raiding the (not so) secret stash

This morning Liam and I had some uninterrupted time together, which hasn't happened much lately. When I asked him what he wanted to do, he suggested we cook something. We decided on our favorite oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. When it was time to add the chips, though, I realized we didn't have any. By this point, we were totally sold on the chocolate; raisins weren't going to cut it.

I started digging around in cabinets and found a Skor bar that had been in my Christmas stocking that I had hid (well!). This gave me an idea. Since Andrew and I both love good chocolate, I figured we might be able to find some remnants of a few bars in some of our hiding places. Liam suggested the coffee table drawers (okay, so we only think we have hiding places), where we dug up a few squares of dark chocloate (mine) and a few squares of milk chocolate with crisp rice (Andrew's). I found one third of a dark chocolate espresso bean bar on the top shelf of another cabinet and a couple Hershey's special dark squares in, um, the drawer of the bedside table. (Emergency stash.)

We chopped up all the bits and pieces and tossed them into the batter. It's probably no surprise, but they were the very best batch of "chocolate chip" cookies we've ever made.

Oatmeal Chocolate Bar Cookies

1 cup butter
1 cup sugar
1 cup brown sugar
2 eggs
2 teaspoons vanilla
2 tablespoons milk
2 cups flour
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon baking powder
2 cups oatmeal
a bunch of random bits of quality chocolate, chopped

Cream butter and sugars. Beat in eggs, vanilla and milk. Stir together flour, salt, soda and baking powder and gradually mix into butter mixture. Add oatmeal and chocolate. Drop tablespoons of batter on cookie sheet; bake at 350 for 11 minutes.

words

To hurt or to heal, words have so much power. The last several days I have witnessed firsthand their incredible impact. From the words of love and compassion issued by hordes of visitors at Ray's wake... to an incredible, inspiring "love story" tribute delivered by my precious cousin to hundreds and hundreds at her husband's funeral... to the thousands (yes, thousands) of memories, condolences and messages of love and encouragement sent via email... to the mailbox overflowing with cards and letters. The words of love and kindness and healing go on and on and on.

Half the crying I did this weekend was in response to these beautiful words, and it got me thinking, Why do we wait? I'm sure friends and family told Ray that they loved him and that he was a great guy at many points throughout his life, but how many times did he receive a letter in his mailbox that said these things? How many times did someone take the time to compile a list of the things that made him special when he was well?

Over the last three days, not one person I talked to or visited with was focused on themselves. Not one. Every word, every thought, every gesture was of genuine love and compassion for another. In the worst of times we were all corporately, finally, living out the greatest commandment. Why can't we live it out in the best of times?

Recently I read about a father who sent his daughter a postcard every day she was in college. Some were mundane, some were kind of silly, all of them were daily reminders that he loved her. The story 1,000 Postcards is encapsulated in a 10-minute radio segment that is worth a listen. It's a wonderful example of how much five minutes of writing time can mean to the person who receives the card.

The last three days have inspired me in many ways. Maybe the biggest is to start sharing the words in my heart with the people I love. On paper. Just because.

what made him special

With some people, death brings out the best in them, as friends and family can finally put all the bad behind and do their best to focus on redeeming qualities. This is not so with Ray. This guy was an exemplary friend, brother, son, husband, father and relative. There is nothing to exaggerate. He really was all this:

:: He was a t-shirt-and-baseball-cap-wearing guy who really knew how to dance. When Ray and Kristin were dating, I would go to DC to visit. My favorite memory is going to a Christmas party with all the Hill staffers and watching Ray and Kristin float together on the floor. They had an electricity and rhythm that gave the impression they had been dancing that way forever. I was so thrilled that night, absolutely certain that my sweet cousin had found her match.

:: He totally got Kristin and thought she was beautiful from day one. She was his "it" girl. And, being a romantic, I just loved that. They didn't have a long and arduous courtship. They didn't break up and get back together. They weren't just friends. They immediately sparked - and sparkled - intellectually, romantically, and in every other good way. There's not much better than seeing a female you love really being cherished by the guy of her dreams.

