It Ain’t Easy Being Green – The Kale Fail

We all try our best to do right by our families when it comes to nutrition.  Sometimes it’s easier to plan and prepare meals than others.  Sometimes the schedule allows for home cooked meals while other times eating out is the quickest option.  Eating out doesn’t necessarily mean fast food for us but we do try to avoid it because of the expense.  Plus, you cannot really control what’s going into your food when you eat out.  Unfortunately some weeks those eating out days are more frequent than I like to admit.

When I am cooking at home, I try to feed my family healthy foods and make sure we eat at least one green “super” food each day.  Most of the time our super food is broccoli but I also squeeze in some brussels sprouts and kale on occasion.  I think I am finally brain washing my family into kind of liking brussels sprouts but the kale is a hard sell, especially to my son.  It’s fun to watch him squirm as he makes faces like he’s trying to choke down his kale.  I just keep telling him how good it is for him even though I don’t think he believes me.  I like to think I’m doing the right thing by feeding him this yummy super food even if it does seem like torture for him.

Well, I have a little secret to tell.  Something was rotting in our refrigerator.  I cleaned out and threw away all the leftovers, even the ones that didn’t have mold on them.  Some things get pushed way back in the refrigerator and forgotten about.  We’ve had some pretty good science experiments come out of our fridge.  Anyway, I really cleaned it out.  I thought I’d taken care of the smell but…no.

It was one of those smells that took your breath away when you opened the refrigerator, like one of the dogs secretly left a little doggy deposit in the fridge.  I mean it was a BAD smell!  I kept searching for the smell.  This went on for several days.  It got to the point I would hold my breath any time I had to go to the fridge.  I knew something had to be done so I bravely walked up to the fridge, didn’t hold my breath and put my sniffer to the test.  I kept sniffing different areas of the fridge.  Nope, not there.  Not there either.  THEN, I sniffed the vegetable crisper.  Oh my goodness!  My nose burned from the smell!  The vegetable crisper?  I looked in the crisper and it didn’t look like anything had rotted in there.  Then I picked up the bag of kale that was fresh on the top but very rotten on the bottom.  Could it possibly be the kale, my yummy super food, making this unbelievable smell for the last few days.  Well, you’ve probably guessed by now, it was indeed the kale.  The kale on the top of the bag was fine but somehow the bottom of the bag was a mushy rotten and smelly mess.

I thought for sure that bag of kale couldn’t be the only culprit.  I threw the bag of kale in the trash and kept sniffing and looking around in the refrigerator.  I never found anything else.  Once the bag of kale was gone the smell was gone.  I couldn’t believe this super food would betray me like this.  How was I going to tell my family that the nose burning smell came from the kale.  They would never eat it again!  I kept quiet and thankfully they never asked how I got rid of the smell.  I’m safe for now or until they read this post.

I don’t know if there is a moral to this story or if it’s just a cautionary kale tale.  I guess if there is a moral to the story it could go something like this:  In the fridge if there’s a terrible smell, sniff around a smidge but it’s probably the kale.

PS: Please don’t tell my family.

The Trip

There I was sitting at my computer blank screen trying to figure out what to write for Memories on Monday this week. I had several ideas but couldn’t quite get them out of my brain and onto the computer screen.  I resigned to save those for another day when the thoughts would come more clearly.  Maybe I just wouldn’t have a Memories on Monday post this week.  I closed my computer and walked away.

After I picked up the kids from school we were riding home and my son asked, “Mom, what’s on that car in front of us?” Looking ahead at the sport utility vehicle a few cars in front of us I said, “I think it’s a bike rack.” He said, “Oh I thought it was a swimming pool.” I immediately thought, “I say bike rack, he says swimming pool. Let me look again”. And then I saw it…the old rusted out Econoline high top roof van. “Oh!”, I said. “Are you talking about that red van up ahead?” “Yes! Doesn’t it look like a swimming pool up top?” he added. “It kind of does look like a swimming pool but it’s for extra head room so you can stand up inside the van.”  “Oh he said, a swimming pool wold be better.”

