So, I decided I should take a break from all the Political Introspection Bloggity Boredom and just do something completely irrational.
Today, Maggie gets a bath.
I've given my login information to a friend in case of emergencies, so if this is the last time you hear from me, please know I heart you all.
Tuesday, October 07, 2008
Monday, October 06, 2008
Fall Into Flavor: Mighty Good Cornbread
Linda is hosting Fall Into Flavor, a wonderful way for us to share our favorite comfort foods of the season.
When cold weather rolls in, I often head to the stove to make chili. One thing that always goes well with chili is cornbread.
This is my favorite cornbread recipe. I wish I could take credit for it, but it can be found in many Southern cookbooks. It is so easy and moist! YUM! And it tastes great crumbled in your favorite chili.
Mighty Good Cornbread
1 cup self-rising corn meal
2 eggs, slightly beaten
1/2 cup veg. oil
1 8 oz. can cream style corn (I like Green Giant)
1 cup regular sour cream (do not use low fat or light)
Preheat oven to 425. Mix corn meal, eggs, oil and corn until well blended. Fold in sour cream until just mixed. Pour into greased, preheated iron skillet or in round baking pan. Bake 30 minutes or until golden brown.
When cold weather rolls in, I often head to the stove to make chili. One thing that always goes well with chili is cornbread.
This is my favorite cornbread recipe. I wish I could take credit for it, but it can be found in many Southern cookbooks. It is so easy and moist! YUM! And it tastes great crumbled in your favorite chili.
Mighty Good Cornbread
1 cup self-rising corn meal
2 eggs, slightly beaten
1/2 cup veg. oil
1 8 oz. can cream style corn (I like Green Giant)
1 cup regular sour cream (do not use low fat or light)
Preheat oven to 425. Mix corn meal, eggs, oil and corn until well blended. Fold in sour cream until just mixed. Pour into greased, preheated iron skillet or in round baking pan. Bake 30 minutes or until golden brown.
Sunday, October 05, 2008
Future Headline: Changed
This great post at Roxanne's (love the last line) inspired me to write the following. I began to think about what exactly we all are clothed in and if anyone really notices.
Imagine the fictitious article below appearing in the next issue of your favorite national newspaper. Then, consider the possibilities if it were indeed news.
Changed
The leading candidate was seen today, campaigning in one of the swing states, shaking hands and kissing babies.
Leading by a slim margin, this politician appears to be taking drastic measures.
He has turned down all campaign contributions and has given most of his campaign fund away to Disaster Relief and Food Bank Ministries.
He has dismissed all campaign advisers.
His boldest move yet? When asked a question, he told the truth.
Washington is buzzing with the news of a brand new kind of campaign. No one knew that truth mattered, yet every politician swears by it.
But this congressman swears by real truth. The Truth.
Promising to be the example for real change, the leading candidate stood behind a small podium Sunday night in church where he called a press conference.
Before reporters and cameras, he gave his testimony of how Jesus has changed his life, of how God has shown him His Purpose, and how he is not afraid to share his testimony.
Even if it means losing the election.
When posed the question,"Why now?" the candidate answered, "It's about time. Don't you think?"
Media and lobbyists across the nation are already on the bashing bandwagon claiming the overused, not-in-the-Constitution "separation of church and state." Even some Christian groups say that there is no room for God in the White House.
But when asked who they cried out to on 9-11, most of them said, "God."
The candidate, who has now withdrawn completely from his party's affiliation and from any other affiliation was asked if he is now an Independent.
He replied,"No. I'm a dependent. In fact, I always have been. The only difference is that now I depend on God instead of polls, lobbyists and CNN."
During the press conference, a well-dressed reporter raised her hand and asked,"There is something different about you, congressman. Is it your wardrobe? I have to ask, who are you wearing?"
"That would be a robe of righteousness, His righteousness, madam. It was given to me for a price; no special interest group could finance this," the congressman answered, "and thanks for noticing."
The congressman can be seen in church this Sunday, praising the Lord and asking for guidance. The liberal media and doubting Thomases are invited to join him.
Remember, the above article is complete fiction.
What if it were true? What would you think?
Imagine the fictitious article below appearing in the next issue of your favorite national newspaper. Then, consider the possibilities if it were indeed news.
Changed
The leading candidate was seen today, campaigning in one of the swing states, shaking hands and kissing babies.
Leading by a slim margin, this politician appears to be taking drastic measures.
He has turned down all campaign contributions and has given most of his campaign fund away to Disaster Relief and Food Bank Ministries.
He has dismissed all campaign advisers.
His boldest move yet? When asked a question, he told the truth.
Washington is buzzing with the news of a brand new kind of campaign. No one knew that truth mattered, yet every politician swears by it.
But this congressman swears by real truth. The Truth.
Promising to be the example for real change, the leading candidate stood behind a small podium Sunday night in church where he called a press conference.
Before reporters and cameras, he gave his testimony of how Jesus has changed his life, of how God has shown him His Purpose, and how he is not afraid to share his testimony.
Even if it means losing the election.
When posed the question,"Why now?" the candidate answered, "It's about time. Don't you think?"
Media and lobbyists across the nation are already on the bashing bandwagon claiming the overused, not-in-the-Constitution "separation of church and state." Even some Christian groups say that there is no room for God in the White House.
But when asked who they cried out to on 9-11, most of them said, "God."
