Spring is getting closer every day! I sat in the sun for a long time today, my face soaking up the golden rays, even though I was bundled against the wind. Several fat robins were darting in and out of bushes, with one making a zooming, low-flying swoop along the walk way on the way to joining a mate on a low tree branch.
We had just finished lunch at a Chinese restaurant, something I hadn't done in forever, thinking I didn't like Chinese food. But I found it hearty and satisfying and, I have to admit, tasty! When we were almost finished eating, the waiter presented our check on a little metal tray holding two fortune cookies. Just for fun, I cracked one open, and it was empty! Was that a bad sign? jk!
"There was no fortune in the cookie," I said to the waiter when he came round. "No fortune?" he exclaimed, and quickly brought me another. This time I pulled out a tiny strip of paper with the words, "Things are not always what they seem. It's not that bad." How did they know I had been feeling ill and was worried about it? I had to laugh. My husband's said something equally innocuous.
I was feeling better, so we decided to drive out to the country to see the progress our son had made on a building project. In short order, a couple of our gardening friends showed up to work on the garden. We joined them, Howard pushing a garden tiller to make furrows with me sowing seeds for spinach and turnips.
"Do you need help planting the onions?" I asked, and soon I was placing the little green onion roots in the ground. Now it looks like a real garden, with the onion shoots sticking up in orderly rows like little green soldiers.
Several curious cows a neighbor is pasturing there gathered at the fence line, their winter coats ruffling in the wind and outlined in silhouette by the sun. A yellow school bus, followed by a cloud of dust from the newly-graveled road, came over the hill and stopped out front. Our two young granddaughters appeared momentarily around the corner of the house, making their way inside with the eagerness of kids out of school.
We stopped for more seed packets on the way home, so I don't need a fortune cookie to tell me where we'll be tomorrow! Nor do I attribute my feeling better to a cookie, because my husband prayed for me this morning!
Thursday, February 27, 2014
Wednesday, February 26, 2014
To Market, To Market
Yesterday I decided to tag along with my husband on a short errand since I had not been out of the house all day due to feeling a little puny. He had ordered a new guitar strap and wanted to have it monogrammed with the words, "I AM BLESSED." He discovered the monogram service at a local gift shop a few months ago and had had "ONE OF THEM," emblazoned on his other guitar strap.
He'd had me put a pin through the strap to mark the exact location for the words. I was a little dissatisfied with the look of the first one, because the letters were placed vertically, on top of one another. Howard ran his finger along the strap indicating how he wanted the words on this strap placed, and the worker nodded in agreement. "The top of the letter should go here," I pointed out, making sure she understood it was to be written and read horizontally.
"Oh, you want it that way!" she noted in surprise. (It's a good thing I went along, I thought to myself!)
"Where are you going now?" I asked, to which Howard replied, "To get an ice cream cone," heading the car in the opposite direction of home. Since he was going to Braum's, I suggested he get a loaf of the raisin bread we liked. He came out with a bag containing raisin bread, white bread, and a large carton of ice cream bars! (They were very tasty, though, I decided after having one.)
"Do you need anything else before going home?" my helpful spouse asked. I was thinking I could use a can of cream of chicken soup for a casserole I was considering making for supper. He said he would run in to the store near our house. I wondered how a can of soup so filled out the plastic bag he was carrying, then I looked inside to see the can of soup, a roll of braunschweiger (liverwurst), and a can of pork and beans. My husband, the inveterate shopper!
Resignedly, I sigh and realize that he is a product of his upbringing, that of being raised in the family grocery store and working there growing up. His ease with stock, familiarity with brands, and loving to experiment with something new on the shelves is second nature to him. But so are his people skills and outgoing personality that were nurtured there and have served him so well in ministry!
Even if he did go in after bottled water today and come out with frozen waffles and three boxes of macaroni and cheese added to his tab, I have to smile and know, like the title of the song on his guitar strap, "I AM BLESSED" with such a sweet, thoughtful husband. And as far as creative shoppers go, there are worse things than being "ONE OF THEM"!
He'd had me put a pin through the strap to mark the exact location for the words. I was a little dissatisfied with the look of the first one, because the letters were placed vertically, on top of one another. Howard ran his finger along the strap indicating how he wanted the words on this strap placed, and the worker nodded in agreement. "The top of the letter should go here," I pointed out, making sure she understood it was to be written and read horizontally.
"Oh, you want it that way!" she noted in surprise. (It's a good thing I went along, I thought to myself!)
