Courtesy Begins at Home

heart-in-gate” . . . there is no place in the world where the amenities of courtesy should be so carefully maintained as in the home. There are no hearts that hunger so for the expressions of affection as the hearts of which we are most sure.  There is no love that so needs its daily bread as the love that is strongest and holiest.  There is no place where rudeness or incivility is so unpardonable as inside our own doors and toward our best beloved.”  – Rev. J. R. Miller, D.D. in Home-Making

Rude and disrespectful children were not taught at home the example of kindness and consideration.  They were not shown by their parents the value of respecting the hearts of others.

From the time our kids were small we praised them for their kindnesses to others, and actively taught them how to bring light to the lives of others via small kindnesses.  And it began at home.

“Your sister is a gift from God, one that you will always have.  When you’re a very old man and have a sad day you will call her and tell her your troubles and she will pray for you and tell you she loves you,” we told the boys more than once.

“Some girls don’t have brothers,” I remember telling one of the girls.  “Your brother will grow up to be a good, strong, kind man just like your dad, and he will always care about you and always help you and always love you.”

And so forth.  And then, we would tell them to spend just a little time alone to pray (it’s never too early to teach a child to take their burdens to Jesus) and later they were required to give each other hugs and say, “I love you.”

To this day we have four kids who love each other and show it.  They are kind and courteous almost all of the time.  And if they slip up we are quick to check them.  As I said to our oldest son not long ago, “You will never have a truer friend, you will never know a more quality person, than your brother.  He’s a 17-year-old male right now, and if you’ll think back to when you were a 17-year-old male . . .”

He got the point:  Courtesy begins at home.

“The tenderer the love and the truer, the more it craves the thousand little attentions and kindnesses which so satisfy the heart.” –  Rev. J. R. Miller, D.D. in Home-Making

It’s Saturday – Butter Your Brownies!

Duncan Hines chewy fudge brownie mixes were speaking to me.  “You need a treat,” John encouraged me as we shopped together Friday evening.  But I didn’t need a treat before bedtime.  What I needed was a good night’s sleep followed by an early morning brownie and coffee party with whatever beloved (all my housemates are my beloveds) might be awake, or with myself, also a beloved of mine.

“Why,” Hannah queried this morning as we licked the bowl, “Do these taste better than homemade?”

“Probably because we don’t have the right recipe,” I said.  And probably because, as good as Duncan does with his brownies, I doctor them to make them even better.  I butter my brownies.

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Hannah and I chatted as I mixed the mix, and I consequently used the recommended oil instead of my usual butter/peanut butter improvement.  Easily remedied.  I would butter them when they were finished, all nice and warm.

I did remember to add coconut and walnuts (normally I add vanilla and a bit of salt as well) and watched them carefully, being sure to take them out of the oven when they were barely, or even not quite, done.  Later, for elevenses perhaps, we would have a “real” breakfast – sausages, scrambled eggs with cream cheese, cinnamon toast with peaches, and tea.

But for now chocolate would be the proper way to begin a Saturday.

Hannah and I buttered our brownies, and Hannah added peanut butter to her saucer as well.  We drank our coffee and talked, wondering when the wafting scent of brownies would “wake the dead” as is usual.  Sure enough, Benjamin soon joined us, rubbing his hands together, and asking as though it was too good be true, “Brownies for breakfast?”

These put him in the mood to write, and off he went.  Next up was Rebekah who simply broke into laughter at the sight and scent of brownies.  John wouldn’t be all that enthusiastic, I reasoned, but Seth would think he’d died in his sleep and was having breakfast in Heaven if I were to take him brownies and coffee in bed.

I did so, and Seth opened his eyes only slightly, but his smile was clear and bright as Colorado winter sunshine.  “Thanks,  Mom.  You’re the best.”

Buttered brownies to start the day.  Who knows what might follow?

 

Making the Hard Things Easy

radio-on-chairThe key to doing hard things is doing them well through preparation and prayer.

Yesterday I wanted NOTHING less than I wanted to do today’s radio broadcast (1360 AM , KHNC in Johnstown, CO).  I was dreading it and lamenting it, and wanting to give up on the whole thing – call in sick, ask John to do it for me, ANYTHING except get my act together and do the show.

Why?  Why would I feel this way about something I truly enjoy and believe to be important and valuable?  Because I was sitting around taking what the enemy was dishing out – distractions, headaches, negative thought patterns, grief I should have cast on Jesus, and fear.

I feared (irrationally, of course) the show wouldn’t be any good.  I had worked on it, but I was pretty sure (in other words, absolutely unsure about the whole thing) it wasn’t there, didn’t sparkle, WOULDN’T CHANGE ANYONE’S LIFE.

