Lessons learned in pregnancy...

• Maternity pants are likely to make me lazy because they don't require buttoning or zipping...I hope I can remember those things once I move past maternity-wear.
• "Women don't fart until they're pregnant" (quote from my husband)
• Carrying a baby feels like stuffing a dodgeball beneath uncomfortably tight skin...insert a hairless squirrel into the dodgeball, and have it flail about periodically in a wave-pool of juices. Then, before lying in bed at night, strap a heavy watermelon to your stomach.  Lay down, and see if you can lay on your back for very long without feeling a little bit like you're suffocating.  Now roll from side to side periodically to get comfy, all the while balancing a pillow between your knees. (Also, imagine an achy pelvis and bruised ribs). 
• Babies respond to sugar in the womb just as much as they will out of the womb...don't give kids soda.
• Don't tell your wife you think she looks full-term when she still has 4 months to go.
• Don't register for every baby gadget on the market...
• Say "no" to underwires.
• If you're picking garden beans, don't straddle the rows; this may induce a pesky limp.
• If coffee makes you want to gag, try Chai Tea.
• It's okay to eat breakfast twice.
• Looking at the scale at the Doctor's office may cause tears.
• I've been told that "outie" belly buttons eventually recede.
• Sometimes laughing can turn instantly to bawling...particularly if your bladder betrays you.
• Be active, but don't overdo too quickly if you haven't done a particular exercise for a while.
• Seeing my belly move for the first time scared me (but now it's comforting and highly entertaining).
• Bending over doesn't squash the baby.
• Your body will probably feel foreign...
• Only you can choose your attitude (hard to remember at times when feeling icky).
• Sometimes I feel left out of certain activities and miss Ryan, but he feels left out when he's away too...grass isn't always greener...
• Always pack snacks, water, and extra clothes...
• Know where a bathroom is at all times (or a backyard in a pinch...)
• One of my pregnancy mottos: Why bend over when you can use your toes?
• If shaving your legs was a bit of a chore before...it still is...
• Expect to wet yourself at some point during pregnancy, but hope you're lucky enough to not...
• Embrace waddling.
• No woman wants to hear from a man that "birth can't be as bad as it's made out to be"...that's just playing with fire.
• Though it's often uncomfortable, I want to keep this baby safely growing inside for as long as he or she needs to be healthy.

Spaghetti Sauce just like Mom's

So here is the spaghetti sauce recipe I've grown up on... I'm including a few pictures just for fun...and because I have this dream of being like the Pioneer Woman... :)  (Find her at:   http://thepioneerwoman.com/    or     https://www.facebook.com/thepioneerwoman)


Spaghetti Sauce

8-10 Quarts of blended tomatoes
1 c. blended onion (you can use chunks, but we always had to be sneaky because Dad loathes onions)
4 cloves minced garlic or 1/2 tsp. garlic powder
24 oz. tomato paste (add the cans one at a time so you can tweak the amount based on how thick you like your sauce to be)
1/4 c. sugar
2 Tbsp. dried parsley
1 Tbsp. dried oregano
1 Tbsp. dried basil
1 Tbsp. salt
3/4 tsp. black pepper
2 bay leaves

Directions:  Put all ingredients in a large pot, and simmer until it reaches the consistency you desire.  If you cook on the stovetop, make sure to stir in fairly frequently so it doesn't scorch).  You can also use a giant Nesco roaster or even just a big pan in the oven overnight on 200-250 degrees to cook the mixture down.  If you are able to juice the tomatoes ahead of time so that you're working with mainly pulp, things will move along much more quickly...).  Once the concoction is to your liking and you've taste-tested the bubbly goodness, jar it up, and either pressure can it (15 minutes at 11 lbs. pressure) or hot water bath it (20 minutes according to family tradition or 40 minutes according to my canning book). Some will also suggest that you add 2 Tbsp. of lemon juice per quart of spaghetti sauce to ensure that it is acidic enough to help prevent botulism.  I did this last year, but my husband thinks it taints the flavor a bit.  I never noticed a difference, but you decide what to do.


Don't be shy; if you taste test your sauce and think it needs a bit more spice, go ahead and add what you think is missing because the flavors/amounts may vary a bit based on how ripe the tomatoes are & whether or not you juice them...

Start with lots of fresh tomatoes...  Rinse them, and take out the core along with any icky spots that wouldn't taste or look good in sauce.  Cut them into pieces that are manageable for your juicer.

This is the juicer I grew up using...that's why I have big arm muscles...

This is the juicer/chopper that I'm so glad Ryan got before we were married...

