Mighty, Like a Rose

Sunday is my mother's 80th birthday.

Isn't she beautiful?

I have been blessed with a good mother.

Her name is Marianne, and this is what she taught me:

Rely on your faith.

This bugged me when I was younger. Imagine going to your mother with a problem that seems insurmountable - the most important thing EVER....a boyfriend, college choice, career decision....and she says, "Pray about it. God will handle it. Trust." The end.

Sigh.

I didn't get it for quite a while.

But now I do.

Thank you, Mom. For teaching me, no, for showing me by your own example, how to live a life of faith and trust in the Lord.

In my "ripe old age", I can understand your quiet strength and where it comes from.

This is #1 for a reason.

It is the greatest gift she ever gave me. It has saved me. Literally.

It doesn't matter what you have, but who you ARE, that matters.

Snobs and climbers and toppers and all those "sorts" are silly and misdirected and shouldn't be taken seriously. It isn't what you wear, drive, join or marry that makes you happy. What makes you happy is being "real" and content with who God made you to be. (See #1)



Don't be self-centered.

She has told me this a lot. In fact, I am ashamed of how many times she has said this to me. But listen people....DON'T BE SELF-CENTERED. My mama is right. It makes you unhappy. It makes other people unhappy. Just do the right thing. God has everything under control. (See #1)

Watch movies that make you happy. Sad/violent/scary movies are disturbing, and who needs to be sad/scared?

I am a believer. And really, shouldn't you be, too? We like the movies where people sing a lot. I like singing. It is better than crying or screaming.

Give other people lots of second chances. They probably need the second chance more than you need to be right.

Huge. This is huge. The stronger person builds the bridge. My mother is the Golden Gate. I used to think it was weakness but now, oh now, I see it as amazing grace (See #1). And a really cool bridge. Am I losing you? I get kinda misty and philosophic when it comes to my mother....



There is always room for one more at the dinner table.

Not everybody knows how to make biscuits or cornbread from scratch. Food can be stretched further than you realize when a friend needs a place to eat.

This probably has you confused, but my mother understands....



Say "I love you".

A thousand times. I love you, too, Mama.



Know the names of flowers, plant them, pick them, arrange them in a vase.

Eat your hot dog with chili and onions, never turn down dessert, have breakfast for dinner, sing lullabies to your baby, use your imagination, learn to play bridge, relish a good book, do the daily crossword, drink your coffee black, never complain.....

Don't talk about yourself too much.

I have a hard time with this one, obviously. But I am working on it, Mom.

Listen, folks, I could go on forever. I could write a book about what my mother has taught me. She didn't always "instruct" me in ways that other mothers "instruct" their daughters. We didn't talk about the things I talk to my daughters about. She didn't really discuss superficial things like proper attire and hygiene and fashion and gossip (my mother doesn't gossip - tell her your secrets). She doesn't complain. EVER.

What she did/does is deflect painful things and collect beautiful things....all the while praying and staying close to the ONE who planted her here in the first place.

When I grow up, I hope I am just like her. Hmmmmm.

Mama, you are mighty, like a rose. I love you. Happy Birthday.

Love,
Jeanne Bug

Juxtapostioning

Juxtaposition.

This word just rolls off my tongue.

This morning, it appeared in a little bubble above my head.

"POP"

I was sitting in the shower.

Yes, sitting.

That is what I do when every muscle in my body is sore from DAY ONE: BACK AT THE GYM.

I was there, sitting in the shower, for at least 30 minutes.

For the first 29 minutes, I was in a zombie, trance-like state.

For the last minute, I was pondering juxtaposition.

Why?

Because my life is composed of contrasts.

And I like the word juxtaposition better than contrast.

I get a good visual (i.e. bubble in my head) from this word and please don't correct my incorrect assumptions about this word and "burst my bubble"! OK? OK.

A prime example of this juxta-situation (accept it now - I am making up words) would be my children.

Rob and Carol Anne.

Wait. Wrong photo.

Rob and Carol Anne.


Ahh. Yes, them!

They are awesome, wonderful, delightful. I love having them home.

But.

They cook food at 1 am.

I go to bed. My kitchen is clean. I wake up. My kitchen smells of brownies or pasta alfredo or frozen pizza and there are pots and pans in the sink. I find dirty dishes and empty glassses in their room. Only....

I don't find them until 3:00 pm when these people wake up.

Of course they were hungry after bowling until midnight-thirty.

