October 31, 1981

If you come knocking at our house tonight, you will still get candy served in
a large Tupperware bowl.
When I saw this photo I saw how some things have not changed.

Mimi's Consolation Mints

 

I'm beginning to realize that many traditions don't begin with the intent of being repeated on a regular basis. I certainly had no idea the first time I offered mints to the kids that this would become common practice. As they sadly put on their shoes, the question comes out, "Mimi, can I have a green mint?"

And all is well as they get buckled into their car seats.

I didn't realize just how seriously these mints were categorized into "good bye" mints until one day . . . sometime during playtime, Landon asked for gum and I offered him a mint instead. He looked at me like I had lost my senses. "Why are you giving me that?" And he refused to take one. I can't help but think that there is something special about that kind of reservation or discipline. 

It could also be that he was just scared it would seal his fate to go home earlier than planned.

Miraculous Movements

A soul searching and possibly life defining book I read while away is called Miraculous Movements, written by Jerry Trousdale, with contributions by individuals who unfortunately need to be kept anonymous.

The personal stories recorded here tell of a God who is moved to compassion for every soul, using miraculous means to draw the lost to Himself. While many of us from the Western Christian world resort to fear, anger or rejection when it comes to those of extreme, radical faith, the testimonies in this book challenge us to demonstrate God's compassion and truth in order to see barriers broken, lives transformed and fear dispelled.

It is this belief that is giving many Christians the courage to live among the people who would deem them their enemy. Yet, as they seek to serve them, love them, pray for them and answer their questions, they see people who are desperately seeking the truth that no one has been willing to share with them. The word of God comes to have meaning, through those who do not judge them, but simply share the scriptures and live them. The amazing thing is to read stories of how, in the meantime, God has prepared many to recognize the truth when they hear it because they have been prepared through dreams and visions that come to make sense at the right time.

In many cases, what is happening is not unlike what happened to the apostle Paul in the Bible whom Jesus met on the road to Damascus. His plan to kill those who believed in Jesus changed course as he met Jesus himself. It's about discovery and changed lives, not teaching and knowledge. This is what is changing extreme radicals who persecuted Christians and bombed churches to active believers involved in helping their friends study the Bible.

In other cases, issues that are bringing people to faith in Jesus Christ include an unsatisfied void, no answers for the violence inside their world, feeling like one can't make personal choices or get answers to spiritual questions such as assurance of salvation. As these stories come to life, one moves beyond our small world, dominated by our paper headlines to that of a story God is writing, one that includes people of every race and nation.

After this I looked and there before me was a great multitude that no one could count,

 from every nation, tribe, people and language,

standing before the throne and in front of the Lamb.

They were wearing white robes and were holding palm branches in their hands.

And they cried out in a loud voice:

"Salvation belongs to our God, who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb."

Revelation 7:9, 10

 

Sweet Delights

 

When we picked up groceries for the week at the condo, we picked up

 just what we needed to get by for simple breakfasts and lunches.

I had seen brown sugar in the kitchen,

so I thought I was good to go with getting some quick oats.

However, when I tried scooping some out, it was hard as a rock.

Sometime, before I knew about google, I learned that if you put a piece of raw apple in with the hardened sugar it will soften. I thought, the more the merrier . . . but checking the container a few hours later, saw it was creating too much moisture so I removed all but one piece for the night.

The next morning it was perfectly easy to crumble up and use.

And, by the way, the next time you cook some oatmeal
 slice up an apple and brown it in a teaspoon of butter.
Top your oatmeal with cooked apples and a sprinkle of brown sugar.  So delicious!
Sorry, no picture.

A package of cinnamon swirl muffins made it into our cart. Go figure!
 Yet, sadly, after tasting them they ended up just sitting on the counter.
I decided that dried muffin slices should make a good French toast.
 There was no syrup. But we had brown sugar!
 After googling for a brown sugar syrup, I came upon this site.
 

It turned out very nicely.
Here's the recipe:
Bring half a cup of water to a boil . . .
add 1 cup of brown sugar and cook it until it is dissolved . . .
 add 1 Tbsp each of butter and rum, (shock, I know . . . long story)
Cook for another minute and you are done.

