Remembering a funny sign

Scotty and Lisa's most recent post reminded me of some of the funny signs we used to see in Cameroon. This was one of our favorites....



Now wouldn't you want to go there for a hectic, relaxing weekend! (By the way, Ndop is the name of the town).

Sunday afternoon tea and conversation

Eleven women from church gathered to drink tea and talk about the coming Christmas season. It was pleasantly warm so we sat on the porch. With teacups in hand and rosemary shortbread to nibble, we talked about the ways we celebrate Christmas. We represent a variety of styles and choices but all of us desire that Christ be the center of our celebration.

Here are a few of the ideas and traditions that folks told about:

Using an Advent calendar and/or wreath to focus our thoughts on the birth of Jesus during the weeks of Advent leading up to Christmas

Keeping the focus on Christ on Christmas day by not giving gifts on Christmas or having a tree, but celebrating with a Wise Man party on New Year’s.

Having a birthday cake for Jesus and letting a little one help bake and decorate it.

Setting up the tree in a less central location and making the crèche (manger scene) the focus in the main living space.

Not putting out gifts until just before time to open them so that the focus is not so much on the presents

Reading the gospel accounts of Jesus's birth together on Christmas Eve or morning.

Reading special stories each year that remind us of why Jesus came. Reading the same stories every year, stories that bind us together as a family because they are so familiar and beloved.

Singing Christmas hymns and carols during Advent as a family together

Making gifts rather than spending lots of time and money shopping; keeping gift giving simple; limiting the number of gifts

Traveling less, staying home and establishing family traditions

Doing something for someone less fortunate, participating in a service project in December

Having special foods that we only eat at this time of year that make the season special

Making the Christmas Day or Christmas Eve service central

I am sure there were more but those are the ones that come to mind right now.

I'm so thankful for the women who came and shared a lovely Sunday afternoon together. I'm thankful for their thoughtfulness in the way they desire to glorify God in their lives and homes. I'm looking forward to more Sunday teatimes in the months ahead, probably not on the porch again for awhile, but just as enjoyable. I pray that these teatimes will help us encourage one another and continue fostering loving, joyful community in our church family.

Our Saturday walk

It was a gorgeous afternoon. We did something I should have done a very long time ago. Coty and the boys and I took a long tramp in the woods and cow pastures back behind our house. The kids have explored and played back there from time to time over the last couple of years. Sometimes they walk all the way to the gas station beyond and buy fountain drinks. But for some unexplainable reason, I’ve never walked back there. What have I been doing for four years?!!!

Over our back creek, through the woods and up a hill, you come to a little knoll that overlooks a pond. From the knoll, you can't see any houses, only the rolling pasture, and the woods on the hill behind, and the quiet pond below. We walked up the hill and surveyed the pasture dotted with black cows. On the hilltop, we discovered a tree with a bit of mistletoe in the branches. Matthew climbed the tree and inched his way out the branch, eventually getting close enough to snap some of the mistletoe with a stick. Interesting reading the history of "kissing under the mistletoe." It's another of those pagan traditions that has continued in seasonal celebrations to this day. I never thought much about it and didn't know the origin of the tradition. Like many things, it has absolutely nothing to do with a Christian celebration of the birth of Jesus, but comes mainly from a Norse myth. The botany of the plant is pretty interesting, though. It’s an evergreen parasitic plant and has a number of medicinal uses. But I digress...back to our walk...

Beyond the hilltop is a darker and quieter cedar/pine wood. I noticed how the sound of your footsteps changes depending on what you're walking through. Oak leaves and pine needles sound very different underfoot. Through the cedar wood and down another hill, we came to a spot further upstream on the creek we had already crossed. There were large raccoon tracks in the soft mud at the water's edge and deep deer tracks on the bank. If only I'd had my Plaster of Paris! I could have made some really nice casts of tracks. Maybe next time!

