Making the Gospel Paramount

Last Sunday one of our pastors gave a fantastic sermon on Paul's suffering in prison (Philippians 1:12-18). He asked whether we knew the difference between the words "paramount" and "tantamount."

I had to think about that for a second. I knew both of those words--had probably used them in a sentence before--but I wasn't sure I really knew the subtle difference between the two.

Thankfully, he enlightened us.

Paramount means the top, the pinnacle--over and above everything else.

Tantamount means that one thing is on equal footing with another.

Then came the challenge. "Do you make the gospel paramount to everything else in your life? Or is the gospel just on par with everything else?"

*gulp*

I wondered, do I really think about advancing the gospel as much as I think about other things? (Like what's for dinner?) Do I really do everything I do in order to advance the gospel? (Like teaching my students or being a mom to my daughters?) Or do I, sometimes, just think about "God stuff" every once in a while, making it equal to or on par with the rest of my life?

I had to admit that I might be in that "tantamount" camp more often than I'd like.

Paul's thinking was that no matter what hardship he suffered, no matter what his circumstances were, it all served a gospel purpose. This is Paul who was writing from prison, folks. Our suffering should be looked at as an opportunity rather than a hinderance. "For to live is Christ," right?

Sunday's sermon really came at a good time for me because I'm heading out on a missions trip today. Sure, I'm going to an amazing place--Italy!--and that's probably what I've focused on a little more than the purpose of our trip. I'll admit, my focus has, at times, been wrong. Thankfully, I was reminded on Sunday that the reason we're going to Italy is because of the gospel and only because of the gospel.

Do you know that only about 1% of Italians consider themselves evangelical Christians? That's a really, really small number of people. Don't get me wrong--a lot of Italians go to church and consider themselves religious, but a very small number have ever heard or understood that Jesus loves them and that He gave His life for them. Many don't want to hear that their "religion" isn't enough to save them--that only a relationship with Jesus will make a difference in their lives.

We're going for them. Because Italians need Jesus, too.

Today I will get on a plane with three other leaders and thirteen high school students from my church. We will certainly laugh, eat lots of gelato, and make new friends. It's going to be a great trip. But I'm not naive enough to think it's going to be all about the gelato.

Our trip is also going to be about serving others when it's 100 degrees outside. It's going to be about overcoming language barriers. It's going to be about getting our kids to focus on the Italian kids and getting the Italian kids to focus on Jesus, maybe even for the first time. It's going to be about doing things we might not be 100% thrilled to be doing, but doing it all for the sake of the gospel.

Because the gospel is paramount.

"What then? Only that in every way, whether in pretense or in truth, Christ is proclaimed, and in that I rejoice." Philippians 1:18

[I hope to check in here a couple of times over the next couple of weeks, if even to post a picture or two, but if I don't, don't worry. I'll be suffering for serving the Lord in Italy, and I'll tell you all about it when I get back.]

Fabulous Friday Food - Mom's Grilled Flank Steak

I've said it often, and it's really true: most of what I've learned about cooking I learned from my mom.

I grew up with an amazing mom who did lots of things well, but she especially knew how to cook. Even when there wasn't a lot of money to buy expensive cuts of meat, she still made every meal special. Being together as a family, spending time laughing around the dinner table, was a priority of hers, and she made sure we all wanted to be there.

I remember when my mom got this recipe (I think it came from my Aunt Ruth) and tried it at home for the first time. We were blown away by the tenderness of the meat (even though you kind of have to help it along a little bit) and the juiciness and the FLAVOR. And since that first time, this recipe became a family staple.

I've been serving this steak to my own family forever, and they all love it. I'm guessing that this is such a tried-and-true favorite that in years to come my own daughters will be serving it to their families too.

If you've ever wondered what to do with a flank steak, wonder no more. Here's your go-to recipe!

First, just in case you're wondering what a flank steak actually looks like, it's that strange, flat piece of meat that you see at the butcher shop or in the grocery store and wonder, "What on earth do I do with THAT?"

I'll tell you what you do with it: you buy one (or, in my case, two). And you make this recipe. Because it's SO GOOD!

So, once you've bought your flank steak, take a really sharp fork and poke holes all over it on both sides.

Now, put it in a Ziplok bag. (This isn't too hard yet, is it?) (I could slow down.)

Next, make the marinade. You need sugar, salt, meat tenderizer (Adolph's), honey, soy sauce, and vinegar (I like either red wine vinegar or balsamic). Six simple ingredients that you probably already have in your pantry.

Combine all of these together in a bowl, making sure to whisk them together well so the honey and sugar don't get left behind.

Oh, and if you're making two steaks, double the marinade.

Pour the marinade over the meat . . .

. . . and let it soak in the goodness for a few hours in the fridge. You can even leave this overnight--it can only get better.

Are you with me so far? Not too taxing on the brain, is it?

Now for the grilling part. Get your grill good and hot. Oh, and you might want to get a timer for this one because in all the years I have been making this, I've learned that the timing is extremely important.

Six minutes per side. 

Not five.

Not seven.

SIX.

Isn't that beautiful?!

Now, after twelve minutes EXACTLY (six per side--I'm a math genius), take the meat inside, cover it with foil, and let it rest for another 10 minutes.

Now you can slice it. And honestly? the slicing is the hardest part of this entire recipe because you have to figure out what "against the grain" means.

See those lines in the meat in the picture above? (Not the grill marks, but the lines of the meat.) You don't want to cut along those lines, you want to cut perpendicular to those lines. (I sure hope I used that word right.)

Like this:

That way your meat will be tender and juicy and won't fall apart on you. Cut the meat into strips about 1/4 inch thick.