The candidate, who has now withdrawn completely from his party's affiliation and from any other affiliation was asked if he is now an Independent.
He replied,"No. I'm a dependent. In fact, I always have been. The only difference is that now I depend on God instead of polls, lobbyists and CNN."
During the press conference, a well-dressed reporter raised her hand and asked,"There is something different about you, congressman. Is it your wardrobe? I have to ask, who are you wearing?"
"That would be a robe of righteousness, His righteousness, madam. It was given to me for a price; no special interest group could finance this," the congressman answered, "and thanks for noticing."
The congressman can be seen in church this Sunday, praising the Lord and asking for guidance. The liberal media and doubting Thomases are invited to join him.
Remember, the above article is complete fiction.
What if it were true? What would you think?
Thursday, October 02, 2008
Talk to the hand, 'cause the lapel pin ain't listenin.'
Y'all know I love politics. I love elections, campaign tactics, and the blessed democratic process.
Rumor has it that I have a box filled with tiny chads tucked away under my bed.
Ahem.
But I do not like, I loathe, OKAY, I hate debates.
There. I said it.
I'm sitting here right now listening to the Vice Presidential debate because I do love me some politics. Enough to suffer through the blah, blah, blah of debate.
And I do mean blah.
While listening to the dullness of it all, I've figured out that it is not the debate I dislike.
It's the format.
What I'd love to see is two candidates debate like normal people. You know, like you "debated" that kid on the playground or that girl in high school who was on the cheerleader squad.
THAT would be entertaining.
And it would go something like this.
"Your running mate is a liar."
"Nuh-uhhh!"
"Yes, huh! Liar-liar. Pants on fire."
"I know you are, but what am I?"
"I can run the country better than you!"
"Nuh-uh!"
"Yes-huh!"
"I dare you to make me come over there!"
"I double dare you. I double dog dare you."
"I would come over there, but this podium is in the way."
"Then move the podium, big mouth!"
"I can move this podium if I wanted to, but I don't want to."
"Nuh-uh!"
"Yes-huh!"
Then somebody says something about somebody's mama and they go to commercial.
Now that's more exciting than any hanging chad.
Rumor has it that I have a box filled with tiny chads tucked away under my bed.
Ahem.
But I do not like, I loathe, OKAY, I hate debates.
There. I said it.
I'm sitting here right now listening to the Vice Presidential debate because I do love me some politics. Enough to suffer through the blah, blah, blah of debate.
And I do mean blah.
While listening to the dullness of it all, I've figured out that it is not the debate I dislike.
It's the format.
What I'd love to see is two candidates debate like normal people. You know, like you "debated" that kid on the playground or that girl in high school who was on the cheerleader squad.
THAT would be entertaining.
And it would go something like this.
"Your running mate is a liar."
"Nuh-uhhh!"
"Yes, huh! Liar-liar. Pants on fire."
"I know you are, but what am I?"
"I can run the country better than you!"
"Nuh-uh!"
"Yes-huh!"
"I dare you to make me come over there!"
"I double dare you. I double dog dare you."
"I would come over there, but this podium is in the way."
"Then move the podium, big mouth!"
"I can move this podium if I wanted to, but I don't want to."
"Nuh-uh!"
"Yes-huh!"
Then somebody says something about somebody's mama and they go to commercial.
Now that's more exciting than any hanging chad.
Wednesday, October 01, 2008
Call me Posh.
The other night, we were at Red Lobster waiting on my freshly frozen flounder fillets (how's that for alliteration?) and snacking on some garlic cheese biscuits.
Somehow, oddly enough for us, we wandered down a path of weird conversation. Most of the time we are talking the DOW and Global Warming and all that jazz.
Yeah, right.
So, anyway.
We started talking about getting old. I said that only mean people live a long time. Mean and crazy people. Meanness keeps the heart pumping and the blood flowing. So, really, the people who are living to 100 are probably cranky as well as old.
Just a theory.
And really, when it comes time to plan the party for 101, Ole Mrs. Crank's relatives are sitting around, rolling their eyes and saying, "Well, we've gotta plan another party. What are we gonna do this year?"
"I dunno. We'd better get her cake from Publix because she did not like that cake from Wal-mart last year. She said it was too sweet and would run up her blood sugar."
Then everyone pitches in for a donation to the church because, what do you buy a woman who has one foot in the grave and the other in the bingo parlor?
At this point we are on our salads.
Hubs piped up and said that youth is wasted on the young. Then he turned to our daughter and said,"I would bet that most people, no matter how long they lived, wished they had more time or wished they had done something different."
"I disagree," I said while munching stale croutons, "I think that most people are happy with their lives."
"So," I prodded, "what would you do differently?"
He thought for a moment and said,"I would have practiced my sports more."
(Huh?)
My husband is not into sports. He is athletic, but does not watch sports on TV, does not keep up with pro teams, and doesn't really take an interest in any sport except for soccer.
He went on to say that he would have practiced his soccer more just to be better. I knew what he meant but I couldn't help myself from saying the following.
"So, do you think you would have been David Beckham?" I said jokingly.
"Maybe."
"Well, I'm sorry you're not sitting across from Victoria Beckham right now."
"Like I said, I should have practiced my soccer more..." he said with a wink.
Touche'
Somehow, oddly enough for us, we wandered down a path of weird conversation. Most of the time we are talking the DOW and Global Warming and all that jazz.
Yeah, right.
So, anyway.