Then the memories came flooding back. We actually had one of those Econoline high top roof vans growing up and we went everywhere in that thing and I mean everywhere! That van traveled cross country with the whole family in it one summer. That was a trip for the record books. We were gone 4 weeks traveling in the Econoline van and I’m certain my memory of that trip is quite different from the rest of my family. My brothers and parents remember every stop in every state. Me? Not so much.

It was the summer after my 6th grade year. My brothers had just finished 7th and 9th grade and we set off on our cross country journey. Excitement bubbled as the wheels of the van started rolling on our epic trip. This was the longest trip we’d ever taken as a family and it was sure to be amazing. My parents had everything planned out with maps in hand. Oh yes, it was before the invention of hand held GPS. My Mom sat in the front seat navigating with the map opened while Dad eased on down the road.

We left early that July morning.  First stop the Gateway Arch in St Louis.  My Dad was determined to get us up in that arch.   It took us about 9 hours to get there, with very brief stops for food and using the facilities.  When we finally arrived in St. Louis Dad dropped us off at the Arch and drove off in the van searching for parking.  He was gone for longer than we thought he should be gone.  We started to worry (at least Mom and I did), then Dad came around the corner hustling to get to us as quickly as he could.  He went up to the ticket counter to buy us tickets and their response, “We’re sorry, we are all sold out for this evening.” Dad begged his case to the people at the counter, told them we were only here for one night, how we’d driven all day to get there but they stood firm on their answer, “No more tickets”.  Ugh!

Now I wish you had the chance to know my Dad.  He had a certain southern charm about him and definitely was not short on words.  He could talk his way into and out of situations with ease.  It was quite amazing to watch, a gift even.  He was not giving up on getting us onto the elevator to the top of the arch.  He found one of the elevator operators and I’m not really sure what he said to him but shortly after he spoke with him, we were being ushered onto the elevator to ride to the top and they let us on for FREE.  Amazing Dad!  The view at the top of the arch was spectacular.  It was a clear night and seemed as if you could see all the way across the country from there.  I wasn’t particularly fond of the swaying motion you could feel at the top of the arch or the creaking, shifting elevator ride to the top and back down.  I was however, so impressed with my Dad and his people persuasion skills because otherwise we would not have experienced the Gateway Arch that night.

I honestly cannot recount all our stops in chronological  order like the rest of my family.  I don’t know how they do that.  Maybe I was too young to make the same kind of memories they did.  Honestly, I’ve never been the best with geography.  Maybe that’s it.  Who knows.  What I do remember were the long stretches of time in the van listening to Dad’s music.  He would tell us, “We will listen to 30 minutes of your music, then 30 minutes of my music”.  We were onto him though.  There is no way I could have learned every lyric to way too many Kingston Trio songs if we were listening to equal parts our music and equal parts his music.  My middle brother and I can still sing those songs 30 years later.  I don’t even remember what music was considered “our music” back then.    Oh well.  I actually don’t mind knowing so many Kingston Trio songs now.  It’s just one way to bring out memories of my Dad.  One of my favorite Kingston Trio songs is “M.T.A.”.  Poor Charlie.

After many Kingston Trio songs and several other stops, we arrived at Mt. Rushmore.  I remember thinking how big their heads were and what a mess they would make if they sneezed.  Keep in mind I was just out of 6th grade.  I also remember thinking how people sculpting Mt. Rushmore were taking their lives into their own hands and how gross it must have been to carve out the nostrils on the monument.  I may have mentioned that to my parents and they just shook their heads, chuckled a little and proceeded to be in awe of this amazing sculpture on the side of the mountain.

Back in the van.  By this time my brothers and I had been in close proximity for quite long enough.  I had the back bench seat in the van while my brothers had the two captains chairs in the middle of the van.  I’m sure I was such an angel and would have never done anything to annoy my big brothers.  I was trying to take a nap on the bench seat and suddenly I found my head squeezed between the back of my brother’s reclined captain chair and the bench seat. “MOM!!  Their squishing my head!”  OK, OK.  I might have been annoying them just a little bit and this was their way of getting back at me.  I’m a little foggy on those details.

