Red Letter Mail Day

Vermeer girl reading a letter
Originally uploaded by podso

"And none will hear the postman's knock
Without a quickening of the heart.
For who can bear to feel himself forgotten?"
~W.H. Auden

Seems that every day I look forward to the mail. Even in these days of email, there's a slight rise in suspense as I walk to the box. I just don't know what all might be in it when I pull down the lid. Junk mail is a given; some can be recycled on the way back into the house. The credit card offers can be torn in half; the bills piled high; and the endless catalogs can go right to the bathroom. But very occasionally ... out falls a treat ... yes, a REAL, handwritten letter or card.

The first clue is the hand written address. True, it could be an invite, but honed detective skills quickly rule that out. The envelope can be a gift in itself. I have one friend who makes envelopes from magazine pages that picture something I love. Others adorn an envelope with a sticker. And I always know an intentional letter writer when the stamp is above average. Obviously serious about their correspondence, they looked for nice stamps, not just the usual flag stamp.

When I get mail like this, it's a "red letter mail day". I wonder where that expression came from. I may google that later. If I have the time, I'll make a cup of tea before I sit down to open the letter, which I consider a true gift.

And why is it a gift? Because someone cared enough to get out pen, paper, envelope, a stamp, look up my address and actually write some thoughts down on paper. Something for me to think about, delight in, etc. Letters can be saved ... and read again and again. The handwriting might even tell us something ... was the writer feeling happy, writing in leisure, or stressed and dashing off a missive?

The other day I got such a letter from a very old friend. In fact, we didn't know each other all that well as we sat side by side in choir practice so long ago. She was expecting her first child and we connected in many ways. Somehow we kept in touch because we both cared about such a thing. When her kids were old enough to homeschool she asked me advice and I tried to encourage her. Even though it's easy to dash off an email, she took the time to write. And ...she has eight kids! One is off to college (that baby she was expecting) and the rest she teaches at home. I figure if she can find the time to write ...

... So can I. Because I know how nice getting a letter can be, I do my best to write them when I can ... not only to people far away but even to friends who live locally. Because there's just something about getting a letter ...

("Red letter day" comes from the practise of marking the dates of church festivals on calendars in red, way back in the 1500s--i.e., a special day.)

Just Me and My Pal

M*ch
Originally uploaded by podso

This old girl is really Spouse's dog, now that the kids have grown up. She licks his hands, not mine. She snuggles up to his chair, not mine. But when she needs something, she knows to go to her mama, a.k.a. "me."

Right now we are the sole occupants of this house. Spouse is winging his way to Europe and Resident Son is down south on a big project. Even my mom has gone out of town, so I don't need to keep track of her. It's a very unique experience for sure. Deliciously quiet, actually! I can do what I want, when I want, for a few days--other than the required hours at work. But right now, I have no choice, for it's time for us two gals to take a walk. She's passed me up in age by far and her arthritis shows more than mine, but off we'll go into the night air--two old friends. She "reads the news" at every mailbox, and I hope there isn't much news tonight, so I can get to bed.

Miracle In Its First Stage

chair at winghaven
Originally uploaded by podso

"Difficulty is the very atmosphere of miracle. It is miracle in its first stage. If it is to be a great miracle, the condition is not difficulty, but impossibility." So said Lilias Trotter, a young artist turned missionary to North Africa, when the 1800s were turning to the 1900s. She's a hero of mine. I don't know how to link, but if you paste this in your browser, you can learn more of this delightful and strong woman, and read her thoughts and see some of her beautiful artwork: www.unveiling.org/lily/glimpses.html

Gospel Pancakes

pancakes
Originally uploaded by podso

These pancakes are really oatmeal pancakes, or whole wheat pancakes, and I make them "blueberry pancakes." They are so popular by those who eat them, I have started calling them the "gospel pancakes" as they spread from one person to another; truely good news for pancake lovers in want of a healthy pancake. My aunt gave me the recipe and has made them ahead and frozen them (no more than two deep wrapped well for the freezer) and then warmed in the oven, or the batter can be made the night before. I like adding blueberries I've frozen, or dried blueberries. Or any fruit. They are great left over too! And no, this is not becoming a recipe blog. It's just with the weather finally cooling, there is more energy for cooking, and it's time for soup and hot, steamy cups of tea!

Oatmeal Pancakes
1 1/2 cups regular (or quick) oats
2 C buttermilk (or regular milk with a Tb of lemon)
2 eggs
2 Tb. canola oil
2 Tb. wheat germ
1/2 C whole wheat flour
1 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. sugar
1 tsp. salt
Optional: blueberries or other fruit pieces

Mix oats and buttermilk together in a large bowl and let stand. Beat eggs and add to mix. Add oil and wheat germ to mix. Sift together flour, soda, sugar, salt, and add to oatmeal mixture. Drop batter onto hot skilet grased with canola or pam.

