What if I told you...?

What if I told you that someone very dear to me had congestive heart failure, and experienced symptoms of pain and breathlessness. Would you feel compassion for them? What if I told you my loved one had cancer. Would you find a way to show some moral support? What if I told you my family member was mentally ill and his/her symptoms are that of erratic and disturbing behaviour that is often emotionally hurtful to him/herself and others? What then would your reaction be?

In my family, there are those that completely cut themselves out of this person's life. I get that. Damage was done. And I actually don’t have a problem with that. My mentally-sick loved one has hurt every single person that has ever been close to him/her, or helped him/her. And the list of lies and betrayals is various and long. I guarantee that they have almost certainly hurt me and my family in greater ways many more times. Forgive me for getting testy with that last sentence, this isn't a contest of who has been hurt the most. I understand that everyone has to make the best choices they can for themselves. It’s a valid and often necessary choice to disengage from people that hurt and betray.

What has been most unfortunate and painful to me, is that this segment of the family seemed to go a step farther. They cut me and my family from their lives also. Presumably because we had chosen to maintain some relationship with the ill person, albeit a distant and limited one. We never insisted they maintain a relationship with our ill loved one after she/he offended them. We only kept the lines of communication open for ourselves. Without me getting too personal or specific, I will say that some relationships can be stronger than a Denali-sized heap of betrayal. Strong bonds such as a parent-to-child, can’t (or won’t) allow for ever giving up completely. And the offenses I speak of aren’t capital offenses, they are incidents of embarrassment, lies, unpredictable actions, things of that nature. I can't fully understand why they cut us off, I speculate that the inconvenience, messiness and stigma of mental illness is not compatible with their image of family life. It hurts to realize that the very people who distanced themselves from us, were among the same family members that we were supportive of while they went through their own struggles of a different sort.

Photo by smiteme. Permission granted under Flickr Creative Commons Agreement.

Illness is illness. I can't help but wonder that if said loved one had another kind of illness, she/he and we might not have been so summarily written-off, because other medical conditions garner more understanding and empathy. Mental illness is tricky. Just as we protect ourselves when a friend or loved on has a contagious illness, we often need to have some kind of protection with loved ones who have mental illnesses. Just as we adjust our expectations of what a physically ill person is capable of, we must have realistic expectations of what a mentally ill person is capable of. Education is a key factor, as is awareness. Then the necessary precautions must be taken. However, I chose not to abandon completely my mentally ill family member. I chose not to be embarrassed by, or unnecessarily cut off from them, after many painful and awkward starts and stops throughout the years. This didn't happen overnight, this was a process that happened over time, with many trials and errors, and educating myself as much as I could as I went along. Yes, my loved one is at times erratic, insensitive, and offensive. I wonder how much is within and how much is beyond their control due to their illness? I’m not sure. It is not easy, but it is possible to still maintain a loving and supportive relationship. Sometimes a glimmer of their old self shines through and it’s enjoyable. Sometimes it’s just letting them know that someone will be here for them. Sure, we have to be more guarded, and have to protect ourselves in certain ways, but at least our loved one has some knowledge that there are a few of us that still care.

I’m sharing this story in hopes that someone reading it may have a more compassionate approach to those with mental illness or those with loved ones who have mental health issues.

In the teachings of that divine and enlightened One, Jesus of Nazareth, He said, it’s easy to love those that love you. It’s easy to be good to those who are good to you. He exhorted us to be loving and caring toward those who are difficult and challenging(see here). So, I’m trying. I have to say, the shunning from my “healthy” loved ones hurts rather more than any of the things my unwell loved-one does or did.

from a journal entry 2009/10

Some Days...

...music comforts me and gives me a catharsis. So you can guess the theme of this playlist and what is on my mind. Many years ago my wise and dear Father-in-Law said, "When your children are little they step on your toes, when they're grown they step on your heart." The playlist ends on a hopeful note. That's important.

Article on John Lennon Has Me Thinking About Faith, Art & Life

I took this picture in Strawberry Fields in Central Park last summer.
I did some New Year's cleaning and organizing this past weekend and came across an older issue of the magazine Guideposts. I enjoyed this lovely article about one woman's encounter with John Lennon, and have it here for your enjoyment. My comments follow, so this it a longer entry today.

"

The bicyclist pedaled closer, his face unshaven, his eyes hidden beneath round wire-rimmed glasses. Hair spilled from his wide-brimmed hat. His clothes fluttered in the breeze. "How you doing?" he shouted, waving hello. A hippie, I thought, dismissing him as I walked up the busy street with my family. He coasted past, vanishing down the road. Something about him seemed familiar. A minute later another bicycle raced by: a Japanese woman, with long, curly hair—and an unmistakable face. "That's Yoko Ono," I said to myself. Oh, my…That "hippie" had to be John Lennon. What are they doing here in Karuizawa?

