Snow Day

The excitement has been building for days. Forecast models began showing the possibility of snow across the Gulf Coast. I have been dreaming of experiencing a really good snow since I was a little girl. I wanted White Christmas complete with sleigh bells. I wanted to build a snowman, to ride on a sled, to throw a snowball, and make snow angels. Every corny Christmas movie scene was attractive to me, and I wanted to experience it all — just once. But as the decades rolled by, I was becoming resigned to the fact that I probably would not.

MyTallerHalf (MTH) is less enthralled with snow than I am. He has seen it. He has experienced it. The sound of snow crunching under his feet sets his teeth on edge. Be sure to make the snow angel first thing, warning me by his tone that it is the last thing I should do. Apparently, they never tell you in the movies that the snow melts, and your back ends up cold and wet.

Our dog shares MTH’s sentiments. I had imagined her barking and leaping to catch snowflakes on her tongue. Instead, she did her level best to avoid any contact with them. Not everyone sees the wonder.

I have been glued to James Spann’s YouTube channel, worried about my citrus trees and the strawberries I had just planted, yet expectant. Day by day, it seemed more certain that it would snow clear down to the beaches. At first, it was half an inch, then one inch, then two. When they reported an improbable six to eight inches, the excitement was palpable.

Yesterday afternoon, it began. It started with a few flakes so small they reminded me of dandruff. I am not completely new to snow. I have seen a few flurries. I remember it snowing in Orlando in 1977. It melted when it hit the ground, but I made a tiny snowman on my mother’s car. I was in college during Snow Jam ’82. The amount of snow on campus was disappointing, but Atlanta was shut down for days. I have seen snow in Montreal when I visited a cabane à sucre with friends. A few flakes fell, and there were mounds of dirty snow frozen solid along the edges of streets and paths. No snow angels, snowmen, or snowball fights were to be had, though we did ride in a wagon pulled by a horse with sleigh bells. That was lovely.

The snow kept coming, faster and harder, with fat flakes easily seen. At first, they dusted the ground, then there were patches of white, and after a couple of hours, there was a proper blanket of snow across our yard. It was so quiet. So perfect. The snow continued to fall.

The world was not completely silent. The birds were frantic. They seemed to sense the oncoming storm and continued to chirp and to empty our feeder as the snow fell. Neighbors, young and not so young, trampled the snow in the street in front of our house. Occasionally, the silence was interrupted by sounds of conversations, laughter, or an excited shout. Some had never seen snow in their lives. Some were reminiscing of past snows. There were no traffic sounds. Everything closed for the storm.

It was still snowing when I went to bed. When I woke up in the middle of the night, it was no longer snowing, but the ground was a thick blanket of white. Inside, it was cozy and warm. Outside, our lilies were covered in snow. MTH said it looked like 4-6″, and that seems about right. It will be a cold day. The snow will not melt right away. I thought of snowmen, snowballs, and snow angels. These are things I will probably not experience in my life, but I am content.

I experienced a really good snow, in Pixley, no less, and like every good and perfect gift, I know it came from our Father. I am still smiling, and I am sure He is smiling, too.

Heaven Bound

Sean Dietrich (Sean of the South) is one of my favorite writers. Today, he shared a fan letter that asked why he talked about Heaven all the time but never about hell, so he shared a story of the DMV and an anecdote from his grandfather. It made me want to share my view and an anecdote as well. Maybe it’s because the DMV in Florida, in my experiences over the years and in many parts of the state, isn’t really a horrible place.

Hell is horrible. I don’t know if I would call it a place. The intricacies of time, space, and matter are tough enough to comprehend from an earthly perspective, but to attempt to understand it from an eternal perspective is impossible for me. I don’t know if it is a fiery pit, or if a fiery pit is the closest description that the human mind can grasp. I don’t think you can describe hell without first understanding Heaven.

In the Old Testament, people couldn’t be in the full presence of God without dying. Even when God came down to be with Moses, His full presence was hidden. God does not allow sin in His presence because His very nature will not allow it. Sin cannot exist in His glorious light. It burns away. We cannot carry a speck of it with us to Heaven. This is why we need the Savior, someone to take away our sin, someone whose act paid for our sins. Because of Jesus, we can spend eternity in the unveiled presence of Almighty God.

