the triple seven wedding

stbx.jpgWhen I don’t blog for a bit, you can pretty much guess that I am: a) out of the country, b) on a cruise, c) shopping at Nordstrom, d) sunning at the beach or e) catering a wedding. Well… I will surprise you: this time it was not A-D. ~wink~

So, the day of the wedding we’d been planning for finally arrived — and what an honour it was to be asked to cater the reception. This wedding was for our daughter-in-law’s sister. It was important to me to be as careful as I could be in the selection of foods, preparation, presentation and service. I suppose it always is, but somehow, I was overly concerned for this wedding as it meant so much to so many I love. Well, it was a very lovely and though there were some tense moments (would the roasts be done on time? would the chicken be cooked through and yet tender – would everyone like it? would there be plenty for everyone and yet not too much overage?), but there were no problems, no glitches… so, all in all, the wedding went off without a hitch – well, except one… Dave and Tatijana got hitched. ~smile~

They’ve been planning this wedding for nearly a year… just so they could have the triple seven wedding date. Many in our area did so! In fact at the Belle Chapel in Snohomish, the first wedding on 07-07-07 was held at midnight! Wow… isn’t that amazing!!?? The wedding we catered was at the Rose Crest Farm in Snohomish – and whew! it wasn’t held at midnight!! What a blessing to have had the whole day to prep and cook for the 7pm wedding reception. Now, that’s not to say we weren’t totally scrambling at the end – right before “showtime,” but it’s always like that… it’s sort of a hurry up and wait and then scramble! I’m ever grateful to Wes for his expertise and to the children for not only their help but enthusiasm to serve. I’ll share a few pics – the very few I have, and a couple of recipes. You’ll think the recipe for the chicken is really strange – but it was tasty! I would never have made it had the mother of the bride not chosen it… you’ll see from the ingredients… a very strange combination.

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Chicken Marabella

9 lb Chicken (we used chickenbreasts cut in half)
1 Garlic; entire head peeled and minced (we used 3 tablespoons)
1/4 Cup Oregano; dried
Salt and pepper; to taste
1/2 Cup Red wine vinegar
1/2 Cup Olive oil
1 Cup Prunes; pitted
1/2 Cup Spanish olives
1/2 Cup Capers
6 Bay leaves

1 c Brown sugar
1 c White wine
1/4 c Parsley; finely chopped – for garnish

1. In large bowl combine all the ingredients EXCEPT brown sugar, wine and parsley. Cover and let marinate in the fridge overnight.

2. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Arrange chicken in single layer in shallow baking pans. Spoon marinade over chicken. Sprinkle chicken pieces with brown sugar. Pour white wine over chicken. Bake for 50 min to 1 hour at 350º –basting frequently with pan juices. Serve with rice (or, as we did: with garlic mashed potatoes). Sprinkle with parsley.

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For the garlic mashed potatoes, I boiled the 50 pounds (washed and quartered) baby red potatoes in the 22 quart pot and the roaster until the potatoes were just fork tender and poured off the salted water… wow… this was very hot and very heavy! Then I divided them into the 4 extra deep chafing pans; and for each pan I poured over the potatoes 2 cups butter, 2 cups cream, 2 cups sour cream and 1/4 cup minced garlic and 2 tablespoons of salt and white pepper – about a teaspoon or two and then lightly mashed them while mixing in the butter and creams. Topped with a bit of fresh parsley, they were delicious.

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my bookends…

Here are the bookends to my own motherhood… our oldest and our youngest… their birthday’s are twenty two years and a day apart. God’s been so good, so faithful and so true… every day of these 28 years of motherhood… He has never failed. Never.