All along the walk, I was collecting. A bit of moss, some lichen, pine cones and sweet gum balls, seed pods. Little treasures. They are now lovingly arranged on a ceramic plate on the shelf in the front hall, reminding me of the small beauties I often overlook.

I really can't believe I've lived in this house for a little over four years and NEVER walked back there. I have been WAY too busy. I have now purposed to walk out there at least a couple of times of week. I'm going to have to put my mucky-muck boots back in service.

Saturday's walk refreshed me - heart, body, and soul. I love being in the woods. I remember long tramps in the woods near my grandmother’s house in SC when I was a kid. I remember the first time I heard a covey of quail take off. It sounded like a mack truck. When we lived in Massachusetts, I spent a lot of time in the woods behind our house. We picked fiddlehead ferns in the spring and swam in the river in the summer. We saw deer and raccoon there, too, and not just the tracks.

Somehow moving here, I got disconnected. I don't know why. There was really no reason. I can’t do what I could do in MA and hit the Appalachian Trail a couple of miles from my back yard, but I can sit on the knoll overlooking the pond, or feel the moss under my feet in the cedar woods. I can be still and listen to the hawk calling overhead and watch it reel and turn on outstretched wings. I can notice the rocks in the creek and see how they crack and cleave. I can feel the air get cooler as I descend the hill to the creek’s edge.

But there’s something more I can do. I can pray and listen, in the quiet of the woods and pasture, to the voice of God, the creator and sustainer of it all. I can gather small treasures and be reminded that He is the greatest treasure. I can look for glimpses of His glory in all He has made, remembering that all nature declares its Maker's praise. I am deeply thankful for a walk that has prepared me to move into Advent - renewed, refreshed, quieted, physical and spiritual senses alert, ready to ponder, watch, and wait for the coming of the Glorious One, veiled in flesh, who shines in all He made.

I'm thankful....

for God's grace poured out for me in love and mercy on the cross, for the Bible; for my dear husband of almost 27 years, for married love that has grown with every year; for six children who fill my heart so full that sometimes I think it will just burst; for my extended family, parents who are loving grandparents, sisters (aunts), brothers (uncles), the cousins of my children who are friends as well as cousins; for my DGCC family and both the joy and the tears of being their pastor's wife; for new friends this year, for steady, faithful ones, and old ones who I've gotten to see this year whose friendship grows more precious for it's depth sustained over the years; for the opportunity to teach my children and see them flourish and branch out to pursue their own interests; for the garden, the cat, the ceramic dishes, the blue teapot, the porch swing, the kitchen table, the rosemary plants, the knitting basket, and all the other little things that make this our home; for football and soccer and healthy athletic boys who love to play with each other; for the cello and music, classical and the other kinds that my boys and friends introduce to me; for walks in the morning; for good books to read; for the fun of cooking; for the hardships that sharpen and friends that walk through them with me; for God's provision at all times. The list goes on. The truth is that...

Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows. James 1:17

Thanksgiving book

This year I will not share Thanksgiving with my big kids. They are too far away...in New York State and Israel. I've been feeling sad about it for the last few days. I miss them intensely. I can't wait for Jonathan to get home in three weeks. I long for lengthy times around the table, coffee in our mugs, talking, laughing, hearing stories. I can't wait for Erin and Luke to be here at Christmas time, to cook together and sit some more around the table, telling stories, laughing, loving. As I was contemplating not spending tomorrow with the big kids, I decided to put together a little book for Erin and Luke with Thanksgiving history, pictures of our family, hymns, psalms , and poems. I love the poem below. The world in our home does seem at times to begin at the kitchen table....

“Perhaps the World Ends Here”
  By Joy Harjo

The world begins at a kitchen table.  No matter
 what, we must eat to live.

The gifts of earth are brought and prepared,
 set on the table.  So it has been since creation
 and it will go on.

We chase chickens or dogs away from it.  Babies
 teethe at the corners.  They scrape their knees
 under it.