My husband, Stephen, was a minister and we moved to this Japanese mountain town five years earlier, in 1971, to work at the missionary camp his parents managed, a place where people came eager to experience a new world and deepen their faith. But it was hard work raising our three young children, Becky, seven, Peter, five, and Debby, two, on top of the chores that had to be done. I cooked three meals a day for up to 50 people. Nights I set up the coffeehouse we ran.

"Come to the Power and Light Company," read the signs we put up along the machi, the main street in town, inviting the community for free coffee, cake and conversation in English.

Missionaries had been coming to Karuizawa for years to enjoy the cool breezes coming off the evergreen slopes of Mt. Asama, the charming little shops that lined the machi, which sold cherry-wood carvings and kokeshi dolls. The Japanese elite fell in love with Karuizawa too. Emperors, diplomats and entertainers built grand, Victorian-style homes with gorgeous moss gardens. That must be why John is here, I thought. He must own one of those mansions.

I wasn't a Beatles fan. Back in Oregon where I grew up, I adored Pat Boone. Beatlemania shocked me—the moppy hairstyles and the loud, raw rock 'n' roll. "We're more popular than Jesus now," the papers quoted John as saying. I was appalled. How could he be so arrogant? I wasn't surprised disillusioned Beatles fans burned their records in response. Anyway, I decided to put the John and Yoko sighting out of my mind. I'll never see them again, I bet.

That Sunday, as always, missionaries from the different denominations in town packed into Union Church. Midway through the service, I heard murmuring in the back. I strained my neck to see. A man and woman were walking down the aisle, looking for an open seat. You guessed it. John and Yoko. They settled in, but the whispering didn't stop.

"Who is that?" "He's one of the Beatles." "I didn't know they went to church…" The minister cleared his throat, loudly, and everyone went back to listening to his sermon. But I couldn't focus. What was John doing in our church?

Later that week Peter and Debby played in the sandbox in our yard. I sat in a lawn chair, keeping an eye on them while some people from the church were visiting. I just wanted to relax before I had to bake the cakes for the coffee shop. Suddenly two bicycles slowed down at our house and pedaled into our yard. It was them! Their son, Sean, was sitting in a child's seat attached to John's handlebars. Stunned, I got up and walked toward them. What do I say to the most famous Beatle of all? "I saw your signs on the machi and thought they were clever," John said, breaking the silence. "I was telling Yoko here that we needed to see what it was all about." The camp volunteers saw who'd showed up and quickly began gathering. "What are you doing in town?" I managed to ask.

"We're staying at a cabin owned by Yoko's family," he told me. It was crazy. John Lennon, coming here because he saw our sign?

One woman pushed in front. She had a reputation for being blunt. "I read about your divorce—how could you leave your first marriage?" she asked. "What are you doing now that the Beatles have broken up?" Everyone crowded closer. I expected John and his family to turn around and pedal away as fast as they could.

But John just smiled. "Right now I am putting my music on hold to spend time with my wife and son," he said. The woman didn't seem quite satisfied.

"Do you belong to a church?" she asked.

"Of course," he said. "I'm C. of E."

A worried look came across the woman's face. "The See…what?"

John laughed playfully. "The Church of England. Haven't you heard of them?"

More questions came, and he listened to each, answering kindly and politely. He didn't contradict anyone in any way. One of the most famous people in the world—notorious even, to some—in our humble yard, being scrutinized by people he didn't know, and taking it all in stride. Even I had to admit, I was surprised by his patience.

"How could you say those things about being bigger than Jesus?" someone asked. I had wondered that same thing myself.

John shook his head. "When we talk to reporters, we play around with them," he said. "We're just a music group. Don't people know that Jesus is far greater than we are?" Finally, the crowd seemed satisfied. Maybe he wasn't just some arrogant rock star.

Just then there was a commotion in the sandbox. Debby had hit Peter with a plastic shovel. I knelt down to placate the two of them.

"How old are your kids?" John asked.

"Debby's two and Peter is five."

"Sean's about the same age as your little girl, but he's so quiet and shy. Maybe he could benefit from playing with a girl like that." I looked at Sean as John reached down and gently ruffled his hair. In that moment, John didn't seem like a hippie anymore—he seemed like any other concerned dad.

We talked a little more about our kids. Before I knew it, an hour had passed, and he, Yoko and Sean prepared to pedal off on their bikes. "It's good to talk to all of you," John said. "I've been looking for something this summer, something spiritual," he continued. "I've been speaking with a lot of the missionaries I've met here, about life and what it all means. Thank you for your words." He waved goodbye—and I waved back as they rode off, little Sean perched on his daddy's handlebars.

I had made all sorts of assumptions about John Lennon—that he was arrogant, disrespectful, antireligious, a rebellious hippie. But the man I met was none of those things. In fact, he was modest and self-effacing. Not like my idea of a rock star at all!

