Homemade with Love and Extra Butter

     Sitting at the kitchen table that morning, I watched Mom bustle around the kitchen, prepping for the family dinner party scheduled for later in the evening. My troubled heart filled with annoyance as she pulled out her old recipe box and set it on the cupboard. She took her time, flipping through some brightly colored cards and asking me what I thought she should make for dinner that night.

                 Like I cared? All I could think about was how ugly her recipe organizer was! Pea-green, plastic, and desperately needing to be tossed into the garbage, or so I thought. Eying the box and rolling my eyes with exasperation, I silently asked, what’s the secret ingredient, mom? You don’t even use the recipe. I was in a phase back then, a not-so-pleasant time in my life, where Mom’s gentle encouragements boiled more frustrations inside me than water, and I was drowning in those flames.

                Thankfully most of the time, she pretended to ignore my hurtful behavior, probably more for my benefit than hers. She effortlessly prepared the meal and danced around the kitchen while cupboards opened and drawers closed, pulling out all the required utensil essentials. Never once stopping her methodical rhythm or missing a beat. She was like an orchestra conductor, swaying a baton meticulously around. Something that I will never forget. Mom was content and at peace, knowing that her kitchen was the heart of our home and that family dinners had good food and laughter. 

    Years have passed, and mom is in the same kitchen, using all her favorite gadgets and, most importantly, still cooking and recreating her famous masterpieces, still using that vintage recipe box. Though now, I have learned to cherish that old box, even searching for one of my own. I love the memories that come with it, all the conversations, and especially the joy.

                 I’m reminded of God’s word as I watch mom make her way around the kitchen now. The verse about rising while it is yet night comes to my mind. It’s beautiful watching someone give of themselves for the sake of others, sometimes rising just before daybreak to ensure she finished her task. Sitting in her kitchen today, I watch and breathe it all in.

                Time may have changed the color of the walls, along with the places where we are seated, but I am still a daughter watching an essential lesson from Mom.

                Mom added a little of this and a little of that to a large mixing bowl. Seasoning and spices, into a bowl, for a recipe that she recreates often. Like the seasons of life, she has a time and a purpose for everything. Mom showed us, kids, that sometimes we have to change how we do things, like with a recipe, adding or substituting the parts that were not part of God’s bigger plan. To rework the parts that were soiled. Over the years, I’ve added spice to the equation when I need to add sugar instead. However, my mom knew and was willing to share that the secret ingredient was always love.

1 Corinthians 16:14-Let all your things be done with charity.

Teachable Moments

I know you are looking at this vacuum and saying, “So What.” But there is a point to this post. The fact is, I broke this vacuum, and it’s now fixed. This moment didn’t just magically happen. There was some failure, a “giving up” escape plan, and ultimately, success because I gave it one more try. But this is not all learned. I received a special gift from my father years ago, which helped secure this victory.

It was 2013, and I was at the beginning of my computer engineering degree. In one of my engineering classes, there was a project assigned that would throw me for the biggest loop.

I needed to make electronic dice, something I had never done before. The lesson kit included all of the components and a detailed lesson plan, but one major obstacle was in my way. I didn’t know how to solder. So after some slight panic, I did what most guys would do when hitting a significant roadblock. I called my father. Thankfully in my case, my father happens to be an electrician and millwright of 30+ years, and thankfully was up for the challenge. After listening to my predicament, Dad dropped what he was doing and came to help me. Whew! There was a happy ending, I received an A for this project and ultimately graduated with my degree. 

Life moved on, and I forgot about that project until about two weeks ago. The day was hectic and I was sweeping out my car when one of my son’s toys plugged the vacuum. After struggling to release the plastic piece, it was obvious more had to be done. In order to dislodge the toy, the entire piece needed attention. Unfortunately, while trying to accomplish this task, I broke a few wires that power the brush. It was an absolute mess.  Out of pure frustration, I gave up, threw the whole thing into the trash, and went to bed.

In the morning, I had a feeling that my heavenly father was nudging me to try again. I knew I could solder those pieces together. I just had to try. Thankfully, an hour later, the repairs were complete, and the vacuum worked like it was brand new. What a fantastic blessing and I didn’t even have to buy a new one. What a win! This teachable moment from my father all those years ago helped shape my future, save me money, and spark a new sense of confidence in myself. Thanks, Dad!