See how pink it is on the inside? You definitely want that. Please, for all that is good and right and true in this world, do NOT overcook this meat. (Six minutes per side, remember?) Because if you do, you will have wasted a ton of money on a piece of shoe leather. The pink is what you want. Trust me.

Now, I would have shown you a picture of the delicious meal we enjoyed with this meat a couple of weeks ago when my college friend, Colette, and her daughter were here. I think we had some roasted potatoes and asparagus--all cooked on the grill--but we were too hungry and I was too excited, so I forgot to take a picture of the final product.

Figures.

Suffice it to say that the steak was delicious. There might have even been a little bit left over for sandwiches the next day. Yum!

Looking for something different to throw on the grill this weekend? Try this flank steak. You can thank me later.

For a printable recipe, click here.

Enjoy!

Life Lessons from a Ball Park Vendor

“Happy Father’s Day, bud. I see you brought your three daughters with you today!”

His thick Chicago accent made me smile right away, but his flattery won me over.

It was a perfect Father’s Day storm: beautiful evening, everyone home (minus the one who’s away for the summer), and free tickets (5^th row!) to the Cubs game. So we rode that storm right into the city, bought our hot dogs, and headed to our seats.

“How many daughters do you have?” He sounded a little bit sorry when my husband told him three. And no sons.

“Aw, man, I have one—she’s eight—and she’s bustin’ my chops already. I don’t know how you do it, man.”

My husband smiled. The knowing smile of a DODO (Dad of Daughters Only) who’s almost on the other side of things. The smile of a dad who was just about to sit for a couple of hours with his almost-grown girls and enjoy a game.

We laughed about how quickly girls grow up these days; I warned him that the roller coaster was just about to begin. We bought our drinks and started to walk away.

“Well, bud, you enjoy the game now! Here, let me help you with those lids. There you go! Have fun now.”

B slipped him a small tip—dads of daughters gotta take care of each other, you know.

“Thanks, man. Thanks a lot! I really appreciate it.”

We headed to our seats, but something about that vendor stayed with me throughout the game. I kept thinking about his cheerful greeting, his kindness, the way he took time to talk to us about his daughter and to compliment B on his. The guy was clearly enjoying his night and made it his mission to make sure everyone else enjoyed theirs too.

Then I realized something. It was Father’s Day. He had kids—he had told us that much. But rather than complain about how all these dads at the ballpark were getting to spend time with their kids while he had to work, he just smiled and made sure that everyone around him was having fun.

Here was a guy who spread goodwill. Here was a guy who spread joy. Here was a guy who looked out for the interests of others. And as a result, our experience at the game was that much more fun.

I learned something from that vendor that I hope I won’t soon forget: it’s not that hard to make other people’s lives a little easier. All you have to do is take your eyes off of yourself and spread a little kindness. Wherever you happen to be.

If a ball park vendor can do it, so can I.

Good Reads

There's just so much good reading out there that I have to share the love.

My Very Favorite Summer Desserts :: Pioneer Woman. Because who doesn't like a good summer dessert?

Minnie's Chocolate Pie from The Help :: My Heart's Desire. Speaking of great desserts, Julia made this last week and I gotta say, we looked just like Hillie as we ate the pie straight from the dish. Oh my word, this is so GOOD!

The Big Fat Chicago Post :: Enjoying the Small Things. Kelle Hampton perfectly captures what I so love about this city. If you've never been here, you'll be booking a flight after reading this one.

On Motherhood, Joy, and the Gospel :: Lisa Writes. Yes. THIS is why we do what we do.

My Ear: A Path of Perseverance :: Lysa TerKeurst. I have such respect for Lysa for many reasons (ask me sometime; I'll tell you), but here's one more.

Father On :: We are THAT Family. How to encourage your guy to keep being a great dad.

And speaking of great dads . . .

I was raised by one, and I'm so thankful.

Today I live with one, and I'm so thankful.

Happy Father's Day to two of the best dads I know. You have blessed me so much.

For the Love of England - Part 3

Falling in love is a funny thing; one minute you think one thing is the ABSOLUTE BEST about the person (or in my case, the place) you love, and the next minute you notice something else that is even better. And thus it goes. Love building, growing. For me, back in the summer of 1984, falling in love with England happened immediately and gradually--both at the same time.

I immediately loved the sidewalks. Large flagstones set into concrete. Fancy. Proper. Not just plain, nondescript concrete like you have here. No, these are intentionally pretty sidewalks.

I immediately loved the architecture. History just there for the taking. Everywhere.

I immediately loved the accessibility to art and theatre and music. All of England appreciates the arts.

But much of my love affair with England happened gradually on that first trip as we drove from location to location, town to town, the landscape unfolding before me.

Oh my, the landscape.

I had grown up in the flatlands--the Midwestern plains of Illinois where all you can see for miles is row after row after row of cornstalks waving in the breeze, only broken up by the occasional farmhouse. To see lush greenery and softly rolling hillsides bordered by ancient stone fences (Who put those stones there anyway? What were their lives like?) was inspiring to say the least, life-changing to say the most.

The landscape of England is brilliantly varied, and I've had the privilege of seeing much of it--from the stark, white cliffs of Dover to the jagged fells of the Lake District. All of it beautiful, whether in full sunlight or underneath grey clouds. God has definitely kissed the green fields of England.

I recall one day, on that first trip of mine, as we were riding in our coach (English word for bus) through a particularly gorgeous part of the country. I stared out the window--green hills dotted with small stone cottages and fields of sheep--overcome by the beauty.

I knew deep within me that I would be back someday--I HAD to be back someday--with someone I loved. I got up out of my seat and walked to the front of the bus to talk to the driver. "Where are we right now?" I asked. He said something quickly that I did not understand.