We started talking about getting old. I said that only mean people live a long time. Mean and crazy people. Meanness keeps the heart pumping and the blood flowing. So, really, the people who are living to 100 are probably cranky as well as old.
Just a theory.
And really, when it comes time to plan the party for 101, Ole Mrs. Crank's relatives are sitting around, rolling their eyes and saying, "Well, we've gotta plan another party. What are we gonna do this year?"
"I dunno. We'd better get her cake from Publix because she did not like that cake from Wal-mart last year. She said it was too sweet and would run up her blood sugar."
Then everyone pitches in for a donation to the church because, what do you buy a woman who has one foot in the grave and the other in the bingo parlor?
At this point we are on our salads.
Hubs piped up and said that youth is wasted on the young. Then he turned to our daughter and said,"I would bet that most people, no matter how long they lived, wished they had more time or wished they had done something different."
"I disagree," I said while munching stale croutons, "I think that most people are happy with their lives."
"So," I prodded, "what would you do differently?"
He thought for a moment and said,"I would have practiced my sports more."
(Huh?)
My husband is not into sports. He is athletic, but does not watch sports on TV, does not keep up with pro teams, and doesn't really take an interest in any sport except for soccer.
He went on to say that he would have practiced his soccer more just to be better. I knew what he meant but I couldn't help myself from saying the following.
"So, do you think you would have been David Beckham?" I said jokingly.
"Maybe."
"Well, I'm sorry you're not sitting across from Victoria Beckham right now."
"Like I said, I should have practiced my soccer more..." he said with a wink.
Touche'
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Works For Me: Kitchen Edition
Organizing A Grocery List
Well, Shannon has inspired us to share our best kitchen management ideas.
Since I am not known for being organized (at least not at the level of having any helpful tips), I want to share with you how I organize a grocery list.
Whenever I make a grocery list, I divide it into categories, leaving space under each one. Then, I fill in the items I need. Here is an example:
Deli
1/2 pound turkey breast
Produce
tomatoes
lettuce
oranges
Meats
ground beef
chicken breasts
something for dinner tonight
Frozen Foods
popsicles
box broccoli
toaster strudel
Dairy
milk
sour cream
cheddar cheese
Breads
loaf bread
rolls for dinner
hot dog buns
Snacks
something for lunches
tortilla chips
Sodas
diet coke
bottled water
Misc. (like detergents, cat food, etc.)
Tide
dryer sheets
I also separate the list into certain aisles. After I've shopped at a store a few times, I remember that the salsa is on the same aisle as the soups or the spaghetti sauce, for example. So I group those items together on my list.
Here is an example of separating them by aisle/type of canned good:
Other
cream of chicken soup
beef broth
Spaghetti sauce
Pasta
Parm. cheese in the can
You can just divide up your list each time or, if you are really organized, you can make up a grocery list form on your computer and print one out every time you shop.
Grouping items on your list together that are near each other in the store keeps you from running from aisle to aisle and then back again.
You know that feeling. You are in the dairy section and look down at your list and say,"Oh Man, I need some tomatoes!"
Then you go back to produce to get the tomatoes, look down at your list and see "sour cream."
I hate that.
Do you have any more tips for kitchen management? Share them over at Shannon's.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Not that I'm biased or anything.
I saw Fireproof with a friend over the weekend and I thought it was great.
Of course, it was made in my hometown of Albany, GA, filmed partly at Phoebe Putney Hospital where I was born, and stars everyday people from the church that started it all...
But, it was very good. Whether you are a believer or not, you'll enjoy this movie. Kirk Cameron stands out in the amateur cast and adds star quality to the film.
I promise you will laugh and cry. There are even few scenes that may have you on the edge of your seat.
I just want to thank God for this movie. It was number four at the box office over the weekend. That says something to Hollywood.
Have you seen it? What did you think?
Of course, it was made in my hometown of Albany, GA, filmed partly at Phoebe Putney Hospital where I was born, and stars everyday people from the church that started it all...
But, it was very good. Whether you are a believer or not, you'll enjoy this movie. Kirk Cameron stands out in the amateur cast and adds star quality to the film.
I promise you will laugh and cry. There are even few scenes that may have you on the edge of your seat.
I just want to thank God for this movie. It was number four at the box office over the weekend. That says something to Hollywood.
Have you seen it? What did you think?
Friday, September 26, 2008
Fireproof opens this weekend.
So, have y'all heard about Fireproof?
The film, starring Kirk Cameron, tells the story of a firefighter husband who takes a stand to save his marriage and protect his wife's heart.
Wait a minute. A movie about people who want to save their marriage? Huh? Yes! It's true. Imagine the impact this film could have if only we would support it.
Another movie opens this weekend. It promises to be romantic, entertaining, the perfect "date movie" or "girl's night out." It's a little different from Fireproof. Just a little.
If you are browsing the movie schedule this weekend, I encourage you to choose Fireproof over the competition.
Hollywood is listening. It's time for us to speak up for marriage.
The film, starring Kirk Cameron, tells the story of a firefighter husband who takes a stand to save his marriage and protect his wife's heart.
Wait a minute. A movie about people who want to save their marriage? Huh? Yes! It's true. Imagine the impact this film could have if only we would support it.
Another movie opens this weekend. It promises to be romantic, entertaining, the perfect "date movie" or "girl's night out." It's a little different from Fireproof. Just a little.
If you are browsing the movie schedule this weekend, I encourage you to choose Fireproof over the competition.