It is here that children are given instruction on
 what it means to be human.  We make men at
 it, we make women.

At this table we gossip, recall enemies and the
 ghosts of lovers.

Our dreams drink coffee with us as they put their
 arms around our children.  They laugh with us
 at our poor falling-down selves and as we put
 ourselves back together once again at the table.

This table has been a house in the rain, an
 umbrella in the sun.

Wars have begun and ended at this table.  It is a
 place to hide in the shadow of terror.  A place
 to celebrate the terrible victory.

We have given birth on this table, and have
 prepared our parents for burial here.

At this table we sing with joy, with sorrow.  We
 pray of suffering and remorse.  We give thanks.

Perhaps the world will end at the kitchen table,
 while we are laughing and crying, eating of the
 last sweet bite.

On top of the math hill....

We had a very funny conversation about math last night. It was prompted by Thomas and Andrew's visit to Davidson yesterday and questions about math in college. You may know that Coty was a math major and I never took a math course in college. Opposites attract, I suppose! Our children have varying degrees of aptitude and love for math. Most of them are good math students, but so far, no one has demonstrated a real passion for it. That may be my fault for conveying my own fear and mental block toward anything mathematical. I know I need to be rehabilitated, but honestly, I think it's too late! Anyway, the conversation went something like this:

"If Daddy is so good in math, how come none of us are math whizzes?" (I'm not sure that's true, I mean the part about none of them being whizzes)

"Is Jonathan taking any math at Gordon? Did Erin?" (I don't think so...)

"Calculating determinants makes my head hurt. I mean it's not hard, it's just takes so long. Why does it have to be like that?" (I agree, that's how I felt, though I don't remember anything about determinants)

I like my math. Geometry is neat...I mean, I learn something new and cool every day." (Well, yes, I did like geometry in high school)

Well, it's downhill from there - just wait til you get to Calculus." (I never did!)

"I guess I'm on the top of the math hill, then." (Let's hope it's a plateau for you and next year you'll still enjoy the view from the top!)

By the way, can you guess who's on top of that math hill?!

Story Corps

I listen to NPR. I’ve listened to it for years. I think I started listening in college in my more radical days. I’ve listened through my children’s growing up years. When I cook dinner in the late afternoon, I listen to All Things Considered. One of the kids even said once that whenever they hear the ATC theme music, they imagine the smell of onions. I guess I sauté onions a lot when I cook. Funny how that radio sound and cooking smell are associated in that child’s mind.

In the morning, when I get back from walking, depending on my mood, I either start the coffee in the coffee maker or put the tea pot on the stove. While I wait for it to get ready I putz in the kitchen and listen to Morning Edition.

NPR is where I get my news. One of my sons gently ribs me for that, but that’s OK. It’s the only place I know to hear news stories about Congo or Malawi or small town America. And I don’t really mind hearing news with a slant. It helps me to be discerning and think about the point of view of the media. I think we should listen to everything that way, aware that all news outlets have a bias. No one is completely objective. We just have to listen and think.

But news isn’t really what’s on my mind right now. What I want to write about and share with you is my very favorite feature on NPR. Every Friday, Morning Edition plays clips from the Story Corps project, an oral history project that records the lives of ordinary Americans. My two favorite recordings this past year were the love story of Annie and Danny Perasa and the story of a Father’s best work, his four daughters. Both of these stories are stories of weakness, tenderness, and deep love. I was in tears both mornings as I listened, and both stories have stayed with me. I hope I have the kind of tender love for my husband that Annie demonstrated. I also hope, after hearing George Caywood, that my children will be able to say, when they look back on their growing up years, that my “no’s” to them were “against thousands of yeses.”