(Note: I have since realized something about the English language. Even though we technically speak the same language as those in the U.K., there is a bit of a delay in understanding exactly what some people--particularly those from the North--are saying. It's like there's a two or three second delay between their speaking and my comprehending. This is especially true in Scotland where, for me, the delay is more like six minutes.)

So I didn't quite get what the driver had said. I asked him to repeat it. He again mumbled something that I took to mean "Darbuhshr."

I went back to my seat and checked my map but couldn't find a single place in England that even remotely looked like "Darbuhshr." There was a county called "Derbyshire" which, in my Midwestern twang comes out sounding pretty much like it's spelled: "Derby Shire." (I later found out that what I would call "Derby Shire" is actually pronounced sort of like "Darbuhshr." But without the hard "r" sound.)

Whatever. I just knew that somehow, some way, I would have to make my way back to that part of the country. A rolling, green-hilled county somewhere in the middle of England. The most beautiful place that I had ever seen in my 20 years of life, and for that matter, one of the most beautiful I have ever seen to this day.

Fast forward 26 years. I finally made it back to Derbyshire.

And I got to share it with someone I love.

Tell me, where is a place you would share with someone you love if you could?

Status Report - June

Hello! Yes, it’s been a while. Life has gotten in the way of blogging, as it should be. And since I appear to have lost every molecule of creativity lately, I’m borrowing this “Status Report” format from my long-time blogging friend, Lisa. I’ve always liked how she does this, and I’m hoping that maybe by just writing I can kick-start my blog again. Hang in there with me, will you?

* * * * *

Sitting . . . on my back porch enjoying early morning sounds of squawking squirrels and singing birds.

Loving . . . the summertime weather and lack of humidity we’ve had lately. Perfection!

Drinking . . . coffee. Strong and black. Much-needed.

Recovering . . . from a late-night wedding last night of the daughter of some friends in our small group. Laughter and dancing and so much fun!

Thinking . . . about the week ahead. Lots to do, as always, but not as much as in the past few weeks. Thankful for the respite this morning.

Remembering . . . the wonderfully blessed times we’ve had over the past two weeks: two graduations, one huge party, ten house guests (at various times), countless meals.

Reminiscing . . . with my college friend, Colette, who stayed with me last week, about our trip to England together in 1984. Her daughter is staying here for two weeks before she takes off on the same trip. So excited for her!

Preparing . . . for my trip to Italy at the end of the month. I’ll have more on that soon.

Missing . . . Kate. She’s taking classes and counseling at a camp this summer. Gone for almost a month already, and I need a hug.

Dreading . . . Wednesday. Wisdom teeth extraction. Yes, that’s right, I’ve finally been forced to have them removed. People can’t believe that someone my age (read: “this old”) would a) still have all of their wisdom teeth and b) have to have them removed. Prayers appreciated.

So there you go. A mini-update that gives you just a sense of what I’ve been doing these past couple of weeks. I’m hoping that this week will allow me the space to write a little more. Stay tuned . . .

How about you? What have YOU been up to?

Fabulous Friday Food {guest post} - Julia's Soft Pretzels

Today I want to welcome a very special guest blogger--my daughter, Julia. Julia is a fantastic baker. She started playing around in the kitchen a few years ago, and now, at the age of 14, Julia can do pretty much anything she sets her mind to. Which brings us to her recipe for today.

The first time Julia made these soft pretzels was, as she says below, on Superbowl Sunday this year. I had been on a retreat all weekend and walked in the door exhausted. As soon as I stepped inside our house I smelled yeast dough. I couldn't believe it! My daughter had experimented with yeast, and I wasn't even around to help her with it.

To the surprise and delight of everyone in this house, Julia's pretzels were amazing. Chewy on the outside; soft and delicious on the inside. I'm not kidding when I say that these are so delicious. Why not have your own kid try them today? ;)

Everyone, meet Julia.

I love to bake. There’s something that’s very satisfying when some soft dough turns into bread, or when smooth batter turns into cake. It’s amazing! It’s science at its best. So, this year for Superbowl Sunday, I decided to bake up a classic snack food: soft pretzels. I used Alton Brown’s recipe, but tweaked it just a tiny bit. The result was delicious, beautiful soft pretzels that are so easy, a fourteen-year-old can do it! My family loves them so much, I have made them twice since. I’m sure you’ll love them too!

First you want to make the dough. Start by combining 1 ½ cups of warm water, one tablespoon of sugar, two teaspoons of kosher salt, and one package of active dry yeast in the bowl of a standing mixer.

                  Let it sit for about five minutes, or until it begins to foam.

                  Next, add 4 ½ cups of bread flour (you can use all-purpose flour, but bread flour makes it softer) and four tablespoons of melted butter to the mixture. Combine it with a bread hook for about five minutes. You have your dough!

                  Now cover the dough and allow it to rise for one to two hours, or until it has doubled in size. This step is difficult for me because I am not a very patient girl!

After it has risen, preheat the oven to 425 degrees F. Line two sheet pans with parchment paper and either spray with Pam (the easy way) or brush with vegetable oil (the right way). I use Pam. Now put about ten cups of water into a large saucepan. Add 2/3 of a cup of baking soda and bring to a rolling boil. Yes, 2/3 of a cup. I know that’s a crazy amount of baking soda, but that’s what makes these pretzels taste like pretzels, not just bread. The water should look like this:

                  While this is happening, separate your dough into little balls, depending on how many pretzels you want. Roll them out into a rope, and make them into a pretzel shape! Now put the pretzels in one by one into the water for about thirty seconds.

                  This seems to take forever, so I took a stool over to my stovetop!

(Isn't she just the cutest thing?!)

                  After all of them have been boiled, brush them with a simple egg wash, just one egg yolk plus one tablespoon of water. Cover them all with a pastry brush. This gives them that golden brown color. Sprinkle with kosher salt, and they’re ready to bake!