Did I mention that some of us are "back in school" and wake up before day break? That a 7 year old has a hard time with labeling poly grams and putting vocabulary words in alphabetical order when there are 10 teenagers playing Wii in the next room? That an "old" mother needs regular sleep, especially after her deltoids/triceps/glutes/abs were exercised and the act of putting her head on the pillow is painful?

At night, as I toss and turn and wait for them to come home safely....I plot my revenge.

Juxta-pain. Juxta-confusion. Juxta-life.

I wake up. They sleep. I leave. I get home.They get up. They leave. They come home. I go to bed. They leave. They come home. They go to bed. I wake up. I wake up tired.

Michael has a 3-D project due.

Michael needs a bagel with cream cheese and his vitamin and some spit on his wacky hair and a lunch packed.

The dogs are hungry, too.

Thank goodness Martha can tie her own shoes and considers a Diet Mountain Dew a healthy breakfast. Thank goodness she has after-school activities until dark.

Juxtaposition.

I like it.

Somehow, it helps put things in perspective for me.

I am going to miss the chaos. I am going to miss how happy they are to eat my food (Rob) and wear my clothes (Carol Anne), and how willing they are to play Word Pirate with Michael every night and that they will run any mundane errand for me as long as they can drive my car and use my debit card. I am going to miss the extra hugs and the time spent telling stories and laughing. I like their company.

Drive safely. Call home. Go to church. Get some exercise. Eat right. Study. Change your sheets. Make your bed. Sometimes. Make friends. Get a part-time job. Lock your doors. Call home. Come home. I love you.

Juxta-wee-bit-melancholy.

Juxta-Jeanne.

Thank you, Lord.

~J

Making Your Life Easier for 2011!

I am not a food blogger.

But, I think food bloggers are cool. They make my life easier.

There is nothing better than a tried and true recipe, with step-by-step instructions and photographs....especially if you are kind of impaired when it comes to cooking. Like me.

Which is why I will never be a food blogger, but will love food bloggers FOREVER.

My all time favorite: The Pioneer Woman

Check her out, but don't cheat on me and then leave me for her because it will break my heart.

Anyhoo, today, I MUST share a recipe.

It is one of those dishes that is prepared at least once a week around our house.

The ingredients are always on hand and it is loved by everyone around the table!

The most important thing is that is always made by someone else beside me - insert happy face.

We call it THE MARTHA.

Literally.

As in, "tonight, we are having grilled steaks, baked potato and THE MARTHA".

Around here....that means.....Martha Henry's original recipe "tossed" salad.

But it isn't ordinary and I highly recommend it.

Here it goes:

Toss together equal parts of baby spinach and chopped romaine lettuce (amounts vary according to desired servings and don't forget to wash it first).



Add thinly sliced red onion, to taste.



Add thinly sliced apple, to taste.



Throw in a generous portion of crumbled blue cheese.



The main ingredient is a couple of handfuls of roasted, sugared and spiced pecans....make your own OR buy some (my preference).



Finally, combine with a light coating of Newman's Own Olive Oil Vinagrette.



Easy. Breezy. Delicious.

And your kid (teenager, husband, toddler) can make it.

Well, at least I think it is possible that at least ONE person in your family, besides yourself, can make it. There are, of course, those family members who chose to be spectators to the meal preparation and sit on the sidelines and play Snake or Family Feud or Bejeweled Blitz.

I'm not mentioning any names, of course.

One last thing.

I asked Martha to take a bow....but naturally this is what I got....

There! I made your life easier - I hope.

Go pour yourself a glass of wine.

~J

The Sound of Music - One of My Favorite Things!

Today is one of those days.

I woke up feeling.....blah.

I think it is the post Christmas blues.

There is a giant stack of "stuff" to do sitting on my desk.

I have another stack on the floor, on the chair, in the closet and on the stairs.

We have no food in the house. That would be my job, too.

I feel fat. It has been two weeks since I went to the gym.

I ate a pound of bacon this morning and a pound of pasta last night.

By myself.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

I think I will try posting the turkey picture....

I do love that these animals wander into my back yard.

Sigh.

Pause.

Sigh.

That didn't cheer me up too much.

What about my puppy, Daisy?

Sweet. But not really doing the trick either.....

Country roads? South Carolina? Cotton blossoms?

Warm bread. Good health. Comfy bed. Soft pillows.

I confess that the only thing that makes me feel better on a "blah" day is to count my blessings.

My mama taught me that.

Rain drops on roses and whiskers on kittens.....

Living at the beach in the summer. And the rest of the year, too!

