A Thankful Tribute

This photo of Bruce and I was taken at a writer's conference in May 2016. 

I'd just won an award for work that this gentleman, among others, encouraged me to produce. 

I was amazed and more than a little thrilled ... and Bruce was just as excited.

His unselfish character allowed him to genuinely rejoice over the success of his friends.

He passed away this weekend after a courageous battle with cancer.

During his last weeks, many friends and colleagues joined in a card and 

letter-writing campaign to send words of encouragement. 

But I procrastinated—a writer who couldn't come up with the right words when it 

mattered most—and my message didn't reach him in time.

I truly regret that mistake and pray it will leave an eternal mark that will 

press me to speak my heart words in a more timely manner. 

If you're reading this today and you've held important words inside for what 

might be too long ... don't.

Included below is the message I finally penned for Bruce in 

the hope that it will be an appropriate tribute. 

Dear Bruce,

    I know it’s almost Halloween, so if this Thanksgiving card makes you laugh—good! I don’t much like Halloween anyway. A Thanksgiving card is so much more appropriate because you, my friend, are one of the blessings its verse mentions.

  Before I joined Word Weavers, the idea of writing was wriggling around in my heart, often pushed aside by doubt and fear. One Sunday morning, our pastor invited us to ask God any question and wait for an answer. With everyone else, I transcribed a question on a tiny slip of paper. “Am I a writer?” I folded it six or seven times, put it in the basket, and wondered how God would answer; and yes, I wondered if He would answer.

  Not long after that, I contacted Word Weavers and met their tech specialist, Bruce Brady. Through you, He answered my question—YES. Since then, He’s spoken through you (over and over) as you’ve partnered with me in a laughter-laced writing friendship. “Keep writing, girl,” you say, and I hear echoes of His voice.

  Thank you, Bruce, for speaking life to my frail dream and throwing in a great friendship to boot. We have SO many reasons to give thanks. 

Susan 

Disaster to Triumph

It's wedding week, friends!

It is utterly ridiculous that I'm sitting here writing. 

Absolutely ludicrous that I was out this morning with my camera.

But the sun was lighting up the blooms and I had to step outside.

Relaxation and weddings don't usually go hand-in-hand, do they? 

Especially when you're supposed to deliver flower arrangements 

for your son's rehearsal dinner that look like THIS 

and this is what you have in your garden.

And you know what? 

I'm so thankful!

Because of the failure of my own peonies and the 

extravagent generosity of a dear friend, 

the rehearsal dinner arrangements will feature these:

What appeared to be a disaster, resulted in a triumph. 

It's a theme straight from the Book. 

Consider Gideon's loss of an entire army, followed by a victory with only 300 men.

Sarah, barren and shamed for decades, gave birth to the forerunner of the Messiah.

Samson, brought to the lowly position of a blind slave, becomes Israel's avenger.

Do you have "disaster to triumph" life stories? 

I'd love to hear about that.

Awake

Summer is buzzing along outside my doors.

Temperatures have been mild, so we've had lots of open-window nights.

The music of night creatures accompanied by wind in the chimes is a magic 

carpet straight to dreamland. Where I want to stay until morning. 

But ... now that I'm older, I have lots more time for pondering in the hours when 

the rest of my house sleeps. Maybe you can identify. 

These days, with no rhyme or reason, my eyes just flutter open and I'm awake.

Am I awake to pray? Undoubtedly. 

Am I awake to worry? Often.

Am I awake because I'm almost fifty? (sigh) That's what I hear. 

I love how Father Tim, main character of the Mitford novels, prays his way through 

the town of Mitford during his nighttime waking hours. 

Following his literary example, I turn the fan up a notch and settle back in bed to pray my 

way through the rooms of my home, for every beloved who comes and goes through these doors. 

Then I turn my nighttime prayer walk in the direction of my nearest neighbors.

Though still in bed, I stand in front of their homes and ask for blessing, mercy, wisdom.

In my mid-night prayers, I wander our church asking favor on those who minister there.

Sometimes, I even prayer wander to visit our missionaries on far foreign fields ... 

are you getting sleepy yet?

I wish I was.

More Than a Momento

 I have a copy of A. W. Tozer's The Pursuit of God. This small, worn book was published in the late 1940s and belonged to one of the great mentors of my life. She passed it on to me years ago, and I have to admit that I kept it as a memento,  and cherished it mostly because she wrote her name inside the front cover. 

 When I was a younger me, the emotion my elders expressed over the handwriting of their elders seemed a little excessive to me. I remember my mom saying, "Look at this - that's Dad's handwriting!" I just smiled and nodded, never sensing anything unusual. Now, here I am at the end of my forties, and I get it. I'm not sure if I inherited it or if I'm just finally old enough to understand it, but seeing my friend's name, written in bold ownership on that cover, causes emotion to wash over, or maybe through, me. 

