Well, Thanksgiving is over, and most of my left overs are now gone. There are a few remnants of pumpkin pie left in the refrigerator, but other than that Thanksgiving is considered officially over. We now move on to Christmas, but I can't help walking down memory lane and thinking about meals of holidays past. Thanksgiving does that to me. I guess it's because of all the cooking that is involved to make one meal get off the ground. This Thanksgiving I was fortunate to have my father- in- law help me cook the turkey and stuffing, but I haven't been so lucky in years past, especially when I first got married. Let me just put it to you this way, I think my husband lost ten pounds the first year that we were married.
Yes, it is true. My name is Julie, not Julia, as in Julia Child. When I first got married, I remember thinking how easy cooking looked. After all, I watched my mom cook for eight people in my family. Let me stress the word 'watched'. When it came to the actual cooking, well, that was another story. But, how hard could it be? My mom always did great meals, and she never looked like she was having a difficult time. We always had enough, and the food was inviting and comforting. I did not have to cook gourmet, but I could cook family style meals. At least that's what I thought.
I'll never forget one of my first parties. It was not Thanksgiving, but I was going to prepare a whole Thanksgiving dinner. Oh, how naive and stupid. I remember calling my mom and telling her that I was having trouble with the turkey. "What's the matter?" she asked. "I'm having a hard time getting the turkey dethawed for tonight,' I simply replied. "When did you take it out of the freezer?" she asked in a gentle but worried tone. "This morning," I replied. "Why". Her gasp over the phone was all I needed to hear to know that this was a major error and that old tom turkey was going in the hot tub for several hours.
There have been many times when I have had to get creative to cover my cooking blunders. One time I was making mashed potatoes for a family gathering. I have a large extended family; so, I needed to make ten pounds of potatoes. I thought that I would be so smart and peel all the potatoes the night before. The next morning I would boil and mash them. Well, it would have been a good idea if I had put the potatoes in water the night before, but I did not. I don't have to tell you what I found the next morning. The potatoes did not look like potatoes but more like black nuggets of coal. What would I do? Always the eternal optimist, my husband had one of his light bulb moments. We would just cook them up as planned, add every imaginable spice to them, and call them cajun potatoes. Yes, it was brilliant, black cajun potatoes, and you know they didn't taste too bad. Chef Ramsey would never approve, but it passed the family test.
The absolute highlite of my cooking endeavors was the night I invited a college friend and her husband over for supper. You think I would know better. Anyway, I was serving a chicken and rice casserole. Everything was going great. They were enjoying the meal until I started to serve seconds. As I was spooning out the rice, something came up out of the deep crevices of the rice dish. It looked like a curled up snake. Without knowing it, I served it to Greg, my friend's husband. He stared at it for a few seconds and then broke into laughter. Yes, I served him the neck of the chicken. It was a moment I will never forget. I started to laugh myself. You can either laugh or cry, and I would rather laugh.
These are just a few of my cooking adventures. My husband and I are still alive to talk about it; so, that's a good thing. I now have several famous cooks that help me like Betty Crocker and Chef Boy Ar Dee to name a couple. If cooking is an art than I am definitely not an artist. I am not the queen of the kitchen, but if you ask me for cajun potatoes I can gladly oblige.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Life, Liberty, and The Pursuit of Happiness
My stomach turned last week as I heard the news of the little five year old girl, Shaniya Davis, who was brutally raped and murdered. I immediately turned my frustation and anger to her mother, who involved the little girl in trafficking and forced her into a life of prostitution. My first response was how could a mother do this to her own child. My baby girl is lying right beside me now, sound asleep, as I am writing. The sound of her breathing contentedly and the feeling of peace penetrates my soul. As mothers, we are supposed to protect and comfort our children. We are supposed to want the best for them and want to see them rise to new heights. We are supposed to be there when they are sick, and challenge them to be the best they can be. We are supposed to teach them how to be healthy physically, emotionally, and, most importantly, spiritually. The bottom line is that when you become a mother you are supposed to love your children, and if you can't do that then you owe it to the child to get help. Nothing should be more important than that, not money, not power, not drugs. If we can't love our own children, who are our own flesh and blood, than how can we ever possibly reach out to others in our community, churches, schools, and work. No mother walking this earth is perfect, and I know that I have made millions of mistakes, with some regrets, but we don't have to be perfect. We just have to love and respect our children for the individuals that they are.