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So it is with great joy and great gratitude and humble amazement that I celebrate the births of my oldest and youngest babies — and I do celebrate them — for so many reasons, so many sweet memories, so many blessings. God is only good. All the time.

quotebegin.gifHe maketh the barren woman to keep house,
and to be a joyful mother of children.
Praise ye the LORD.
Psalm 113.9

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The Long Goodbye to the Last Baby

…and it has been a bittersweet farewell. It seems we knew this was the last baby for a long time. Each month that’s passed confirms it and each day the we spend with her reminds us of the long goodbye. It’s not that the last baby is the favourite or that the last baby is more special than all the rest or that the last baby has been more important or that the last baby is somehow more significant than all the rest… but, in truth, there is something about the last baby. Something I cannot understand and certainly cannot articulate and have not be able to do so throughout these last six years. For, many times in the last six years I have attempted to write what I think about a family’s “last baby” and yet I cannot. I suppose I cannot for my eyes fill with hot tears and waves mixed with gladness and sadness wash over me and flood my mind.

Those of you who’ve followed the “dolly stories” in the last six years have a bit of a glimpse of this last baby. She’s no more remarkable than all the rest, no more significant and certainly not more important than all the rest. But… as difficult as this is to understand, she is, in fact, a bit of all those things… for she is: the last baby. She is my last infanticipation, my last pregnancy, the last labour and delivery, the last little nursling, the last one in the rocking chair and the last one walking the floor, the last one to share our bed and the last one to carry — the last skin to skin – cheek to cheek – kissy-face baby. Simplistic and yet volumes of memories pass by in the theater of my mind.

Dolly is six today. When she came down the stairs, she was all dressed and ready to go out to “birthday-breakfast” with papa. All dressed, a slip, top and skirt, sweater and tights and shoes. Hair neatly in a band, purse in hand. I asked if Hannah had fixed her hair… no. Sort of like an assault to my senses… I see it… it’s part of the long goodbye to the last baby. When she left with papa she somehow looked older… the baby had gone and now the next chapter had begun. It was as if it had all happened while I wasn’t looking — but I was looking, I was looking every day and somehow it still had escaped my notice or somehow it didn’t seem to last long enough.

Sometimes I’ve likened this long goodbye to standing on the beach at sunset, slowly the horizon is swallowing the blazing sphere. Your day’s been spent jumping the waves that wash up on the shore… over and over you jump the waves and the water washes over you or splashes your face — the sweet coppertone breeze blows through your hair, the sand runs through your fingers — everything’s warm and bright and then you notice the sun is becoming a sliver and your day of kicking up the waves and playing at the beach is slowly coming to an end. So you stand there attempting to catch a wave and hang on to it as it comes up on to the shore… swirling and crashing around your ankles, covering feet feet and then as quickly as it came in, it goes back out again… and no matter how hard you might try, you could never catch it, never hang on to it or lengthen the time it stays. It goes out and all you can do is stand on the shore and watch it roll away, delighting in the sweetness of the day, the invigorating sea — the ever changing, ever the same — rolling sea. And just about the time you think you might stand there longer, the sun slips beneath the horizon and you stand quietly… sort of basking in the glow of the day remembering how sweet it was to frolic in the waves… how the sun was warm on your face. Your face almost hurts from smiling so much and then you realize the day is over… O, there’s another day at the beach tomorrow… but you recognize that this day at the beach was one you wished would never end.

That’s how it’s been with ‘melia.

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—with love, the baby’s mama

Stand By Your Man

teacuppamela.pngWhen you see something long enough or often enough, it sort of becomes normal. And things that are not offensive or “way out there” or grotesque become sort of acceptable… not so strange. Sort of like hairstyles — you know all the different hairstyles that characterize or define different generations or time periods. I remember looking at the hairstyles of the 60’s and thinking they were so attractive…and recalled that one day I just might have that beautiful style for my wedding… I planned on the beehive—the ultimate up-do! Instead, I had a 70’s *Toni Tennille cut. When I was a little girl I so wished I could have that poofy hair and wear giant curlers. Instead… I didn’t. There was a point to this post… I just can’t remember what it was — o, yah, stand by your man.