:: After marrying Kristin he had, count 'em, eight sisters. No brothers. Then he had three girls of his own. The only man in every house, he was all guy but so tenderhearted and loving. When I visited the hospital after Kristin and Ray's third daughter was born, I expected maybe he'd seem just a little disappointed. Not Ray. He was as proud and pleased as any dad could be.

:: He never complained or felt sorry for himself through his whole cancer ordeal. Not once (that I ever heard of or observed). In fact, he was always full of gratitude and appreciation for everything anyone did for him and his family. Once when I spent the day with them in intensive care and he was so, so sick, he was concerned that my sister's boyfriend had lost his job. Always thinking of others first. How many people do you know who are genuinely like that?

:: Looking back over the relatively short time I knew Ray personally, I cannot remember him ever speaking ill of another person or putting someone down to make himself look good. I do not remember ever hearing him utter a cynical or sarcastic word. This may explain why his many, many, many friends have loved him so long and so loyally.

:: He had a solid faith, strong values and an unwavering commitment to things that were moral and right. But he didn't parade around trying to prove himself. You didn't find Ray engaging in deep discussions of theology and apologetics. You didn't find him praying loud, long public prayers. You just found him living out what he believed.

:: No one, and I mean no one, doesn't love Ray. Really, this guy has friends. The list spans back to grade school. And those guys remained some of his closest friends all throughout his life. The hole that will be left by his absence is huge.

I cannot attempt to understand, Why Ray? All I know is that we are all better for knowing him. And if my boys grow up to emulate some of these godly character traits of Ray Fitzgerald, this mama will be very, very blessed.

Thank you, Ray, for showing us all a better way to live. You will be deeply, deeply missed.

observing

One of the bloggers I follow created a month-by-month memory book full of seasonal activities and reflections to do with your child called Blue Yonder Book of Days. I decided to download the January installment and see if it would be interesting and age appropriate for Liam. So far, he loves it, as evidenced by the the Egg Experiment (which was basically to submerge an egg in white vinegar for 36 hours and observe what happens - simple but fascinating, even for mom and dad). I also have been impressed by the accompanying Parent Field Guide, which is full of good tips, a wonderful reading list and thoughtful ideas for making the most of every day.


Birds are a focus in January, with some wonderful picture book suggestions that we plan to pick up the library later this week. Lucky us, we had an actual bird sighting from inside our house when we saw a stunning flutter of scarlet out the kitchen window this morning. The cardinal was so lovely and unexpected, I knew it had to be a gift for heavy hearts and dreary days. As Elizabeth Barrett Browning penned, "Earth's crammed with heaven, And every common bush afire with God." Thankfully, today we happened to be looking.

our time here

Already fragile from the serious illness weighing on the lives of ones I love so much, this video did me in tonight. But it is splendidly beautiful. And it does a much better job at speaking the truth about love and loss, life and death, miracles and healing, and the blessed gift of every single day than I ever could. Thanks Alysa for posting it so I could find it.

enchiladas

This weekend I reconnected with my aunt Bobbie who recently wrote a sweet, creative, kid-focused book called Tea Parties with a Purpose (check out her blog for a peek). One of my favorite memories of Bobbie is an afternoon where we discovered we both suffer from an inability to pronounce common words correctly and ended up in tears as Bobbie confided that the word she could never get right was "enchilada," but then she couldn't figure out how to say it wrong. You had to be there, but, trust me, it was funny.

So, I shouldn't be surprised that today I couldn't get my mind off enchiladas. I was craving them, but I couldn't find a recipe that sounded quite right. This left me putting together about three recipes and making up my own version. Not to brag or anything, but they were awesome. Although I didn't measure my ingredients, I think this recipe is pretty close. In honor of Bobbie, I call them Chicken-Mushroom Onchiladas.