We need to be respectful of all people, From the time of conception to the aged and elderly, we need to see the value of life. The problem is we have have become a society where our own personal needs and comforts have become more important than the basic rights of others. The basic rights of all inviduals are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. When we start infringing on these rights we become a Godless and selfish people. We become a people that accepts abortion, euthanasia, human trafficking, etc.. So, it starts in our home. Love one another, value one another, kiss your husband, and love your kids, and see what amazing inviduals they are. I can guarantee that if we start at home, we will be able to smile at the stranger, laugh with a neighbor, help in our community and most of all see the beauty that God has created in everyone.
We need to be respectful of all people, From the time of conception to the aged and elderly, we need to see the value of life. The problem is we have have become a society where our own personal needs and comforts have become more important than the basic rights of others. The basic rights of all inviduals are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. When we start infringing on these rights we become a Godless and selfish people. We become a people that accepts abortion, euthanasia, human trafficking, etc.. So, it starts in our home. Love one another, value one another, kiss your husband, and love your kids, and see what amazing inviduals they are. I can guarantee that if we start at home, we will be able to smile at the stranger, laugh with a neighbor, help in our community and most of all see the beauty that God has created in everyone.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Grateful Hearts
Sometimes you have to move outside of the little world you live in in order to see what you truly have. My day of awakening or should I say my Thanksgiving Day came on November 7th. This was the day my family and I traveled to Kentucky to visit the Appalachian Region Missions. We were delivering food and clothing that our neighborhood and some of our church members had gathered for the Appalachian people. As we traveled over the mountains on this sunny fall day, it was hard to imagine people living in great poverty in such a beautiful area. But hidden within the mountains were people who were struggling to survive and make ends meet.
As we pulled up to the mission, we were greeted with big hugs from the volunteers. It was like coming home after a long journey. They truly appreciated everything that we had gathered for them, even though it barely scratched the surface for the three hundred or so families that they serve. As my sons and husband unloaded the trailer, I got to know Pat, who runs the mission. Her incredible love and generosity could be seen in her eyes, and she talked to me about how the elderly and the children were hurting the most in this area. Many of the elderly were taking care of their grandchildren and finding it extremely difficult.
After we talked, I was blessed to be able to go on two home visits. I say blessed because it was here where I learned an invaluable and precious lesson. It was here where I met Fred and Molly. They are a couple who live with very little. Fred did back breaking work in the coal mines. They have struggled all their lives to survive, but they are not victims of the cards that were dealt to them. They are survivors. They do not look at the things they don't have but focus on the riches they do have. Yes, I say riches because they truly are rich in the things that are important. One look at them, and one can see the great love they share for each other after fifty five years of marriage. Fred is a little crusty, but has a heart of gold, and Molly reminded me of an angel with her loving smile and her sweet dispositon. Their faith in God is what truly shined through. Fred kept telling me how blessed they are and how much they have. They have each other, and they have children and grandchildren that love them. They did not complain about the material things that they lacked. I felt like I knew them for a long time. When I left them, they hugged me and said to come back again soon. They were truly grateful for the turkey dinner we brought them for Thanksgiving, but what they gave me was so much more.
I will never forget them. So many times I have complained about things that I don't have. I have followed the values of this world with wanting more, more, more, instead of being happy with what I have. Sometimes I forget to truly thank God for all the blessings He gives us. Fred and Molly taught me that the most important things can't be bought in a store. A kiss from your husband, a hug from your kids, a good laugh with a friend, the smell of the ocean, the sound of the wind rustling the leaves,the cry of a new born baby, are all the miracles of life, and they are what matter. They taught me that life is very short. We come into this world with nothing, and we leave with nothing. The only thing we carry with us is our faith in God and the love we share with each other. The rest means nothing. So, Fred and Molly thank you for showing me how to walk humbly and gratefully toward Christ. Thank you for giving me a wonderful Thanksgiving.
As we pulled up to the mission, we were greeted with big hugs from the volunteers. It was like coming home after a long journey. They truly appreciated everything that we had gathered for them, even though it barely scratched the surface for the three hundred or so families that they serve. As my sons and husband unloaded the trailer, I got to know Pat, who runs the mission. Her incredible love and generosity could be seen in her eyes, and she talked to me about how the elderly and the children were hurting the most in this area. Many of the elderly were taking care of their grandchildren and finding it extremely difficult.