"Where are you going now?" I asked, to which Howard replied, "To get an ice cream cone," heading the car in the opposite direction of home. Since he was going to Braum's, I suggested he get a loaf of the raisin bread we liked. He came out with a bag containing raisin bread, white bread, and a large carton of ice cream bars! (They were very tasty, though, I decided after having one.)
"Do you need anything else before going home?" my helpful spouse asked. I was thinking I could use a can of cream of chicken soup for a casserole I was considering making for supper. He said he would run in to the store near our house. I wondered how a can of soup so filled out the plastic bag he was carrying, then I looked inside to see the can of soup, a roll of braunschweiger (liverwurst), and a can of pork and beans. My husband, the inveterate shopper!
Resignedly, I sigh and realize that he is a product of his upbringing, that of being raised in the family grocery store and working there growing up. His ease with stock, familiarity with brands, and loving to experiment with something new on the shelves is second nature to him. But so are his people skills and outgoing personality that were nurtured there and have served him so well in ministry!
Even if he did go in after bottled water today and come out with frozen waffles and three boxes of macaroni and cheese added to his tab, I have to smile and know, like the title of the song on his guitar strap, "I AM BLESSED" with such a sweet, thoughtful husband. And as far as creative shoppers go, there are worse things than being "ONE OF THEM"!
Monday, February 24, 2014
Great Expectations
At a community songfest the other night, I bought a cookbook made by ladies of a local church. Looking through it when I got home, I was pleasantly surprised to find recipes I'd wanted to make, but couldn't remember the exact details. One was icing for German Chocolate Cake, a delicious, simple cooked frosting I used to love when my sister-in-law made it. I can't wait to try it.
The other was for Chocolate Gravy! I knew it by the name, Cocoa Gravy, as a child, when Mama would make it for our breakfast. She made biscuits and regular gravy for the adults, but the kids got Cocoa Gravy over her wonderful, homemade biscuits!
Lying in bed this morning contemplating what might taste good for breakfast (difficult decision, since I don't have much sense of taste), I remembered the cookbook and Cocoa Gravy! Just the right incentive to make me spring out of bed. (Hubby had arisen predawn, made his own breakfast, and was fast asleep in his easy chair.)
First, I made a half-dozen biscuits and put them in to bake. Then, following directions, I mixed the sugar, flour, cocoa and salt, adding milk and stirring it into what became a luscious-looking, bubbling pan of chocolate temptation. I broke open a hot biscuit and covered it with a generous dollop. Hm. It was good, but as expected, I couldn't detect the butter and vanilla flavor it contained, not to mention the full taste of chocolate. And it was too sweet! I called my husband, and he wasn't impressed when he took a bite.
Finding the recipe in an online website, I realized I had used more sugar than necessary. I could have used 1/3 cup less, according to Paula Deen! Next time I will, although I'm not under any illusions it will taste as good as it did to my childhood palate! Anyway, homegrown cookbooks have not been subjected to the scrutiny of a test kitchen and are not immune to a few typos.
Oh well, accidents will happen, as I learned the night I bought the book. I had noticed the display of them on the counter when we entered the concert. The hostess on duty invited me to look through it, then my husband wrote out the check. At the end of the program, Howard wanted to speak to someone he recognized, and leaving his styrofoam cup of coffee on the table he went to greet his friend. I reached to pick up the cookbook and knocked over the coffee! I grabbed the book, but it was splattered.
The kind concession attendant brought towels and sopped things up, but when I opened the book he saw that the page edges were wet. "I can fix that," he said, and surprised me by handing me an unspoiled cookbook from the stack on the counter. "Are you sure?" I asked, and he assured me it was okay. Maybe my next batch of Cocoa Gravy will be, too!
The other was for Chocolate Gravy! I knew it by the name, Cocoa Gravy, as a child, when Mama would make it for our breakfast. She made biscuits and regular gravy for the adults, but the kids got Cocoa Gravy over her wonderful, homemade biscuits!
Lying in bed this morning contemplating what might taste good for breakfast (difficult decision, since I don't have much sense of taste), I remembered the cookbook and Cocoa Gravy! Just the right incentive to make me spring out of bed. (Hubby had arisen predawn, made his own breakfast, and was fast asleep in his easy chair.)