So… today I was working along and Sam called me in to see a youtube video. He was laughing… I’m not sure exactly what was so funny to him… was it the stiffness of the singer? was it that stiff hair? was it what she was singing so stiffly? Anyway… I came in to watch — (okay, and to laugh). I thought… omygoodness, the message of *the song was a good message — but the delivery: (!).

And isn’t that the way it goes? Here we have this treasure in earthen vessels. We have such a blessed message, such a gift and yet(!) sometimes our delivery is just… bad. Turns the message south in a hurry. We want to share the gospel of Jesus — we want to share the Good News(!) and yet, our delivery is sometimes quite opposite of really GOOD NEWS! Sometimes our lives even give a message that’s quite contrary to the message we carry. It’s as if we are saying: here’s some very Good News! but it’s not really working for me. I was sharing with our children this morning, over our Bible reading, that we have a mandate to have our conversation be as becomes the Gospel of Christ (Studying Philippians 1), that we are His “representatives” and we carry the Good News. We talked about what that is and what it looks like, practically speaking. I asked if we live out: “For me to live is Christ, and to die is gain” and if that truth governs our lives, our thoughts, our plans.

And so, like in that video/song, Stand By Your Man, if we stiffly deliver the message, the meaning will be missed or misconstrued — thereby, actually changing it altogether. So, I’m thinking about the words of that song… stand by your man… as women, we may believe or say we believe those words are true… and we say we “stand by our man,” but if our behaviour and actions don’t line up with those words, then really, the message we say we believe really isn’t true in our lives. Messages we believe will be lived in and through us — and if we don’t really believe the message, it’ll show — probably when we least anticipate it, it will show.

*this is not an endorsement of youtube or those two songs… they’re meant for humour only… nothing more and no browsing the youtube site.

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Gout… what?!?!

teacuppamela.pngGout was once call the “rich man’s disease” or “the disease of kings” as it was attributed to the consumption of rare delicacies and rich foods. Well… it may still be… for, after all, I am a queen and am very, very rich. And, I do eat meals fit for a queen when Kathryn cooks dinner for me! So, gout. What?!?! Isn’t that an old person’s disease?

Yesterday I hoped thought I was going to pass out from the pain in my foot which had actually awoken me in the middle of the night. I can’t recall experiencing that sort of pain in my foot ever before — and was so glad for many home-births and a few other things that have sort of been my pain markers. I say, if I could do this or that, then I can handle this or that amount of pain. I actually attempted to dismiss the problem but when it persisted throughout the day I realized I needed to check in with my doctor. I know I have a bit of arthritis, and had I known what this was or that it’s related, I would have been perhaps a bit more “home-care” minded than AMA minded, but old thought patterns surface when something comes about that I’m not familiar with. So, I called the consulting nurse line and was advised to rest, elevate, ice… don’t take any more Acetamenophen — take Ibuprophen instead and come in and see the doc first thing in the morning. Definitely not: “take two aspirin and call me in the morning” advice. So, I attempted to go about the day as normally as I could… played with the children, did my chores as quickly as possible, ironed with my foot resting on a stool, iced some tea and elevated my prayers to the LORD. And took Ibuprophen. I’m a queen, after all.

Another chapter is beginning to be written in my book: “walking through the autumn leaves” today. Kathryn wondered who would drive me to the doctor? (I’d planned on driving) and who would help me? (I’d planned on just getting there) and wait for me? (I never considered) when I went to the doctor. So she did help me. And as I came out of the office, she got up to walk with me. When she took my purse and then took my arm as we walked toward the elevator, I saw the first words being written on the page of the “walking through autumn leaves” book. When she asked, “What did the doctor say?” I realized that we were well into the third paragraph of that chapter.