After we talked, I was blessed to be able to go on two home visits. I say blessed because it was here where I learned an invaluable and precious lesson. It was here where I met Fred and Molly. They are a couple who live with very little. Fred did back breaking work in the coal mines. They have struggled all their lives to survive, but they are not victims of the cards that were dealt to them. They are survivors. They do not look at the things they don't have but focus on the riches they do have. Yes, I say riches because they truly are rich in the things that are important. One look at them, and one can see the great love they share for each other after fifty five years of marriage. Fred is a little crusty, but has a heart of gold, and Molly reminded me of an angel with her loving smile and her sweet dispositon. Their faith in God is what truly shined through. Fred kept telling me how blessed they are and how much they have. They have each other, and they have children and grandchildren that love them. They did not complain about the material things that they lacked. I felt like I knew them for a long time. When I left them, they hugged me and said to come back again soon. They were truly grateful for the turkey dinner we brought them for Thanksgiving, but what they gave me was so much more.
I will never forget them. So many times I have complained about things that I don't have. I have followed the values of this world with wanting more, more, more, instead of being happy with what I have. Sometimes I forget to truly thank God for all the blessings He gives us. Fred and Molly taught me that the most important things can't be bought in a store. A kiss from your husband, a hug from your kids, a good laugh with a friend, the smell of the ocean, the sound of the wind rustling the leaves,the cry of a new born baby, are all the miracles of life, and they are what matter. They taught me that life is very short. We come into this world with nothing, and we leave with nothing. The only thing we carry with us is our faith in God and the love we share with each other. The rest means nothing. So, Fred and Molly thank you for showing me how to walk humbly and gratefully toward Christ. Thank you for giving me a wonderful Thanksgiving.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Blessings
I guess you are never too old for miracles. I learned that lesson the day I gave birth to my daughter at the age of forty. I never thought that God would bless me with a little girl. I have two sons, and at the time life seemed pretty complete. My husband and I were raising a sixteen year old and a thirteen year old and enjoying them. We were dealing with the teenage years and all the joys and trials that go with these years. Overall, however, life was becoming easier, no stinky diapers to change, no midnight feedings, no potty training, or running after toddlers. Instead, our daily sayings were pick your clothes up off the floor, get your homework done, be respectful, ect. Yes, that was our life.
When I found out that I was pregnant, I must say that it was a surprise, but it was a happy surprise. We were all thrilled, but it was a slight shock for my thirteen year old. When I told him the news, we were all out at lunch. My youngest son is a food disposal and will eat anything. On that day, he could not eat a bite of his big chicken salad sandwich. He told me later that I should have told him after he had finished his sandwich. I guess it is all in the timing. Anyway, after the news sunk in, we started our nine month journey. The days were filled with morning sickness, water retention, cravings, hemorrhoids, and feeling like Bertha, the 200 pound whale. It was also filled with great joy and anticipation. We got the baby's room painted and decorated. We reacquainted ourselves with all the baby books and started to fall in love with our baby that was quickly growing inside of me. With every kick and motion from our little one, we felt closer to her, and we knew that again God had given us a great gift. All the physical trials could be endured and would be forgotten, the minute our baby arrived. We never found out the sex of the baby. We just wanted to be surprised. We anticipated another boy because boys run in both of our families. The risk of having a baby with Down Syndrome was greater because of my age, but I did not get an AFP test done.
We did have a sonogram, however. We just figured that whatever baby God gave us would be special and was meant just for our family.
The day of our baby's birth was scary and wonderful all wrapped in one. As the contractions began, so did the anticipation and excitement. Both my parents and my husbands parents were visiting. So, I had a big support group. I'll never forget my dad timing the contractions. He was so funny. He was getting nervous. He wanted us to go to the hospital right away. I explained to him that I must take a shower before I go. He did not like this idea but lovingly accepted it. When I got in the shower, it hit me that I was going to give birth shortly. It had been thirteen years since giving birth to my son. I was nervous and thinking the worse. When I got out of the shower, there was my mom, waiting for me with the towel. I looked at her and began to cry. Here I am at 40 years old, and I am still leaning on my mom. She wrapped the towel around me and told me that I looked beautiful and that everything would be alright. Through all the years, I have always loved my mom, but I never felt as close to her as I did at that moment. She can always make things brighter even when the burden seems too heavy to handle.