They bake for about twelve to fourteen minutes. When they come out, they look like this:

                  These pretzels are a delicious snack perfect for parties and more. They are easy to make and so tasty! I highly recommend them. 

So there you have it: Julia's (via Alton Brown) soft pretzels. I call that Pretzel Perfection. Enjoy!

Checking In

Hey there!

The past week has been, shall we say, slightly busy?

Oh, heck, the past month has been nuts. What with finishing up classes, getting one kid home from college and then off for the summer, hosting one college friend for a few days, getting another kid graduated from high school and having her party last weekend, having most of our families here for graduation, and getting ready for more friends next week (woot!), there is blessedly little time to blog.

Which is O.K. because I highly subscribe to the philosophy that life is to be lived. Writing about it is great, too, don't get me wrong, but sometimes I just have to live it.

And that's what I've been doing.

But don't fear . . . I've got a GREAT guest-food-post coming tomorrow. You won't want to miss this one! And another addition to my England series. And lots more updates to come.

But for now, I've got some more living to do.

See you soon!

Fabulous Friday Food {Memorial Day Edition} - Blue Cheese Potato Salad

Well, friends, it's Memorial Day weekend, which for a lot of us means firing up the grill and having a good, old-fashioned cookout. It's supposed to be hot here this weekend, so I know we'll be cooking outside as much as we can.

For us this weekend, it's not just Memorial Day. This weekend is high school graduation, so we're hosting family and friends and celebrating together all weekend. It's going to be great!

Despite the craziness that will surely be happening around our house this weekend ("You, go get the tables and chairs." "You, pick up the balloons." "You. Ice. Now."), I'm still cooking just a bit. These people have to be fed, you know!

(And, my readers, you didn't think I'd leave you high and dry on a Friday, did you?)

One thing we will be eating this weekend is my famous Blue Cheese Potato Salad which is one of my husband's favorites. Oh. my. word. this is heaven on a plate. If you like potato salad and you like blue cheese (and really, who doesn't?) you have to give this recipe a try. It will be a perfect compliment to your brats or burgers or whatever you throw on the grill this weekend.

First, make your sauce by combining the mayo, sour cream, vinegar, celery seed, parsley, salt, and pepper in a bowl.

Set that aside while you cook, cool, and dice 2 1/2 pounds of red potatoes. (I leave the skins on because I like them that way, but you can peel them if you want to.)

Next, you'll need the potatoes, celery, green onion, bacon, and blue cheese. My mouth is watering just thinking about this.

Combine the potatoes, green onion, celery in a bowl.

Toss these together gently, then pour the sauce over and combine. Gently. Those potatoes will break up if you're not careful.

Add the bacon and the blue cheese, and voila! The best darn potato salad that ever ticked your tastebuds.

I'm not kidding. You think I'm kidding, but when you try this recipe you will see that I absolutely am not.

I like to make this up ahead of time and refrigerate it for a few hours to let the flavors combine. 

So there you go. A new recipe to add to your Memorial Day feast. It really isn't hard to make and is SO worth the effort. You sure won't get a potato salad that tasty from behind the deli counter.

For a printable recipe, click here.

Now tell me, what will be on your Memorial Day cookout menu?

For the Love of England - Part 2

So there I stood, cheese sandwich in hand, on a street in London. LONDON!!

You guys (that’s Midwestern for “y’all”), I grew up in the cornfields of Illinois. Occasionally my parents would take us to Chicago where I visited beautiful museums and a handful of old buildings, but as I looked around me, seeing London for the first time, I realized that I had never really seen anything old.

My country was a baby compared to England. A mere 200 years old compared to her thousand or so (give or take a few hundred) years. The buildings and museums I had visited in Chicago would be considered “modern” in England.

Granted, Chicago was nearly completely burned to the ground in the Great Chicago Fire of 1871, so pretty much everything here has been rebuilt since then. So you’ve got to give Chicago a bit of a break for that. Chicago truly is a beautiful, modern city.

But still, I had never seen anything like these buildings.

Very quickly I fell in love with the sense of history and the preservation of it. It became clear to me on that first visit and has been impressed upon me every time I’ve gone back, that people in the U.K. clearly love their history and their buildings and monuments.

And why not?

These are some of the most beautiful buildings I’ve ever seen. Not to mention all the crazy goings on that have taken place in them!

Tower Bridge (NOT London Bridge—that’s the next bridge down)

Hampton Court (King Henry VIII’s home—sure would love to have been a fly on the wall back then!)

(tee hee! I just noticed that my sister is in the corner of this picture. Hey, Jenn!) 

Edinburgh Castle (O.K., technically not England, but definitely in the U.K. and definitely old and mysterious)

The hallowed halls of Oxford

Not to mention the old homes and pubs you see on every single street

The sense of history and of preservation in England is truly amazing to me. It sparks my imagination and gives me a great appreciation for the people who have seen fit to carry on this legacy.

Last week you told me one place you love to visit, now tell me: what do you love about where you live?

For the Love of England

The very first meal I ate on British soil came from a food cart near a sidewalk on a busy street in London. The man who sold it to me (30 pence!) wore a newspaperman’s cap and got impatient with me when I couldn’t figure out the coins.

Nothing fancy, nothing exotic. Just a slice of cheddar cheese squished between two slices of white bread with maybe a little butter on it, but I’ll let you in on a little secret: it was the best sandwich I’ve ever eaten.

I was a 21-year-old college student, far away from my family for the first time and had just flown across the Atlantic with the group from my college with whom I’d be studying and sharing the summer. First stop: London.