I never did speak to John again. But I hope we helped him that summer. He certainly helped me. He reminded me of why I had come to Japan in the first place. To welcome people—not to judge them. And to grow in my understanding of the world.

"

I liked that this article sort of set the record straight regarding much of the demonetization the conservative Christian Church in the USA has regarding that old statement John Lennon made about being "bigger than Jesus." You may also recall Lennon was in the news again recently in December regarding lost interview tapes and the anniversary of his death. I heard a snippet or two of that old interview in the news while the story made the rounds, and it struck me at how much his family values were aligned with mine, though we are so very different. He was weathering criticism for wanting to take a break and raise his youngest son, and his commitment to his spouse, and those types of choices, etc. I find this particularly compelling being at a similar point in my life, albeit much less talented, and with different struggles and situations. I am am concerned with my own things as an artist in 40th decade of my life. I was a productive artist once, and I was an artist before I was a wife and mother, and before my family went through it's tragedy*. Now I am trying to be all the things I want to be and am called to be, as a child of God. It's good to know others have been on this path before and made it work, and it's good to be reminded that my time among the living could be up at any time. There are things I'd like to accomplish, and at least, leave this world with a little more done than I am currently doing.

Anyway, enjoy.

"knucklehead emergency"

I coined a new phrase, ya'll. Here's how it happened.
"It's not a life or death emergency, it's a knucklehead emergency." So said I, to the administrative assistant who answered the phone at the high school. My teenager was the last one to have something important of mine or Big Daddy's. Think car keys, cell phone, etc. Yes, we looked everywhere. Lesson learned, I hope.

It's the little things...

My children gifted me with planted flowers in pots they decorated for Mother's Day in their Sunday school class last May. The plants are 'full sun' tolerant, but the trouble is our extreme heat. They withered and had to be watered daily. I replanted them in a bigger bin and they have thrived. It makes me happy to see them brightening our front porch.



I was gloriously loitering around the drugstore yesterday morning when I found the above toy and bought it for myself. (Have you ever gloriously loitered? If not you should try it.) I was relishing my return to stay-at-home-parenthood, sans any kids during school hours, and was able to make my necessary purchases without the usual distractions. What are the usual distractions when I have to foray into a store with my offspring? Pressing requests for junky toys or foods we don't need; appeals for the latest and most aggressively marketed man-scented personal care or acne products; pointing out racy, potty-humored or noisy greeting cards; and the list goes on. Now you might understand why an opportunity to shop alone is a big deal for me.

Anyway, I found this Matchbox car and I had to have it. Matchbox cars were among my most favorite childhood toys. I think I liked playing with them and my Barbie Dolls with equal enthusiasm, though not at the same time, of course, nor with the same playmates. How many roads or block garages did my little brother and I make for our cars? Many afternoons were spent low to the ground, scooping out mini-highways with our hands in the dirt and pea gravel of the "driveway" of our parents' little summer place. Ahh, I remember it well, it was a cozy little corner spot near a big lake and a small Pennsylvania town.

On Sundays after church our good-natured Dad would take us to the general store where Matchbox cars were displayed in a window case. I know we anticipated this nearly weekly ritual as we would pick a new little car. Good days and good times. I found a picture of the same store.

The Recipe Box

picture from Vintageprintable1

My cousin sent out a facebook request for a corn cake recipe. I obliged with the closest thing I had. It was a recipe for a corn casserole from my Aunt E. When I opened my little recipe box to dig around for the right one, I had a real warm fuzzy moment. My Aunt E and my Aunt D had passed away some years ago. Seeing their recipes on the cards in there, a few in their own handwriting made me feel so good. To be reminded of all the good times we spent together, usually involving a delicious meal, well, it made my heart glad. My Mom has contributed many recipes. The recipe box itself was a wedding shower gift from my Sister-in-law T and included a few of her own good recipes. If my memory is correct, ones she collected from some of the other women at the shower.

Then, there are all the recipes I've collected over the years, many from people who pass in and out of our lives, former coworkers, former church friends, and people who we no longer see because of life's circumstances and situations. We move, our lives change but this little look into my recipe box reminded me of some people who left a special mark in our lives and in our hearts. Food has such a connection with the human race, I think we were made to share meals together socially on a regular basis. (I think that is just a part of what Jesus was doing when He instituted the celebration of communion.)

Finding their recipes in my little recipe box gave me a special reminder of family times around the table, good memories and love.


~Blessings and ♥

Missouri Corn Pie/Casserole from Aunt E

1/4 cup butter (or margarine)

1 box of corn muffin mix

2 eggs beaten

1 cup sour cream

1 can whole kernel corn, drained

1 can creamed corn



Preheat oven to 400 degrees

Melt butter in a baking dish, add the rest of the ingredients and mix well. Bake at 400 for 35 minutes.