When we got to the hospital, my husband and I settled in and got ready. We believed that the birth would be easy and not too complicated because I was healthy, and the last birth of my son was very easy. The only problem was that my blood pressure was high on this day. Everything was going along smoothly, My husband was standing by my side and a better coach I could not have. My boys were awesome and would visit me and give me words of encouragement, even though they felt uncomfortable in the birthing room, and our parents were keeping vigil with prayers. I did not take any pain medicine because we all believed, including the doctor, that the birth would be quick and easy, but our daughter had other ideas. When I started pushing, our baby girl moved her head slightly and was stuck. I would push and nothing would happen. I can see now why people in the past would bite down on a piece of wood when having difficult medical procedures done. I think I would have bitten right through the wood if I had it. Anyway, back to the story. After some time of pushing, we all agreed that the baby was not coming and was getting very tired. The scariest part was hearing the baby's heart rate go down after each contraction. The doctor decided that we must do a c-section.
In the operating room, our baby came into the world, When she arrived she did not have a heartbeat; so, of course she did not cry. I became very nervous, but the wonderful nurses and doctors worked on her, and by the Grace of God, my little girl came upon the earth. They placed her on my chest for only a brief moment. She could not cry but made small whimpering sounds. She was so beautiful. The tears filled our eyes. She had a head of black hair, and she looked at me with such innocence and love. She had some fluid in her lungs, but she was going to be okay. They kept her in the neonatal intensive care unit for the night. So, that night, my husband kept going from my room to our baby's room, checking on the both of us. The next morning we were all reunited and our family was now complete. Our baby girl, Mary, was born. She is now seven months old and is the joy of all of our lives.
Would I change this story at all? No, not at all. The blessings far out weigh the trials. Do I believe in miracles. Absolutely, Every time I look into my baby's eyes, I see God's love and I know that miracles can happen even at the age of 40.
When I found out that I was pregnant, I must say that it was a surprise, but it was a happy surprise. We were all thrilled, but it was a slight shock for my thirteen year old. When I told him the news, we were all out at lunch. My youngest son is a food disposal and will eat anything. On that day, he could not eat a bite of his big chicken salad sandwich. He told me later that I should have told him after he had finished his sandwich. I guess it is all in the timing. Anyway, after the news sunk in, we started our nine month journey. The days were filled with morning sickness, water retention, cravings, hemorrhoids, and feeling like Bertha, the 200 pound whale. It was also filled with great joy and anticipation. We got the baby's room painted and decorated. We reacquainted ourselves with all the baby books and started to fall in love with our baby that was quickly growing inside of me. With every kick and motion from our little one, we felt closer to her, and we knew that again God had given us a great gift. All the physical trials could be endured and would be forgotten, the minute our baby arrived. We never found out the sex of the baby. We just wanted to be surprised. We anticipated another boy because boys run in both of our families. The risk of having a baby with Down Syndrome was greater because of my age, but I did not get an AFP test done.
We did have a sonogram, however. We just figured that whatever baby God gave us would be special and was meant just for our family.
The day of our baby's birth was scary and wonderful all wrapped in one. As the contractions began, so did the anticipation and excitement. Both my parents and my husbands parents were visiting. So, I had a big support group. I'll never forget my dad timing the contractions. He was so funny. He was getting nervous. He wanted us to go to the hospital right away. I explained to him that I must take a shower before I go. He did not like this idea but lovingly accepted it. When I got in the shower, it hit me that I was going to give birth shortly. It had been thirteen years since giving birth to my son. I was nervous and thinking the worse. When I got out of the shower, there was my mom, waiting for me with the towel. I looked at her and began to cry. Here I am at 40 years old, and I am still leaning on my mom. She wrapped the towel around me and told me that I looked beautiful and that everything would be alright. Through all the years, I have always loved my mom, but I never felt as close to her as I did at that moment. She can always make things brighter even when the burden seems too heavy to handle.
When we got to the hospital, my husband and I settled in and got ready. We believed that the birth would be easy and not too complicated because I was healthy, and the last birth of my son was very easy. The only problem was that my blood pressure was high on this day. Everything was going along smoothly, My husband was standing by my side and a better coach I could not have. My boys were awesome and would visit me and give me words of encouragement, even though they felt uncomfortable in the birthing room, and our parents were keeping vigil with prayers. I did not take any pain medicine because we all believed, including the doctor, that the birth would be quick and easy, but our daughter had other ideas. When I started pushing, our baby girl moved her head slightly and was stuck. I would push and nothing would happen. I can see now why people in the past would bite down on a piece of wood when having difficult medical procedures done. I think I would have bitten right through the wood if I had it. Anyway, back to the story. After some time of pushing, we all agreed that the baby was not coming and was getting very tired. The scariest part was hearing the baby's heart rate go down after each contraction. The doctor decided that we must do a c-section.