Here is the juicer making quick work of separating the juice from the pulp...

The pulp gets to simmer with lots of spices to make a nice, thick spaghetti sauce that smells AMAZING!  The juice you saw earlier will get seasoned and canned too, but having the two separate saves so much time with thickening the sauce.

Once the sauce reaches your desired consistency, it can be ladled into clean jars (or eaten on the spot if you have some noodles handy).  Heat new lids in hot water (to soften the rubber rim), and screw on the bands.

Lower jars into your pressure canner (If you're using the hot water bath method, you'd need to have enough water to cover the jars, but the pressure method only uses 3 quarts of water...I used to be scared that I'd explode a pressure canner, but it's growing on me now... :o)

Make sure jars don't touch each other (and not the canner walls either!)...They may rattle and cause breakage...losing a jar is like pouring gold off a cliff...very sad.

Once the pressure goes completely back to zero (or after your hot water bath timer goes off), remove jars so they can cool on the counter.  They should give a "popping" sound as they seal on their own...but don't push on them while they're hot.  Then, take a nap...

Swimming in Peach Juice (4-20-11)

Are you down with honesty?

I’ve come to expect it in working with kids, and I am often blessed by their frankness.  In the “adult” world, many things are “sugar-coated,” and the answer to, “how are you?” is far too often answered with a hurried “fine.” 

In college, I recall hearing a story of a student from some foreign country (Serbia, maybe?).  Soon after arriving on campus, she met a passer-by on one of the many sidewalks and was extended a standard, “how’s it going?”  She stopped, expecting to have a meaningful chat, only to find that the friendly voice had become a retreating back.

Why all the cold, shallow relationships, where ear buds feed constant noise to ears which prefer podcasts over conversation?  Why is it “safer” to text an entire discussion when you could call…or talk face-to-face…you know, since you’re in the same room anyway…

Are we so afraid of being found vulnerable or lacking?  Are we so fearful of being truly known beyond (or sometimes even within) the walls of home?

…

Today. Was. Crazy.  In a normal, expected sort of way.  Subbing is for nuts, or at least those who can handle the nut house…and today was just another day at the “Planter” factory.  The kids had a mini play and an Easter party (which I facilitated…) on this day before Break, so the adrenaline and sugar did surely flow.

Same old, same old…you know, a call to the principal at one point for a certain, naughty student, exercise balls in place of chairs (very helpful for channeling energy, but nausea-inducing to watch as heads constantly bounce and stray balls whiz by…), etc…

So, let’s back track to mid-morning.

I had written “Miss Olson” clearly on the white board.  Easy enough, yes?  Apparently not…because the questioning started with, “Are you Miss or Mrs.?”

Let’s think a minute…   Did you read the board?  Did you see the “Miss”?  Not even the mysterious “Ms.”…

Anyway, we cleared that up pretty quickly.  Then, “Are you engaged?” “Do you have a boyfriend?”  Am I in the courthouse for an interrogation or something? 

You know… to be honest, I wasn’t really as annoyed as my writing may suggest.  I’m quite used to the inquiries of students and teachers alike, so I was more amused than anything.  My answer to both questions was a simple, “no”.  Expounding in any way would have only served to encourage further, unnecessary discussion.

But these spunky, little 10 year olds couldn’t help but interject a few heartfelt quips.  “Oh, you’re going to die a lonely, old maid!” (Thank you for your vote of confidence)  “We’re praying for you!”  “I bet a superman will come along.”

Oh dear, dear babes.  I, at times, would have offered my own heart’s cry to yours (though, I know many who have faithfully waited much longer than I)…or would’ve been overcome by self-pity at such candid observations.  It’s not always easy to face the questions.  “Do you have any kids?” “What do you do for a living?” “Why do you have a ring?…” or, one of my favorites, “Have you cornered anyone yet?” (Am I a sheep-dog?).

I won’t pretend that I’m always happy with the uncertainty of my circumstances.  Yet I also will not pretend that everyone else is completely fulfilled by a house full of “things” or children or (supposed) marital bliss or a nicely-figured salary.

Life is messy.  Admittedly, some phases are hardly tolerable.  And, unfortunately, many conversation topics stick to the “niceties” that go no deeper than the fuzz on a peach.  We miss getting to the pit with others because the surface is “safe” and familiar.

Thankfully, there is an unexplainable peace that comes from leaving my identity and purpose at the foot of the cross.  I come face-to-face with the fact that I’ve screwed up…and yet I’m forgiven and free to live with the grace that opens the door to the Creator of all. 