Today is the First Day

Today is the First Day...of the next season of my life. I have a child who is a high school senior, a child in middle school and one in elementary school. I quit my job, because I need a part time job that will allow my late afternoons and evenings to be free. I need to be here for my family more than my recent job permitted. It was good while it lasted and now it's time to move one. I have big plans for myself. I have things I want to do for God and ministry. I have things I want to do for me (artist & hula-hooper-woot!) and my family. What does God want me to do? Some areas and things I can sense and feel a prompting from Him, and I think there will be somethings that are a surprise and a challenge. God, please help me, I need it.

I'm feeling good...BUT I don't walk by feeling I walk by faith.

Toy Story 3 - You've Got a Friend in Me

Our family of 5 went to see it this weekend. Can you believe it cost us about $95.00 for all of us to go together and get the tickets and refreshments? No wonder we only go to the movies altogether like that once or twice a year...

Anyway...Toy Story 3 was another home run for Pixar. All ages can enjoy it. Part of the movie takes place at a daycare, and after working this past year as a preschool teacher, I knew those poor toys were in for some trouble! I did feel sad and even fought back the ugly cries when the movie touches on the themes of the Toy's boy Andy leaving for college and outgrowing his beloved childhood playthings. I can't help but think of my Adam who will be 17 in a month or two. The original Toy Story was his favorite movie from around age 3. There was a time when we had to watch it at least once a day. For example, I still remember that the movie started around the 11 minute mark when I would fast forward the video tape to play it for him...We know that movie very nearly by heart. Of course we enjoyed Toy Story 2 and the animated Buzz Lightyear video also over the years. Our family grew up with this series. Those movies are cute and clever fun.

And Adam even liked it as much as his younger siblings, and he sat next to me.

Love Hurts - God Heals part 2

Have you ever poured out your heart and soul into a friendship with someone and they betrayed you? Or maybe they just weren't there for you when you really needed it? It makes you feel so hurt and sad. Maybe angry too. You question why you wasted so much time and energy on someone that proved to be so unworthy. Sometimes this makes you hesitant about befriending other people in the future. At least it's been that way for me. It seems like the past few years have seen a few of these situations in my family and it hurts like heck. I keep hoping there will be some sort of reconciliation and healing change. But it just hasn't happened (yet?). Perhaps it never will. So, I mourn the passing of friendships.

I have been thinking lately about these types of things. And I think I have concluded this: I don't think love is ever wasted, even if it's not appreciated or reciprocated. I think when we stand before the Lord at judgment, we'll have been relieved to say that we loved lavishly even if our hearts are broken to shreds. After all, that's what He did. And then we should just keep on loving and doing our best to be an open-hearted person.

The thing is, sometimes with some people, you have to love them from afar. We can be like the father in the story of the Prodigal Son. He was already looking down the road when his estranged son was coming home. We can determine from that, he had been looking for, hoping and anticipating his son's return. I believe we should have a heart that is open, welcoming and ready for reconciliation. The other person has to be on that same road as well. It has to be mutual. Just as the father was looking for the son, the son was ready to leave his "wild living" and return home. The son couldn't have it both ways at his home. He had to leave the destructive behaviour behind to enjoy the full benefits of a close relationship. Until that time, the father had his eyes on the horizon and a heart that seemed to be free of anger, accusations, and all the other things he probably felt over his child living wild and wasting his inheritance. He was ready when his child was ready, not with a lecture, but with open arms.

That's the lesson for me. Don't get hung up on bitter feelings over everything that has passed. Let it go and be healed and free from it. Be ready for restoration of the relationship, if and when it comes. In the mean time L-O-V-E from afar, as opposed to stewing or wallowing!




Image from Barry's Clip Art.

Pet Peeve - Spelling Names Correctly

Why is it that my cyber-pals can spell my name right, but relatives whom I've known for AGES cannot? One particular relative, consistently misspells some of our names. However, my online friends seem to be able to remember a correct spelling. I would think not having met someone in person would make it more difficult to keep details straight. Some of the people who have broken bread with us countless times, and were with us through the births and baby dedications cannot seem to remember a few letters. There are times when the name is posted over social networking sites, and they can't even get it right when it's written elsewhere on the same computer screen "page." It's a pet peeve.

If someone is only casually acquainted with us, I can understand, but when someone has known you for decades and your children since before birth, well, I think it's rude to misspell. Am I being too hard? Am I being petty? Does this bother anyone else? It's a pet peeve. Winnie the Pooh would say, "A little bothering thing." Like a yapping chihuahua.


photo byby wcmcwi

100th Post

So I want to write something witty and eloquent, for this my 100th post but find it all escapes me. I am just me, and not witty and only rarely eloquent. So this is it.
My 100th post.
Yippee!
Since I began this blog, and began my Artist's Way journal I have felt a relief and release. I have to give credit to God, because this has been a spiritual journey, and praying and reading His Word has been a huge part of my creative breakthrough. And I still have a long way to go.