Chicken-Mushroom Onchiladas

2 T olive oil
2 diced shallots (about 3 T)
2 cups sliced mushrooms
1/2 - 1 T butter
2 cups (or 1/2 boned) rotisserie chicken
1/2 cup heavy cream
1 can enchilada sauce
1 small can diced green chilis
6-8 flour tortillas (or 10-12 corn tortillas)
2 cups shredded cheddar cheese
2-3 T sour cream

Saute shallots in oil for 5 minutes or so. Add mushrooms and saute 7-8 minutes more. Add butter while cooking if pan gets dry. Add chicken and cream. Turn off heat. Pour some enchilada sauce onto a plate and coat both sides of a tortilla. In center of tortilla, layer 1/4 cup of mushroom mixture, teaspoon of chilis and 1/4 cup cheese. Roll and put in lightly oiled 9x13 baking dish. Continue until all the mushroom mixture is gone. Top the enchiladas with a couple additional tablespoons of enchilada sauce, sour cream and remaining cheese. Bake at 350 for 30 minutes.

puzzling

My favorite thing is not that he loves to do them but how. Piecing together faces and feet, hats and sunsets, then joining the small scenes to create the bigger picture. He doesn't want to make the frame first. He doesn't want help. He just slowly and patiently figures it out.

Poet Ellen Bass so aptly describes parenthood as "that long gestation / like carrying your soul out in front of you." Some days, I find mine lodged as a lump in my throat. To watch all the pieces come together, nothing tops it.

unplugged

Since Saturday morning we have been without an Internet connection. This has seriously curtailed my regular evening activities - blogging, blog reading, emailing, email reading, and working (not that I really mind that last activity so much). We have also been without TV, a conscious choice, this. And, so, we have been enjoying a change of pace.


For me, this involves knitting, including teaching myself to knit in the round (way easier than I imagined) so I could make these very fun fingerless gloves. This first finished pair is part of a now-belated Christmas gift for my sister-in-law Jamie. Just her color. As soon as I finished, I started another pair. If you are a scarf-only knitter like I was, check out the pattern for Toast (the name of these arm warmers) and the video tutorial that I found very helpful. I think it will be a long time before I go back to scarves.


I am also at work on a hat for my brother Mark. This brown skull cap was to be part of his Christmas gift, but after finishing it, I found that the only head in the house that it fit was Elliott's. So, the boy's got a new hat. Funnily enough, he likes it. Must know his mama worked hard on it and if he doesn't wear it, no one else can.

Our other evening activity has been to dig out Firefly, one of our favorite defunct shows. I just can't understand why this series was axed. It's smart, thought-provoking, subtle, with rich characters and outlandish yet meaningful plot lines. Considering the state of television programming today, I guess I can understand why it didn't make it. Too bad. One season just wasn't enough.

bella

My aunt (and faithful blog reader) recommended the movie Bella to me. I have never written about a movie on my blog, but this one truly lives up to its name. So many independent filmmakers are set on making films that are raw and real, but for most, the only way to achieve this, is to make them dark and depressing. Even films like Lost in Translation and Magnolia (two of my favorites) leave a lingering ache of sadness. Although the difference is subtle, Bella, both raw and real, shines light. Don't get me wrong, it's not a light film. It's main characters both suffer deeply, but they also make choices we rarely see in movies, choices that are brave and triumphant, and, like the main character in the Kite Runner, choices that allow them to be good again. The beauty of this movie is elusive, maybe because it's so simple. But it's in everything - the story, the filming, the characters, the music. It made me think and feel and cry. Most importantly, it reaffirmed my belief in the redemptive power of family and friendship and forgiveness, especially forgiving yourself. Thanks, Deb.

epiphany

My cousin got married on Epiphany eight years ago. As one of the honored bridesmaids, high on the promise of new love myself, I remember the magical day in detail.