Pedicures, plane tickets, fire pits, friendships, family, my twin sister.


She was born first....9 years before me....but she is my twin.

Garlic! Olive Oil! Tomatoes! Dove chocolate!

Wait. No more food references....I just remembered the bacon. Ugh.

Spanish moss, invisible fencing, farmers' markets, sportsmanship.

Life! Ahhhhh......


I feel a little better. Thanks for listening.

Happy New Year. For each of us, I pray that 2011 is filled with a bounty of blessings and a wagon load of wonders....that will warm our hearts on dreary days and put a smile on our faces.

When the dog bites, when the bee stings, when I'm feeling sad, I simply remember my favorite things.......

And then I don't feel, sooooo bad!

~J

Where's Waldo?

Last year, when my oldest daughter was just days short of her high school graduation, I got my feelings hurt.

See, it is a tradition here for high school Seniors to place an ad in the back of their yearbook. It is mostly photos, sometimes there is copy and the size can range from 1/4 of a page to a whole page ad.

Initially, I wanted to surprise her and pick the photos and write some sweet message to her about how beautiful she is and how proud we are of her....but, she wasn't good with that. My choice of photos was questionable and then she was actually on the yearbook staff and I couldn't pull off the surprise part anyway. Sooooo, she composed her own ad. I originally paid for a 1/2 page, but she frantically called me from school one day to say that she couldn't possibly fit all her friends and family on 1/2 of a page....I paid up.

Now, this is where the hurt feelings come in.

When the yearbook was published and she brought it home, I immediately turned to see the ad, and.....where's mommy? Wait. Is that me? The smallest photo in the whole lot? Not even an individual, but a group shot? The size of the head of a pin? Me? The woman who made this life happen? The center of the home, the hub of the wheel, the wiper of tears, the one who pays for the "cut and color"?

Nada. It was like the "Where's Waldo" photos, only worse.

Somehow, when I opened my eyes this Christmas Eve morning, I was remembering this silly thing.....and then I opened my eyes a little wider.

In the collage of my Christmas Activity for 2010, where is the photo of my LORD? You know Him, right? The "reason for the season"?

What is He thinking of me? Have I overlooked Him? Is He too small a part of my Christmas? Is he like a "Where's Waldo" game?

Let's see.

I have decorated.
I have baked - oh, sugar, have I baked!



I have participated in gathering with friends,

and carrying on traditions.



I sent out cards, blogged, made hot cocoa, pickled shrimp, potatoes au gratin....
And...by the way....I didn't kill the poinsettia.



But have I given proper focus to the Creator and Author of Christmas? The ONE WHO GAVE HIS LIFE FOR ME?

How big has HIS picture been in my ad?

How about you?

Have you ever given your child a Christmas gift and they seemed ungrateful or actually appeared to not appreciate it? Doesn't that hurt? Have I rejected Him again?

I challenge us all to not treat Jesus Christ like Waldo this year....it isn't too late for any of us.

We can forgive somebody. That would be a nice gift for Jesus.

We could lend a hand to someone that needs it. That would be a nice gift for Jesus.

We could treat all people (especially the difficult ones) with love and respect. That would be a nice gift for Jesus.

Give to the poor, comfort the sick, shake hands, drive slow, breathe deeply, count your blessings, attend church, read scripture, give hugs, befriend the lonely, remain hopeful, spread the news....

"In all your ways, submit to Him, and He will make your paths straight". Proverbs 3:6

Where's Jesus? Place Him at the center of your Christmas collage.

Merry Christmas, everybody.

~J

The Big Cookie

Back in the days of old, while still living in my hometown and raising up a flock of babies, a friend and neighbor gifted us with a homemade gingerbread house every Christmas. It was a confectionery dream-come-true....covered in coconut and pasted with all sorts of candy. Its' arrival was much anticipated and celebrated. Each year, the miniature house held court in the center of the kitchen table until Christmas Eve, when Rob, Carol Anne and Martha were allowed to pick it apart and eat it all up.

When I watch old home movies of Christmas' past, I can catch glimpses of those gingerbread houses as the video camera pans around the room capturing another sort of Christmas magic. The gift giver probably has no idea what an impact those houses had on our traditions or that years after we moved away, and after the "little" children had grown up and grown out of so many other traditions - they still reminisce about the annual gingerbread feast on Christmas Eve.

Three years ago, those "little" children gave me a book and a Kitchen Aid mixer and said "build it, and we will come". And I did. And they do. A new tradition has been born.