But . . . there is a man in my house who not only knows me, he knows my Maker.  And he took me to Him in prayer.  The heaviness and the torment and the grief that always accompany fear had to flee (“Resist the devil and he will flee” – James 4:7).  I went back to my Bible (Duh! with a capital “D”), listened to some beautiful music and grace-filled teaching, and then to bed.

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Awaking just before 5:00 a.m. my first thought was, Let there be no division among you.  It got better from there – thoughts on the ministry of reconciliation, including those of our Founding Fathers, famous women with identity theft issues and how knowing who we are in Christ changes our lives.

I was eloquent (the Holy Spirit was eloquent, I should say).  Before I could forget anything I went to my computer and took notes, which incorporated beautifully into what I had already planned for today’s Home Front Show.

God is good, the Holy Spirit speaks, and I pray He speaks through me today on the Home Front Show.  Join me, Friday at 2:00 Mountain Time, and thanks ahead of time for listening on 1360 am, KHNC the Lion, Johnstown, Colorado.

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Lifting Burdens via Intercessory Prayer

 

praying-young-man

I was asked to pray for someone last night and I just couldn’t do it, not with any faith and fervor.  I awoke at 2:00 a.m. burdened for this person, but not in a good way.  It might be more accurate to say I was aggravated with them.

As I prayed about it I realized that intercessory prayer is not to be undertaken before there is personal heart maintenance.  Otherwise, the intercessor simply takes on the burden of the other person, rather than assisting them in giving that burden to Jesus, who can not only take it, but do away with it!

So, practically what does that mean?  It means seeing what the Word says about love, and about every single person.  It means asking God for His take, how He sees it, what He wants done in this person’s life.

Then come the revelations, the prayers of faith that build more faith, and the return to where we start:  apart from Him, I can do (pray) nothing, and with Him all things (prayers) are possible.

He’s the only Way to go.

Do Try This at Home

english-cottage

I don’t usually say much about money, because I don’t have the II Corinthians 9:8 “enough for all my needs and an abundance to give to every good work” bank balance.  So, I figure I’m not really qualified to give financial advice.

But then, I look at people who earn more money than we do in our single-income, many-membered home, and who live without many of the luxuries that for me definitely qualify as “needs.”  A fire in the fireplace in wintertime is a need and a luxury, and one I never intend to do without, so help me, God.  Making my own chemical-free skincare is a need (especially in the high and dry Rocky Mountains) and a luxury.  Having money to do a little traveling, and more importantly the time and presence of mind to enjoy it, is a need and luxury (N&L).

The list goes on:  green coffee beans for home roasting; homemade Dijon mustard and money to buy books such as The Kitchen Pantry Cookbook, wherein such recipes are found; and Ree Drummond’s The Pioneer Woman Cooks. 

Melissa Gilbert’s My Prairie Cookbook was a gift, and having the time as well as the beautiful stamps and stationery at the ready to send a prompt and heartfelt thank-you note is, of course, both N&L.  And the time to peruse this book and suggest my daughter use it to bake sweet-tart apple muffins, to the delight of all participating parties, is the epitome of N&L.

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The time.  So often people say they don’t have time for such shenanigans as enjoying the making and partaking of muffins with their daughters.  They don’t have time for this or that.  For what are they working?

I’ve been there and done that – the endless, mindless, thankless grind, and the eating out and on the fly of non-food substances; the bounced checks and astronomical service charges because I didn’t have the presence of mind that “taking the time” gives us.

We all have the same 24 hours, and we can either use time as a tool, or it can be our enemy.  We deceive ourselves when we think we don’t have time to cook from scratch, to balance a checkbook, to write a friend a thank-you note.

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Most people think the goal of time management is to get more done.  I say the goal of time management is freedom from enslavement to the clock.  Rather than getting more “things” done, how about getting more people loved and enjoyed?

And how does all this tie into money?  First of all, it leads to peace and satisfaction, something that we so often try to buy.  A great example is a breadmaker.  I used my breadmaker plenty until it went kaput, and now that I know the satisfaction of making the boule for artisan bread, now that I’ve tasted my child’s authentic French bread, I will never again clutter my kitchen counter with a breadmaker.

New tools are great for my husband’s shop (yes, I do have and love some kitchen tools, but there are limits).  My kitchen is a place where romance reigns, where money is saved and even made.  I am, in effect, making money, learning a new and fun skill, impressing other people (I’d like to say this isn’t important to me, but alas . . . ) and making an amazing treat when I make pear butter from the pears that have been too long in the window sill.  Said pear butter demands the making of super flaky biscuits for brunch, to which we invite the neighbors, adding eggs scrambled with cream cheese and a delicious homemade and homegrown turkey sausage (Christmas gift from same neighbors) and serving it all with a giant pot of delicious tea (giant and lovely teapot another gift which merited the sending of a thank-you note).

muffins

When I roast my own organic coffee beans nice and dark and aromatic, and convince my mostly non-coffee drinking family to share a small cup as we talk about what we’re writing, plotting, or planning, I am living in the rhythms of grace not often observed by today’s families.

coffee

I first heard of roasting green coffee beans at home from financial advice guru Mary Hunt, who convinced me there’s no comparison between brew-ready and home roasted coffees.  Mary Hunt also echoes wisdom I once received after praying about finances:  You can have anything you want if you stop eating out.