My Taller Half (MTH) and I talk about Heaven frequently. The prospect is getting closer every day. One way we talk about Heaven goes something like this.  When I get to Heaven, I want God to explain why X. The other will say, But when we get to Heaven, I doubt we will remember or care about X.  Or, I really want to see this truly evil person stand before God and get what is coming to him. The other will reply, But we are sinful people, too, and if not for Jesus, we would get what was coming to us. When we stand before God, we will be faced with the reality of our own sin and the price paid for them by Christ. After our sorrow, our minds and hearts will be filled to bursting with love, gratitude, and joy for His grace and mercy.

Hell is the opposite of Heaven. We cannot carry a speck of God there. It is a place where souls will be separated forever from the eternal light. Everything good will be gone. No rest. No food. No enjoyment of earthly pleasures. No kindness. No love. No amusements. No comfort of any kind. Only things that are not of God can be there. Just darkness. Emptiness. Loneliness. Anger. Bitterness. Hate. I was going to say regret, but I don’t believe there will be regret. For regret, you need to have at least an inkling of some better, brighter situation, better choices you could have made — some idea of good. Even the memory of good will be gone, because all good comes from God, and hell is complete separation from God. If hell is a literal fiery pit, the fire will shed no light nor bring any warmth — only endless burning.

Now for the anecdote. There once was a man. He was a good man in many ways — heroic, self-sacrificing, hard-working, generous, and compassionate. He had a very hard start in life by our standards, and one way he coped was to drink. When he drank, he lost the ability to control his violent emotions, and he said and did things to the people he loved that left terrible scars.

When he was in his mid-50s, the man had a serious heart attack. He nearly died, did die for a time, meaning his heart stopped while he was being treated. Once his situation was stable, his doctor told the family that if he didn’t change his ways, he would be dead within the year. His family, knowing his nature, began to consider his funeral.

But to their surprise, he did change. This is not to say he was suddenly perfect. He did not go to church before the heart attack, and he did not go after, but he stopped drinking. He stopped smoking, though he had smoked for over 40 years and failed attempts to quit many times. He stopped his brutal ways. He suddenly began to pay attention to religious television and radio, and he read his Good News for Modern Man. In his last days, decades later, a pastor visited him regularly and spoke with him about Christ, and he understood and believed.

But why the change? The man shared with his wife why things were different. During the heart attack, he had a near death experience. But the experience wasn’t of bright light and loving family members greeting him at the Pearly Gates. It was hell, and it scared the hell out of him. I don’t know if he shared any of the details with her, but he believed he was in hell or had a vision of hell, that he was hell bound, and he didn’t want to go there. On the surface, the changes were simply out of fear of death and what comes after. I believe it was grace. God offered the man favor he did not earn and answered the prayers of his wife and children in a Dickensian way.

I don’t spend a lot of time thinking of hell. I have no fear of going there, because I have God’s promise of salvation through his Son. I’d rather share the light and love of heaven than the fear of hell, though maybe some people need a vision of what hell might be. C. S. Lewis wrote a novel called, The Great Divorce. It is not about marriage or the ending of one. The title is a response to William Blake’s Marriage of Heaven and Hell. Lewis’s story is not scripture nor meant to be an authoritative commentary on heaven or hell, but there are truths to be found in his tale. It is short, it is thought provoking, and it is one of my favorite books. I highly recommend it.

Take it with you on your next trip to the DMV.

Thanksgiving

It is popular to tear down traditions. People do it with glee. There isn’t a holiday on the calendar that hasn’t been derided by some group or another. Thanksgiving is a popular target. From PETA to groups that decry the cruelty of colonialism to atheists who claim there is no One to thank, people love to tear it down. They even love to tear down the family. “A real family is made of the people you love.”