Hollywood is listening. It's time for us to speak up for marriage.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Trying to be a steel magnolia while dodging tumbleweeds.
When I started writing this blog over two years ago (my how time flies when you are boring people to tears), the reason for the blog name had a meaning.
I knew I would write about The South, being southern, and what all of that means to me. I knew that most of it would be a little "different" (the southern way of saying something is strange or odd.)
People in The South just do things their own way. We're sometimes known for elegance and manners, but we are anything but refined and fancy. Our food is famous for taste but not-so-much for fine dining. We appreciate good shopping, but not the big city lights that shine on the storefronts.
We're simple in a lacy doily, lots of rules, let me tell you why you can't wear those white shoes on Christmas way.
To sum it up, this ain't New York.
The blog name stuck like an old windowpane in humidity and now I'm writing about eating White Lily biscuits made thanks to the loyalty and sympathy of my Mama and (cough, cough) Newman.
I'm living in Smalltown, New Mexico and, guess what. This ain't New York either.
I feel a little bit like a fish out of water.
You could say I'm out of my natural environment.
My natural environment is filled with hair spray, make-up, cleaning products with every combination of letters and numbers from the Periodic Table, artificial plants (unless you count my potpourri) and let's don't forget my beloved Febreze.
Basically, I've found that Cinnamon Apple-scented dead flowers and a mist of Linen Fresh work well with bleach. It gives the illusion that you've cleaned the entire house while doing laundry and baking fresh pies.
How did I get off on that subject?
Anyway.
This blog o'mine, still aptly named, has taken on new meaning in every sense of the word. And I love using every word I possibly can.
Only now I will be using words like "isolated beyond a Target's reach," "dryer than a new wife's first Thanksgiving turkey," and "Lord, give me understanding 'cause I'm all out of Won Ton Soup."
Or something like that.
I knew I would write about The South, being southern, and what all of that means to me. I knew that most of it would be a little "different" (the southern way of saying something is strange or odd.)
People in The South just do things their own way. We're sometimes known for elegance and manners, but we are anything but refined and fancy. Our food is famous for taste but not-so-much for fine dining. We appreciate good shopping, but not the big city lights that shine on the storefronts.
We're simple in a lacy doily, lots of rules, let me tell you why you can't wear those white shoes on Christmas way.
To sum it up, this ain't New York.
The blog name stuck like an old windowpane in humidity and now I'm writing about eating White Lily biscuits made thanks to the loyalty and sympathy of my Mama and (cough, cough) Newman.
I'm living in Smalltown, New Mexico and, guess what. This ain't New York either.
I feel a little bit like a fish out of water.
You could say I'm out of my natural environment.
My natural environment is filled with hair spray, make-up, cleaning products with every combination of letters and numbers from the Periodic Table, artificial plants (unless you count my potpourri) and let's don't forget my beloved Febreze.
Basically, I've found that Cinnamon Apple-scented dead flowers and a mist of Linen Fresh work well with bleach. It gives the illusion that you've cleaned the entire house while doing laundry and baking fresh pies.
How did I get off on that subject?
Anyway.
This blog o'mine, still aptly named, has taken on new meaning in every sense of the word. And I love using every word I possibly can.
Only now I will be using words like "isolated beyond a Target's reach," "dryer than a new wife's first Thanksgiving turkey," and "Lord, give me understanding 'cause I'm all out of Won Ton Soup."
Or something like that.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Works For Me: Easy Fall Wreath
I like crafts. Give me a glue gun and I am in Hobby Lobby Heaven.
But, I realize that the glue gun, besides the fact that it will singe a layer of skin from your fingertips (hmm... may be an explanation for this), can be intimidating for the non-crafter.
By the way. I've noticed that people who aren't crafty can usually bake.
Just an observation.
(I don't bake.)
Except for biscuits and cornbread.
So, here is a tip for those of you who may not tackle a fall or Christmas wreath from scratch, but want something with a little more pizazz than a store-bought wreath.
Purchase an inexpensive decorated wreath. Then, look for a few seasonal items you like and add them to your wreath.
For example, you could find a fall-ish wreath with say, leaves and a few flowers. Then, add a few artificial pumpkins, gourds, or other items you like. Wal-mart (and they aren't paying me either) is a great place to look. They usually have wreaths ranging from $10-$20 and a 97 cents display with great floral picks.
And, remember, you don't always have to have ribbon. You can make a wreath look great without bows.
This is also a great way to freshen up last year's wreath!
For more ideas, see Shannon.
But, I realize that the glue gun, besides the fact that it will singe a layer of skin from your fingertips (hmm... may be an explanation for this), can be intimidating for the non-crafter.
By the way. I've noticed that people who aren't crafty can usually bake.
Just an observation.
(I don't bake.)
Except for biscuits and cornbread.
So, here is a tip for those of you who may not tackle a fall or Christmas wreath from scratch, but want something with a little more pizazz than a store-bought wreath.
Purchase an inexpensive decorated wreath. Then, look for a few seasonal items you like and add them to your wreath.
For example, you could find a fall-ish wreath with say, leaves and a few flowers. Then, add a few artificial pumpkins, gourds, or other items you like. Wal-mart (and they aren't paying me either) is a great place to look. They usually have wreaths ranging from $10-$20 and a 97 cents display with great floral picks.
And, remember, you don't always have to have ribbon. You can make a wreath look great without bows.