Make the Soup!

make the soup!
Originally uploaded by podso

Black Bean Pumpkin Soup

3 15 1/2 oz. cans of black beans, rinsed and drained
1 C drained canned chopped tomatoes
1 1/4 C. chopped onions
1/2 C minced shallots (didn't use)
4 garlic cloves minced
1 Tb and 2 tsp. ground cumin
1 tsp salt
1/2 tsp. pepper
1/2 stick butter
4 C chicken broth
1 16 ox can pureed pumpkin
1/2 C sherry vinegar (sometimes I just use white wine and a dash of vinegar).

Puree beans and tomatoes in blender. Cook onions, spices, and butter. Stir in bean puree. Stir in broth, pumpkin, and sherry. Season with salt and pepper. When you serve, garnish with a dolop of sour cream (and pumpkin seeds if you'd like!)

A Sacrifice Well Pleasing

the white church
Originally uploaded by podso

"If our hearts were tuned to praise, we should see causes unnumbered, which we had never seen before, for thanking God. Thanksgiving is spoken of as a "sacrifice well pleasing unto God." It is a far higher offering than prayer. When we pray we ask for things which we want; or we tell our sorrows. We pray in order to bring down blessings upon ourselves; we praise because our hearts overflow with love to God, and we must speak it out to Him. It flows out of pure love, and then the love goes back to our hearts, and warms them anew, and revives and quickens them."

As I look through my worn volume of "Joy and Strength" I find quite a number of quotes from Priscilla Maurice (she wrote the above), who died at age 44 before the Civil War occurred in our country. I found out she was her preacher-brother's housekeeper, but I could not determine if she ever married. Apparently she was a bit feisty and outspoken, as was her brother (a Unitarian turned Anglican). I got so engrossed in reading about her I began to wonder if she and I would have been friends. She wrote a lot about praise and being thankful ... very practical writing.

She is probably right that our prayers are mostly asking, where our praise is true worship, which God desires, and I like the idea of "hearts tuned to praise" and "praise because our hearts overflow with love to God." Kind of like "delighting in God." Something to chew on this hot, sticky Saturday afternoon.

Rain, Rain, Come This Way

pumpkin in the soup
Originally uploaded by podso

So much for our taste of fall. It's hot and the humidity feels like July. If we could just gather up all that humidity and shoot it to the skies so it could come down as rain. Last night we counted ten rain drops. That was the extent of the predicted possible rain. I just figured out why all the mums are already 50% off--they are all 50% dead.

Today it was black bean/pumpkin soup ... yum. I love days when I have time at home and can make soup. Actually we are expecting out of town guests and I am cooking and freezing stuff. We enjoyed a bowl of soup at lunch, but into the freezer it goes for next week. Very special friends are coming from up north. We all started our families together--I guess we've been friends for 30 years. We share a lot of common history, including sponsoring two Laotian families together years ago. When you work together like that, you get close. Even though we've lived apart much of those 30 years, when we meet we take up as if we've never been apart. That's quite a treasure. We'll have fun.

Welcome October

soup's on
Originally uploaded by podso

I love all seasons, but no Fall has never felt so welcome as it is this year after such a hot and dry summer. Now the mornings are delightfully cool with graciously warm afternoons. It's amazing how much more energy one has when it's not 100 degrees outside.

It's also time for soup--one of my favorite foods. Soup-making gives opportunity for creativity--like painting a picture or decorating a room. Just about anything can go into a soup and come out tasting like a five-star restaurant chef made it. The only problem is, it's hard to remember it exactly the same way for the next time. Today we just had to have soup to celebrate moving into October ... so it was sweet potato/salmon soup with some spinich thrown in for color. Yum!

In the Bag

its in the bag ...
Originally uploaded by podso

Whenever I hear the words "orange creamsicle," I think of my grandfather, who I knew only the first 6 1/2 years of my life. But if I actually bite into a creamsicle, I'm immediately transported back to my childhood summers when we'd visit my grandparents. A big treat for us was to hop into our grandfather's Ford pick up after he got home from work, and ride with him down to the local shop to pick up some orange creamsicles. Other times he would just bring some home from work with him. I'm sure that's what the bag in this photo contains! Even though it's been years since I've had one, I can close my eyes and taste one now.

What color would life be without a memory?