My roommate and I dropped our bags in our hotel room, grabbed the girls from across the hall, and headed out to explore. None of us had been in London before, and none of us had any clue where we were going, but, armed with a few pounds in our pockets and an insatiable sense of independence, we ventured forth.

To the sandwich cart on the street below.

And that’s pretty much where our independent adventure ended for the day because as we were munching on white bread sandwiches, jet lag hit us right between the eyes and none of us could walk a step further.

But in that moment, sun streaming down on us (confusing me even further because isn’t London supposed to be rainy?), I fell in love. And this has been a love story that has spanned nearly three decades and six visits (and counting!).

I’m not sure I’d consider myself an Anglophile. I know some things about the United Kingdom, but not as much as a true Anglophile would. I’ve visited a few times and have a pretty good understanding of how to get around, even while driving on the left-hand side of the road. But I’m often overcome by how much I don’t know about England and how much I’d still like to know. So I don’t call myself an Anglophile (too often, anyway).

What I do know is this: a long time ago I visited a place that captured my heart. A place that I have shared with many and still wish to share with others. A place that is as calming and as beautiful and as soul-saddening as any I’ve ever visited. A place that calls my name every year about this time.

I’d like to share a little bit of my love for that place with you over the next few weeks in a series I’m calling “For the Love of England.” I hope you’ll come along as I explain why I love that place and why I keep going back. Maybe you'll fall in love too!

In the meantime, tell me . . . is there a place that has gotten under your skin? Where is it and why do you love it? Share in the comments!

Unexpected Blessings (Part 2) - How we chose our Compassion child

Y'all! This is so weird! I was totally going to add some of my own photos to this post, but after I took the pictures and then took the memory card out of my camera and then walked upstairs, I somehow LOST the memory card! Go figure! If I ever find it again, I'll put the pictures up. But for now, I need to finish my story.

So, after the women's retreat when I received an unexpected check, I decided I would sponsor a Compassion child. My motives, as you now already know, aren't always that stellar. I mean, Nordstrom almost won out over Compassion.

And now I have to confess something else: sponsoring a child through Compassion was also somewhat of an experiment. See, my husband had signed up to sponsor a child through another agency a couple of years earlier. It's been fine, and we still sponsor her today, but the communication we've received from that other agency hasn't been great. I'd call it spotty at best.

So my curiosity got the best of me, and I started to wonder, after following several Compassion blogger trips over the years, if Compassion would be any different. How would their communication compare to the communication we'd been receiving from the other group? And that's why I decided on Compassion.

Not the best motivation, I know. Pitting one Christian agency against another. Who do I think I am?

But on to my story of how I chose my Compassion child. . . .

It was just a random day, really. Julia had just gotten home from school, and I must have had the Compassion website pulled up on my computer. I knew I needed to commit to sponsoring a child soon or else the pull of Nordstrom might become too strong.

So there we were, sitting in my kitchen, me on my laptop, Julia with her hand in the cookie jar, literally.  I told her what I was doing and, already feeling like I wanted to sponsor a child from Africa, I said to her, "So Julia, where should we sponsor a child from?" (Please excuse the poor grammar--school is finished for me.)

Julia thought for a second and said, "I think Africa."

My sentiments exactly.

"So where in Africa, do you think?"

"I know, Mom! How about Ethiopia? K is from Ethiopia."

K is one of Julia's dearest friends who lives on our street. The girls have gone through elementary and middle school together and will be headed to high school together next year. K is one of the sweetest, smiliest, most endearing kids I know, and she was adopted from Ethiopia.

So Ethiopia it was. In honor of K.

We have sponsored Melat for a little over a year now, and I have to say that I have received more letters from her already than we have from the other child we sponsor through another agency. And you know what? I have written more letters to Melat than to the other girl too. I love writing to her!

Melat is about five years old now. She lives in a city in Ethiopia in a house made of mud and corrugated iron sheeting. She likes to play with her siblings and to draw pictures. In every letter she says, "Please pray for God's protection over me."

Do you know how that breaks my heart?

When my children were five, they never, I am certain, gave a single thought to their own safety. I am sure that they never thought to pray for their own protection.

I wonder sometimes what Melat has seen. What she experiences on a day-to-day basis. I wonder how she's getting by. I wonder if she's safe. I wonder what her street in Ethiopia looks like and if her mother loves her. I wonder so much about her.

I'm sure she wonders about me, too. She probably wonders who this American woman is--the woman who sent her a picture of her family. She probably wonders what my life is like and what my street looks like. I'm pretty sure it's vastly different from hers.

So, in the end, I randomly chose to sponsor a Compassion child because I was curious about Compassion as an organization. I randomly chose a country based on someone we knew. I randomly sat down one day and clicked a few keys on my computer and suddenly sponsored a little girl.

And you know what? I'm the one who has been blessed. Blessed to know that one less child in the world will go to bed hungry. Blessed to know that Melat knows that someone halfway across the world cares for her. Blessed to be a part of something much bigger than myself.

Won't you choose blessing today, too? Please sponsor a child through Compassion. You can be sure that your money will be well-used to bring a new life to those who need it most. Simply click on the picture at the top of this post, and you'll be whisked away to Compassion and children who need sponsors (lots of them!) and blessing.

And finally, please check out the Compassion bloggers posts. (Nester's post from yesterday--oh my!) You will be so blessed by reading their posts and experiencing just a little of what they're experiencing.

Unexpected Blessings

What do you do with unexpected money?

I know, I know, “unexpected” and “money” don’t usually belong in the same sentence. But every once in a while it happens. Money we weren’t expecting just “happens” to find its way to us.

My first inclination, should money just “happen” to float in my direction, would be to head straight to Nordstrom and spread the wealth. (I usually have a pretty long Nordstrom wish list going on in my head.)