This is also a great way to freshen up last year's wreath!
For more ideas, see Shannon.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
So, sometimes Newman and I CAN get along.
After a very pitiful and desperate recitation of my wish list, Mama went on a Good Baking Flour quest.
Finding White Lily and Jim Dandy grits was easy.
The Chicken Won Ton soup? Not so much.
My daughter loves Campbell's Chicken Won Ton soup and Campbell's has not paid me to say that. Although, I am not above any form of monetary compensation.
We can't get the Won Ton here. Apparently, folks around town are not fond of the Won Ton. However, I can get lots (and I mean lots) of corn, red or green chile sauce, and some seriously delicious salsa.
Because people like to say, "salsa."
Anyhoo.
Mama searched high and low for the Won Ton soup. Harvey's. Winn Dixie. Wal-mart. She finally discovered the treasure of the concentrated, high-sodium goodness at Publix and bless her heart, she bought six cans.
Six cans!
Do you know how heavy cans are for shipping rates?
And bags of flour?
Not to mention boxes of grits?
So, last week a very heavy package, loaded with Authentic Southern and Faux Chinese goodness arrived on my door step. It was Christmas in September, y'all.
Now, all I have to do is buy a new sifter and we will be slathering the butter on some melt-in-your-mouth light and flaky biscuits.
I'm telling you, White Lily biscuits are so good, they'll make you wanna slap your mama. Unless, of course, she mailed you the White Lily...
Finding White Lily and Jim Dandy grits was easy.
The Chicken Won Ton soup? Not so much.
My daughter loves Campbell's Chicken Won Ton soup and Campbell's has not paid me to say that. Although, I am not above any form of monetary compensation.
We can't get the Won Ton here. Apparently, folks around town are not fond of the Won Ton. However, I can get lots (and I mean lots) of corn, red or green chile sauce, and some seriously delicious salsa.
Because people like to say, "salsa."
Anyhoo.
Mama searched high and low for the Won Ton soup. Harvey's. Winn Dixie. Wal-mart. She finally discovered the treasure of the concentrated, high-sodium goodness at Publix and bless her heart, she bought six cans.
Six cans!
Do you know how heavy cans are for shipping rates?
And bags of flour?
Not to mention boxes of grits?
So, last week a very heavy package, loaded with Authentic Southern and Faux Chinese goodness arrived on my door step. It was Christmas in September, y'all.
Now, all I have to do is buy a new sifter and we will be slathering the butter on some melt-in-your-mouth light and flaky biscuits.
I'm telling you, White Lily biscuits are so good, they'll make you wanna slap your mama. Unless, of course, she mailed you the White Lily...
Monday, September 22, 2008
Submit
I had seen the commercials at dinner with a man cradling a child, a shack in the background. I felt real compassion for them.
I did.
And I turned the channel.
I read Shannon's and Sophie's blogs and I felt like I went to Uganda with them. I cried over their stories about children in poverty and I've laughed about Shannon's monkey alarm.
I prayed. Really. Prayed. I knew that one of those kids was supposed to be a part of my own family.
In fact, one night I was on the Compassion website and I saw a little girl in a Girl Scout uniform.
Meant to be?
I went back to the site again and saw that she was sponsored- Thank God.
I felt a tugging at my heart and I honestly felt guilty for not letting the tugging pull me in, but somehow I felt like I was supposed to wait...
Then I saw her.
She wore a dress that looked like it was too big for her. She stood straight for the photo, her hair plaited, and she didn't smile. She was a little girl in Haiti who could have been eating cookies made from dirt for dinner. I knew that it was time to let that tugging pull me as far as He wants me to go.
I filled out all of the necessary information, name, address, credit card number. It was all so matter-of-fact for such a profound, important step. One last button was left. I moved my mouse and clicked.
Submit.
Submit is a word that gets a whole lot of bad press in our day. The world tells us that submitting to anything or anyone (except our own desires) is weak, pathetic, behind-the-times.
Let me tell you, friend, once you let go, once you stare into those eyes and let them stare back at you and into your heart, all you want to do is submit. You feel that tugging and you let Him pull you in.
The first time we received a letter from our sponsored child, we were thrilled. I cried when I unfolded her letter. Through an interpreter, the little girl I saw on a website shared her love for Jesus. I treasure all of her letters and drawings.
She is so much like any other 6-year old girl. She needs love. She needs school. She loves crayons. She loves Jesus.
We keep her picture on our refrigerator and when we moved, I placed her picture in a box we always take with us. The box holds our family photos.
Just over a week ago, as Hurricane Ike closed in on the Caribbean, I thought of our sponsored child. I worried over her picture and prayed in His Name. I imagined her huddled in her home with her mother, listening to the howling winds and pounding rain.
In my growing concern for this sweet child was a seed of hope. I knew that through our sponsorship, a Compassion worker was there in Haiti. There when I could not be. There with this little girl and her mother. There in the name of Christ.
They are still there. Compassion workers are reaching out to sponsored children, to hurting families and communities. They are able to do so because people just like you and me let that little tug pull them in. Then they moved their mouse over a button on a website and clicked.
Submit.
I did.
And I turned the channel.
I read Shannon's and Sophie's blogs and I felt like I went to Uganda with them. I cried over their stories about children in poverty and I've laughed about Shannon's monkey alarm.
I prayed. Really. Prayed. I knew that one of those kids was supposed to be a part of my own family.