And that grace can and should spill over to others.  We should all be swimming in a pool of mingled peach juice; that’s how Jesus lived.  So how do we get over our aversion to stickiness?  We practice.  And share.  And pray.

Philippians 4:6 (NASB)

Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.

Ephesians 2:8-9 (NASB)

For by grace you have been saved through faith; and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God; not as a result of works, so that no one may boast.

Flexibility Quest (4-8-11)

It finally happened. 

I wore my pretty pink shirt.

You know, my sweet little purchase from only one week ago.  I have plans to wear it with an airy little skirt for Easter, but I felt it could use a little breaking in on this last day of the school week.

With locks curled and gathered slightly to one side, I called it a better-than-most hair day and motored off to this day’s school of employment.  I arrived 30 minutes prior to the opening bell and cheerfully greeted the office staff.

After checking in with the bosses (secretaries), I found my room to scan my class notes.  With a quick glance over the familiar desk, I discovered that no such instructions were available.  A call to the absent teacher seemed to be in order to make sure I hadn’t written my assignment on the wrong date. 

You see, this sweet teacher likes to text her sub requests.  I have no qualms about her methodology; I simply respond with my answer and pencil the info onto my calendar.  The key here is that I always respond…  Apparently, I did not receive her text from three days ago, which stated I wouldn’t be needed after all.  Ooops…

My initial disappointment was replaced with thoughts of how I could now fill my day.  She meant me no harm, and I simply never had a “new text” message to give me warning of the change.  Nor did this teacher know that I could have accepted two other (much higher paying) positions for the day.  That can be a tough pill to swallow for someone with unstable income.

The situation didn’t warrant mercy and grace.  I could have chosen to extend neither and left with an angry or mopey countenance.  But you know what?  I have received measureless blessing and favor, and this opportunity to extend even a speck of that to others was yet another gift to add to my day.  So, I left with a, “truly, don’t worry about the mix up; it’s not a big deal.”  And it wasn’t a big deal.  It was another lesson to show the flexibility that’s essential for moments that don’t go according to my plan.

And the gifts continued…  I received a welcome text around lunch time, asking me to sub for a day in May…along with the happy news that I’d be paid for the day despite the mix up.  A blessing I neither deserved nor expected, but a welcome one none-the-less.  Thank You Jehovah-Jireh! 

Peace in the Egg Hunt (4-4-11)

“Floppity hops from here to there,

Searching for eggs without a care,

Lavender coat from head to toe,

All dressed up and no where to go.”

I memorized those lines as a little girl.  They were printed inside the little tag on my prized Beanie Baby bunny, the first I ever got.  Floppity was later joined by a sweet hippo named Happy (with matching lavender coat), a few miniature beanies from McDonald’s happy meals, and a knock-off brand Moose, whose name I no longer recall. 

About this Floppity, did she find contentment in her search?  Were life’s answers found on those egg hunts?  Did she ever resent having very little purpose despite her apparent preparedness?

Have you ever felt ready for something…ready for a new job, a committed relationship, a diagnosis, or a break in circumstances…only to find yourself left waiting and wanting.

Hebrews 4:15 & 16 says, “For we do not have a high priest who cannot sympathize with our weaknesses, but One who has been tempted in all things as we are, yet without sin.  Therefore let us draw near with confidence to the throne of grace, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.”

Jesus was right there with all the “Floppity-s” of the world.  Did he make plans for dinner with a friend, only to be stood up; did he feel restless in his wait to be a full-time preacher…yet faithful with chisel in hand, fashioning towel racks and table tops for others’ homes?

Surely He felt the throbbing ache of the most undeserved rejections this Earth has known.

“He was despised and forsaken of men,

         A man of sorrows and acquainted with grief;

         And like one from whom men hide their face

         He was despised, and we did not esteem Him. 

    Surely our griefs He Himself bore,

         And our sorrows He carried;

         Yet we ourselves esteemed Him stricken,

         Smitten of God, and afflicted. 

    But He was pierced through for our transgressions,

         He was crushed for our iniquities;

         The chastening for our well-being fell upon Him,

         And by His scourging we are healed.”  ~Isaiah 53:3-5

We’ve all been there.  Standing at the door, dressed in what we deem our finest, and then the call doesn’t come as we had hoped.  The meal and candles lose their appeal while waiting for a spouse, held up at work; you sacrifice the new blouse you’ve needed in order to buy Johnny gym shoes…only to be told they’re the “wrong” brand.  Maybe you lend money to a friend or brother and later find it was blown on a weekend of partying and gambling that he won’t even remember.  Perhaps you were overlooked for a promotion because your numbers were less impressive than those your co-worker botched in order to cover for his lengthy breaks and secret texting sessions on the job.