I could have licked the plate clean.
(The syrup keeps, refrigerated, but needs re-heating to melt the butter.)
 

 

Away but not Away

It was 35 years ago that we drove into Palm Springs for the first time, looking like some lost honeymooners . . . amongst a world of "old people" enjoying their retirement. This past week, although retirement is still somewhere in the future, we were the old people sitting by the pool and eating dinners out. Where has time gone? It's just funny to reminisce and wonder what happened to Wayne and Wanda or Bob and Loretta . . . who took us on like kids to look out for, so many years ago.

Who would have guessed how things would change in these three and a half decades? In the late seventies and into the eighties and even nineties, when we left on a vacation, we truly left everything. I remember in 1994 , not so long ago, when we went to Eastern Europe for a month and we thought it was quite impressive that we could send a fax home to my family.

Today, technology such as our iPhones and net book can be at our beck and call and make us appear like we are just next door. Our kids text random, short messages, emails come and go, calls come in assuming the boss is in his office,  I access my documents and work if I feel like it . . . all while away from home.

I know, some would say this is not a vacation. But we've had a most relaxing time anyways. To sit at the pool for a few hours a day is not something I take for granted. Sleeping in, shopping, reading and some nice meals out, have given us some much needed time together. We do not usually read the same books, but this time we happened to do so and it was good to talk about what we read and to be challenged together. I have much to process still as I write.

But for now, the bags are mostly packed again and tomorrow is another day. I will smile at the rain as I fill up the fridge and plan for the week. Grandkids will be happy to come over  again . . . a cookbook is starting to take shape . . . events need planning and Christmas is just around the corner. There's much to do and it will be tackled with renewed zest. I feel rested and happy about the reality of being home again.

Before and After Lighting

The chandelier we chose in 1979 . . .
being shown in it's best light here.

Even though I had became sentimentally attached to it over the years,

if that is possible,

the day came - I was done with it.

The difficult thing is,
how do you choose one, knowing from experience, how long we hang on?
We chose this one.
I had to chuckle when we got home and saw some similarities
I had not noticed in the store.

From Across the Miles

I thought I'd make mention today

 that snail mail is still alive and well in some parts of the country.

It may be a beautiful photo that I can hold in my hand

or some artwork tucked into an envelope.

I cropped out the addresses on this envelope
but you get the idea of what arrives in the mail.

I imagine that even the mailman must get some kind of pleasure in
delivering these priority messages.
This all started when Lacey got a hold of an envelope and
scribbled right on the address . . . so much so that I was surprised it got here.
After that she was told that she could color any part except for the address.
So this is how the envelopes arrive these days.

On their end the mailboxes are a short walk down the street
on the way to the park . . . and I noticed on our visit there
that she would be quick to point to a certain mailbox number as we passed by.
She knows that there may just be a brown paper package in there.
I love how her mom snaps a quick photo while walking home
from the mailbox

or while opening the envelope.
 This is how grand parenting takes place
when the miles separate us.

For the Road

The September issue of Style at Home has
 a fun idea on how to change up the look of a muffin.
To do this, I collected tomato paste cans . . .
sprayed the bottoms and lined them with parchment paper.
You can use any recipe you like. I will be posting these apple/cherry muffins next week on MGCC.
 

A fun package to send along for someone on the road.
 

In Celebration of a Life

 

 

Today . . . October 12 we would be celebrating my dad's 80th Birthday

 had he lived to see this day.

The Lord took him home at the age of 74 and I can say  . . .

with the words of a favorite song by Chris Tomlin . . .  that all is well.

There’s a peace I’ve come to know
Though my heart and flesh may fail
There’s an anchor for my soul
I can say “It is well”
Jesus has overcome
And the grave is overwhelmed
The victory is won
He is risen from the dead
Chorus:
And I will rise when He calls my name
No more sorrow, no more pain
I will rise on eagles’ wings
Before my God fall on my knees
And rise
I will rise
There’s a day that’s drawing near
When this darkness breaks to light
And the shadows disappear
And my faith shall be my eyes.
 

This week we gathered once more as an extended family
on my H's side to celebrate the life of our dear sister-in-law, Susie.
 She has joined the crowd of witnesses
cheering us on to finish our race well.