The family is God’s creation. God commands us to honor our parents. He doesn’t say to honor our parents if they deserve it. God says children are a blessing. Yes, even the ones that drive us crazy! God gifts us with our family. Sometimes He gifts us with new people, friends and neighbors, giving those who have no one a place where they are appreciated and belong. That’s a good thing. But that does not mean we can abandon father and mother, sister and brother. Yes, every family has a member or two who are difficult, perhaps even more than difficult. Some of them may be (and I am beginning to hate this catch word) toxic, and in some cases, distance can be helpful for a time. Perhaps that difficult person is you. Or me.

But God created the family. He created it for our good. He created it to be a place where people look out for each other, where the unlovely are still loved, where the unkind are shown kindness, where charity and mercy are practiced daily. Everyone loves people who are nice to them, who agree with them, who are easy and fun and supportive. Family is the training ground where we learn to love the unloveable, to forgive what seems unforgivable, and to spread God’s grace and mercy and peace to flawed humanity.

Thanksgiving is a time of gathering. We gather as friends and family. As neighbors and congregations. Thanksgiving is a time of working out differences. Of good-natured arguments over food or football. Of sharing with and caring for those in need. But mostly, Thanksgiving is a time to count our blessings and to be grateful to God for all His good gifts. And while we should be thankful every day, the food and the customs of this day connect us as a nation, connect us to past generations and to the future.

So yes, we can talk about conspicuous consumption or the value of the turkey as a main dish or pumpkin as a dessert. We can argue about politics or climate change. We can bluster about Commanders or Cowboys. But then we can bow our heads and spend a few moments thanking God for all that He as given us, to ask His blessing on those in need, on our nation, on friends and neighbors, and on the flawed people He has gathered together called our family. We can thank Him for His faithfulness when we were unfaithful, for being a Father to the fatherless, for loving us and forgiving us when we were unlovely. We can thank Him for sending His son Jesus to atone for our sins and for adopting us into His family by grace through faith.

My Taller Half and I wish you a very Happy Thanksgiving from Pixley. May the Lord bless you today and always.

Extraordinary moments

Tall Cat wanted to go outside, but when I opened the door, he stopped, looking out to see if there were any threats, looking in to see if there were any treats. I couldn’t stand there all day, so I shut the door. My Taller Half (MTH), who was busy making breakfast in the kitchen, called out “he’s only window shopping.”

By the time I turned on my computer in the office, Georgy Girl by The Seekers was playing in my head.

You’re always window-shopping
But never stopping to buy

I was just getting up to go thank MTH for the ear worm when I heard him whistling Georgy Girl from the kitchen. The song popped into his head, too, without him realizing why.

We share a common song bank from the ‘60s, ‘70s, and ‘80s. Nothing surprising. It was just a simple moment. Nothing out of the ordinary. But in that instant, we were on the same wavelength, and I felt a rush of contentment, knowing there is no one else for me, no where else I would rather be. I was home.

People are always chasing the Big Thing — important jobs, fat bank accounts, faster cars, bigger houses, monumental events, over-the-top romance. More, more, and more. But people on the whole aren’t that happy. And because they aren’t happy, they chase the Next Big Thing or turn to alcohol or drugs or some other substitute to dull the pain.

The secret is to understand that life is a gift from God. When you know Him, when you are grateful for His good gifts, your eyes are opened to the extraordinary all around you. Those who seek Him have the opportunity to find joy everywhere. Alone or in marriage. In poverty or prosperity. In perfect health or in a sick bed. You can even, like the Apostle Paul, find freedom in a prison cell.

It is a simple concept but not easy. It takes discipline to look for those ordinary extraordinary moments of joy and contentment and thank God for them. In His grace, God sends a Helper through Christ to strengthen and encourage us in our faith. The more you look for things for which to be grateful, the easier they are to find. Reach for your inner Pollyanna and find reasons to be glad.

Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you. 1 Thessalonians 5:16–18 (ESV)

This is the day that the LORD has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it. Psalm 118:24 (ESV)

Wishing you joy and contentment this day.