Whatever our experiences, we can know we aren’t alone in them.  You remember Chris on the bus?  He’s lived for years in the shadow of his older brother, trying desperately to make his father proud.  And Shaquita?  She comes home from school everyday to clean up the messes of her crying baby sister and half-tanked mother.  You know the co-worker who whines in the cubby adjacent to yours?  She’s not naïve to the reasons behind her husband’s frequent absences; she’s been traded in for a newer model, and she cries herself to sleep each night in a cold bed, separate from his.

Where do you find peace?  Or, rather, have you found any peace at all?  It isn’t found in a bulging wallet or in “ideal” circumstances.  I’ve met people who have neither luxury yet live joyfully knowing Jesus died, rose, and gives life to those who seek and trust in Him.  Forever changed by grace.  He invites you to accept that same grace.  Will you trust Him?

“Having been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ.”

~Romans 5:1

“Blessed are they who did not see and yet believed.”  ~John 20:29

To Do or Not To Do (4-2-11)

Thoughts from a day alone...(please excuse its disjointedness and improper verb tenses... :)

So here I sit…and wait.  Willing my phone to flash with some sign of life. 

And I am reminded of a few things.  I’m reminded that at all times, there is a need for thankfulness.  I’m reminded that coffee shops (and book stores) can provide the ideal atmosphere for reflection and writing.  And I see that “me-at-my-best” is the “me” who lives with genuine passion and in line with God’s plans.

**

So I’ve had some car troubles lately.  And because March has been so busy with school, I have held off on taking my car to the shop for the diagnosis…until today. 

Mom, willing lady that she is, followed me this morning and graciously allowed me (and about 20lbs. of reading/writing materials) to tag along to her city of employment.  For this day, I could do everything my heart desires or nothing at all; a truly “carpe diem” kind of freedom.

We rode into the lighted city as rain pelted the windshield.  I could see just fine, but unfortunately for Mom, the driver’s side wiper was rather askew…note to self: buy wiper blades in case of torrential downpour. 

After a hurried goodbye in the drizzle, I took off to see Drew at HyVee.  Now if you know me at all, you know I enjoy all (or almost all) things related to food and kitchens.  I have a passion for homemaking.

**

Let’s back track…  As soon as I could drive, I’d skip off to the nearest Walmart and Aldi (etc), blank checks and cash tucked away in the deep crevices of my purse, in order to replenish the family cupboards.  And I loved it!  Two hours to compare prices, check labels, scrutinize produce...  I felt so needed and important--so key to the health and wellness of those I loved.

Also in H.S., especially senior year, I spent hours pouring over recipe books in the school library.  I made dozens of copies and wrote furiously.  Or I would simply borrow the books to savor during free moments in study hall…you know, when I wasn’t reading Bringing Up Boys or some other such material to deepen my knowledge of men, relationships, family...

I’ve always loved the idea of creating a safe and enjoyable haven for family and friends.  A place of peace and laughter and rest.  It’s how I’m wired.  It’s my passion...even when some friends told me I’d waste my brain on such an ambition as raising a family.  Obviously they didn’t predict the desperation which is written all over today’s families.

**

Now back to today’s HyVee trip…  I once again found myself cruising the aisles---taking in all the new selections and finally settling on the small basketful I actually needed.  The stroll was pleasantly familiar, and it added bounce to my step and a smile to grace my lips--masking all thoughts of early-morning fatigue.  My niece would call this joy, “Jesus bubbling over” :)

So, HyVee was great, the bread outlet was quite affordable, and then it happened…

I stopped back at the HyVee gas station to fill up (can’t beat the discount with a previous purchase)…and I heard an awful hiss from the back left tire.  Should I ignore it and continue on in ignorant bliss, or?...  So I did what any damsel in distress would do…  I called a handy, calm, cool, and collected prince.  For this case, Dad wisely suggested that I quickly fill the nearly deflated tire and get to a tire shop.  I don’t know much about cars, but I do know how to air up a tire.  So, with that done, I prayed hard and drove with cautious speediness to the only shop I could think of.  Pulling in, I read the sign below the gas prices, “Give Thanks.” 

God, how GOOD You are!  Thank You, thank You, thank You!  Not for giving as I wanted, but rather for Your gracious display of extra favor on this mechanically challenged daughter of Your’s.