My doctor had asked what unusual event or food consumption precipitated the inflammation. Well… let’s see… we did go out for dinner last week and had a very rich, saucy, “to die from for” meal. And I did have spinach salad for three meals in a row a couple of days ago… hmmm… other than that? Nothing out of the ordinary. So, I need to go back in the morning for a blood-draw to determine the level of uric-acid in my blood and I’m told I need to adjust my diet a bit in order to prevent future “attacks.” I also need to drink more water. Surprisingly, some of the things I need to reduce or eat in moderation are things I’ve attempted to add to or increase in our diet. She told me *no* low-carbing… no drastic measures to lose weight. No abrupt changes. And don’t drink any beer. Okay— *no* problem there!!! Ah-me… such is life in the autumn leaves. I’m counting on my personal herbalist to advise me here… in the meantime, I’ve taken a look at this cool interactive website my doctor recommended for more information.

Shhhh…. listen: I can hear my personal herbalist telling me about that alkaline vs. acidic diet… I’m listening, you have my attention… I can’t walk away. ~smile~ My feet are up, the summer breeze is refreshing… I’m sipping lemon water and the pitcher of more is here on my desk. Gout. phffff.

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Summer Breeze…

teacuppamela.pngAh…… an unlikely title, given that we had a major lightning and thunderstorm here last night. And I do not like lightning and thunder… even less! And rain? Wow… lots of rain. I saw the only way to enjoy it was to have all the hanging flower baskets taken down and set out in it… that was the only good thing I could see in yet another rainy day this summer! Well, that, and the beauty of the green everywhere(!) today.

So… I was ironing… spraying away and ironing item after item while listening to the radio. Every once in a while I listen to a station that plays love songs and all that stuff… and somehow it makes the job sweeter, not just bcz I’m ironing my husband’s shirts and thinking all about him, but the songs take me back to places we were when we first heard them. Now, many are songs I don’t know for there was a long period in our marriage where I didn’t or wouldn’t listen to any secular music at all. And you know… during that time I would almost laugh out loud in a grocery store or elevator when I would catch myself singing along with whatever was playing. Too many times of that and I realized that the music was not inherently evil… and yada, yada, yada. So — if that’s offensive, I don’t mean to be… it’s just that I have decided that for now, for this time, for me — some occasional “sappy-love-songs-station” music passes muster. I may change my mind tomorrow.

So, anyway, I was listening along and heard… “summer breeze… makes me feel fine… blowing through the jasmine in my mind… see the smile, waitin’ in the kitchen, food cookin’ and the plates for two…” I continued to iron… smiled at the memories and realized: there sure are a lot of memories that blow through my mind… lots of them… lots of smiles. I laughed as I thought about that song and how a few years have passed since it first came out. Funny… thirty-five years isn’t all that long now. I continued to iron away and when the next shirt would be set down on the board… a new song came on and with it… more sweet memories. Sometimes I listen to praise music and sing along… sometimes I just have complete quiet — I love complete quiet, too. I’m able to work out lots of things when I do chores in complete quiet. Ironing makes for some really great times of reflection. I have my Bible memory work on a clip-board on my kitchen window-sill and I stop and read a line, repeat it and continue ironing… reflecting on the wonderful truths of the Word.

Ironing straightens out a lot of things — not just the clothes or the closet with fresh wash. No, ironing gives necessary time for getting thoughts straight and for concentrating on the person to whom the garment(s) belong. Now, maybe that’s self, but probably it’s others, too. If it’s self, then perhaps, self needs some straightening out. Probably the word “perhaps” was not the right choice — perhaps I should’ve said: if it’s self, then self needs some straightening out. We’ve all got some wrinkles that need addressing. I think ironing’s a great time to think on stuff that needs ironing out. Just like praying at the dryer, praying at the ironing board is a sweet time. Sometimes the LORD reveals things to me that I’d simply miss unless I stopped to fold or iron. Just like loads and bundles of laundry and ironing become piles and mountains, little wrinkles or messes in relationships unattended grow into mountains. And for both things, it’s just amazing how easily they’re addressed and taken care of.
Maybe you’re the sort that gets a little low from time to time or maybe you’re the sort that needs to be reminded of just how sweet your life really is (and has been) and just how blessed you really are. Maybe you need to iron some shirts and get some of those thoughts straightened out. Maybe there are some wrinkles in a relationship that need to be ironed out. Maybe a sweet time singing and praying is just what you need today. I know I did.