In fact, one night I was on the Compassion website and I saw a little girl in a Girl Scout uniform.
Meant to be?
I went back to the site again and saw that she was sponsored- Thank God.
I felt a tugging at my heart and I honestly felt guilty for not letting the tugging pull me in, but somehow I felt like I was supposed to wait...
Then I saw her.
She wore a dress that looked like it was too big for her. She stood straight for the photo, her hair plaited, and she didn't smile. She was a little girl in Haiti who could have been eating cookies made from dirt for dinner. I knew that it was time to let that tugging pull me as far as He wants me to go.
I filled out all of the necessary information, name, address, credit card number. It was all so matter-of-fact for such a profound, important step. One last button was left. I moved my mouse and clicked.
Submit.
Submit is a word that gets a whole lot of bad press in our day. The world tells us that submitting to anything or anyone (except our own desires) is weak, pathetic, behind-the-times.
Let me tell you, friend, once you let go, once you stare into those eyes and let them stare back at you and into your heart, all you want to do is submit. You feel that tugging and you let Him pull you in.
The first time we received a letter from our sponsored child, we were thrilled. I cried when I unfolded her letter. Through an interpreter, the little girl I saw on a website shared her love for Jesus. I treasure all of her letters and drawings.
She is so much like any other 6-year old girl. She needs love. She needs school. She loves crayons. She loves Jesus.
We keep her picture on our refrigerator and when we moved, I placed her picture in a box we always take with us. The box holds our family photos.
Just over a week ago, as Hurricane Ike closed in on the Caribbean, I thought of our sponsored child. I worried over her picture and prayed in His Name. I imagined her huddled in her home with her mother, listening to the howling winds and pounding rain.
In my growing concern for this sweet child was a seed of hope. I knew that through our sponsorship, a Compassion worker was there in Haiti. There when I could not be. There with this little girl and her mother. There in the name of Christ.
They are still there. Compassion workers are reaching out to sponsored children, to hurting families and communities. They are able to do so because people just like you and me let that little tug pull them in. Then they moved their mouse over a button on a website and clicked.
Submit.
Friday, September 19, 2008
Mr. Poe, I've got one for ya.
So, I'm sitting here this morning watching Regis and Kelly, sipping on my coffee, and catching up on blogging.
I hear a squawk coming from the back porch.
Then a screech and another squawk. It is obvious that there are at least two birds back there so I tip toe to the back door for a peek.
Two crows were perched on my daughter's play set squawking at their friend on the fence. One other unknown bird was on the glider on the porch and another (maybe his cousin?) was resting nicely on the patio table. Goodness knows what else he was doing on the patio table.
None of them saw me. They just made themselves right at home.
Meanwhile, Maggie the Lame is sleeping peacefully on the couch, completely oblivious to any crow or other unidentified bird out back.
That forty bucks we wasted at the Humane Society? Best money we ever spent.
So now I don't know what I am supposed to do- buy a new bird feeder or a scarecrow.
Either way, I get the feeling, they'll all be back.
Yeah, this ain't New York.
I hear a squawk coming from the back porch.
Then a screech and another squawk. It is obvious that there are at least two birds back there so I tip toe to the back door for a peek.
Two crows were perched on my daughter's play set squawking at their friend on the fence. One other unknown bird was on the glider on the porch and another (maybe his cousin?) was resting nicely on the patio table. Goodness knows what else he was doing on the patio table.
None of them saw me. They just made themselves right at home.
Meanwhile, Maggie the Lame is sleeping peacefully on the couch, completely oblivious to any crow or other unidentified bird out back.
That forty bucks we wasted at the Humane Society? Best money we ever spent.
So now I don't know what I am supposed to do- buy a new bird feeder or a scarecrow.
Either way, I get the feeling, they'll all be back.
Yeah, this ain't New York.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Jimmy crack corn or just cracked.
Just so you know, I haven't met the snake. He is probably somewhere deep in the corn field behind our house.
(Insert my friend Nancy's Children of The Corn joke here)
Anyway.
I am trying really hard to become acclimated to my new surroundings. It is times like these that I wish I were more like a real chameleon as opposed to just a hair chameleon...
But I digress.
The air here, it is dry, dry, dry and I could use some tips from the peeps. I have managed to find a great hair and skin regime, but our lips are literally cracking. My poor daughter is having the worst time.
Any tips or ideas on what to do for dry, cracked lips? We are applying really good lip balm before bedtime and in the morning.
Any certain brands?
Other ideas?
Thanks, y'all!
(Insert my friend Nancy's Children of The Corn joke here)
Anyway.
I am trying really hard to become acclimated to my new surroundings. It is times like these that I wish I were more like a real chameleon as opposed to just a hair chameleon...
But I digress.
The air here, it is dry, dry, dry and I could use some tips from the peeps. I have managed to find a great hair and skin regime, but our lips are literally cracking. My poor daughter is having the worst time.
Any tips or ideas on what to do for dry, cracked lips? We are applying really good lip balm before bedtime and in the morning.
Any certain brands?
Other ideas?
Thanks, y'all!
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Eve never had to deal with this.
Y'all remember that pond we used to have out back at our old house?
With the water moccasins?
Well.
The other day we found the remnants of a snake skin out behind our house here.
It was a whopping 5-feet long.
If it were standing up, we'd be nearly eye to eye.
My heel isn't big enough to handle that guy.
With the water moccasins?
Well.