These stories give me concrete pictures of ways that people live their lives and they help me to reflect on how I want to live my life. As with the news, of course, I have to be discerning when I listen to other people’s stories. I don’t listen and automatically say, “I want to be like that.” I listen, am moved, and then reflect on what has been said. I hope I am a noble Berean, taking everything I hear and testing it against God’s word. And then I desire, humbly and prayerfully, to live a life that is worthy of His calling, filled with those qualities that come from the indwelling of God’s Spirit. I fail often. But stories, these and others, help me to get up and keep walking.

“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.” 1 Corinthians 13:4-8a

Welcome residents

Kelly, Melanie, and Amber have posted recently about critter visitors to their homes. We have some little fellows that are residents rather than visitors that we've enjoyed watching lately, too. Unlike their gecko relatives who scurried along the walls inside our house in Kenya, these green anoles usually stay happily outside, mostly around the sunny deck and back brick walkway. On a recent warm Saturday, the boys together with our friend, Jonny, who was visiting from MA, caught at least a dozen lizards. They kept them in this plastic bucket for a little bit and then let them go en masse. It was The Charge of the Lizard Brigade! Fortunately they met a happier end than the Light Brigade immortalized in Tennyson's poem (incidentally, our most recent poem committed to memory). I expect these guys have enjoyed the last few warm days of the fall and are now looking for winter quarters.


Then the other day when we were having brunch on the sunny deck and reading poetry, I happened to look over and see this fellow munching on an ant! That's why I like lizards. They eat other critters that I'd rather not have around like ants and mosquitos.

Now I just need to find a good lizard poem!

Sunday dinner menu...what kind of fusion??

If you have followed the Sunday dinner menus, you will have noticed the "fusion" theme. Well, today's dinner broke the trend. As I was cooking yesterday I realized that there was no ethnic blending going on! Oh dear. Should I run out to the store for some soy sauce or chipotle peppers?

Then a lovely thought crossed my mind. I was in the process of cooking an herbal and family fusion meal. I was using several different herbs from my garden and two old favorite recipes, one from my mom and one from my mother-in-law. So, I decided to ditch the trip to the store and savor the delightful smells wafting from the stovetop and oven. We enjoyed this meal family style with a full table in the dining area and a kids' table on the porch. Here's what we ate:

Pesto tilapia over Basmati rice, made with basil from the garden
Savory navy beans with rosemary and lemon thyme, also from the garden
Sweet potato casserole - my mom's recipe with brown sugar and nuts on top
Corn pudding - my mother-in-law's recipe
Marinated veggie salad with purple basil and dill
Anadama bread (great favorite made with whole wheat, corn meal and molasses)
Deep dish apple pie with ice cream - Kelly's delicious contribution
Sweet tea, lemonade and coffee

Actually, there is a little ethnic interest to this meal if you count the Italian pesto, Indian basmati rice, Southern sweet potatoes, New England Anadama....so really it was Italian/Indian/Southern/New England/Herbal/Family Fusion. But that's getting out of hand. Lets just call it a good meal that was enjoyed by all! The stories and laughter around the table made it great.

You know, I do love to cook. I do love talking about food, thinking about food, reading about food, hearing about food. A delightful moment occurred yesterday afternoon as I was in the midst of dinner preparations for today. Erin called with a food question! What's funny is that at the moment she called I was also listening to The Splendid Table! So, her question was, "What kind of vegetable dish can I fix in a hurry to take to a friend's house for dinner?" I delight in the fact that my daughter often calls me with food questions. I will never tire of phone calls with inquiries like what to put in her kidney beans to jazz them up or how to cook collard greens. I haven't talked to her yet but can't wait to find out how her cauliflower/carrot/pepper salad turned out!

The Original Corn Pone recipe

My friend, Amber, who has been enjoying Laurel's Kitchen, posted the original Tennessee Corn Pone recipe on her blog. So, if you want more specific instructions on how to make this tasty dish as well as Amber's thoughts on this great old cookbook, check it out at http://thebrighthouse.blogspot.com/

And if you want to help me, a very computer un-saavy person, figure out how to post a link without the whole enchilada being in the text as above, comment....please! I am not computer smart enough to figure it out and don't want to spend any more time on Blogger help reading things that are unintelligible to me!