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Just some more slices

teacuppamela.pngYou don’t have to step out your door very far to see from your porch situations, but for the grace of God, you’d be facing today — and may well face tomorrow. Well, such was the case today… though we were far from our own porch… we had the privilege of spending time with many friends at a special gathering to honour a home-schooled young lady who’s just completed high-school — and her baby brother who just completed treatment for Leukemia. The Pomerantz family was so gracious to have the gathering in honour of those two children in their family.

I couldn’t help but note that it really was the whole family who was to be honoured and celebrated for both those marvelous feats, for I always believe whatever goes on with a member of the family, the whole family really has an integral part. Often, it’s the ones receiving less attention make some of the greatest contributions to the well being of the family.

As that family has walked through this trial they’ve met many others on the path — for much of their time’s been spent at Children’s in Seattle and that’s afforded them great opportunity to not only meet, but to get intimately acquainted with families undergoing similar trials. I met a couple of the moms Ruth befriended in this trial and heard their stories, too. I was deeply touched by their recounting parts of their journey and was moved by their resolve to press on in faith and to trust the LORD. I marveled and thought: how does anyone handle such paths of life without the LORD? How does anyone walk those paths in darkness?

One of the beautiful mamas held a precious daughter whose little body is filled with cancer. The only sign of illness was the tube inserted in her little nose… and the tears in her mama’s eyes as she recounted the doctor’s report of the previous week. Gripping.

Then I had the privilege of meeting another of Ruth’s friends, this time a mama whose little boy drowned and was revived. What a difficult and yet blessed road she’s traveling. I say blessed bcz of the numerous blessings she related and the daughters that were with her were also so radiant and gracious. She shared many things that give great hope and encouragement and shared that there is a website chronology of their journey. I smiled at the name: Hows Luke?

There are always sweet serendipities along the journey… one was being able to spend time with sisters in the LORD, to spend more time with family and then to see some we rarely see… sweet.

Makes me long all the more for heaven.

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bigger-better-more

teacuppamela.pngI’ve been mulling over a passage of Scripture:

quotebegin.gif Be careful for nothing; but in every thing
by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving
let your requests be made known unto God.
Philippians 4.6

I mull over this for many reasons… for the “be careful for nothing” part —the don’t fret about anything; and the “every thing by prayer…” part —the pray about everything; and the “with thanksgiving” part — I’ve been mulling over what it really is to not worry, to pray and to pray about what I’m not worrying about and to pray about it with thanksgiving.

I have about fifty things or fifty directions I want to say or go with this matter and then I find another thought that has been swirling around in my mind… actually, thoughts — thoughts regarding the “bigger-better-more’s” of life.   If we’re honest, we’d all be able to immediately bring to mind some “bigger-better-more’s” that either plague us or cause us to feel dejected, worthless or inept.  I can’t think of anything that will bring a woman down faster than the reality of the “bigger-better-more” of someone or something else.

I’ve written a number of times about my dumb three-ingredient-cookies.  Many years ago, when our son was first married, our daughter-in-law was making a spectacular dessert at Christmastime in our kitchen.  She was in the main part of our kitchen… the production encompassed the counters, the stove and the sinks.  At one end of our kitchen we have our washer & dryer and in a pinch, they, too, become kitchen prep counters.  So I was standing there with my bowl of melted white chocolate and I was stirring in and coating Cocoa Puffs and mini-marshmallows.  I then proceeded to drop them by spoonfuls onto the parchment paper on the dryer.  All the while I was seeing the butter clarifying, the orange peel was dredged through the chocolate… just a hint of flavour… the whisks beating the dark chocolate, the mousse filling was cooling in the fridge, the dark chocolate was being shaved and curled, the mixer whipping up the eggwhites for the many layers of chocolate meringue torte….