The other day we found the remnants of a snake skin out behind our house here.
It was a whopping 5-feet long.
If it were standing up, we'd be nearly eye to eye.
My heel isn't big enough to handle that guy.
Monday, September 15, 2008
When God walks with us.
We all want to be a Daniel. He had an unwavering commitment to obey God.
Today I'm over at the Internet Cafe sharing about Daniel's friends, Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego.
Grab a cup of coffee and come on over!
Today I'm over at the Internet Cafe sharing about Daniel's friends, Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego.
Grab a cup of coffee and come on over!
Friday, September 12, 2008
Ike
I can't really write anything today without thinking about all the people already feeling the effects of Hurricane Ike.
If you are fortunate enough, like me, to have the luxury of power, water, and a day without fear, please join with me to pray for these precious people.
Praying...
If you are fortunate enough, like me, to have the luxury of power, water, and a day without fear, please join with me to pray for these precious people.
Praying...
Thursday, September 11, 2008
I Choose To Remember
Originally posted September 11, 2006
My grandparents could tell me where they were the day of Pearl Harbor. My parents could tell me where they were the day Kennedy was shot. Now, I will tell my daughter where we were the day her world changed, September 11, 2001.
We were traveling home from a visit with my family. It was a long drive and we decided to spend a night in a hotel en route. Traveling in the car for long periods of time with a little one is not easy.
That morning, my husband had already returned from breakfast. I always either go down for breakfast later, or my sweet husband brings breakfast and coffee up to our room. He has done this since we first married.
He was in the shower when the first plane struck. I was watching the Today show. Katie and Matt detailed the facts they had at the time- that a plane had hit one of the towers of The World Trade Center. No one knew why or how a plane could collide with a tower in broad daylight, on a clear day. Cameras were rolling as smoke filled the air from the crash.
I yelled through the bathroom door and shared the awful news with my husband.
"Must have had been off their IFR," he said.
Then, it happened. The second plane hit. I was sitting at the end of that hotel bed and just began to sob. I told my husband the news. By then, we both knew this was no accident.
My daughter was very young at the time so, I was able to watch the news without her knowing what was truly happening. I just kept sobbing and sobbing, and praying. Those poor people.
I remember going down to the hotel lobby and watching the news with the other guests. We were sipping our coffee just like any other morning. But, even then I think we all knew that this was something big, something bigger than we had ever experienced in our lifetime.
I asked my husband if it was safe to be on the highway again. What would happen next? How do we know what is going on? How will we know if it is going to be safe on the roads? He explained that we were probably safer on the road, than in a hotel- full of people- a prime target for an attack.
We packed our things and headed home, listening to the radio to the rest of the terrible news. The Pentagon. That Pennsylvania field.
The image that will never leave my mind is the photo of the person pushing a grocery cart full of small children, running away from the towers to save their lives. I will never forget that.
I will never forget the events that took place that day. I choose to remember. I choose to remember so that I can learn from what happened, and by remembering, I can one day tell my own daughter where I was September 11, 2001, the day my world changed forever.
But it goes deeper than that...
I have to tell her what it felt like to be afraid of strangers who looked different from me. I have to tell her that I felt guilty for those feelings.
I will tell her how I was afraid to open the mail, and that I would always wash my hands immediately after getting the mail from the mailbox.
I will tell her how the military sprang into action to protect our President, our air space, and our own lives.
I will tell her that I was afraid to go to the mall or downtown, for fear of another attack in a public place.
I will tell her that many people died as a result of these attacks. Some of them died that day. Others died years later in Afghanistan and Iraq while protecting our freedom.
My grandparents could tell me where they were the day of Pearl Harbor. My parents could tell me where they were the day Kennedy was shot. Now, I will tell my daughter where we were the day her world changed, September 11, 2001.
We were traveling home from a visit with my family. It was a long drive and we decided to spend a night in a hotel en route. Traveling in the car for long periods of time with a little one is not easy.
That morning, my husband had already returned from breakfast. I always either go down for breakfast later, or my sweet husband brings breakfast and coffee up to our room. He has done this since we first married.
He was in the shower when the first plane struck. I was watching the Today show. Katie and Matt detailed the facts they had at the time- that a plane had hit one of the towers of The World Trade Center. No one knew why or how a plane could collide with a tower in broad daylight, on a clear day. Cameras were rolling as smoke filled the air from the crash.
I yelled through the bathroom door and shared the awful news with my husband.
"Must have had been off their IFR," he said.
Then, it happened. The second plane hit. I was sitting at the end of that hotel bed and just began to sob. I told my husband the news. By then, we both knew this was no accident.
My daughter was very young at the time so, I was able to watch the news without her knowing what was truly happening. I just kept sobbing and sobbing, and praying. Those poor people.
I remember going down to the hotel lobby and watching the news with the other guests. We were sipping our coffee just like any other morning. But, even then I think we all knew that this was something big, something bigger than we had ever experienced in our lifetime.
I asked my husband if it was safe to be on the highway again. What would happen next? How do we know what is going on? How will we know if it is going to be safe on the roads? He explained that we were probably safer on the road, than in a hotel- full of people- a prime target for an attack.
We packed our things and headed home, listening to the radio to the rest of the terrible news. The Pentagon. That Pennsylvania field.
The image that will never leave my mind is the photo of the person pushing a grocery cart full of small children, running away from the towers to save their lives. I will never forget that.
