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.