First, I made a half-dozen biscuits and put them in to bake. Then, following directions, I mixed the sugar, flour, cocoa and salt, adding milk and stirring it into what became a luscious-looking, bubbling pan of chocolate temptation. I broke open a hot biscuit and covered it with a generous dollop. Hm. It was good, but as expected, I couldn't detect the butter and vanilla flavor it contained, not to mention the full taste of chocolate. And it was too sweet! I called my husband, and he wasn't impressed when he took a bite.
Finding the recipe in an online website, I realized I had used more sugar than necessary. I could have used 1/3 cup less, according to Paula Deen! Next time I will, although I'm not under any illusions it will taste as good as it did to my childhood palate! Anyway, homegrown cookbooks have not been subjected to the scrutiny of a test kitchen and are not immune to a few typos.
Oh well, accidents will happen, as I learned the night I bought the book. I had noticed the display of them on the counter when we entered the concert. The hostess on duty invited me to look through it, then my husband wrote out the check. At the end of the program, Howard wanted to speak to someone he recognized, and leaving his styrofoam cup of coffee on the table he went to greet his friend. I reached to pick up the cookbook and knocked over the coffee! I grabbed the book, but it was splattered.
The kind concession attendant brought towels and sopped things up, but when I opened the book he saw that the page edges were wet. "I can fix that," he said, and surprised me by handing me an unspoiled cookbook from the stack on the counter. "Are you sure?" I asked, and he assured me it was okay. Maybe my next batch of Cocoa Gravy will be, too!
Saturday, February 22, 2014
Presentation
"Have you had any prospects on the sale of your house?" I asked our son Trevor as we chatted with him on the phone this morning. (Coincidentally, two of our sons have placed their homes on the market recently.)
The fish Jesus served the disciples were probably whole, as well as the ones he multiplied from a young boy's lunch. And it was Jesus who warned of the coming judgment, the whole, unvarnished truth!
He told me they had had several lookers, then he said the real estate agent reported they had all complained about the same thing. I couldn't imagine what it would be in their beautiful, spacious home in an upscale area. "What was it?" I asked.
"You know that large poster we have over the fireplace?" he began. Of course, I remembered it. It was a reproduction of Michaelangelo's The Last Judgment that they had brought home from a trip to Rome a few years ago. I admit it was a bit startling, but they had pondered over a meaningful souvenir and had decided on a piece of art. "Well, they didn't like it!" he finished.
"Then you should take it down," I suggested, to which he replied, "That's just what the agent said, so we did!"
How odd that prospective buyers would focus on non-permanent wall decor! Trevor said he guessed it was just so big and a such a focal point in their 18' high den that it distracted them. "I had to remove the deer heads from my office, too," he went on, "Their advice was to de-personalize everything."
I thought it was a shame about the multi-point mounted displays of his hunting trophies; they had looked very handsome and added to the masculine motif of the space. I had to wonder about the painting, though. Were people disconcerted about the subject, which not only portrayed saints going to heaven, but some people being cast into hell? Or were they offended by the art style of the day, with nude or barely clothed figures?
In today's politically-correct agenda and attitude, some would rather ignore or be shielded from life's realities. In an amusing "for instance," I thought of something our 7-year-old granddaughter said last evening. Earlier that day, our neighbor had called and asked if we liked trout, saying he had caught several recently and wanted to give us some. Of course, we took them!
Howard was showing the nicely packaged trout, frozen in sealed plastic bags, to our son's family who had dropped by after supper. "Ooh! Those fish have eyes!" Beth exclaimed as she pointed to the handsome, dressed fish that seemed to be balefully looking up at her. I plan to cook them that way! Whole, either in the oven in a lemon-butter sauce, or fried crispy, golden brown and served on a platter, old-world style!
Howard was showing the nicely packaged trout, frozen in sealed plastic bags, to our son's family who had dropped by after supper. "Ooh! Those fish have eyes!" Beth exclaimed as she pointed to the handsome, dressed fish that seemed to be balefully looking up at her. I plan to cook them that way! Whole, either in the oven in a lemon-butter sauce, or fried crispy, golden brown and served on a platter, old-world style!
The fish Jesus served the disciples were probably whole, as well as the ones he multiplied from a young boy's lunch. And it was Jesus who warned of the coming judgment, the whole, unvarnished truth!
Friday, February 21, 2014
The Last Straw
"Oh, I'm out of straws!" I said when I took the last one from the tall jar where I keep them.
"Why do you drink from a straw?" questioned my young granddaughter.
"To keep tea from staining my teeth!" I replied.