She leaves to mourn five children with spouses
 nine grand-children - some newly  married -
and her loving husband, George.
 To see him commit her back
 to the One who gave her to him more than fifty years ago . . .
was to witness a moment of a trust and surrender
that words cannot express.

Many times I wondered why God was not answering our prayers for her healing.
 Why did she have to suffer for so long?
On this day I may have seen a glimpse of the reason
as I heard her grandchildren rise up and share of the impact she has had on them
 . . . from the oldest to the youngest there came a sense of deep respect
for her non-judgmental, yet always honest, loving support,
Putting aside her own pain, she made each one of them feel
like they were all that mattered.
  

Her deep love for her family and God has impacted
us all in ways that time will continue to prove.
I've been challenged to be the kind of grandmother she was . . .
Holding on to faith . . . and never giving up in the things
that will matter in the end.

Thanksgiving

 

Monday morning we loaded up the car and enjoyed the beautiful twenty minute drive to the Janzen Lakehouse to celebrate with my side of the family. I noticed mom and Abe were already there . . . at his cabin next door. My nineteen-year-old cousin, who is a student here from Paraguay, was the first to bounce in. She told me that the pies were in the oven next door. I quickly decorated the" mantle" and then put her to work scrubbing potatoes while I set things up for a potato bar.

My H made a fire in the firepit and, as family arrived, some gathered there while hotdogs got cooked for the little kids. I believe this is the first time the picnic table got used for Thanksgiving and the kids got to run about in the sunshine, swing high on a tire swing or chase a little visiting poodle.



 

Once the kids had eaten, the adults were free to gather around the kitchen island. We stood, joining together in a traditional hymn of thanks . . . Praise God from Whom all Blessing Flow. Maybe not everyone there knew it . . . but if they keep coming, they will surely learn it. We were nineteen adults, with a number who could not be there. 

And just because we did not have turkey this time . . .  did not mean that plates did not get filled to the brim. I enjoyed seeing the different kinds of loaded potatoes . . . 

this was no match to "Wendy's" potato.

Our new experiment worked well! I did not hear any complaints . . . just a lot of happy chatter around the dining and family room tables.

Warm pie and perishky followed suit.



 We do love our celebrations! It can be a beautifully set table for special occasions, but it can also be a simple potluck or a meal around a firepit. What matters is that we get together.

By now you have heard about what is going on in our private kitchens
where we have been thinking about and planning for all kinds of reasons to celebrate
Thoughts, recipes and menus being put together as we work on our next cookbook
will simply be called

CELEBRATIONS

An important part of life!

You're Welcome!

To go with our practice of giving thanks for the food before eating, Papa loves getting the little ones to fold their hands and thank for the food. On Saturday he was asking Koen, who is barely two now, to repeat after him. So this is what we listened to . . .
Papa: Dear Jesus . . .
Koen: Dear Jesus
Papa: thank you . . .
Koen: you're welcome!
I'm not sure if the prayer got finished, because we all got the giggles and, Koey, looking around and seeing smiles, laughed - not knowing why.

I've thought about this funny little story since, and how we could welcome the Lord Jesus to the table. Of course, there is the obvious, general care that we can extend to each other in our conversations and inviting Him into our presence in the way we talk and what we say,  but is there more?

I opened my Bible to Matthew where Jesus tells of how one day the sheep will get separated from the goats. It reads . . .
"All the nations will be gathered before Him . . . and the King will say to those on his right, "Come, you who are blessed by my Father, take your inheritance . . . for I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in. I needed clothes and you clothed me . . . "
Then the righteous will answer him, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you a drink . . ."
The King will reply, "I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me." (Matthew 25: 31-40)

These are the thoughts that have been a part of  preparing a Thanksgiving table. Is there room for someone who'd be alone on this day? Is there room for extending myself on behalf of others? Is Jesus welcome?

More thoughts from the Fall Season of Life

I take my hat off to the young moms who daily get through the routine of getting their kids dressed, fed, into the car and at the school drop off lane, before the school bell goes off.

