Sunday Dinner - part 6

The good news: We made it to the dining room this week.
The bad news: Nobody but me was thrilled about the dish. Big Daddy is a very picky eater, and I should have known better. In my defense, he's branched out the past few years, I thought I could get him to be more adventurous. But I went too far, cream sauce AND sweet potatoes were too much for him. I will tell you - I thought that this dish was good. If you like creamy sauces and the other ingredients, try it. I soaked the chicken in the brine overnight and I really liked it, and would consider doing that again and modifying the dish without the cream sauce, more of an olive oil oven roasted chicken. I got the recipe from here. It's from Jamie Oliver. You know it has to be good.

Tray-Baked Chicken
Marinate the chicken in brine for at least two hours (overnight is best). It will become outrageously soft and juicy.

Servings: 8

For the brine:
1 quart water
2 Tbsp kosher salt
1/3 cup honey
3 cloves garlic, crushed
2 sprigs fresh sage, leaves only
1/4 cup apple-cider vinegar
Juice and zest of
1 lemon

For the bake:
4 chicken breasts, bone in, skin on
2 slices smoked bacon, finely chopped
3 sweet potatoes, scrubbed and thinly sliced
4 medium potatoes, scrubbed and thinly sliced
1 medium onion, peeled and thinly sliced
4 cloves garlic, peeled and thinly sliced
2 sprigs fresh sage, leaves shredded
Olive oil
Sea salt and fresh black pepper
1²/³ cups chicken broth, preferably organic
2/3 cup heavy cream
1 cup grated Parmesan cheese
A few pats of butter

Directions:
1. Mix brine in a large bowl; add chicken. Cover with plastic wrap; refrigerate 2 to 8 hours.

2. Remove chicken; let come to room temperature. Drain chicken, discarding brine, and pat dry with paper towels.

3. Preheat oven to 350°F. In a roasting pan, toss the bacon, veggies, garlic, and sage with olive oil and a pinch of salt and pepper. Pour in broth. Cook 30 minutes.

4. Remove veggie pan from oven; pour in cream and sprinkle with pepper and Parmesan. Add chicken, dotting pats of butter on each piece. Cook 35 minutes, or until chicken is golden.

Hoop Dreams

Hula-hoop update:
I have progressed nicely with almost daily practice. I began by trying for 10 minutes a day. I set a timer. I dropped the hoop so frequently, if I got up to 5 or 6 rotations I felt lucky. Then one day it clicked and I found the groove. Now I can keep the hoop going for 10 to 15 minutes. It's fun. I like doing it. Here are some songs that I like to hoop to:

Sunday Dinner #5

Above picture by Mundo Desconcertante
I wrote about my goals for this new year, one being homemade Sunday Dinners. We made a nice simple paella. It was OK. It seemed to be missing a little panache, but it was certainly passable. We ate in the kitchen, so I'm still aiming for the dining room, but we're getting there. It was a hearty, home cooked meal. By the way, please note that the paella in the above picture looks much better than mine, you may as well get a good looking version of this tasty dish!

I cut some boneless chicken breasts into strips, browned them on med-med high heat and removed it after about 10 minutes of cooking. Then I added some diced onion and garlic to that pan, and sauteed that for a minute. In a large, shallow baking dish, I poured out a package of family sized Vigo Yellow Rice. Added the onions and garlic to it, and added the amount of liquid the Vigo rice directions called for. I used water and chicken broth for that. I stirred it, and then stirred in one diced green pepper and one diced red pepper and the chicken, cooked, peeled and de-veined shrimp, and chorizo sausage. I did not use clams or mussels, but they are usually part of a traditional paella. I also added about half a 16 oz. package of frozen peas to the top and a jar of drained pimentos. I covered with aluminum foil and cooked at a temperature of 350 degrees for about an hour. I just realized that perhaps I should have added a little olive oil or butter, which the rice package directions call for, and I didn't add because I thought the fat and flavors from the sausage and chicken broth would be enough. It needed a little more something, but I enjoyed it well enough.