Running my finger over the faded blue lettering is irresistible; a way to touch the tiniest bit of the person she was when she made that signature. Someone who defied the conventions of her own times to live a peculiar life, one that included reading difficult books such as this one. She let her light shine brightly, and sometimes I had to sort of squint in her company.

Ten years ago, if you had asked me who among my older friends would finish well, I would've said her name without hesitation and added a fist pump or two. She would've laughed and refused to give me a high-five.

But age can be cruel, dear friends, even to the best and brightest among us, and we all know it. Even the most fervent followers in our company may, in their last years, mourn aloud the darkness of their own heart.

I know her Savior is near, that she is never alone, and that He is faithful. I tell myself these things and focus my thoughts on these TRUTHS when her present condition becomes overwhelming. 

Her younger self, the one that signed Tozer's thin volume when it was brand new, would tell me to read the book and stop being so silly and sentimental. She would remind me of this and tell me to trust this. So that's what I've been doing. 

She would encourage you to do the same. 

Read some of the hard stuff - rock solid theology from the last century's midpoint. Get a copy of anything by A. W. Tozer in your hands, hunker down and, in the words of a wise friend of mine - CHEW.

The one I'm reading is free at this website. 

We could read it together...?

Rich

I love Friday nights at our house.

The work week is finished, and the weekend is brand new.

Oh, the wealthy feeling of standing at the beginning of a brand new weekend!

Burgers on the grill with a slab of pepper jack cheese.

(2 lb ground beef + 1 package of Fresh Take Cheddar Jack and Bacon = slobbering and thankful men)

Enjoying the patio scenery while waiting for the burgers to be finished...

After dinner, a trip to the local park for some running, walking, biking, gawking.

The dog got to come with us this time - that doesn't usually happen. 

And look at those clouds that lined up over the ball field - 

is that amazing or what?

Don't you just love the sky show the Lord puts on every single day?

And us. 

I'm glad to be glad to be with my best friend on a Friday night.

Come In

If you were my neighbor, you'd come over to visit some mornings - 

not EVERY morning, of course, but pleasantly, some.

I'd gesture to you from the door window, "Come on in!"

While I heat water for our tea, you might eye my breakfast suspiciously, 

like my sons do. One of them recently commented,

"Mom, I can't believe you're going to actually eat that!"

(eggs, spinach, chicken sausage and black beans)

You'd probably notice these tiny key limes, and I'd rejoice to tell you  

that they cost only 99¢, then offer to juice one for your tea.

The hula girl doing her solar thing in the window 

near the rooting chocolate mint might make you laugh.

(Please let me know if you'd like to have some chocolate mint - 

there's plenty to share!)

From the kitchen sink window, the hummingbirds would definitely catch your eye. They fly right up to the window and fairly press their tiny cheeks to the glass to get a view into the kitchen. They're trying to remind me to send out fresh nectar, the demanding, tiny brutes.

Those beautiful roses deserve a good sniff - you could take one while you raid the fridge for something to cream the tea. There are perks for having a husband who travels frequently - occasionally he brings home an "I missed you!" gift.

While we sip tea, we might admire the one daylily that's still impossibly blooming - waaaayyy out there under the rosebush.

Wouldn't it be nice if you could stop by for a quick cup of tea?

To Market

If you haven't been to market lately, you've been missing out.

The waffle was wonderful, even if a little pricey.  Worth standing in a long line to get. I did have to share, but only a few bites.

Sights, sights, and more sights.  I think these shoes were ... interesting.

Oh, my - the bakery window!  I snapped a photo of my Dear Friend in front of this window, contemplating the sinful nature of sugar - and lusting after some! DF, I didn't share the photo, and you're welcome. We are truly pals!

How did the homeschoolers get a gig down on the streets? I watched for a while but could never spot their mothers, or any parent, keeping watch over these two talented boys.

Really? 

"Hey, Buddy!  I came to market for some fish heads - are these fresh, or what?"

Why? How? Who?

(The questions that burn in my soul all the time...)

(For the next photo, repeat questions above, adding 'Why?' in a few more times.)
Most remarkable was that this guy was cooking food in a outdoor grill-booth. The food smelled great, but the views were killing business.
(Ironic eyes on the shirt back, right?)

I bought a birthday present for myself, admired the plants, enjoyed the crowd, and ate wonderful food with dear friends. What better way to spend a Saturday morning?