We are back to taking and making and managing time so that we can be creative and artisitic in the kitchen.  A functioning and active kitchen is at the top of the N&L list.  Let’s make a list, asking the question, “What do we gain when we cook and eat at home?”

  1.  Money!
  2. Skills
  3. Nutrition
  4. Joys of creativity
  5. Better tasting food (after a little learning in some cases)
  6. Family fun
  7. Self esteem
  8. Real mealtimes
  9. House that smells like a home
  10. __________________________________________ (your turn)

So here’s my money advice in a nutshell:  If at all possible, do it at home.  In many cases you will find what’s done in your kitchen is much more satisfactory than that made to exist on a shelf for six months, and often less expensive.

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But money management isn’t about what’s the least expensive, it’s about what satisfies the most, what’s really worth it, what is both N&L.  You may think chocolate covered peanuts are both N&L, but I say make them at home from quality ingredients (real butter for starters) and you’ll have more of your needs met (we NEED to create) with more luxury to boot.

Enjoy them over conversation with home roasted coffee, or perhaps while watching Colin Firth and Jennifer Ehle in Pride and Prejudice.  At home, where all good things begin and end, anyway.

english-cottage

P.S.  For more inspiration and ideas, join me Fridays at 2:00 Mountain Time, on 1360 AM radio, The Lion, in Johnstown, CO.

A Different Kind of January on the Home Front Radio Show

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Tomorrow on the Home Front Show (1360 am radio in Johnstown, Colorado) I have about three hours of material to fit into one.

I’m going to share from The Founder’s Bible excerpts entitled Saturate Yourself in God’s Word and A Most Interesting Act of Kindness.  I’ll be discussing how the Bible doesn’t talk about New Year’s Resolutions – rather, we are shown by example to make New Day’s Resolutions.

Resolutions in January?  January, rather than being fit for get-up-and-go activities, is much more suited to hibernation, fireside chats, and thick socks and sweaters.  And even if you live where it’s 80 degrees, just think of January as a lovely time for recovering from the holidays, for thoughtfully and prayerfully and gently easing yourself into the new year.

But back to the Home Front Show (Friday, Jan 6 at 2:00 p.m. Mountain Time):  I’m going to call on the written words of wise women tomorrow, regarding marriage and homemaking.  I’ll be sharing marriage thoughts from my own book, The Maker’s Marriage, as well as choice words from Dr. Laura’s The Proper Care and Feeding of Husbands.  Time permitting Edith Schaeffer will be quoted, and I’m going to rock a few boats with thoughts from Bringing up Bebe.

As almost always there will be a plug for Home Schooling.  Bringing Up Bebe is actually a book I recommend for moms who can’t wait until their kids are old enough to send to school, and another author who probably never thought she’d be used for this purpose is Jane Brocket.  I’ll be suggesting that Jane’s books might be almost all you need for a fabulously fun and productive home school curriculum for girls.

The show will go on – to other topics, in particular that of personal identity, and protection from “identity theft.”  In December I started talking about identity theft in our society, but didn’t get very far due to time constraints.  So, January’s shows (every Friday at 2:00 p.m. MT) will all at least touch on this, with a special and eloquent speaker on the subject joining us for the final January show.

The Home Front Show is all about building your home through building your faith.  So, as I always say on the broadcast (or something to this effect), “Do you have a friend who could use a boost?  Call her or him and say,Tune in to the Home Front Show!'”

The Best Use Ever for Popcorn

Every year at Christmas my daughter Rebekah asks for a popcorn garland on the tree, and every year I hem and haw and resist.  But this year I succumbed to her persistence and thanked her for it as well.

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It took a couple of very pleasant and peaceful hours around the table for three of us to make enough garland for a nine-foot tree, and what a difference it makes!

The difference truly is in the details – those things that may take a little time and may seem like a chore at first – these are the things that make Christmas magic.

When we decide to make Christmas about the small things, the easily overlooked and underestimated things, the big things seem to fall into place.

Years ago I asked the kids what they wanted to do for Christmas.  They made lists including going to town to see the lights, going to a Christmas Eve candlelight service at a lovely mountain chapel, getting our tree from the woods, having friends for Christmas brunch, making exceptional and traditional desserts for Christmas dinner, keeping the fire going all the time in the fireplace, along with non-stop Christmas music, putting brown packages in the mail to loved ones, making gingerbread, caroling, giving homemade gifts to the merchants in our little town, and . . . making popcorn garlands for the tree.