Even though I haven't been doing my Artist's Way religiously, I have been taking some of the principals I learned from the book and they have helped. What I have been doing "religiously" is the yearly bible reading plan. I have been making time for myself to sketch and pray and give all the old, painful hurts and emotions over to God and with His grace and help, not continuing to nurse or wallow in them.




And now for something completely different....





He is my bob.
I say this (He is my bob) to myself about 5 times a day now. And when I do, I see a picture of a stick figure man with a smile on his face, in a field of flowers, with a sunny blue sky and birds flying over his head. "He is my bob" is written underneath the picture. It is a picture my 6-year-old Calvin drew, and it is of Big Daddy. It makes me happy in a way that I will try to describe. It took me two days, of looking at it on the fridge where Calvin proudly posted it, to realize that what Calvin meant is "He is my dad." I know that Kindergarten aged kids reverse letters and numbers often, and it shouldn't have taken me that long to figure it out. When you look closely at the "o" in Calvin's "bob" it's an "a" also written backwards. Thinking of this picture makes me happy because it perfectly illustrates a child's sweet, innocent love and faith in his dad. The little "mistake" isn't so much a mistake as a translation problem when viewed through the reality of Calvin's age, ability and understanding. Calvin has complete trust, love and admiration for his dad. Not even reversing the letters can change that. There is a universal truth, and it comes shinning through if you just pause to look at that simple, colorful and beautiful picture and it's words for a few minutes. I missed it for a couple of days, but I finally got it, and I thank my Heavenly Dad for that. So when I say "he is my bob" to myself, and it makes me grin. It's an inside joke and a calming meditation I do with myself to remind me of how good it is to be a child who has a Daddy that loves them, and I mean that on several levels. I am grateful for the father of my children. I am grateful for the father I had. And I am most grateful to my Heavenly Father.



Some of the things children say and do give me much amusement and joy. Sometimes I think I have the best job in the world. Today one of my 4-year-old students said, "Ms. e.b., we're going to my Mom's ammy!" I said, "Do you mean, Miami?" "No," she said, "It's My Mom's Ammy!" This same student informed me that I am no longer a princess when I wear sneakers to work instead of my usual sandals.

The h1n1 hoopla

Our public school is trying to vaccinate all of the students with the new h1n1 shot, but we are opting out. I don't believe the vaccine has been out long enough to be durably and reliably tested. I have concerns that there is mercury in some of the vaccines, and that there is controversy over the nasal vaccine they offer to children. All my children are in the recommended age bracket, so I have not come to this conclusion lightly. I work in a pre-school germ factory and we have had one confirmed case so far, and likely some unconfirmed cases. It's not an easy decision. But right now, it seems like the best decision for our family with consideration to our circumstances and all I have looked into for now.

Letting The Fantasy Die & Embracing Reality

I have been slowly letting the fantasy I have about my addicted loved one die. What good is it to harbor a fantasy that is not rooted in reality? There is a difference in hope and fantasy, and I think for a long time maybe I have blurred the lines between the two and it hasn't been helpful.


For a long time, in the back of my mind I had this dream that my ALO would recover things would get back to normal (whatever that is) and we'd be some sort of regular family again. Maybe we'd even open a restaurant together. We'd have happy Thanksgivings and Merry Christmases around a table that would make Norman Rockwell proud. My ALO would have their zest for life restored and become a productive and upstanding member of society and our family. We'd all be reasonably happy together.

The truth is, I needed a HUGE reality check. Things could never get back to normal because they were never "normal" to begin with. The fantasy I held was my very own fantasy, no one else shared it with me. I never bothered to really consider if this fantasy was the same dream anyone else shared. Rather it was just some thing that I harbored in my own mind, assuming that there was some level of familial sympatico. Never mind that my ALO was too entrenched in their own life and pursuits to share or discuss such a dream. I think I thought something like one day my ALO would wake up after being healed and clean and sober of their addictions and think, "Aha! Back I go to the bosom of my faithful family and we shall all build an idyllic life together!" I never really took into full consideration that my ALO has their own dreams and plans, and family life was not a priority for them. And that even now, in the throes of their addictions, they are a bonna-fide adult who has a right to live their own life. You can't make someone feel a love and attachment that simply isn't there for them. Everyone has different priorities and goals in life, it doesn't necessarily make them right or wrong. They simply have different preferences.

I was confusing my hope that they will one day recover with my own fantasy of what I thought their recovery should look like. Instead, now I am learning that my hope is that they will recover and find their own version of a happy, sane and sober life, and that life may or may not include me. And that's OK. I pray for and wish them well in it.