We meandered through the country stopping at various places big, like the grand canyon, and small.  We made it all the way to Vancouver, Canada where I saw my first quadruple rainbow.  I do wish I would have written down all the stops but I’m sure someone in my family has a record of it.  If not written down, I’m sure the whole trip is stored in their brains somewhere just waiting to be revisited.  Of course their version of the trip probably varies slightly from my version.  We’ve looked through the pictures at least once in the last few years and I absolutely loved showing the pictures to my kids and telling them about our adventures.  I would love to revisit this trip with my Mom and brothers sometime and maybe even make the same trip again with my kids.  Either way, it was a once (or maybe twice) in a lifetime trip.

The Most Wonderful Gate

This past week a wonderful, kind and precious woman left this earth and graced the welcoming gates of heaven.

My Aunt Helen was a woman who, though slight in build, was strong in spirit.  She was a go and do kind of person.  I rarely saw her sitting because she was always in the kitchen making some delicious food for us or checking to make sure we were as comfortable as possible.  Her hospitality was unmatched.  Aunt Helen was a great cook and I always devoured her seven layer salad and eclair dessert, two of my favorites from her.  That eclair dessert must have won some awards somewhere.  So delicious!  I could have eaten the entire dish of eclairs in one sitting.  She made a point to make it for me when I came to visit.

My Aunt was so generous and kind with a gentle spirit.  I never saw her angry although my cousins, her sons, say they’ve seen it.  (Don’t tell her sons, but I don’t believe them.)  She was always so kind to me from childhood to adulthood and to see her with my children, just amazing.  We went to visit Aunt Helen a few years back and she took us all around her town visiting the restaurant responsible for making the first waffle cone (yum!) and we visited a great local kids’ museum.  We took the best picture of my Mom and Aunt Helen at that museum.  The two of them were sitting in one of those giant chairs looking like kids again with the biggest smiles on their beautiful faces. Cutest sister picture ever.  It was just after this wonderful visit when my Aunt began the battle for her life.

The last years of my Aunt’s life were not easy but she refused to give up or give in.   Steadfast in her determination, she cared for my uncle as he fought an unyielding battle with Parkinson’s, one of the most unforgiving diseases.  As the Parkinson’s progressed, my Uncle eventually was too unstable to walk on his own.  The physical strength I witnessed from my Aunt was astounding!  She reached super hero status in my eyes when I saw her caring for Uncle Allen.  Her 105 pound frame would pick up and move my 200 pound Uncle like it was nothing, shifting him from wheel chair to car, getting him to the table to eat and moving him around for other daily activities.  She continued to care for him in their home and gave him the most loving supportive care, the best care he could ever receive.  I remember how Aunt Helen always had ice cream and brownies for Uncle Allen, even when they were out of town, because he enjoyed eating ice cream and brownies for his bedtime snack.  She was so sweet and did everything she could to keep Uncle Allen happy and comfortable while he was still with us on Earth.

Two and a half years ago Aunt Helen faced her biggest life challenge yet.  She was diagnosed with ovarian cancer.  Ovarian cancer by itself is one of the cancers that is hard to detect and once found has a low survival rate.  They didn’t find the cancer for my Aunt until it was already stage 4.  Right from the very beginning she received terrible news but she fought the cancer with everything she had.   Even though she was battling this life altering disease, she never lost sight of what is important.  She continued to serve in her church and serve others.  On more than one occasion my mom told me about Aunt Helen cooking for someone or taking her friend to lunch because they were having a bad day.   She didn’t want to let the cancer dictate what she could and couldn’t do.  She fought hard and even while she received news from the doctors that was not positive, she never gave up.  She wanted to fight it.  In the end, the cancer took her life and she went to be with the Lord this past week.

I want to take this moment to say, “I love you, Aunt Helen”.  I hope I said those words to you enough for you to understand how much you mean to me.  You led an amazing, inspiring life for me and those around you.  We sang a song in church yesterday with these words “I’m running to your arms”.  I imagined you running into the arms of God, into the arms of Jesus.  You were running, not in pain anymore, no more sickness, your body restored.  I know you have graced the Most Wonderful Gates and Heaven is now rejoicing because you are there.

