it." It was found in the baby's diaper stacker that hung on his crib in the room where she likes to hide. Again, thank you, Lord, for the surprise ending!
Tonight my husband sang at a Saturday night gospel singing, to which he had invited another of our sons and a couple of others to sing with him. He wasn't sure if they all could make it, but they showed up and it turned out well. After their portion of the program, our son picked up his mandolin and was preparing to leave when he stopped by my table and exclaimed exuberantly, "Mom, if Dad hadn't asked me to help him tonight, I would never have opened my mandolin case and found my lost $500 glasses! Now I can see!" God loves to surprise us!
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