I like to make one dish dinners on Sundays. Sunday is the busiest day of the week for us, we have a morning and an evening service. We like the time in between to be quiet and easy for rest (NAPS!) and a little study and prep for the evening service. I like food that is delicious and simple to prepare with minimal clean up. That is why I like to use the crock pot on those days, but this paella is practically a one dish meal and works really well. I have an oven that I can program, so I set it for and hour of cook time for the paella and when I came home the oven was off, but keeping the food warm.
I modified the recipe from one I found in this cookbook.

Two Lazurus-es, pt. 3

I was glancing over a little bit of celebrity fluff in the Sunday Newspaper, and found this small piece from the actor Javier Bardem. He's speaking about a character he plays and said this:

"I don’t know if I’ll get to heaven. I’m a bad boy,” jokes the actor, 41. “Heaven must be nice, but is it too boring? Maybe you can get an apartment there and then go to hell for the weekends."

I was immediately reminded of the recent studying and writing I have been doing regarding the bible passages on Lazarus (see here), particularly the parable Lazarus. In the parable, we are clearly taught that the gulf between heaven and hell is fixed and permanent. There is no reversal or change after death. The opportunity we have to secure our position in either place is before we die. That's easy enough to do, see here. Ok, I was being a little facetious, it's not "easy" for some people to believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of God, but it's where we all have to start. There is something about that there Jesus. Look into it, check Him out. You might be surprised at what you find.

Anyway, I realize that Mr. Bardem's quote was meant to be taken lightly. But it illustrates for me a notion that a great many people have in making spiritual matters work in their own mind. I have come across this frequently when discussions with all sorts of people turn to God, life and death. It seems a good many folks are blending various religions, teachings and traditions with their own sensibilities and opinions, and using a hazy version of it as their spiritual authority. So many people want to believe various things about heaven and hell. They think that hell will be somehow a fun party rather than a place of torment. Heaven will be boring because there will be no vice there and the pleasurable aspects of our vices seem to hold us tightly.

If we use the Bible as our guide, which would make sense since it is the place that introduced the concepts of heaven and hell, and is one of the oldest and most reliable ancient manuscripts on a variety of subjects, there is a clear picture. Heaven will be a place of paradise, hell will be torment. Heaven will have the banquet party, a wedding feast. Heaven will be a place where there is not pollution of any kind, there will be unspoiled an beautiful landscapes to behold and explore. Heaven will contain a magnificent city and amazing architecture. There will be no pain there from the slightest ache to the most serious of diseases - none of that in heaven. No injustice or unfairness, no tears or sorrow of any kind. What's not to like about that?

Photo by Fergal OP.

Funny Friday

A favorite clip from a favorite movie:

More Tragedy Than Usual

I love my new home of these past two and a half years, however there seems to be more tragedy than usual around. The preschool/day care where I recently worked, and still occasionally substitute, is a prime example of that. Since I have been in the school's employ and aware of circumstances there, three separate parents of three different school students committed suicide. Another student was violently assaulted and raped by other children in their neighborhood. The most recent tragedy happened a few days ago when a 3 year old accidentally drowned. This is all in one school, not happening at the school itself, mind you, but in the home lives and families of school students. This is not including other situations that don't directly relate to that school. There have been other sad tragedies in the community and within our church family. I know I recently resolved to keep this online journal equal parts cheerful and melancholy, but perhaps this will give you insight into why melancholy is my near companion. On the front lines of ministry as my family and I are, I suppose we are more vulnerable to these most difficult times within families and communities. But really now, I could use a few more marriages and baby dedications to balance out the funerals and sorrowful events.

So, I'm mourning with those that mourn, ya'll (see here). I'm hugging my own family a little tighter and I'm realizing that you never know when your time might be up, and it wouldn't hurt to mend a few fences and (re)build a few bridges and most importantly "not let the sun go down on your(my!) anger" particularly with those who share one's address, and even over seemingly small and insignificant quarrels. It also doesn't hurt to make your peace with God, a.s.a.p., see here for details.

Say a prayer for us here in this community, please.