It is a project that last for DAYS.


There are templates.


There is the baking of the gingerbread.

Rolling it out, cutting it into a pattern.


Assembly. Oh, Lord, the assembly.


There are some bad words said. Disagreements. Hilarity.There is so much Royal Icing that I feel nauseous just from smelling it.


There are late night candy runs and gnashing of teeth. They all participate in the planning and construction - Rob (20), Carol Anne (18) and Martha (15). We stay up late for days. We spend time together.

When we get overly stressed about how perfect it should look, or a piece breaks off or the icing cracks - we remind ourselves that it really is just a giant cookie and we are perfect only in our efforts to love one another and enjoy the time we have.

Then, when it is complete, we proudly display it and take pictures and post them on Facebook. We laugh about the disagreements.

We don't eat it.

I mean, after rolling and beating and trimming and licking your fingers and eating the scraps as you decorate....I am sick of gingerbread....until next year!

I was thinking we should start baking the smaller house. Maybe do several. Give them away to friends with small children....help create a tradition and a million more memories.

Pay it forward.

~J

Say NO to Christmas Porn

Last night, I had a wonderful and merry "night out" with my gurlfriend, Heather. We do this from time to time, on special occasions, but it isn't often enough! We eat decadent food, prepared by someone else, and it always includes dessert. For our special meal, we chose the Chive Blossom restaurant because it never disappoints - this choice is always difficult since we have so many good restaurants in Pawleys Island!

The food (trout, short ribs, risotto....) was terrific! What really inspired me and warmed my heart was the conversation. Heather and I have an easy rapport and an intuitive understanding of each other. We were speaking honestly about the highs and lows of the Christmas season and how hard it is to keep treading water and not just let the under-tow pull you under!

A light bulb turned on in my brain and illuminated this thought: we (women), are inundated, poisoned, consumed, imprisoned, propagandized and degraded by Christmas PORN.

Gasp.

Did I just say that?

Yup.

What I mean is.....the media, the commercial lords, the retailers....they tell us that Christmas is not Christmas unless it looks like Norman Rockwell or Currier and Ives or at the very least, the Budweiser commercial!

We have, because of exposure to this Christmas porn, come to believe that Christmas should always be extremely fulfilling, beautiful, arousing, sensational, delicious, satisfying, wildly enjoyable and perfectly decadent.

Right?

I can't stop buying those magazines. The ones with the BEST gift ideas and recipes for an award winning, fat-free dinner - not to mention the right outfits (for my shape) that will bedazzle my friends and neighbors.

I stay up late watching the Food Network and making lighted orbs for my outdoor trees and baking massive gingerbread houses.

I can't live up to the ideal. The porn.....

Neither can Heather.

Because of Christmas porn, she doesn't try....and I die trying. Together, we negate Christmas. Or do we?

I love Jesus. I am grateful for the gift of His life for mine. I don't want to downplay that fact.

I love the look in the eyes of my children when they smell gingerbread baking in the oven.

I loved making these cupcakes for Michael's church choir Christmas party....

Martha helped me slather the icing on and I sprinkled and such....

I was content with the fact that I bought the rest of the food from the local grocery store and didn't have the right serving bowls or table decorations.

The "Chinese gift exchange" was a big hit and all the kiddos had a blast!
Heather is doing a good job, too. She is doing the things that really matter and having a good laugh at the things that don't. She lives right in the middle of a neighborhood where outdoor Christmas lights are OUTDOOR CHRISTMAS LIGHTS. With music.

She went and bought a simple garland of pre-lit snowflakes for her front porch. They have blue lights. They look like a string of the Star of David when lit at night. Or the Starship Enterprise.

What would Martha (Stewart) do?

Tomorrow, my family is reading the Advent litany during the 11 o'clock church service. It is the 4th Sunday of Advent and we will be reminded to be faithful as we light the 4th candle.

There is a funny-hard-to-pronounce-name in the scripture that I am reading.

I am throwing caution to the wind, ignoring the possibility that I am pronouncing it wrong and reading it with courage and confidence.

So what if it isn't perfect?

My house isn't clean. My washing machine is broken. I can't cook fabulous meals because I am baking gingerbread around the clock. There is a good possibility that I won't get to the sugar cookies this year.

But tomorrow, I will say "Restore us, O Lord God Almighty, may God's face shine upon us, that we may be saved.

Restore us.

Be peaceful. Be hopeful. Be joyful. Be faithful.

Don't fall prey to Christmas porn.

~J