On Monday, after I had all three kids strapped into their car seats with few minutes to spare, I had this strange urge to go back into the house to use those minutes for a moment to myself . . . and this was only the first day of the week!

Going through the reality of nighttime coughs . . . 

changing diapers . . . 

crawling under the table to mop up crumbs and spaghetti . . .

 giving more control to little minds in regard to what they want to eat or wear

 than what appeals to me . . .

putting toys back into the toy box so that it can be emptied again . . .

 all of these daily” mommy moments” are reasons I am so glad

 to give one special mom the chance to take a vacation.

 

And the wonderful, amazing thing is that because she is their mom she will be happy to come home again!  To be that hero in their eyes . . . the one who wipes their tears, kisses away their hurts and loves them unconditionally . . .  is worth it all!

So, today, as you wipe noses, zip un-cooperating zippers, prepare snacks, clean up snacks, fold little shirts, undo tiny socks turned inside out and listen to kids chatter and noise . . . remember it’s just a season. I pray that with all of the new challenges facing parents today, you can hold onto the hope that God is still the same and always there to give patience and wisdom to us in time of need. We just need to ask . . . like kids do.

 

And before you know it, the day you will come when you will be happy do it all over again for each of these - your little angels in training.

Defining Seasons

I was pushing the boys on the swings under the maple tree in our back yard,

when I looked up and thought back to the day it was planted . . .

about twenty-five years ago.



If trees could talk!

The sapling that it was, I probably could have enfolded it’s trunk with one hand.

I remember getting a funny look from the gardener

when I cautioned him not to go too close to the wash line.

Do you see it there? The top of the pole just shows up at the bottom of the photo.

 I wonder the funny look I would have given

had someone told me that my grandchildren

would be swinging from that tree one day.

Eight of them!

 

This week we are back to feeling like parents

as three of them have been entrusted to our care.

 The days begin earlier than usual.

By the time I have them dressed, fed and buckled into their car seats 

I feel like I have surely earned some kind of an award!

Natalie gets dropped off in front of her Grade one class

and the boys come back home with me.

 

I've had to smile at how two boys energize each other.

The greatest discovery has been the fact that

they can use the garage as a hockey rink..

 

They change their names to reflect two other brothers on their favourite team

 and off they go!

  

Another thing that caught me by surprise was how an old baby toy

suddenly became a sword and shield! Who would have known?

And as for the favoured highway for little vehicles . . .

I’ve come to convince myself that those fine lines on the black coffee table

look quite okay on there. It’s the look . . . 
not unlike the smile lines on a Grammy's face.

By the time the sun sets, I feel like an old tree that is more used to days in the

shade . . . than the young sapling mom I used to be.

The best time of the day is when I get to dig into the warm water

in the kitchen sink . . .

and Papa takes them all outside to run off some steam

before baths and bedtime stories.

 

A Post Ending On Dining Etiquette

 

The "twin-cousins" have a special relationship that began with sisters announcing their pregnancy to each other on the same day. I was almost bursting by that time since I had known about each secret for several weeks. It's hard to believe more than five years have gone by since that day and that now these cousins . . . born in different countries . . . come over every week for a play date. The years apart did not set them back at all. They are best buds!

One will come in the door announcing that he can now put on his own seatbelt and the other will affirm the fact that she can too. One plays the daddy and one the mommy. It usually works out quite well in the playhouse. They laugh at the same jokes. They get thirsty at the same time.

Makenna, our little romantic, had the idea to eat their lunch on a little table on the patio and Landon complied.

 

It all became more special when I allowed them to cut up their own pancakes.

 

When she saw he could do it, she could too!

I enjoyed observing their simple act of using the fork and knife like that . . .
which led me to a thought about differences in utensil etiquette.

I married a man who was taught to eat with his knife in his right hand and fork in his left, eating the whole meal like that, even when there is no food to cut up. Meanwhile, I grew up in a home where we simply cut up our food and then put down our knife and ate. I have since learned that one is the European way and one is the American way to eat. If you like to watch people, you will notice it. The difference is that you don't switch the utensils in your hands while eating. I always think the European way looks "fancy" or "formal" and try to eat that way when it suits the occasion. I'm not quite sure what that makes me.