Grace and Gratin Dauphinois

Ascension Sunday: My Taller Half (MTH) and I had a lovely drive to church this morning. We were happy to be with our church family and to worship the King. Afterward, we did our Bigger City errands, including picking up storm supplies, then we headed back home. We still had a lot of daylight ahead of us. I had plants to tend to and Sunday dinner to make.

The day before yesterday, I found some pole beans ready for harvesting, so I picked enough for a dinner. MTH asked for some pot roast to go with the beans and potatoes. The menu was set.

Today, I made my second attempt at potatoes au gratin. This time, I took Mastering the Art of French Cooking from the shelf. Reading the recipe made me wonder if it could possibly be better than the last one. It was a simpler recipe, less rich, less cheesy. In fact, she said you don’t even need to use cheese! Inconceivable!

But au gratin doesn’t specifically mean covered with cheese. The origins are a little misty, but it seems to mean a dish that is golden brown on the top, usually from browning cheese or buttered bread crumbs or, in this case, milk. One source said that au gratin is also used to describe the “top people” in society in the same way the upper crust came to mean people of worth or high social standing.

The alleged story behind upper crust is that, in the Middle Ages, the most honored guests at a meal would be offered the top crust of the bread. If you can imagine baking in a very unreliable and potentially dirty stone oven, the bottom of the bread would be more likely to be gritty, overdone, and tough. The top would be tender. I write alleged because there apparently isn’t a lot of evidence to support this theory, though it sounds plausible. One potential bit of evidence is John Russell’s, The boke of nurture, folowyng Englondis gise, written in the mid-15th Century.

Kutt ye vpper crust for youre souerayne. (Cut youe upper crust [of bread] for your sovereign)

https://www.phrases.org.uk/meanings/upper-crust.html

The idea behind both phrases seems to be that the rich and powerful get the best food. I might argue that “peasant food” is some of the tastiest around, or even argue for the plausibility of the upper crust story, but I won’t argue French cooking with the Julia Child. Julia wouldn’t fail me, would she?

Julia’s recipe called for the dish of potatoes to be put on the burner to bring the milk up to a simmer before putting it in the oven. My Dutch oven would do that, but it was too big and deep for the potatoes. My pretty casserole dishes cannot be used on the stovetop. I was about to give up on the recipe when I realized that my largest cast iron skillet would be perfect. It can go from stovetop to oven, and the dimensions are just right. We fry bacon in it and make great pizza in it, so why not? Is there anything cast iron can’t do? Okay, it can’t go in the dishwasher, but we don’t own a dishwasher, so that is fine!

The kitchen was getting pretty hot by the time dinner was ready, and I was getting tired. MTH said the blessing, then we became quiet as we tested the results.

MTH smiled. Too good for anyone but us. MTH’s Auntie N— use to say that a lot.

Julia did not let us down. The potatoes were wonderfully creamy. They weren’t as rich as the first recipe, not as cheesy, but that wasn’t a negative. It was simply delicious. MTH said everything was perfect. He may have been buttering me up to encourage me to make it again, but I will take the compliment.

As I enjoyed the pleasure of a simple meal with my husband, I looked out the window at the gathering dusk. I love the play of light and dark between the last rays of the sun, the leaves of the trees, and the clouds in the sky. I silently thanked the Father for His grace, for this moment of contentment with my husband, and for Julia Child and her Gratin Dauphinois. Life is good.

Red Pontiac potatoes

PO-TAY-TOES

PO-TAY-TOES. Boil ’em, mash ’em, stick ’em in a stew.

Samwise Gamgee

I planned my garden long before I moved to Pixley. I spent hours reading up on the seasons here, the best things to plant and when, the best varieties of each type of plant for the area. I looked at seed catalogs the way some women look at clothing or jewelry catalogs.

I feel closer to God in a garden. It is where we all began.

The LORD God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to work it and keep it.

Genesis 2:15 (ESV)

I was anxious to have a garden again. I did not anticipate The Big Storm, or a wedding, or illness, or the pandemic, or that the prices of everything including lumber and cinder blocks would skyrocket.