Hang On!

The day was long and exhausting.  It was one of those days I felt like I was holding on for dear life as the day sped on twisting and turning like a roller coaster.  I couldn’t quite get my feet underneath me and it was all I could do to hold on with my white knuckle grip.  My grip was slipping.

I was in transition between activities last week, driving from the lake to my next commitment when I noticed a praying mantis on the hood of my car that looked like he was having the same kind of day as me.  I didn’t notice him until the car was already in motion with nowhere to pull over.  This little guy was hanging on, crouched down to make his body as aerodynamic as possible.  The wind stream shifted him once but the praying mantis regained his grip and continued to hold on for dear life.  It seemed he was in a helpless hopeless situation.  As I started to slow the car for a stop light, the praying mantis finally let go and flew off.

As I sat at the stoplight hoping the little guy was alright and his high speed ride wasn’t too much for his buggy body, I realized I was like that praying mantis.  I often find myself in the midst of a busy day holding on as if my life depended on it, trying to make it through the day without flying off the ride of life.  I tend to pack everything into my day so I have no time to spare, no time to slow down, no time to focus on the things that are really important.  I miss my time to focus on the One who can help me through all the craziness life has to offer, the One I can cling to instead of clinging to the busyness of life.  I struggle to hold onto the high speed roller coaster ride of life, much like my little praying mantis friend, instead of holding onto my Savior!

When the car slowed, the praying mantis finally let go and released his aerodynamic grip on the car.  Is that me?  Am I only willing to let go of the busyness of life when things slow down?  Do I only let go of my nutty schedule and turn my focus to God when I “have time”?  In reality I should cling most to my Lord when things seem to be spiraling out of control, when life is one giant super speed roller coaster and I’m on the ride screaming for it to slow down.  I should be calling out to the Lord for help, seeking him for comfort, a refuge from the insanity of life.

I often find myself trapped on life’s roller coaster, as I’m sure many people do.  It is all too easy to push Him aside on those busy days and say I will get to my Bible later or I’ll make sure I pray this evening.  Then the whole day slips by and I realize I have, yet again, neglected God.  In those times, I need to intentionally make time, take a moment to turn to the Lord, pray to Him, ask Him to help me make it through my impossibly busy day.  Instead of waking up and barreling into the day, I need to slow down and focus on Him.

“The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.  He makes me lie down in green pastures, He leads me beside still waters, He restores my soul.” Psalm 23:1-3a

Why is it so difficult for me to turn to Him?  He wants to restore me.  He wants to give me rest.  Why can’t I accept it some days?  Why does life have me so trapped in its busyness that I can’t, or won’t, take a moment to turn to Him?  He is always there, always waiting to give me the refreshing, restoring rest I need.

Psalm 23:1-3 is one of my favorite passages in the Bible.  When I read these verses I see myself lying in the beautiful green pasture, cool breeze blowing over me as I listen to the babbling brook knowing God is watching over me.  When my life gets the most crazy this passage brings me back to calm.  I need to hear it.  I need to accept His offer for comfort and rest.  I cannot survive like the praying mantis, holding on with all I’ve got as the busy road of life takes me wherever it wills.  I need to escape the insane schedule of life and accept the comfort and rest He is always willing to offer.

My prayer for you today is, whatever your day looks like, you are able to receive the comfort and rest of God.  The comfort and rest he is ready and willing to give as long as you are ready and willing to receive.  Imagine yourself lying in the beautiful green pasture, still waters by your side, God watching over you.  What could be more refreshing than that?

Orange, Yellow, White

I don’t particularly care for the candy companies this time of year and there’s two words that explain why, “candy” and “corn”.  Why does every candy maker have to come out with their own version of candy corn?  Right around the end of August it seems all the candy molds in the world suddenly transform into those little triangular shapes.  Candies that are not usually candy corn shaped shed their round or square bodies for the more shapely, rounded triangle.   I saw candy corn Skittles the other day.  That’s just not right.