Anyway, just some thoughts.

Thoughts on Lies, Addiction & Family Relationships

For some reason my addicted loved one (ALO) has focused their anger and ire on me during their most recent cycle of sobriety, fresh start/new life, relapse, hospitalization, and (hopefully)recovery. I have been called a devil, hypocritical Christian and the one that killed their (ALO's) relationship and/or opportunities. This is because I told the truth when asked questions regarding my addicted loved one's (ALO) life while they were hospitalized in a medically induced coma from illness that stems from their addiction.

For the first time I tried to refrain from apologizing for my ALO, because I struggle with feeling guilty when I become aware of the hurt they cause others in the course of their life of addiction. I remind myself that the people that chose to date, live with, employ, befriend, and otherwise help my ALO are adults capable of their own decisions about who they will let into their life and trust, help and love. It's not my job to go around apologizing for or fixing the things that people other than myself do to each other. I don't know why I feel like I should, but I used to have a real problem with that, and I am working very hard to not feel, think and react that way anymore.

I had not heard from my ALO in about 5 months when I was contacted by their live-in-companion who informed me ALO was hospitalized in critical condition. My ALO's companion then asked me some very basic questions about them, which I answered truthfully to the best of my knowledge. I tried, and I think mostly succeeded in keeping emotions, drama and opinions out of it. I tried not to add anything other than what I was asked. That is difficult when faced with some whoppers of lies, which when added to the worry and concern over the health of my loved one, it's difficult to stay calm and clear-headed. The shock of some of the content of the fabrications took me aback, but I made a good effort that is miles and miles better than my reactions to these kinds of similar scenarios I had been placed in in the past. I do this by reminding myself of the content of the italicized sentence in the previous paragraph.

I remind myself that my loved one has an illness and this is part of it. I didn't cause it, I can't control it, I can't cure it. Only my loved one can, by the help and grace of God, change their life and choices.

As I mused about all of this this week, and prayed so much for my ALO I feel like God gave a little snippet of understanding. My ALO has hurt and alienated so many people in their life, but I know for sure that my Mom, Big Daddy and myself will never stop loving them. Our love is unconditional, but it's difficult sometimes. We have never been able to stop loving and caring. We have never been able or even willing to cut ties altogether. I believe that the Lord showed me that it was Him who placed ALO in a family of people that would not give up or abandon ALO.

Everybody has a cross of some kind to bear. This life is filled with hardships, some that we make ourselves, others we have thrust upon us, as Simon of Cyrene was told to carry Jesus' cross. Jesus loves us when we are unlovable and how much should we love those among us that are also a challenge.

So, it hurts me when my ALO calls me names for telling the truth regarding the lies they tell. It hurts to think about all the ways they have hurt themselves and others. Today the Lord reminded me of this:

"[And see to it that] your conscience is entirely clear (unimpaired), so that, when you are falsely accused as evildoers, those who threaten you abusively and revile your right behavior in Christ may come to be ashamed [of slandering your good lives].

For [it is] better to suffer [unjustly] for doing right, if that should be God's will, than to suffer [justly] for doing wrong."
-1 Peter 3:16-17 AMP

As I have been reading and being reminded in Crazy Love, it's easy to love people who treat you well and love you back. Jesus Himself taught us that here. If I get caught up in nursing hurts and anger I am less likely to pray for the people who need prayers the most and that includes myself and my own attitudes. I am more likely to be overcome with hurt, despair and my own bad feelings rather than overcoming evil with good.

In the past my mode of operation was to spend excess amounts of time wallowing, worrying and stewing over these types of hurts. Now I realize how unproductive that is. These situations are best handled when bathed in prayer, and by getting on with doing all the good things in life that Christ has called us to do. When I went to Al-Anon there was a saying that the members would say to each other in the meeting when someone was doing too much obsessing over the erratic and hurtful behaviour of their addicted loved one. They would say, "Yes that's bad that s/he is doing X-behaviour, but what are you doing FOR YOU?" Then they would go on to say something like, "Are you eating right? Are YOU getting enough sleep? Exercise? Enjoying your favorite hobby? Reading your Bible?"

So, this is me, e.b., working through this stuff.

Honoring Dads

I am so grateful for my Dad.

"I had a dad
He was big and strong
I turned around
I found my daddy gone
He was the one
Made me what I am today
It's up to me now
My daddy has gone away*..."

I still miss him terribly!



I am blessed with a husband who is a great dad.
My husband's step-father, is a fine man, also a pastor,
and I couldn't ask for a better father-in-law.

This is an older photo - Adam is as tall as his Dad now.


May the Lord bless all you Dads out there, may you grow in His grace,
mercy and love. We are grateful for you.