Lucky Dumplings

Recently, I was invited to visit in the home of a new, lovely friend. A true homemaker, she made a wonderful lunch --- chicken and dumplings, green beans, cranberry fluffy-something divine, and even a coffee cake dessert! Have you ever? I mean who serves all of that for lunch?! That's a full on holiday dinner! And so, I stuffed myself right to the point of illness.

The rare and wonderful gift of hospitality must be properly appreciated, after all!

Of course, I've always been a chicken and dumpling fan. Who isn't? I've not made the real kind - the authentic mixemuprollemout kind. Biscuit dumplings, yes, ready-made mix dumplings and even tortilla dumplings, yes. But nothing can compare to the real thing - the kind my mother-in-law always made. The kind my friend made for lunch. Even knowing my culinary limitations, I still asked for the recipe. The result wasn't quite as wonderful as hers, but it was still really good!

And just in case you are longing for some dumplings to romp about in your own kitchen, here's the recipe she gave to me. She warned me though, "It took me a few times to get this right..."

I must've gotten lucky.

That means you might, too.

DUMPLINGS DIVINE

(recipe conversation style)

Boil a whole fryer chicken. When it's cooked thoroughly, remove chicken, shred pieces to return later, and reserve the broth. (OR --- use about 6 cups of canned broth)

Bring the broth to boil in a larger pan on stove top. While heating, mix the dumpling dough.

Cut 1 tablespoon of shortening into a mix of 1 c. flour and 1 teaspoon salt. Into that crumbly mixture stir an egg and 1/3 c. of the warm broth. The dough will be sticky! Sprinkle the dough, board, pin and hands with flour. Roll and cut.

Drop by twos or threes into the boiling broth, stirring after every few additions.

Simmer 20 minutes. Thicken to preference with corn starch.

Return the chicken pieces to the dumplings and broth.

Cleaning the Scooty Seat

There are only a few people who can visit our home, for whom I feel no compulsion to scrub down walls. You know who you are, if you happen to be reading this - :0)

We're having a houseful of wonderful friends/guests tonight - am I not supposed to differentiate? Right now, I'm feeling the pressure that always comes just a few hours before their arrival. I'm SOOO looking forward to the food, the games, the laughter --- but before that, I tend towards a mild freak-out regarding the state of my housecleaning standards. They must be low, very low indeed. I was scrubbing a mark off the wall in the living room, well within the sight of My Oldest, who inquired --- "What are you doing?" Yes, son, I'm cleaning. Some mothers do this all the time, and that must be why you are so puzzled. I know I've discussed bathroom issues here, many times, but specific to visitors and the clean toilet - here. I won't cover that ground again, but I'm going to get close.

We have two, really one and a QUARTER bathrooms in our home. The quarter bathroom is just off our bedroom on the lower level, so it is the one our guests will use while they are here, unless they are very brave and wander upstairs to the larger one. This is risky, since the upstairs bath is the domain of the Men Of The House and it is hard to patrol toilet lids/sides/bowls which tend to be misused by these men. I try, people, but it's difficult to guess what you might find if you trot yourself upstairs to take advantage of the larger bathroom. (Might you peek inside the shower stall??? I know you might --- so it's been bleached, new shower curtain installed and all pink-type growths dispelled. Go ahead, PEEK, already - please peek, so that my efforts are not wasted! Will someone just come over here and peek!?) The quarter bath, which I have just finished cleaning, is very small. This is good, as I can certainly not ever get very fat, since I would lose the use of this room altogether if I did. It is small enough to be able to touch the walls from every direction! I couldn't help but snicker about this particular toilet seat --- it is 'scooty'.

Meaning it slides slightly when you seat yourself. I should fix this for tonight, but I've run out of time while painting stair rails, catching random dust bunnies (on the ceiling - evil creatures), bleaching mildew, and blogging. It is a little but funny, isn't it - I mean that the seat is scooty? How about that the upstairs bathroom has a tricky knob which makes the visitor think themselves possibly stuck for all time? Funny?

I think so.

Fast Friends

This is a photo of My Youngest and his friend, Mikey. It was taken at the birthday party for My Youngest. Our sons each got a surprise birthday party when they turned eight years old. He was so glad to see Mikey's face yelling, "SURPRISE"!!!  They met during a winter session of Upward Basketball. If you've never heard of Upwards, you should check it out. It's a basketball league for boys and girls that focuses on sports fun and Bible learning. We've probably been spending the first eight Saturdays of every new year in the gym for the last six years or so. I found out that I'm a yelling mom at a sporting event in which my child is participating. NO, I don't yell rude things - - - only encouragement! Really. 

These two boys struck up a friendship right away, and we've really appreciated that!  It's a blessing when your son finds a good friend. We've always prayed for each of our boys that the Lord would lead them to be and to have friends in the same spirit as David and Jonathan in the Bible. We're watching Him answer those prayers!