The Good Writer's Club

original from gradeschool
Originally uploaded by podso

We printed until second grade, and then began the practice of cursive writing. Back in those days we were taught the "Palmer Method," which had a few frills to it. I can remember starting with circles and loops in my practice book. This was also the year of the fountain pen for us second-graders. Before that, we wrote with pencils (I guess there were no ball point pens!). I can't remember how I got the pen--I assume my parents bought it for me. It might be worth something today, though the "nib" is needing replacement. It's a Sheaffer, and still fills up with ink via a "pneumatic down-stroke filler." I'm not sure why I always pull that little lever three times, seems that's overkill.

Anyway, by fourth grade we were writing pretty well, and always used script or cursive in our assignments. If our handwriting was sloppy, we were told about it! That year we had a "Good Writer's Club." This had nothing to do with content, only our penmanship. I love to write, and part of that is the actual art of writing, especially when there is a decent pen to write with (not including a ball-point!) There is nothing like a fountain pen for beautifully flowing hand writing, and I suppose the blobs and smudges just go along with the romance of the whole thing. I was honored by being a member in good standing of that "Good Writer's Club." But as far as today, I will say there is nothing like being a nurse to destroy one's handwriting (back before charting was done on computers.)

I enjoy writing a nice note to someone if the ink is flowing well! And it's interesting to see a letter arrive from one of my sisters or my mother--or even some cousins...amazing the similarities in our handwriting! That could be a whole study in itself! By the way, this photo is of my original fountain pen, ready to write in a lovely journal Boniface gifted me with!

Simply Put

nbn
Originally uploaded by podso

It was a very busy day today ... no time to stop and catch my breath. Ten wee ones to care for, mothers to teach, blood tests, admissions, etc. Midst it all I lost my notes, which is always my worst fear. I lost them for a long time and was totally helpless without them. I looked and looked and looked again and got into a near panic. I'd been praying, but I really stopped and prayed hard. "Lord show me." Very slowly, as if in time lapse, a picture came out of darkness into a clear focus, and I knew to look a certain place. There they were. Tucked under a baby's crib.

For the rest of the day it didn't matter how pressed I was, for I sailed around as if the best thing had just happened to (for) me. God heard and answered my prayer. He rescued me. Simply put.

Dab Painting

watchthedrips
Originally uploaded by podso

A somber mother watches as her son hops on a canal boat headed down to the bustling capital of Amsterdam. Once he reaches America, will she ever see him again? Tears spill down her cheeks as she goes back into the tavern and picks up her dish towel and continues to shine the glasses she has washed.

Over in the new world, a young man weary from his carpentry work, picks up his worn lunch pail and heads for home across a bridge over the Penny Pack Canal. When he opens the door of his modest home, he is bombarded with the rich aroma of a casserole coming out of the oven. The house is very small, but his wife keeps it spotlessly clean. A bit of lace and some fresh garden flowers in a juice glass adorn the worn table where the dinnerware lies ready for their meal.

Today I took a plastic cup with a small bit of paint and went up the ladder to do some touch up painting. Every time I dipped the brush into the paint I thought of my dad. I realized how many times I'd seen him do some dab painting with a similar small cup.

Then I began to marvel at how much of what I do everyday is similar to how someone else did it in my past. The blood of the generations before me courses through my veins, and with it genes that play a part in who I am. And its not just the blood connection--a lot of it stems from living with someone. So much of what I do is because of how my parents did things ... and they like their parents ... and eventually we get back to the little house on the creek in Pennsylvania, and the tavern in the small Holland town.

It's fascinating when you think about it. I guess sometimes we just can't help but be who we are. How fun it would be to really get a glimpse into my ancestors' lives. But I guess I have to look no further than at myself.

Arrrh...

arr....
Originally uploaded by podso

The phone rang and I recognized the voice of spouse's "twin" calling from Canada (two big guys with gray beards ... some refer to them as twins). I handed the phone to spouse and left the room. Suddenly I heard a loud "arrh" followed by a lot of pirate talk. Duh...I had forgotten. It's "national talk like a pirate day." Comes around every September 19th and spouse is one who celebrates it. For real. Google it.

Hark!

hearken; listen attentively
Originally uploaded by podso

En route to my Tuesday office this morning, a car in front of me sharply turned into a side street. I was startled to realize that I had turned into that same street a year ago this very day at the very same hour. A year ago my husband, on a cell phone from a city four hours away, had asked me to pull over for some news. He told me that he was sure he had another PE but felt he could drive home and did not want to go to the emergency room when he got here. A rather eventful day followed, not without extreme stress, and it's been a bit of a rollarcoaster ever since. But hark! Pause, listen attentively to what God has done in our lives over this year. God has sustained spouse; he is feeling better than he has in a long time; and we need to rejoice over God's abundant grace in our lives. And just some icing on the cake––the weather is cool, cool, cool today! Fall has come!