In the operating room, our baby came into the world, When she arrived she did not have a heartbeat; so, of course she did not cry. I became very nervous, but the wonderful nurses and doctors worked on her, and by the Grace of God, my little girl came upon the earth. They placed her on my chest for only a brief moment. She could not cry but made small whimpering sounds. She was so beautiful. The tears filled our eyes. She had a head of black hair, and she looked at me with such innocence and love. She had some fluid in her lungs, but she was going to be okay. They kept her in the neonatal intensive care unit for the night. So, that night, my husband kept going from my room to our baby's room, checking on the both of us. The next morning we were all reunited and our family was now complete. Our baby girl, Mary, was born. She is now seven months old and is the joy of all of our lives.
Would I change this story at all? No, not at all. The blessings far out weigh the trials. Do I believe in miracles. Absolutely, Every time I look into my baby's eyes, I see God's love and I know that miracles can happen even at the age of 40.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
The View in the Mirror
Is it just me or does time move really quickly? I am reminded of that every time I look in the mirror. The other morning I did my usual routine. I dragged myself out of bed and headed straight to my favorite place, the bathroom or more precisely the throne. As I made my way, half asleep, I fumbled for the lights, and I stopped dead in my tracks. I stared at the woman who was looking back at me. She looked awfully familar, and may I stress the awful part. Her hair was matted down from a night's sleep, her eyes had morning crust, and those old bags were under the eyes. Plus, half her body parts were heading South for the winter. Wait, who could this be? I did not recognize her. As I stared more closely, I saw wrinkles around the eyes, and a little more chubs in the cheeks. Which cheeks do you ask? I'll keep that a mystery. You make your own guess. Anyway, I digress. The point is that I got old really fast. How could this be? I am only thirty nine. Okay, forty one, but who's counting?
At that moment I realized something important. I realized that there is no going back. Yes, I could try to slow down time. I could get Botox or a face lift. I could get a boob job to look somewhat perky again, and I could even get liposuction to take some of that chocolate craving fat off my somewhat plump body, but what good would that do. That wouldn't be the real me. The real me likes to eat chocolate, and wear sweatpants. The real me would rather go to Pizza Hut with the kids then go to a five star restaurant. The real me thinks my husband looks sexier now with a few more pounds and a little less hair than the day I married him. The real me would rather dance around my kitchen with my son, Robbie, than go to a night club. The real me would rather watch a baseball game with the kids in the neighborhood than go to the world series. The real me would rather laugh with my mom and my sisters than go out with someone famous. The real me would rather change my sixth month old daughter's stinky diapers every day than be a CEO in a major company. I guess the real me is pretty boring, but it is who I am. I wouldn't want to change that. I think we all need to embrace who we really are. I will never be a size four anymore, or look like I am twenty, but that's okay. I am healthy, happy, and enjoying life, and my family loves me just the way I am. God is good. So ladies, don't listen to those who tell you how you should look or act. Embrace who you are, and love yourself, because if you don't no one will.
At that moment I realized something important. I realized that there is no going back. Yes, I could try to slow down time. I could get Botox or a face lift. I could get a boob job to look somewhat perky again, and I could even get liposuction to take some of that chocolate craving fat off my somewhat plump body, but what good would that do. That wouldn't be the real me. The real me likes to eat chocolate, and wear sweatpants. The real me would rather go to Pizza Hut with the kids then go to a five star restaurant. The real me thinks my husband looks sexier now with a few more pounds and a little less hair than the day I married him. The real me would rather dance around my kitchen with my son, Robbie, than go to a night club. The real me would rather watch a baseball game with the kids in the neighborhood than go to the world series. The real me would rather laugh with my mom and my sisters than go out with someone famous. The real me would rather change my sixth month old daughter's stinky diapers every day than be a CEO in a major company. I guess the real me is pretty boring, but it is who I am. I wouldn't want to change that. I think we all need to embrace who we really are. I will never be a size four anymore, or look like I am twenty, but that's okay. I am healthy, happy, and enjoying life, and my family loves me just the way I am. God is good. So ladies, don't listen to those who tell you how you should look or act. Embrace who you are, and love yourself, because if you don't no one will.
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