I do love using a straw, and always ask for one in if the waitress forgets. "I figure if I'm going to pay for lunch, at least I shouldn't have to lift my glass to drink!" I kid them.
Of course, the expression, "the last straw," comes from the old saying, "the straw that broke the camel's back," meaning some minor irritation on top of other dissatisfactions or disappointments that results in an explosion of impatience and burst of temper.
The Bible is full of scriptures dealing with anger. Ephesians 4:26 admonishes, "Be ye angry and sin not," and the rest of the verse advises, "Let not the sun go down on your wrath."
In Proverbs 15:1, we find the wisdom that "A soft answer turneth away wrath," and verse 18 says, "He that is slow to anger appeaseth wrath."
There is a story in the Bible that seems to be a time when Jesus lost his temper. Mark 11:15, as well as verses in the other gospels, tells of Jesus cleansing the temple. "And they came to Jerusalem: and Jesus went into the temple, and began to cast out them that sold and bought in the temple, and overthrew the tables of the money changers, and the seats of them that sold doves."
In verse 17 of the same chapter, we read, "And he taught, saying unto them, Is it not written, My house shall be called of all nations the house of prayer? but ye have made it a den of thieves."
But a few verses previous, in Mark 11:11, we find Jesus entering the temple the day before, and only looking around. The Bible doesn't say anything about the money changers there, but could it be that they were there and he controlled his anger, knowing what he would do the next day? At any rate, I'm sure what he found felt like the last straw!
"He that is slow to anger is better than the mighty; and he that ruleth his spirit than he that taketh a city," Proverbs 16:32. Jesus was brought up on these scriptures, knowing the law and reading the scrolls. Jesus didn't lose his temper, but used his righteous anger against sin. The way to "be angry and sin not!"
Thursday, February 20, 2014
Journey
"Got my bag, got my reservation, spent each dime I could afford. Like a child in wild anticipation, long to hear that 'All aboard,'" so goes the old "Sentimental Journey" song. That's the way I'm feeling since we got our tickets yesterday to go visit the grand babies (and their parents) in a couple weeks!
And no, it's not the Chattanooga Choo-Choo, or the Wabash Cannon Ball, it's the Heartland Flyer, and then the Texas Eagle that we'll be boarding. We enjoy train travel because there's no driving, no airport security hassle, the views are more entertaining and the people are interesting.
Well, what we got was not really a ticket, just a computer copy of the receipt. We like to have it just in case, but usually we are not asked for it, as all that is necessary is to give the conductor are our names, which he locates on his computer, and we are good to go. And actually, we spent no money on our tickets. Our kids we are visiting provided them!
I am reminded of something Corrie Ten Boom wrote in her book, The Hiding Place. As a child, she had questions about death, and was fearful and worried about it. Her father wisely gave her an illustration. "Corrie," he said, "When you go to Amsterdam on the train, when do I give you your ticket?" She answered, "Why right before I get on." He then reassured her that God would give her whatever she needed just when she needed it when that time came.
And we won't have to present a ticket when we get to heaven, although it has already been bought by the blood of Jesus Christ and we were given it at the moment of salvation. A search will be made in the Book of Life to see if our name is recorded there, just as the earthly conductor looked on the roster of passengers for the train. If our name is found in the Book of Life, we will hear the words, "Well done, thy good and faithful servant. Enter thou in to the joys of the Lord," Matthew 25:21, 23.
The last verse of the old song from the 40s that I quoted goes, "Never thought my heart could be so yearny. Why did I decide to roam? Gonna take a sentimental journey, sentimental journey home." Yearnings for distant loved ones are poignant and sentimental, but may they pale in comparison with the yearnings we have for our heavenly home, where we're "never more to roam."
And no, it's not the Chattanooga Choo-Choo, or the Wabash Cannon Ball, it's the Heartland Flyer, and then the Texas Eagle that we'll be boarding. We enjoy train travel because there's no driving, no airport security hassle, the views are more entertaining and the people are interesting.
Well, what we got was not really a ticket, just a computer copy of the receipt. We like to have it just in case, but usually we are not asked for it, as all that is necessary is to give the conductor are our names, which he locates on his computer, and we are good to go. And actually, we spent no money on our tickets. Our kids we are visiting provided them!
I am reminded of something Corrie Ten Boom wrote in her book, The Hiding Place. As a child, she had questions about death, and was fearful and worried about it. Her father wisely gave her an illustration. "Corrie," he said, "When you go to Amsterdam on the train, when do I give you your ticket?" She answered, "Why right before I get on." He then reassured her that God would give her whatever she needed just when she needed it when that time came.