*lyrics from 'Had A Dad' by Jane's Addiction

My "Special" Brownies

I have a practice of sneaking healthier options into my family’s meals without their knowing it. I purée carrots, celery and mild bell peppers into tomato based sauces, such as marinara, pomodoro and even in chili. It’s delicious. When the children were little I put broccoli and cauliflower in their macaroni and cheese so that they would eat more veggies. I find that they are less likely to complain about whole wheat pasta when it’s smothered in a good tomato-based sauce, and sprinkled generously with some Parmesan cheese. Now that the healthful benefits of cinnamon are touted, I sprinkle cinnamon generously on their yogurt, applesauce and cereal. I’m into little things like that to add some healthiness to their food.

Big Daddy is as picky an eater as you’d find, and he is usually not easily persuaded into trying anything new, let alone healthy. But even he has budged and will eat some things that he might not of before. But he will also dig his heals in a bit and be a real hard sell on these kinds of things, too! So I often have to be stealthy in my goal of cooking healthful meals.

So along those lines, I found a tip for getting them to eat some healthy legumes, in brownies of all places. I know what you’re thinking. Ugh, gross. How can beans and chocolate brownies go together, um, tastefully? I was a skeptic myself. Several years ago, someone posted on the now defunct, or unavailable Hippie Christian Board this simple tip:

Mix one regular can of black beans with one regular package of brownie mix. Mash up the beans really well before you add the mix, and then don’t add anything else - no water, oil or eggs necessary. Cook, cool, refrigerate and eat. The woman who posted it suggested you NOT eat them warm from the oven, they are best at room temperature or slightly cool. I tested this an she is correct! I also think they take slightly longer to cook than the box directions, so you have to watch them. Oh yeah, and DO NOT eat them warm.

The thing is, they are pretty good. Mind you they aren’t warm decadent brownies you serve with ice cream on your birthday or other special occasions. But when you want a little treat that you don’t have to feel super-guilty about, and that gives you some added healthy food on the down low, try this recipe. My family has been eating them this way for a couple of years and haven't noticed. Which brings me to my most recent batch of special brownies.

This past Memorial Day we were planning and packing for our picnic at the beach. We did it the night before, since we wanted to get an early start. My Mom was here visiting, and helping by making the sandwiches. She asked if I wanted her to start the brownies we bought for the picnic. “Oh no,” I said, “I have a special recipe for them, to make them a bit healthier. I’ll take care of them, but I have to do it while the Big Daddy and the children are not around because I don’t want them to see what I’m doing.” When they were otherwise occupied I made my special brownies under the very doubtful and critical eye of my Mom. I tried to convince her. “Trust me,” I said, “They are really pretty good. You’ll see. You’ll be surprised, Mom.” She was not convinced, but I swore her to secrecy and knew she’d give them a try at our picnic.

We had a beautiful morning at the beach on Memorial Day: Swimming, snorkeling, walking and relaxing, the ocean was fairly calm, the weather was great. We all worked up an appetite playing. The picnic food was good - egg salad or bologna sandwiches, pickles, chips and ripe watermelon. Simple, yummy and satisfying. That is until we got to the brownies. Which I made with spicy, seasoned black beans. I didn’t read the label.

Now my family is on to me. And I will never hear the end of this one.

Hot

Hot, Hot, Hot and Hot Fun In the Summertime - take your pick, I am humming them both today.

Just about an hour ago I was hanging my laundry out on my nifty clothes dryer. I was roasting. Even for this relatively quick chore I had on sunglasses, hat and sunscreen. I got curious. Just how hot is it? According to my thermometer it read 125 degrees F in the sun and 120 in the shade on my back porch. You might be saying to yourself, as I did, "That can't be right!" Well, same thermometer is reading my bedroom as 79, my living room as 81. Therefore, I concede to it's general accuracy. "We're talking Hot, Hot, Hot!" Still, I wouldn't trade my hot lot in life with any of you who weather four distinct seasons. I love to visit such places but I wouldn't want to live there! And you, dear reader, probably wouldn't want to live here - but you'd enjoy a visit, more than likely.


My Mom graced us with her presence from a few days before Mother's Day until today. We will miss her and I am sure she will enjoy a bit of peace and quiet. The Chaos and Mayhem of our home can be quite loud!


Adam and Flora were delighted to see a 2 foot nurse shark near the mangroves that border the little dock area at the end of our street. I will be happy to spot one myself one of these days.