Catching snippets of the wedding video this morning as I fed her girls breakfast and cleaned up the kitchen (they apparently had been watching the DVD off and on for the last 24 hours), the palpable joy and excitement of that celebration came barreling back. I had trouble controlling the tears, though, because the contrast seemed too huge to comprehend. On the day after their eighth wedding anniversary, this soul-mated couple that all the elated, sweaty dancers paused on camera to congratulate, were headed to a medical clinic for yet another drug to attempt to hold my cousin's husband's ravaging cancer at bay.

I was relieved when Nora decided she wanted to show Liam High School Musical 2 Karaoke and turned the video off. The widening gap between the then and the now had become a gulf almost too big to cross.

Yet, as I drove home tonight, weeping as I waited for freight train to pass, my son totally lacquered from being chased around by three little girls all day, I recalled a scene from the movie Shadowlands. At the end of the film, C.S. Lewis, played by Anthony Hopkins, is up in the attic with the young son of his new wife who has just died of cancer. They are sobbing. And the boy, in the most gut-wrenching chocks and sobs, says to Lewis, "Why does it hurt so much?" And Lewis says so poignantly, "The pain now is part of the happiness then." I, of course, bawled my eyes out, as I am doing now. Because truth hurts.

The truth is, there is no gulf or gap between the then and the now. The pain and the happiness are inseparable. There is not one without the other. When we choose to live and love fully, vulnerably, outside convention or appearance or approval, we open ourselves up to the deepest pain imaginable. Are we crazy? Why ever do we do it?

In that Epiphany wedding video, I saw my answer. We are made for it. We are made to love and be loved. We are made to rejoice. Just as we are made to suffer. And, as much as any of us may try, this side of the veil, we are not made to understand.

On the first Epiphany over 2000 years ago, the wise men (probably astrologers) did the strangest thing. They followed a star, based on a prophesy, and risked life and limb to do it. Historians speculate it took two treacherous years of desert travel to find the King of the Jews, and they weren't even Jewish. They brought gold and frankincense and myrrh, to a baby. And it wasn't for curiosity sake that they made that long trip. They came to worship. They rejoiced. What could they have possibly understood about that journey? They were just doing what they were made to do. They were loving and being loved. Faced with pain and delay, ostracism and danger, doubt and unanswered questions, they followed that star straight to the source.

Then, now, not yet. Pain, happiness. Come what may, it's this Love that keeps us going.

Morning addendum: I have been thinking how incredible that Jesus' most significant visitors were not the religious Jewish leaders down the street. They were the outsiders, some of the least likely on the continent. They traveled from so, so far, with the most astounding faith. They must have looked like idiots. Leaving everything, risking death by defying the most powerful guy in their kingdom, ignoring what their logical brains must have told them. They already had everything. They were rich and smart and respected, and yet they chose a path that would involve suffering because it would lead to love. It was these guys in the story. These guys who found Jesus. This year I understand why.

the night before the last night of the year

Before we move on into the new year, I had to savor this one last memory of 2008. A slippery, snowy, night walk with Papa, pulling Liam in the sled through the silent white woods. Although covered in snow from head to toe, Liam never uttered a word of complaint or protest, confirming the fact that it was a truly enchanted night. We did hear complaint the next day, however, when we headed home and spun out on the road, five miles from the lake house, and slammed into a giant snowbank. We are very grateful to the kindness of strangers, many who stopped to offer help and one who finally chained our car up to his 4WD truck and yanked us out. Ah, snow and ice... friend of sleds not of vehicles.

breathe

...before saying something unkind or biting
...a prayer for the driver who cuts me off
...and think of an appropriate response rather than simply react to a conflict
...when walking into a messy house
...more joy into the everyday
...instead of slamming the car door in frustration
...then walk away from a frivolous, unnecessary or unaffordable purchase
...as deeply and as often as needed to bring about a change of heart
...a smile

Breathe. That's my one-word intention for 2009. What's yours?