Through Her Words

Our words matter! Discouragement has hit me hard the past few days. Throw in a bit of fear, and I felt upside down and right side up! That was until today, and although it was a Saturday morning and I was working, it was still a fantastic day. I was given the most extraordinary patient; she was kind and gentle.

There was such a peaceful presence throughout our appointment. This was a blessing, especially since I working on a weekend while my husband and son were having fun at a bounce house. The time flew by, and towards the end of our appointment, this sweet lady told me I was an excellent mother to both of my children and that she would pray for us.

This shook me to my core! How did she know I was struggling with this thought and to emphasize my oldest child as well. How did she know that this fear kept me up at night and that I needed her prayers desperately? I know that God was aware and placed it in her heart, and what a prayer it was, so filled with the spirit.

Then and there, I decided to follow her example and openly pray for others. I wanted to be like this lovely lady who walks in her faith and shows such loving kindness, even to someone like me, a stranger mending a broken heart. (A mama who cries into her pillow because she is not able to change the past, one who is only able to walk in faith towards what is to come.)

Ephesians 4:32
And be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ’s sake hath forgiven you.

In the midst of it all

Recently I was given a fantastic opportunity to attend a bible study with two beautiful, kind-hearted Christian ladies. They were wonderful to be around. The time we shared was a precious gift, and I drove home that night cherishing our time and felt a renewed spirit of hope after our discussion.

I woke up this morning, momentarily terrified after a fitful night of sleep. My jaw was clenched, and I was filled with a false sense of disparity after having a bad dream. Thankfully, this time instead of retreating, I was instantly reminded God is my advocate. He is in the background, fighting for our good. He is the one who has given us loving family members and friends to help us, guide us down this path, to provide us with much-needed encouragement along the way. Hold our hands when we need them the most and love us when we are unlovable. He knows our beginning and end, and nothing surprises our God.

I took this picture last week just before an afternoon rain shower. The dark clouds circled in the sky, giving my co-workers and me a glimpse of the storm that was to come. As we looked up, anticipating the rain, and watching the view in awe, for a brief moment, the sun shone through the darkness, reminding me that God was right there in the midst of it all.

I Choose Hope

One summer, our neighbor, Mary, gave Sis a beautiful gift. She noticed Sis’s desire to garden and decided to give her this unique pot with vines to return yearly. This way, Sis could watch them grow, year after year. Sis was very thoughtful with her new task. She watered it daily and watched intently, waiting for the tiny flowers to arrive. Although the green vines were lovely, they did not bloom.
For the last several months, I have struggled in everything and every aspect of life. In my time of grief, I ignored Sis’s pot, abandoning it and all the memories that went along with it. I didn’t water it and even left it on the side of the house that receives absolutely no sun. It was painful to look at, although I didn’t have the heart to throw it away. The vines were long gone and held nothing but old memories and dried dirt. It was lifeless.
Towards the end of July that year, after a period of miserable heat, I felt this tug in my heart, “Move the pot. Move it over with others, and you will see.” I ignored the words and the urging, making a more significant effort to avoid that side of the house altogether.
A few days later, an event in my life forced me to travel toward that side of the house. The place I didn’t want to go and the memories I didn’t like to acknowledge. Walking around the house, I felt the familiar nudge to look down and see. Slightly annoyed, I peered into the pot, fully expecting to see nothing but the cracked, dusty dirt. But today held a different ending. The tiniest green plants in the corner of this pot struggle to push themselves through the dry, hardened soil. I grabbed the jar and held it up, straining my eyes to view this perfect little plant, forcefully trying to grow. I couldn’t believe my eyes.
I felt my Lord near and heard his whisper, “Give it water and watch it grow.” This moment marked a new beginning. One of growth, not just for this tiny plant but for our family. Soon, our Prayers were being answered, and movement began to happen. Doors were opening once closed, and I could see God’s hand working for our good.
A few weeks later, I struggled to get my little guy and our bags into the house as quickly as possible while the rain poured down all around us. Quickly, I reached down to gather our remaining items and absently glanced down at the pot. To my amazement, a beautiful flower budded on the single vine. It was beautiful, and I was reminded again to keep going. Although there is a season for everything, today, I choose hope.