First loss of the season

Well, it happened. The Stallions were finally defeated in a very tough and heartbreaking game on Saturday in Morganton. It was the first loss of the season. Thomas was sad, but resilient in defeat, smiling and laughing with his friends over dinner in Morganton after the game. It's just been such a great season. It would have been nice to see them win his last PFL league game ever, but we are just thankful he was even able to play.

That's the good news. Thomas had been told by the doctor and physical therapist earlier in the week that he wouldn't be able to play. Excellent advice from our friend, Laura, and good care from the sports medicine doctor she recommended helped get him in the game. Amazingly, Thomas ran the first kick-off of the second half all the way back for a TD. I was cheering my heart out and not believing that my son, who could hardly walk without pain earlier in the week, was evading tackles, cutting to avoid pursuers, and running the ball all the way back. It was a real highlight of the entire season for me.

It's been fun being a football mom. I'll miss it. I still have the responsibility of organizing the team banquet, but that's not nearly as exciting as watching my Thomas on the gridiron!

Tennessee Corn Pone

For all of you who asked, here’s the Tennessee Corn Pone recipe or at least my approximation of the recipe. I think the recipe was in Laurel’s Kitchen and my copy is on long term loan to a friend.

First of all, cook up a mess of dried pinto beans. For our family, I usually cook a 2 pound bag of beans. Follow the directions on the bag – soak overnight if you want to lessen the cooking time – or allow a couple of hours for them to cook. Make sure you put in plenty of water and check them occasionally, adding water if necessary. You don’t want to do my old trick of cooking all the water out and burning the beans. Yuck! You could also buy canned beans, but this sort of seems like cheating, plus you don’t get to enjoy the lovely, homely, humble smell of (non-burning) cooking pintos.

When your beans are done, sauté a couple of chopped onions and a bell pepper. Add a can of diced tomatoes to this mix and whatever else you think will make your beans taste good. Sometimes I add fresh parsley or cilantro, sometimes chili powder and dried coriander. There are endless variations. Experiment! Add the cooked beans to this sautéed mixture. Salt to taste. Put this warm bean mixture into a 9x13 pan.

Now here’s the important part and the part I don’t know the recipe for…but not to worry. It’s easy. If you can read, you can cook! Just buy some corn meal mix – you know, the kind to which you just add an egg, a little oil, and some milk to make cornbread. Look on the side of the bag or box, and mix up enough to fill a 9 x13 pan. Add a little extra milk so that the mixture will pour, not spread, over the beans. You’ll probably need to double the recipe or use two boxes, bags, or whatever your mix comes in. Down south, I can buy a nice big bag of cornmeal mix, but you northerners may not have that luxury! Pour this cornbread batter over the beans and pop in a 350 degree preheated oven. Bake until the cornbread topping is done. You’ll know because it will be firm and golden brown on the top. The beans will be bubbling happily underneath.

Now if you live in a country where you can’t buy mixes like this, find a cornbread recipe and make a batch big enough to fill a 9 x 13 pan. As described above, add a little more milk than the recipe calls for to make a slightly more liquid mixture to pour over the beans.

Now, I think you can’t really eat this dish without a good side of greens – collards, kale, or turnip greens – with a little hot pepper vinegar on top (of the greens, that is). And maybe some sweet tea with a sprig of mint. Mmmmm!

If you aren't feeding a multitude like I usually do, try cooking the smaller bag of pintos and using one recipe of the cornmeal mix. You can bake it in a 9 inch square pan or similar sized casserole dish.

By the way, when I posted my Sunday dinner menu last week, I speculated about this week and what sort of fusion I'd try. We actually had cauliflower curry, cucumber and mixed sweet pepper raita, and my standard sweet potato casserole with brown sugar and walnuts on top... Dixie/Indian fusion this time!