Hardly ever do I think about giving it away. Giving is my husband’s spiritual gift, not mine.

A couple of years ago I came into some unexpected money after speaking at a women’s retreat. I was thrilled to be asked to speak at this retreat and, being new to the speaking thing, I did not give any thought to getting paid. But when the event ended, the woman in charge handed me an envelope. With a check in it! A check that I did not expect.

I thought about that check while I drove home from the retreat. The fun I could have with that money! I must have spent it a dozen different ways in the short time it took me to drive home.

But somewhere between here and there, God started to nudge me: Shelly, what could you do with that money that you weren’t expecting?

Well, Lord, there’s this really cute pair of shoes . . .

No, not shoes.

How about a coat? It’s getting colder and my winter coat is looking pretty ratty.

No, not a coat.

What then?

What if you gave it away?

Before I got home, I had realized a few things. One: I wasn’t expecting the money. Two: the money wasn’t really mine in the first place. Three: I could experience lasting joy by giving it away, rather than spending it on shoes that I probably wouldn’t be wearing today.

By the time I pulled into my driveway I had made a decision: I would sponsor a Compassion child for one year with the money I received from the women’s retreat.

I’ll continue my story tomorrow, but for now, I want you to know that several bloggers, including my friend Maggie/Gussy who saved me a seat on a Southwest flight one time, are in Tanzania with Compassion this week. You can check out their posts here.

And if you have found some money that you weren’t expecting, why don’t you consider sponsoring a child, too? You can sponsor a child by clicking on the picture above.

So tell me. Have you ever found unexpected money? What did you do with it? (Don't be ashamed to share--like I said, I'd normally go shopping!) Leave me a comment and let me know.

Fabulous Friday Food - Tomato and Goat Cheese Tarts

Isn't Ina Garten fabulous? Doesn't everything she makes turn out wonderful? Isn't she just too cute?

You don't have to answer those questions. Those are what you'd call rhetorical. But just in case you were wondering, I really do think Ina's pretty great.

And her food. Oh my! Her food!

I've featured a few other Ina recipes here before--if you haven't tried one, you should because they are delicious. Today, however, I think I've reached Ina Garten heaven. THIS has got to be one of my favorite Ina recipes EVER. I made these the first time a few weeks ago, and I loved them so much that I made them again . . . the same week!

Tomato and Goat Cheese Tarts are going to be a go-to recipe for me this summer, I can tell you that already. My family will be sick of them by the end of June, I'm sure (but that's O.K. because I'm getting out of here at the end of June).

So, with that overblown intro, let's get cooking.

Assemble your ingredients: Puff pastry, olive oil, onion, white wine, fresh thyme, salt and pepper, freshly grated parmesan, garlic and herb goat cheese, tomatoes, and fresh basil. (I know it sounds like a lot of ingredients, but they go together perfectly.)

First, you need to caramelize your onion. (I would show you how to do that, but I forgot to take pictures.) Caramelizing onions takes a while if you want to get it right. And you do. Want to get it right.  Basically, put some olive oil in a saute pan over medium to low heat and add the onions and garlic. Saute the onions for 15-20 minutes, until they are nicely brown (but not burned!) and delicious. Add a splash of wine, the thyme leaves, and a sprinkling of salt and pepper, and cook for a few more minutes.

While the onions are cooking, prepare your puff pastry (make sure you thaw it first). Now, Ina says to make larger circles than this, but I decided to use a biscuit cutter to make individual little tarts. They're cute, no?

Once your puff pastry is ready, place the circles on a parchment-lined baking sheet (do as I SAY, not as I DO--don't you know that yet?--see below).

Once the onions are ready, all you have to do is assemble your tarts. They go like this:

- pastry
- parmesan
- onions
- goat cheese
- tomato slice
- basil
- more parmesan

Here you can kind of see the progression of things from the front row to the back.

Now put the tarts in the oven and bake for 20-25 minutes until the pastry looks golden brown.

Place on what? A pretty plate, and serve warm.

Now you're in Ina Garten heaven. Enjoy!

For the full recipe, click here.

Now tell me, what are YOU cooking this weekend? (I'd really like to know because I am fairly well out of ideas these days.)

"Quick" Update

I've been missing you, dear readers, so I thought I'd give you a quick update on where I've been lately and what I've been doing. I never seem to be able to write anything quickly, so we'll see if this ends up being "quick" or not.

1. Birthday season. From late January to the end of April is not just hockey season, it's birthday season around here. All five of us have birthdays within a couple of months, so it's a little crazy baking cakes, hanging crepe paper, and buying gifts.

2. School. Last Friday was the last day of classes, so I picked up a little light reading.

3. Grading. (See above.) Those puppies need to be graded this week, and since it takes me nearly 30 minutes each, this could take some time.

4. Not writing. (See #2 above.)

5. Saying goodbye. College students are leaving, so we had a couple fifteen or so over for one last dinner last weekend. That has to be one of my favorite things to do.

6. Thinking about graduation. This year we have two graduations--one from high school and one from middle school. This means planning and dress-buying. These things take time.

7. Getting ready. . . for guests, that is. Over the next few weeks our home will be filled with family and friends--just the way I like it. It's going to be a busy time, but so much fun to have people in and out.

8. Getting together . . . with friends. Last week I went into the city to spend a day with Glenda, and it was what I'd consider one of my perfect days in the city: lunch at Julius Meinl Cafe, a walk around a cool neighborhood, a trip to Vintage Pine, and a stroll through the Lincoln Park Whole Foods--all with a great person! In the coming weeks I have many other fun get-togethers planned with friends.

9. Nominating. Have you ever served on a nominating committee at your church? If you have, you know what I've been up against since January. Almost done.