As you read the first paragraph, you may have thought I had a particular aversion to candy corn.  Well, I suppose that is true in a way.  I try to “avert mine eyes” from the seasonal candy section this time of year.  I avert my grocery cart from the candy isle so I don’t have to walk past those little orange, yellow and white nuggets of sugary delight.  But that’s where my aversion ends.

The REAL truth is: candy corn is one of my all time favorite candies.  I’m thankful it is only, in your face, obvious once per year.  Otherwise, I might eat candy corn for breakfast, lunch and dinner year round.  My will power was pretty strong until yesterday.  I resisted the urge to buy the little nuggets of goodness until my trip to the grocery store a little over 24 hours ago.  Once I buy the first bag of candy corn, I can not stop eating them until after Thanksgiving.  It really is a two holiday candy, Halloween and Thanksgiving.  After all, no CORNucopia is complete without candy CORN.

Yes, this is a silly post but I just don’t know what is it about candy corn.  It’s the perfectly right mixture of honey (or sugar) and flavor.  Pretty sure I’ve never looked at the ingredients to figure out what candy corn is made from.  Maybe if I did look at the ingredients list my desire to eat it would not be so great.  I’m sure there has to be some unnatural, undesirable ingredient on that list.  Hold on a second…OK, I just ran to the cabinet to look at the ingredients and don’t remember a single ingredient I read except sugar but my trip to the cupboard was not without reward.  I did score a big handful of candy corn to eat on my way back to my computer.

So here’s my question to the candy companies, “Why do you torment me with all your traditional candy corn and variations on candy corn?”  I have to try each flavor and I typically like them all.  I did try a caramel apple flavored candy corn last year that wasn’t my favorite,  And yes, I did try the yummy Skittles candy corn.  I know it’s not really the candy companies’ fault that I cannot resist those corn kernel shaped treats but I still blame them nonetheless.

Here’s to another season of eating way too much candy corn.  And don’t even get me started on the mellowcreme pumpkins!

 

 

Honest kids!

Kids!  You love them but you never really know what will come out of their truth spewing, even when the truth hurts, mouths.  They are mocking birds, repeating just what you do not want them to repeat. They are givers of new perspective.  Kid’s brains are swirling, churning, just waiting to say the perfectly right thing to embarrass their parents at the perfectly wrong time.  On more than one occasion I’ve felt the embarrassing sting in my bright red cheeks as my kids did just that.

My kids are blessed with the gift of gab.  They never meet a stranger, much like my dad and me.  On more than one occasion people have told me how my child or children brightened their day.  Proud mama moment!  Then there are those times when their curiosity, innocent childlike curiosity, leads them to ask the “hard” or should I say embarrassing questions.

We were standing in the busy check out line in one of those, “buy everything in one stop” stores.  To pass the time my son started up a conversation with the woman behind us in line.  My son started off with the usual stories he tells someone he just met.  All of a sudden the conversation headed in another direction.  There I stood, helpless to stop it.  All I could do was stand and listen as the words, “Are you having a baby?” fell one by one out of his mouth.  After a brief pause she chuckled, “Oh!  I’m not having a baby.”  At that moment, I wished I could crawl behind one of the cashiers or, better yet, vanish into thin air.  No such luck.  Thankfully the woman was very gracious and smiled through it all.  I could feel the sting of embarrassment in my cheeks and knew they must be redder than a stop light.  After we left the store I had a brief talk with my kids about when it is appropriate to ask a woman if she’s having a baby.  I told them it’s only OK if you know for sure she is pregnant.  Actually, scratch that, don’t EVER ask!

Apparently those words did not sink in where I was concerned.  It was one of those Sunday mornings where I just couldn’t quite figure out what to wear.  Half my wardrobe lay on my bed, tried on and discarded.  I couldn’t find anything I felt comfortable wearing.  I finally dug a dress out of my closet, put it on and was looking in the full length mirror in our hall to make sure it didn’t look too bad.  My daughter came out of her room as I was examining my attire and she offered her solicited advice.  She’s eight and has more fashion sense than I’ve ever had.  After she finished imparting her words of fashion wisdom to me, she patted my belly and said, “Mom, are you sure you’re not having a baby.”  I’m not sure what emotion was on my face but I tried to hide my shock and deflated ego so she didn’t know she’d hurt my feelings.  I still don’t know why she asked me that dreaded question.  I know she wasn’t trying to be mean.  Maybe she asked because she and her brother have been asking for a baby sibling (ain’t happening).  Maybe she didn’t have the heart to tell me the dress didn’t look all that great and this was her way of letting me down easy.  No matter, I didn’t have time to stand and ponder what was bouncing around in my eight year old’s head.  I rushed back to my closet and grabbed another dress to wear to church that day.  I’m still a little self conscious when I wear that dress.