My hope:

"And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes; there shall be no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying. There shall be no more pain, for the former things have passed away.” Then He who sat on the throne said, “Behold, I make all things new.” And He said to me,“Write, for these words are true and faithful.”
-Revelation 21:4-5

Photo by The Doctr.

Two Lazarus-es, part 2

I am still studying about this subject. My previous post is Part 1 and you should read it before you read this one.

I recently was pointed in the direction of this article, which makes a case that the rich man in the parable with Lazarus was actually the High Priest Caiaphas. That adds another interesting dimension for me. That fact would contribute to a theory that Jesus was very clearly getting the attention of those who were following Him, both as enemies and friends, while the culmination of His earthly ministry and His true purpose was becoming clear as He walked this earth. It would have been well known that Jesus raised Lazarus of Bethany, Mary and Martha's brother. The religious leaders of the time had no true heart for God or their fellow man (the 2 great commandments) but they would have liked a powerful leader that would overthrow the Roman rule and thus give them more power. Jesus' Kingdom was not one of earthly power, He came to shake things up and show true love, the kind of love that sacrifices for the good of others, unselfish and kind, and puts even lowly beggars as equally beloved by God, as any king or rich man.

Up until now, I actually felt the rich man was pitiable, a tortured soul, who realized the TRUTH too late. I thought he was remorseful, and was actually trying to look out for his brothers by asking for a warning for them. I felt his torment was so great that even the thought of begging for a drop of water on his unimaginably parched tongue seemed a relief. (I can only liken this to a time when I had such a horrible stomach virus and flu, and was not able to eat or drink or keep anything down for 2 days. I was finally able to rouse myself from the sickbed, and found a room-temperature can of diet cola. I had a tiny, tentative drink of it, my thirst was great, but I feared I would not be able to keep even that down. I had been so sick that the little sip of this warm, generic soda was extremely refreshing. I can't fully explain how good it was - but in my head, I see the rich man in search of that kind of small relief.) And as for him asking for Lazarus' help, I'd always thought that might have been his own way of being finally humble - he was asking for help from someone who he didn't even want to acknowledge, let alone be touched by in his former life. With all the OT teachings on clean and unclean people, animals and things, and what to avoid and how to wash - surely a beggar was considered 'dirty.' To ask for Lazarus to so intimately and personally touch his tongue, the way a mother or physician would nurse someone who was ill, well that had to speak of his now helplessly low state. I thought this had showed how the rich man had changed his mind, and regarded Lazarus as a ministering angel of mercy. Now I'm not so sure.

I have since read a few opinions from others that don't give the rich man anything close to a noble intention from his hellish position. One person surmised that the rich man was actually scheming to get Lazarus to come to him that he might trick him and somehow even trade places. Another person thought the rich man continued to show the same selfishness and disdain for Lazarus that he showed him when they were both alive. He asks for Lazarus to fetch him water, and he shows no sorrow or repentance for how he treated him before. Nor does he give any acknowledgment of respect for Lazarus now in his privileged position in Abraham's bosom, from his deflated and tortured position.

Thanks to the folks over at ChristianBoard, who gave me all this to chew on, from here.

I am still focused on Lazarus being the key to all of this and that there is something important about his name and a connection with the other Lazarus, brother of Mary and Martha.


image by Lawrence OP.

A Tale of Two Lazarus-es

The Bible, like our own circle of friends, family and acquaintances, often records people having the same name. At the pre-school where I worked we had three children named Aiden at one time, and a couple of Briannas. The New Testament of the Bible records several Marys. There are at least three other men named Judas in addition to the most notable one who betrayed Jesus. Today I am focused on two men named Lazarus, who were spoken of in the New Testament of the Bible.

One man named Lazarus, along with his two sisters Mary and Martha, were all good friends of Jesus. You can read their remarkable story in John Chapter 11. The other Lazarus is presumably fictional, a beggar character from one of the parables Jesus told. You can read about him in Luke Chapter 16. If you're not familiar with those passages you might take a moment to click on the links and read them, they are not very long.