One of these mornings
You're going to rise up singing
Then you'll spread your wings
And you'll take to the sky


"For the Lord himself will come down from heaven with a commanding shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trumpet call of God. First, the Christians who have died will rise from their graves. Then, together with them, we who are still alive and remain on the earth will be caught up in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. Then we will be with the Lord forever."
-1 Thessalonians 4:16-17 NLT

Speaking of summer songs:
The classic song "Summertime" by George Gershwin is one of my all time favorite songs. Since becoming a Christian the lyrics of it take on a biblical meaning for me. I highlighted that above in posting a verse of the song lyrics and the coordinating Bible verse. I have never been especially fond of calling the Lord Daddy or Papa as many do nowadays, but that's a personal thing. Many people find it comforting, and He is after all, Our [Heavenly] Father. But in this song, it has always been a picture of God's Fatherhood to His children for me. Let that blow through the jasmine in your mind for awhile.

So Fresh, So Clean (so green)

Well, you know I am hanging my clothes out to dry (I blogged about it last summer here), as the weather permits. Which is quite often here in the Keys. I believe we get an average of only 40” of rain a year, which isn't very much, and we have very fair weather, no ice or snow ever. I began making my own laundry detergent again, and rather than rinsing with fabric softener, I put a little plain white vinegar in the rinse cycle. I have been doing the vinegar rinse for a couple of years now. I find it especially effective with my husband's dirty clothes when he does construction work. Our clothes are sun and wind dried, clean an fragrance free(except when I use a little Doc Bronner’s lavender castille soap rather than my own concoction).

Nobody in my home is hyper-allergic, and I actually like the smell of some detergents and fabric softeners. It’s just that I also like things to be natural, simple and clean whenever possible, and think it’s important to cut down on strong or harsh chemicals.

This lack of fragrance really hit home last week when we were preparing for the church rummage sale. A lady generously gave us all of the items she didn’t sell at her own yard sale, and there was an abundance of good stuff. Since the Lord takes such good care of us, wouldn’t you just know there were some nice, gently used clothes in our daughter’s size, and right when we need them! The clothes and other items from this kind lady were so clean and in such good condition they didn’t even need to be washed before we used them. However, because we are not used to all of the fragrances that commercial laundry products have anymore - the scent was so powerful! I dare say it bothered me a little bit!

So my lesson in this:
Once you get used to going a little greener, you don't even miss the old way you did things, and even get to preferring your new habits.
Here are the detergent recipes, if you're interested. I use recipe #6 with Fels-Naptha soap.

March 2, 2009...Already?!?! Notes

I am still having small residual effects from that nasty bout of the flu. I feel better but have a bit of a cough left.

Several co-workers have been sick, so I have been working more than my slated hours to help fill in. I enjoy my new job, it’s a blessing and a ministry to the children. Some days are a challenge with troubled children. Two of my three after school students (siblings) lost their father last December. My other student’s Mom does not speak English fluently, so the primary responsibility for helping with homework is upon me.

We are having several visitors this month, and are looking forward to our time with them all. Big Daddy loathes going to go to Key West, but I think it will be fun to see and do some of the touristy things. Frankly I’m glad we’ll have the opportunity (excuse!) to do so while showing our visitors the sights.

Last night we had an unusual but good service. I feel the Lord gave me some words regarding the church and the ministry. The first was regarding where our church was at now, and the words He gave me were: sweet, rebellious and scattered. Regarding where the Lord would like us to go, I felt He said: faithful, “till the ground” and strident. Interesting, so I am thinking and praying on those things. I’m thinking that the second definition of strident is more apropos to the church ministry, although Big Daddy is a loud and demonstrative preacher.

I continue to read my yearly Bible plan, Velvet Elvis by Rob Bell and Blue Highways by William Least Heat Moon. I am enjoying all of them. I went into Velvet Elvis being skeptical, and not liking it much at first, but currently I think it’s not too bad. There are good things and things that make me uncomfortable. I’m going to think on it for awhile.

Our church had a fabulous rummage sale on Saturday. I know we felt busy and stressed getting it all together, but it turned out swell! It was a fun day of fellowship for the workers, and a success that will put nice dent in the church's bills.

Notes From The Beginning Of February

In January Big Daddy, my esteemed pastor and faithful husband encouraged and exhorted his flock to get on a yearly Bible reading plan, and I must say I am not only blessed by it, but enjoying it thoroughly. I have even been keeping up with it, for the most part. You can find it here if you're interested. In times past I just kept reading through the NT, over and over. Periodically taking time to do a specific reading of say the Major Prophets, or some other theme like that; and just continually working my way through he OT. This particular plan is working well for me now in that it has a couple of chapters from the NT, a couple from the OT and a Psalm. It skips around a little too. I find that whatever I'm reading has a timely purpose for what I'm facing on a given day or week. That's not surprising, given the wonderful ways our Lord works, but it is amazing!

I begin a new job tomorrow. I am grateful for that.

Baseball season is coming soon.

Oh yeah, and I forgot to add that I finally began reading Velvet Elvis by Rob Bell. I don't know how it will work into my already full reading plate, but someone loaned it to Big Daddy and I may as well try it. I will say that I am skeptical though, and unimpressed so far.