And we won't have to present a ticket when we get to heaven, although it has already been bought by the blood of Jesus Christ and we were given it at the moment of salvation. A search will be made in the Book of Life to see if our name is recorded there, just as the earthly conductor looked on the roster of passengers for the train. If our name is found in the Book of Life, we will hear the words, "Well done, thy good and faithful servant. Enter thou in to the joys of the Lord," Matthew 25:21, 23.
The last verse of the old song from the 40s that I quoted goes, "Never thought my heart could be so yearny. Why did I decide to roam? Gonna take a sentimental journey, sentimental journey home." Yearnings for distant loved ones are poignant and sentimental, but may they pale in comparison with the yearnings we have for our heavenly home, where we're "never more to roam."
Wednesday, February 19, 2014
Men Ought Always to Pray
"Oh, this is wonderful!" I exclaimed as we descended the sloping walkway into the gardens. The almost-balmy temperatures, the beautiful day, the endless sky and God's creation spread out before us. I think it was our first visit to the park all winter.
"We should have brought our lunch!" I lamented when we had sat down at an inviting bench and table. It was almost noon, and we thought about buying a sandwich and bringing it back to eat, but we decided to walk first. By then we had changed our minds and decided to stop for a pizza on the way to our son Greg's house in the country.
What a good idea that was! The fresh-baked pizza was incredible eaten in the cheery surroundings of the snack tables and bright interior. We called Greg to come join us, but he was busy with at home with workmen installing air conditioning. The pizza was too much for the two of us, so we told him we would bring some to him.
How I love the country! One seems closer to God there! I thought about that later when we were home and Howard posed a question: Are the prayers that we pray effective forever? I knew there was a verse in the Bible that seemed to indicate that prayers are stored up, so we looked up Revelation 8:3-4:
"And another angel came and stood at the altar, having a golden censer; and there was given unto him much incense, that he should offer it with the prayers of all saints upon the golden altar which was before the throne. (4) And the smoke of the incense, which came with the prayers of the saints, ascended up before God out of the angel's hand."
Revelation 5:8 says, "And when he had taken the book, the four beasts and four and twenty elders fell down before the Lamb, having every one of them harps, and golden vials (bowls) full of odours, which are the prayers of the saints."
Maybe those are the prayers awaiting answers? We receive the answers to many prayers while we are living, but some are no doubt answered even after we are gone.
David must have believed that God kept record of our tears and distresses, for he writes in Psalm 56:8, "Thou tellest my wanderings: put thou my tears into thy bottle: are they not in thy book?"
Being out in nature that day and contemplating the heavens made me reflect that God is not limited to time and space, as we are. It is always today with God. He is "I am." The same yesterday, today and forever.
"We should have brought our lunch!" I lamented when we had sat down at an inviting bench and table. It was almost noon, and we thought about buying a sandwich and bringing it back to eat, but we decided to walk first. By then we had changed our minds and decided to stop for a pizza on the way to our son Greg's house in the country.
What a good idea that was! The fresh-baked pizza was incredible eaten in the cheery surroundings of the snack tables and bright interior. We called Greg to come join us, but he was busy with at home with workmen installing air conditioning. The pizza was too much for the two of us, so we told him we would bring some to him.
How I love the country! One seems closer to God there! I thought about that later when we were home and Howard posed a question: Are the prayers that we pray effective forever? I knew there was a verse in the Bible that seemed to indicate that prayers are stored up, so we looked up Revelation 8:3-4:
"And another angel came and stood at the altar, having a golden censer; and there was given unto him much incense, that he should offer it with the prayers of all saints upon the golden altar which was before the throne. (4) And the smoke of the incense, which came with the prayers of the saints, ascended up before God out of the angel's hand."
Revelation 5:8 says, "And when he had taken the book, the four beasts and four and twenty elders fell down before the Lamb, having every one of them harps, and golden vials (bowls) full of odours, which are the prayers of the saints."
Maybe those are the prayers awaiting answers? We receive the answers to many prayers while we are living, but some are no doubt answered even after we are gone.
David must have believed that God kept record of our tears and distresses, for he writes in Psalm 56:8, "Thou tellest my wanderings: put thou my tears into thy bottle: are they not in thy book?"
Being out in nature that day and contemplating the heavens made me reflect that God is not limited to time and space, as we are. It is always today with God. He is "I am." The same yesterday, today and forever.
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