Early in 2021, I planted fruit trees and bushes. In the fall of 2021, My Taller Half and I built three 4 x 4 boxes for raised beds. We planted our first crops — collards, broccoli, cabbages, carrots, and lettuce. I wanted to double the size of our garden space this spring, but the costs for constructing the raised beds were too high. I almost missed the spring planting.

I decided to plant Red Pontiac potatoes, sweet onions, shallots, Southern peas, and pole beans. I’ve grown beans in the past, but everything else was new to me. The rule here, I was told, is “plant potatoes on Valentine’s Day, eat potatoes on Mother’s Day.” I was a few days late, but I planted them. For months, I watered and weeded. I prayed in our garden. I prayed over our garden. And today, a few days after Mother’s Day, I harvested our first potatoes.

I am ridiculously happy. Isn’t it amazing? You stick little cuttings of seed potatoes in the dirt, and in three months, you have potatoes. We have several plants to harvest, and then, if it is not too late, I can plant okra, sweet potatoes, and asparagus.

We are not in a position to survive on the food we grow, but what we do grow is fresher and tastier. When we thank the Lord for the food we have grown and ask Him to bless it, we know all that went into getting it from seed to table. Growing food helps us better appreciate the hard work that others do to feed hungry people.

There was a season when I grew a garden with my kids so that they would learn. There was a season when I was too busy caring for my growing family to garden. There was a long season in the apartment when I could only grow a few herbs on the front walkway. Now, we are in a season when MTH and I can garden together.

I look forward to many more spring and fall gardens to come, God willing. I hope that one day, grandchildren will come to visit and pluck fruit off of our trees and play and learn in the garden. I know a season will come when we will no longer be able to work in the garden. I am not anxious for that season to arrive, but I believe there is a season that will follow that will never end, a new life in a new creation where we will see Him face to face. And while some imagine streets of gold, I imagine magnificent forests, crystal rivers, towering mountains, and lush gardens all filled with praise.

I don’t imagine there will be potatoes in heaven, but we can enjoy them here—mashed, roasted, hash browns, in a stew, or in Colcannon. Sam Gamgee would approve. And when you enjoy the fruits of a garden, remember to thank the One who gives us our food in due season, the One who created the color green, and potatoes.




Lilies of the Field

I came to Pixley for many reasons. One of them was peace. I craved the slower pace, the relative quiet, and freedom from traffic and the rush of the Big City. But even Pixley is not immune to stress. The remoteness makes travel more difficult. While our lower population density has been a plus through the COVID-19 pandemic, we still suffered business losses and financial woes that the rest of the country experienced. Considering Pixley started out poorer on average, and we’re still recovering from The Big Storm, it has been difficult. And when you reach a certain age, you know you’re on that fast slide down the razor blade of life (Thank you, Tom Lehrer), so prospects for financial improvement are slim. Add health problems to the mix, and I can’t say life in Pixley has been stress-free.

We lost a blueberry bush. I planted four of them last year, and suddenly, one died. This distressed me. The other three are producing, and even the blackberry bushes I planted, though small, are doing well. I hope to have a decent crop next year. I want to replace the dead blueberry bush with one that is approximately the size of the other bushes, but with gas prices what they are, we’re economizing where we can. I wanted to decorate the house with flowers for Easter, but decorations are a lower priority than food and utilities and medical bills.

I was inspecting our garden, lovingly referred to as the farm, and my eye was drawn to a splash of red. Against the back of the house, in a weedy flower bed that we haven’t tackled because we need to conquer the fire ants first, beautiful lilies were blooming. I went for a closer look, and among the weeds, I found blackberries growing wild. I took a picture of the lilies and the blackberries and brought the four fattest berries to share with My Taller Half (MTH).

And I laughed at myself. I can worry over the smallest things. While I worry about berries and flowers and feel a bit deprived that we currently have neither in abundance, God gave us beautiful lilies and sweet berries. They grew on their own, with no assistance from me, and reminded me of these words.

Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life? And why are you anxious about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? Therefore do not be anxious, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the Gentiles seek after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.

Matthew 6:25–33 (ESV)

My Taller Half and I wish you a blessed Easter.

BTW — in case you are interested, 255 days as of yesterday. (see 41 Days)