I will never forget the events that took place that day. I choose to remember. I choose to remember so that I can learn from what happened, and by remembering, I can one day tell my own daughter where I was September 11, 2001, the day my world changed forever.
But it goes deeper than that...
I have to tell her what it felt like to be afraid of strangers who looked different from me. I have to tell her that I felt guilty for those feelings.
I will tell her how I was afraid to open the mail, and that I would always wash my hands immediately after getting the mail from the mailbox.
I will tell her how the military sprang into action to protect our President, our air space, and our own lives.
I will tell her that I was afraid to go to the mall or downtown, for fear of another attack in a public place.
I will tell her that many people died as a result of these attacks. Some of them died that day. Others died years later in Afghanistan and Iraq while protecting our freedom.
I will tell her that the attacks on September 11 were an act of religious war, no matter what people say.
I will tell her that Jesus Himself said we would be hated for His Sake.
And I will tell her that our God is a God of judgement and soverignty. He is also a God of Love, and because of that Love, He sent Jesus to die on our behalf. Once we ask forgiveness of our sins and ask Him into our hearts, He will dwell there forever. He died for all people- for me, for her, and for Osama Bin Laden. But, we choose to receive His gift or turn it away.
To live in fellowship with Jehovah God, we must take the only path He has given us- through the blood of Jesus Christ. Then, and only then, can a person live and die in peace. Once Jesus dwells in her heart, nothing will separate her from God. No bomb. No war. No man. Nothing.
"Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? As it is written, For thy sake we are killed all the day long; we are accounted as sheep for the slaughter. Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us. For I am persuaded, that neither angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord." Romans 8: 35-39
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Works For Me: Journaling with kids
My daughter loves creative writing. This year we've decided to journal at home every day when she gets home from school.
I found some cute, themed bulletin board cut-outs. The theme I'm using now is fish. Every day before she comes home from school, I write a topic on a Post-it note, stick it to the back of the fish, then tape it somewhere in her room. When she comes home she has to find the fish.
Using the Post-it note makes it easy to recycle the fish. You could use any shape or cut out that you have designed yourself. My daughter loves the ocean, so fish was an obvious choice.
Be creative and silly with topics. It doesn't have to be prize-winning. Anything that can be a springboard for creativity is key.
Examples to get started:
"What I Did This Weekend"
"My favorite (you fill in the blank) is ..."
"If I were any animal, I would be a (blank) because..."
Other ideas:
1. Give your child guidelines and goals, depending on age. Five sentences may be enough for your child, or too much. As their writing improves, they will naturally add sentences on their own.
2. If your child is a perfectionist or over-achiever and gets stressed out easily, limit their journaling time and tell them the journal entry does not have to be complete. The entry is not an essay.
3. Make sure journaling stays fun and does not become overwhelming.
4. Encourage them to journal the same time every day.
5. Let your child pick out the journal. An inexpensive composition book works well. Have them decorate it with stickers or drawings.
6. As their writing progresses, mix up topics and writings styles. Introduce poetry or ask them to write a joke or song.
7. Don't grade them. Use the journal to monitor their progress without them knowing it! If it becomes a graded assignment, it's no longer fun.
8. Creative journaling is different from a diary. Be sure they know you will be reading their journal.
9. Journaling isn't limited to writing. Encourage your child to draw or illustrate in their journal.
I've found that journaling helps with penmanship, spelling, grammar, as well as creative writing. The more kids write, the better their writing becomes.
Journaling is also a fun way to peek into the mind of your child and see the world through their eyes.
One more thing- Be sure to date and keep them. They are real treasures!
For more tips, visit Shannon.
I found some cute, themed bulletin board cut-outs. The theme I'm using now is fish. Every day before she comes home from school, I write a topic on a Post-it note, stick it to the back of the fish, then tape it somewhere in her room. When she comes home she has to find the fish.
Using the Post-it note makes it easy to recycle the fish. You could use any shape or cut out that you have designed yourself. My daughter loves the ocean, so fish was an obvious choice.
Be creative and silly with topics. It doesn't have to be prize-winning. Anything that can be a springboard for creativity is key.
Examples to get started:
"What I Did This Weekend"
"My favorite (you fill in the blank) is ..."
"If I were any animal, I would be a (blank) because..."
Other ideas:
1. Give your child guidelines and goals, depending on age. Five sentences may be enough for your child, or too much. As their writing improves, they will naturally add sentences on their own.
2. If your child is a perfectionist or over-achiever and gets stressed out easily, limit their journaling time and tell them the journal entry does not have to be complete. The entry is not an essay.
3. Make sure journaling stays fun and does not become overwhelming.
4. Encourage them to journal the same time every day.
5. Let your child pick out the journal. An inexpensive composition book works well. Have them decorate it with stickers or drawings.
6. As their writing progresses, mix up topics and writings styles. Introduce poetry or ask them to write a joke or song.
7. Don't grade them. Use the journal to monitor their progress without them knowing it! If it becomes a graded assignment, it's no longer fun.
8. Creative journaling is different from a diary. Be sure they know you will be reading their journal.
9. Journaling isn't limited to writing. Encourage your child to draw or illustrate in their journal.
I've found that journaling helps with penmanship, spelling, grammar, as well as creative writing. The more kids write, the better their writing becomes.
Journaling is also a fun way to peek into the mind of your child and see the world through their eyes.
One more thing- Be sure to date and keep them. They are real treasures!
For more tips, visit Shannon.
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