10. Planning. Have I mentioned that I'm going on a missions trip this summer? We leave in nine weeks. Wait. What? Nine weeks?! How can that be? Oh dear.

So there. Just ten things I've been doing lately. I'm sorry I'm not around here as much as I'd like to be, but it just can't be helped right now. I'll get back here as soon as I can think again, which will be soon, because this pile?

will soon become this pile.

Those grades WILL be posted and summer WILL begin. Soon!

Shaklee Basic H winners

Well, the odds were certainly in your favor on this one!

Winners of the Shaklee Basic H giveaway are:

Glenda

Erin

Julie

Congratulations, girls! I'll be in touch so you can claim your prize.

Come back later this week because I'll have another fun giveaway for you!

Fabulous Friday Food - Banana Streusel Muffins

I can't believe I haven't shared a muffin recipe with you yet. I love making muffins--so easy!

I especially love eating muffins--they're kind of like your own personal cake, except healthier.

At least I tell myself they're healthier--they have fruit in them, right? One can dream.

For these muffins, I simply searched around on the internet and found a recipe that looked like a good start. But, of course, it's me; I had to tweak the recipe just a bit. And one of my tweaks was adding whole wheat flour. Yea for healthy muffins!

So if you've got some bananas hanging around that are threatening to turn brown pretty soon, grab them, smash them up and get baking.

Here we go!

Basically, muffins take three bowls: a big, daddy-size bowl for dry ingredients; a medium, mama-size bowl for wet ingredients; and a small, baby bowl for the topping.

After you've mixed your dry ingredients (flour, sugar, baking powder, salt, baking soda, and cinnamon) in one bowl and your wet ingredients (eggs, sour cream, melted butter, mushed bananas) in another, you just combine them.

Wet ingredients into dry, please.

Voila! Batter!

True confessions time: I only wanted to make muffins because Julia and I recently found these adorable muffin papers at Sur Le Table (LOVE!).

Aren't they the cutest?!

Of course, I don't need much of an excuse to bake. Excuses galore needed to exercise, but baking? Never!

I digress . . .

Now make your streusel. It's not hard. Just remember to combine the flour, sugar, and cinnamon first, then cut in the butter using either two knives or a pastry blender (my preferred method).

Now sprinkle the streusel on top of the batter in the muffin papers.

Another true confession: I doubled the streusel from the recipe I found on the internet. I like a lot of streusel! Don't worry, I doubled it on my recipe, so you won't have to.

Now you're ready to pop them in the oven. Pop! (Side annoyance: I've already written about how I kinda dislike Sandra Lee. She's the one who always says, "Pop! them in the oven" all perky-like. Ugh.)

See? Plenty o' streusel.

Bake these puppies for 20-25 minutes in a 375 degree oven and here you go . . . banana deliciousness.

Another side note: don't you love my cake stand?

I got it last year when I was in New York at a store we stumbled upon one evening called Fishs Eddy. Such a cool store! I was so happy to find this cake stand because the stand comes apart from the plate, making it easier to store in my cupboard. Plus, every time I use it I remember the fun times I had with those sweet girls in NYC.

These muffins turned out great! Not too sweet, and just the right consistency. Give them a try this weekend.

You can find the printable recipe here.

And also, if you paid veeerrry close attention to this post you got a bonus recipe. Did you find it? :)

Tell me, what's your favorite kind of muffin?

Shaklee Basic H {giveaway!}

I’m known for my killer cinnamon rolls. I can decorate my house fairly well most of the time. I love doing those things. I could spend all my days just cooking and decorating and doddling about my house.

But there are certain household tasks that I just don’t like. Laundry, for one. After many, many years of doing laundry for five people (that number is getting lower these days, thank goodness!), I find that chore to be sheer drudgery.

And cleaning. I’ve never been very good at it. Probably because I try to rush through the job so I can get to the chores I prefer.

My friend, Harper, recently told me about a product that can save me time in the areas that I don’t particularly like to do around the house: Basic H by Shaklee. This stuff is amazing! You can clean everything in your home with it, including mirrors and windows. You can use it for bubble bath and to wash your car!

Basic H was formulated over 50 years ago, and the formula still works. People have found thousands of uses for Basic H over the years, and I’m sure the uses just keep coming. Best of all, it’s safe for your children, pets, and the environment. Just use a small amount of Basic H diluted in water (the amount depends on what you’ll be using it for), and you’re good to go!

This week Harper is giving away three bottles of Basic H to my readers—isn’t that cool?! (You can learn more about Basic H by clicking here.) Three separate individuals who don’t already use Shaklee products (sorry, current members are not eligible) will win a bottle of Basic H AND a lifetime membership to Harper’s Shaklee store. That way you can stock up on all of the other great products Shaklee offers.

All you have to do is head over to Harper’s website, check out the products she offers, and come back and tell me which products you find interesting and leave a comment below. Make sure I have your email address so I can contact you if you win!

Three random winners will be chosen on Sunday night and will be announced on Monday morning.

Let the (easy) cleaning begin!!

To Work? Or Not to Work?

I’m sorry, but I have to weigh in on Hilary Rosen’s comment about Ann Romney. It has touched a nerve with me and, hey, why have a blog if one can’t use it as a platform every now and then?

*****

I get it. Maybe that’s not what she meant, but it sure is what she said.

“She hasn’t worked a day in her life.”

It may have been a commentary on Ann Romney’s lack of experience in the field of economics, but still, the comment packed a punch.

Why? Why would that statement create such a firestorm among women and men, liberals and conservatives? Why is this issue of stay-at-home moms so electrifying?

Because the decision to stay at home with our children or to spend time working outside the home is an intensely personal decision, and when someone makes a comment, even a seemingly innocent one, that attacks that personal decision, it hurts. Deeply.