Plop, plop, plop… spoonful after spoonful… these little treats dropped down on the paper.  All the while… I would glance up to see the beautiful work and the creation of this spectacular and delicious dessert was really simply amazing to me.   It was, for me,  another of life’s many “bigger-better-more” moments — and there really have been many.  Ironically, there’ve been so many that they really aren’t “bigger-better-more” anymore.  Instead, many what used to be to me “bigger-better-more” moments are now just met with a smile: “Of course they are.”  Or, “Of course they do… (or did or whatever).”

Someone gets a new this-or-that…  I can just smile.  No longer (hopefully/prayerfully) do I see the acquisitions or accomplishments of others as indictments against myself — and just as those things or accomplishments don’t define who they are, they also don’t define who I am not.  I am not the car I drive, the house I live in, the possessions I do or don’t own. These don’t define me — and I mustn’t let them — good or bad.  I’ve had to work at this decision to not be controlled by what others think, say or do — and especially not by the “bigger-better-more’s” of life.  I cannot compare my self or my life or my children with other’s lives or other’s children or another’s husband or whatever.  I cannot do it – not only bcz it’s a well known deep-dark spiral, but it’s also selfish and covetous — both are dangerous.

So when we’re faced with a “bigger-better-more” situation, what do we do?  Do we burn with envy? Do we stammer and make excuses for why we don’t, can’t or didn’t do, buy, make, build, etc., etc., this or that?  No… we must simply decide to acknowledge the fact as fact, rejoice with the person and admire the thing or whatever and leave it at that.  If we don’t, we’ll be consumed with envy and discontent.  And really, envy or discontent is one of the ugliest attitudes – both mentally and physically and becomes a debilitating, negative disposition.  Envy is the greatest joy stealer – it robs of today’s joy and tomorrow’s hopes and clouds everything in its wake.  What’s more, envy is opposite what God says we’re to do when we pray, when we talk to Him, when we make our requests known to Him.  Whether we seem thankful or not, God knows our hearts and really, what’s happening with others is His concern, too.  That’s just one more reason we mustn’t envy others.

And you know… most of the time, the person we think is or has “bigger-better-more” stuff really isn’t or really doesn’t have “it all together” as we assume they do.  They don’t really “have it all” like we think they do.  In fact, many times the people who seem to “have it all” or “have it all together” only have it that way on the outside — inside they may feel or be totally empty, they may feel or be very lost, alone, or aimless; inside they may be feeling a whole lot of things we’d never be able to imagine.  Worse, they may be alone without faith in the LORD.  No matter what they do or don’t have, if they don’t have Jesus, nothing else matters.  That’s why it’s so dangerous to emulate the “stars” of the world, the “fashion models” and other headliners in the news.

Things aren’t always as they seem… and as I tell my children, everything seems to have a way of settling in the end.  Things may go some way for a very long time, but in the end, things always settle.  I tell them, when their friends have this or that or can do this or that or are always so this or that: don’t fret over that, don’t murmur over that… just be you, just be the best you God created you to be – don’t worry… be happy.  Be happy for them, be happy you’re you!  Anything else is selfish and covetous.

So what happened with those dumb-three-ingredient-cookies?  Well, in addition to becoming my funny story and great equalizer, they all got eaten up right away… I made more and those disappeared, too. Her dessert was spectacular and was superb — whatever she makes is that way… and I’ve learned so very much and always look forward to whatever she’ll create next.

I’m never going to be it all or do it all or have it all… I’m never going to be thin enough or pretty enough or young-looking enough or clever enough or athletic enough or industrious enough —for what others might think, see or do — but by the grace of God, I will continue striving to be careful for nothing; but in every thing by prayer and supplication —with thanksgiving— I will be glad for wherever, or for whatever, He has for me.

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