Up until recently I thought it was unremarkable that these two men shared the same name. After all, that was common throughout the Bible. Then it hit me - one man was from a parable and the other was an actual person among Jesus' followers. I was even more interested to note Jesus told more than 50 parables, yet none but this one record a name. Jesus refers to the parable characters in general descriptive terms. They are called things like 'the unjust judge,' 'the widow' and 'the sower' and a 'certain' woman or man. Even in the parable with Lazarus, the other man is simply called 'the rich man.' I wonder why The Lord gave the beggar in this particular story a name, and what is the significance of that?

The name Lazarus itself means "God's assistance" or "God will help." And God surely did help him. I think Jesus also could have given a name to the parable Lazarus to further stress that the disenfranchised of the world are known and loved by God. As the parable tells, the rich man had his respect, ease and comfort in this world - but in the afterlife he suffered because He did not know and love God or his neighbor. The beggar Lazarus was ignored and despised by the world, yet in the afterlife, he was received with comfort and love.

First of all, this particular parable is not simply a learning tool of analogy, as many of the parables are. Parables such as The Woman and the Lost Coin and The Pearl of Great Price teach us that God's Kingdom is precious and to be highly valued, sought diligently and kept. The parable of the sower and the seed teach us about how people will respond to the Gospel message. This parable of Lazarus and the Rich Man does contain those types of principals but it also contains something prophetic at the end, therefore having a multilayer-ed meaning.

In the parable the rich man asks Father Abraham to send someone to warn his brothers. As Jesus tells it, Father Abraham responds with prophetic words that directly apply to Jesus Himself: If they won’t listen to Moses and the prophets, they won’t listen even if someone rises from the dead. Jesus is the one telling this story-parable and He is, or will be, the one who was raised from the dead, though that had obviously not yet happened at the time He told this story. I think it's quite notable then, that Jesus performed a miracle that raised an actual man named Lazarus from the dead. It's sort of like a double prophecy, isn't it? Just to be even more gracious and drive the point home even more, He sent His own friend, poor, four-days-dead Lazarus - like what the rich man requested the beggar Lazarus be allowed to do - back from the dead. I suppose He did this to further demonstrate to His contemporaries and all those around that He was who He said He was. When Jesus raised Lazarus, it was well known at the time it happened. It was what stirred up Jesus' enemies even more to plot against Him, and it preceded His own death an resurrection by a very short space of time. Could that be the reason for the name? I think there is a strong chance it could be.

I believe there must be some reason why Jesus chose to name the beggar in this parable and hope to continue to study further.

See Part 2 here.


picture from here.

10 Little Goals for the New Year

In no particular order.

1. Master Hula-Hooping and do it almost every day.

2. Read more chapter books aloud with my children.

3. Walk outside more.

4. More Sunday dinners, home-made, in the dining room on the good dishes.

5. Pare down various things in my life and house, to try and have a simpler life. Get rid of excess things.

6. Try to start a small internet and flea market business.

7. Continue in my weight loss and fitness, it'd be cool to lose one full clothing/dress size by the end of the year.

8. Focus on the women's and girl's ministry ideas I have been given.

9. Do art daily - sketch, draw and even paint.

10. Canoe more often.

Funny Friday, vol. 3

The Dream of the 90's is alive in Portland (rated PG)

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.

On The Lighter Side...

Who can come up with a caption for this photo?


So, Big Daddy caught up on my blog tonight and let me know things have been a little on the gloomy side around here. I went back and by golly, he's right - those holidays can be tough for me. So I resolve to balance my blue with some sunshine and fun.

A Misty Morning - journal entry

This morning I awoke to a wet mist. A definite smell of salt, ocean and mangroves invaded my nostrils, and filled the air with a tangible dampness. Reminding me of something old and familiar, yet undefinable: a goodness I associate with being at or near the ocean. I am blessed to be where I am, on a little island. I realized that I had not been outside for a substantial amount of time in a few days. That old enemy, depression, was lurking about and I'd better do my best to make myself inhospitable to him. I need some Sonlight in my soul, I must read the Word, and I need sunlight by going for a walk.