There are a thousand different ways I could go with this blog post, but I only want to say this, especially to my many friends who are just now learning to navigate the tricky waters of motherhood and working and family life: there is no right or wrong way to work out your own family.

Don’t misunderstand me: there are rights and wrongs in this world—the Bible makes it very clear on those issues. And the Bible gives us definite guidelines for our families.

But we Christians—and I am speaking to those of us who claim Christianity right now—sometimes put some extra parameters to those guidelines set forth in the Bible.  It’s like we want to add an 11^th commandment: “your family shall look just like mine.”

In my lifetime I have heard things like, “You really should have more than X number of kids.” Or “You really should only have two children, then stop having kids.” Or “If you don’t breastfeed your children you’re not doing what’s best for them.” Or “If you don’t send your children to [insert type of school here] school you’re not doing the most you can do for your kids.”

And it goes on and on. The judging.

I’m guilty of it too. It’s something I pray about regularly.

But truly, I believe this, there is no right or wrong way to work out your family. If there were, God would have told us exactly how to do it. But he left some things intentionally hazy, probably so we could learn a thing or two about ourselves and about Him while we were working out how to do family life.

In the 20-plus years that I’ve been a mother I have . . .

-       stayed home full time.

-       worked outside the home part-time.

-       worked from home.

-       volunteered, a lot.

-       thought that having two kids was just perfect.

-       changed my mind about two kids.

-       wondered what kind of mom I’d be to four kids (probably not that great).

-       breastfed my baby (only one, and not for long).

-       bottle-fed, happily.

-       allowed my children to eat junk food.

-       gave them vegetables occasionally.

-       put my kids in preschool.

-       put my kids in regular school.

-       wondered if I’m doing any of this right.

My list probably looks very different from your list. And you know what? That’s O.K.!

What’s wrong is for anyone to look down on your list or mine for the choices we’ve made. And that’s my beef with Hilary Rosen. There’s just too much second-guessing the choices we women make in our lives, and Hilary Rosen simply added fuel to the judgmental fire.

Last week I talked with a friend who will be leaving for the mission field soon. She and her husband and two sons will be living in a place with one of the highest costs of living in the world (I can’t imagine having to raise the kind of support they are trying to raise!). To help supplement their income, my friend has applied for a job, but she told me she’s worried about her two young sons. Will they be O.K. if she works? (Her husband will be available to spend time with the youngest each afternoon.) What will people think?

I told her this: “There is no right or wrong here. Pray, and God will make it clear what you need to do.”

Friends, we need to release ourselves and each other from our own pre-conceived ideas of what’s right and wrong for our families.

-  Whether a mom works outside the home or chooses to stay home full time for 25 years is not a right or wrong issue.

-  Whether a family chooses to have two children or twenty is not a right or wrong issue.  

-  Whether the father stays home with the kids while the mom goes to work is not a right or wrong issue.

God is ultimately in control of our families. Let’s let Him decide how they should look. Seek Him, look to His approval, and focus on His ultimate glory and I promise you, your family will be blessed.

O.K., spill it. I'd love to know your thoughts. Leave me a comment! 

Good Friday

We had had a bad week.

Well, I can’t speak for him, but I had had a bad week, and it culminated, as it usually does, in us taking it all out on each other.

The busyness. The frustrations. The obstacles. The fears.

They all came crashing to a head, and I broke under the weight of it.

I’m not pleased nor proud that this is my pattern, but it is. The pattern of the everyday. The pattern of the worn out, the weary. The pattern of the sinner.

I stumbled, feeling every frayed edge of the day, into the Good Friday service, not feeling it, not wanting it, and not expecting it. It was supposed to be a time of reflection.

Oh, I had reflected alright. Reflected on hurt. Reflected on anger. Reflected on injustice.

Reflected on me rather than Him.

So I stumbled from the car—did that door close a little too hard?—and up the stairs—Why, hello! How was your day?—and straight into Him.

Only He was wearing a dress. And had thinning hair. And was sitting in a wheelchair. And was reaching out to me with a shaking hand, eyes locked on mine.

He mumbled something I couldn’t understand, and His husband was standing behind the chair, eyes pleading too, begging.

I grabbed His hand, trying to be kind.

“Will you help us, please?” His husband asked, gently. “My wife really needs to use the bathroom.”

The worn and weary became fear and I-can’t-do-this-but-what-choice-do-I-have?

Let me tell you something about me. When I sin, I sin big; you just can’t see it. Oh, it’s there, festering, stumbling, growing underneath a smile and a hug and a kindness that seems real.

And so I did what any person would do in a church. I said, “Sure. I’ll help you. Just tell me what to do.” But inside I was praying, “Why me?!”

This is a fear, a huge fear of mine: Sick people. Weak people. People who need other people. And Jesus, seeing my weakened, sinful state, after a week of outright ugly, knew this.

Still, He asked. Of course, He asked.

“And the King will answer them, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.’” Matthew 25:40

Help Me? When it’s convenient.

Serve Me? When I have time.

Die for Me? Wait, You’re supposed to do that.

When I joined my family in the darkened church, unready to worship, I was wrecked.

The huge, wooden cross, draped in black, crown of thorns perched on top, mocked me from the front. The words to every song humiliated me.

He was not the One needing my help--I was the one needing His. His help, His service, His death. In my selfish state, I could not see Him until He asked me to do the one thing I did not think I could do.

Sick, weak, needy. That is the state of my heart every moment of every day. I should be in a hospital, I need healing so badly.

Yet in His merciful, graceful, lovingkindness He showed me that even at my worst—my sickened, weakened, needy state—He could still use me, helpless. In fact, only in that state can He truly use me.

“But God showed His love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” Romans 5:8

Upside down grace, that’s what He showed me last Friday.

Good Friday.