**

This forced halt in my schedule has brought me to a lovely little café.  A place to refresh my nerves and keep warm with a cup of chamomile tea.  What a blessed soul am I on this day to do as I please.  These moments are rare and precious.  What else shall I do, you ask?  You know, once the van is back in working order…

Oh, maybe I’ll take a little hobo nap in the van, grab lunch with Mom, enjoy some reading, stroll beside the Mississippi, visit a local “man store” for some tomato seeds & that plastic protector stuff to guard my baby trees from roving animals…  I’ll hold loosely to those wishes as I never quite know what a day might hold.

No matter where I end up, I can surely give thanks to God.  Thanks for the daffodils I see bursting through the mulch (as I’m now at a park gazebo, freezing my buns a bit…); thanks for the people I love and who love me; and thanks for redeeming me.  With Jesus, I am covered and able to fully live, both now and forever with Him.  “In everything give thanks, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.” (1 Thes. 5:18)

**

So how did the day end?  Well… picked up the van, ate a gorgonzola/spinach salad at lunch with Mom, spent a little time with a sweet (and shivering) outdoor cashier lady named Marvel after perusing the garden seeds, bought a cute pink shirt/car oil/wiperblades at Walmart, took a little hobo rest in the parking lot, read, walked around outside, downed a coffee, tried on heels at ShopKo/dreamed a little in the kitchen aisles, filled the gas tank, and snatched up the Mama.  And now, I’m headed to see Grandma at the hospital in Madison.

**

Someday, I’ll surely covet this day.  At least I hope so.  I hope I one day have a husband who longs for my affections and little ones who tug at both my heart and apron strings…even if it sometimes results in moments which leave me hungry for just a few minutes alone. 

For now, though, I will try hard to not wish this season away before its time is through.  Besides, even the satisfaction of a healthy family or a good job cannot fulfill me completely and give my life its purpose.  My purpose is to point to Jesus in whatever phase I find myself.  Admittedly, I don’t always do it well, and I sometimes I put my foot in my mouth or my nose where it doesn’t belong.  Praise God for His mercy and grace! 

My tale has gotten a bit lengthy, but pondering is renewal for my soul.  It reminds me to live this day, to take whatever comes with an attitude of grace and thanksgiving, and to know my purpose by spending time with the One who grants it. 

Being Naked is Probably Good for Your Health (2-26-11)

Being Naked is Probably Good for Your Health

If you expected to see a risqué picture tagged…well you can just wash your eyes out with soap…because I am not that kind of girl, and I don’t appreciate exploitation…we’ll save the modesty chat for another day.  It’s a scandalous title to be sure, but I find an odd sense of satisfaction from periodically stepping outside the box of what is considered kosher and acceptable (provided my values and other people aren’t purposefully harmed).  It’s like the silly high people get from drinking juice by the brand “Naked” because it makes them feel safely outrageous and indecent without truly being those things.  Vulnerable and free from the confines of straight-jacket expectations.

Webster defines “naked” in several ways.  Probably most often, I think of naked as being “devoid of customary or natural covering.”  I know this would be the understanding of my 4 year old niece.  Just a couple of weeks ago, she was asked what she thought of her brand new brother.  With eyes focused on his red & wrinkly, bare body, she said, “he’s a little bit naked; they should put some clothes on him.”  I smiled at her candid insight and wondered if she imagined her mama’s baby bump to have contained someone more well-dressed and not this unkempt and vulnerable little squaller.  Her immediate and well-trained thoughts were, “How quickly can we cover him?  Doesn’t he know, or don’t the doctors and nurses know that it’s a shameful thing to be so utterly exposed?”  I cannot fault her for her dismay; after all, we’re taught early on that it’s inappropriate to bare all to the world around us.

Is it ever okay to be truly and unashamedly naked?  Is it even beneficial?  I’m by no means advocating that everyone frequent the nudist beaches or present their birthday suit as some sort of freedom statement.  But perhaps there is a time to be “devoid of concealment or disguise.”  Just maybe this world would benefit from people of unabashed passion and love and authenticity.

There are people near and dear to my heart, and at times—myself--, who have concealed and disguised themselves for the sake of saving face.  Now…we don’t need to be airing our dirty laundry or exercising our “right” to bash and complain just for the sake of putting up a fight.  However, bottling the anger or sadness or fear that we each inevitably face at some point—rather than dealing with it or acknowledging that it’s real—that’s what leaves people imprisoned despite their façade of perfection and false rightness.

This is no license to slander or exude years of hate onto unsuspecting bystanders; I guess it’s more a call to be real.  To live in community where grace and genuineness abound…to “rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep.”  To live in such a way that, even in our humanity and imperfection, we can reflect love, joy and peace that passes the world’s understanding.  To be exposed and vulnerable, and at the same time, entirely confident in the One who made us to reflect Him.