Back Again

not just another green
Originally uploaded by podso

They say that history repeats itself, and so it does. I find myself painting old wooden chairs, found at Good Will, just like I did as a newlywed 35 years ago. This time, again, I wanted green, but just the right green. When we visited our son and daughter-in-law when they were house-sitting here in town, I loved the green in the kitchen there. Son's wife kindly researched the color. Maybe I would want it in a slightly lighter shade. Boston Fern it was called--I liked the name. But when I went to see the paint chip at Home Depot, to my surprise it was the same color I painted the chairs of long ago (where are they now, by the way?)

The color is what I would call a 70s "avocado," or so it looked to me. But history can only repeat itself to a certain extent when you've been there before. I realized I couldn't use the same color, having begun my married life surrounded by avocado green. So I moved to the paint strip next door to Boston Fern and found what I was looking for. Similar, but a bit more yellow in it I think. Love it! Let the painting begin!

But I do thank Lindsay for researching and sending along the info via E. It got me where I wanted to be.

A Clean Breeze

as clean as she'll get
Originally uploaded by podso

There is the slightest hint of fall in the air and a warm breeze is kicking up. The lack of rain has caused leaves to fall prematurely and they crunch under my feet on top of the cracked ground and dry, lifeless grass. There also is promise of cooler temperatures by week's end, though the thermometer is rapidly pushing up past 90 today.

It's a wonderful day. Spouse is out of town for the first time in a long while. Not that I don't miss him tremendously, for I have been accustomed to him being around for many months now, and we enjoy each other's company. But since he works from a home office, a day at home to myself is rare. The house has needed a good cleaning for months, and today that cleaning occurred. I've enjoyed the time (only a workaholic would say that maybe?). The music is turned up, and I've found all kinds of little places and things that needed cleaning out. Tossed some things, rearranged some things, and put on an autumn-looking, fresh tablecloth in the dining room.

The best part comes after the cleaning. Peace! I enjoy a few hours of absolute stillness, freshness, and "clean," before members of the household re-enter (dog included), bringing the outside in with them! Since I am "home alone" today, that feeling will last at least until the dinner hour! Ahhhh!

Island Talk

dad/bros
Originally uploaded by podso

There's something about weddings ... and funerals ...and family reunions. They are like islands of suspended time. For an intense day or two, family and friends gather ... and get to catch up with each another. We don't see relatives for years---sometimes not since childhood. Suddenly we see each other constantly for a weekend. It doesn't take long to be comfortable, for we share the same roots and similar upbringings. There is much in common, and sometimes there's a lifetime to catch up on. It's all a bit surreal. And then, we go our separate ways, maybe not to see each other again for years, or possibly ever ... but, left with a whole new collection of memories.

We just watched a fun montage of wedding photos from my niece's wedding. When I looked at some of the pictures of people goofing off, laughing, and having fun, it made me think about this. My brother-in-law's brothers were there who we hadn't seen since he married my sister 34 years ago. Yet, with shared history, we took up easily. And that is how it is with family, especially when we share a bond in Christ. Even if we don't see each other again, we have the assurance of meeting again one day "up yonder." A glorious, joyful hope about these "island" reunions.

the formative years

the formative years
Originally uploaded by podso

This is a favorite photo of mine and good to post on a hot day like this. It was probably as hot in this photo as it is today, except there was no air conditioning escape. Ghanaian children are always happy to pose for a photo, so rounding them up for a group picture is effortless. Youngest son is about 2 1/2 or three here. Nothing made him happier than carrying around a stick and getting as dirty as possible. From infancy he showed a tenacity that stands him in good stead today.

Undeserved

survivor
Originally uploaded by podso

Yesterday we saw God's grace and mercy all around. Little things. Nothing that we specifically prayed about other than a usual request for help along the way. Things that often go awry went smoothly. When days fall together like that, it's nothing that we deserve. I'm glad we took note at the end of the day, and thanked God.

Home Sweet Home

Home Sweet Home
Originally uploaded by podso

I popped into my mom's today to help her with a few things. Whenever I open the door to her little apartment I am filled with a sense of being home. Though she has condensed her 60 plus years of married life into a small apartment in a retirement center, it is still my parents' home. Familiarity is all around. Furniture, family heirlooms, familiar pictures I've seen all my life, a particular scent ... it's all there to instill peace into me, even after all these years of living away from home. Walking into her house is like a huge batch of comfort food.

And of course there is my mother's soft voice. She's always there, ready with advice (and I still go to her for some). Though our roles are switching a bit these days, she still mothers me. I often hear, "Be careful."

I don't take for granted still having a mother on this earth, and being able to "go home." I thank God for this incredible blessing and the feeling of security it continues to bring.

There's nothing so sweet as being able to phone her and say, "Mom?"

Photo: My childhood home, built by my father.