I love my kids and absolutely adore them for their honesty and truthfulness…most of the time.  They really are great kids and have a such a positive outlook on life.  We teach them to share their positive outlook, to be kind and honest.  After all honesty is always the best policy, right?  Well, at this moment, I can think of one good exception to that rule.

Why Now?

Two years ago I was struggling to heal from some major life events.  I was falling into a dark place and struggling to claw my way out.  Funny thing about that dark place, sometimes the more you struggle the faster you fall.  Like quick sand, stay completely still and let the darkness engulf you slowly or struggle to get out and sink even faster.

During this time, I was holding onto so much anger.  It was not only affecting my life but also the lives of those around me.  I couldn’t function as a mom, wife, friend, daughter, sister.  I did my best to pretend nothing was wrong and I was alright.  Pretend everything was ok and eventually it would be, right?  I didn’t want to burden anyone with what I was feeling.  I cried alone every day and my sleep was filled with nightmares.  I was bitter and didn’t see signs of my bitterness taking leave any time soon.  I closed myself off and refused to let anyone in to help, not even the One who could help the most.  My bitterness and anger was building a wall between my Maker and me.  He was the One who loved me more than I could ever imagine and I turned Him away.

I just couldn’t snap out of it on my own and wasn’t sure what my purpose was anymore.  Knowing I could not carry this burden any longer, I began praying for relief, for some direction or guiding light that would lead me out of the dark.

It started small at first, like the fast burning flame of a match.  I could see brief moments of light in the darkness.  God was just waiting for me to call on Him, to turn to Him.  He didn’t try to rush me.  He didn’t try to quickly illuminate me with His radiance.  In His perfect timing, He eased me back into the light.  After sitting in the dark, isn’t it better to gradually let your eyes adjust to the light instead of suddenly turning on the brightest light?  I had been in that dark place for a long time.  Too much brilliant light would hurt my eyes and make me turn away.  God knew my eyes and heart needed to readjust to what I knew was true and right but, for me, it had to happen slowly.  At first it was hard to follow the light.  Was I really ready to let go of all the anger and bitterness I held onto for so long?  Some days I could feel myself sliding backward but I was making gradual progress.

I continued praying for and seeking the guidance I so desperately needed.  The challenge was to listen for God’s answer instead of trying to figure it out all on my own.  One day in prayer, the need to write came to me so clearly.  Almost as if the words were being written for me, I needed to write about what I’d been through and what I was going through.  I needed to write down the sweet moments in life that made me feel emotion, any emotion other than anger and bitterness.  Then I began writing about those funny moments in life so I could look back and laugh. God was leading me to write, to heal.

Suddenly I found myself with a new burden.  Instead of the burden of frustration, anger and sadness, I now felt a burden to write, a call to write.  Would this writing be something I could share with others?  Could my writing help even one other person going through a similar situation to me?  Could it bring joy to someone’s day, give them a chuckle or maybe even make them laugh out loud?

It took me over a year to finally submit to the plan I felt God had for me.  I came up with a lot of reasons why I should not start this blog and why I should keep my writing to myself; I am really good at making excuses.  Finally, after much prayer, realizing there is never a perfect time and that there will always be plenty of excuses, it’s time to step out in faith.  I’m really excited, nervous and down”write” scared to start this blog but, in faith, know this is the path I am supposed to take.

My prayer is that, while reading “andthisreallyhappened”, you will find inspiration, humor and a connection to let you know you are not alone.  Thank you for taking a few moments from your day each day to join me here.

Love, Laugh and Live in Him,
Christine