We’ve done most of the above in most of the years past, except for the popcorn garland.  And this year I’ve come into the season with more Jesus in my heart, more thankfulness, more comfort and joy.  And so, when a child asks yet again for a desire of her heart, the Love of Christ trumped the laziness of Bev, and we made our tree the best it’s ever been.

Over and over we comment on it:  this is the best tree ever, and it’s because of the popcorn; I just love the popcorn; the popcorn really adds something, doesn’t it?; and so forth.

I ponder this in my heart.  What makes Christmas wonderful?  I will never be false enough to say it’s not about the presents, because I am enough of a child at heart to know that indeed, it is about the presents.  The presents – both the giving and the receiving of them – are the participating with Jesus in showing love.

The problem with gifts is the thinking that they have to come from the electronics department, must be only affordable via credit card to be valuable, and that they’re only available from under the tree on Christmas Day.

I say Christmas can and must be practice for the giving of gifts all the time, everywhere and every way possible.  This past Monday I gave the gift of listening even more than usual.  I put aside my plans for the day and simply listened carefully and closely to everyone around me.  And it was as though they had radar (Mom’s available) – I was listening to someone almost all day long, and well into the evening.

Yesterday John and I went to town for snow tires and out to breakfast.  I’m took a gift of fine chocolates to give to our waitress.  We did this a couple of weeks ago, and our waitress “happened” to be having a baby, one due on Christmas Day.  She was delighted, but not so much as were we.

So back to yesterday.  We prayed about where to eat, and that we’d sit with the waitress of His choosing.  When I gave her the gift her face kind of melted and she asked if she could open it right then and there.  “I wasn’t going to do Christmas this year,” she said.  “I’m a big family person and all my family is far away and so I was just going to forget about it.”  Turns out her family is in Indiana (she’s in Colorado).  I tried not to cry as the conversation continued.  “God did that,” I said to John when she walked away.  He nodded, a bit misty-eyed as well.

Tomorrow there will be more opportunities to give – opportunities I will not only pray to see, but I will be on the lookout when God answers my prayer, which He undoubtedly will.  He’s all about giving.  And He’s in the details, like popcorn garlands on a tree, just because a child’s heart will be made glad because of them.  What more reason do we need?

Merry Christmas!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Art vs. Ugly

bass-with-hands

I listen to Cold Play reluctantly.  The haunting beauty of “For some reason I can’t explain, I know St. Peter won’t call my name,” compels me to explain this listening to myself.

It’s as though against all evidence, as he sees it, he’s determined to create beauty in the face of hopelessness.

I admire this.  Often “artists” express their angst at ugliness via more ugliness.  The true artist, however, shows us the beauty of God, even if he professes unbelief, or at least extreme uncertainty of God’s existence.

The existence of music, such as that of Cold Play, is proof of God.  Proof of Love, Mystery, Enchantment.  Our hearts yearn for the truth of the unseen, the “unprovable.”  We long to be enchanted.  As Thomas Moore says in The Re-Enchantment of Everyday Life, “”Enchantment invites us to pause and be arrested by whatever is before us.”

Last night I was arrested by God’s pencil drawings.  The evening clouds were charcoal lines and swirls, as lovely as though spirits had left ballerina leaps and twirls.  Leafless aspen were grey lace against a pale silver sky, and I was reminded that even to those of us who love all things bright and beautiful, there is beauty in the quieter, the more still, the subtle.  There is a cry for resurrection in the cold and the not quite yet dead.

Would the aspen leaf out again in spring if we didn’t expect and decree and celebrate their doing so?  The calculating mind says, “Yes, of course.  Don’t be ridiculous.  It’s their nature.”

But I say they will do so because it’s God’s nature.  Doesn’t God want to be seen and heard and heralded and rejoiced over?  Doesn’t God want to bless us?  And if we are His, don’t we want to bless the world, to beautify it?

There is art in listening attentively to a child’s meandering story, and in such “mundane” activities as lovingly dusting wooden furniture, or making a cup of tea for a lover.  All of life is, or can be, art.

God has put in every one of us that desire and ability to show Him to the world.  But when we focus on the ugly, when we create more of the same – music without melody, fiction without romance, paintings with polluted colors and lines, words without sweetness – we are saying that ugly is truth.

Ugly is a lie.  Let’s not tell it.

 

The Church of Homemade Apple Pie

For my son’s birthday (Nov. 3) I made apple pie.

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(I failed to take a picture, so I made use of this picture made by someone whose baking skills exceed mine.)

Three kinds of apples, three healthy sweeteners, lemon juice, spices, a little flour for thickening, then marinating in the fridge overnight.

A crust with two kinds of flour, salt, butter, coconut oil.  Should have had some vodka (keeps it tender) but it was, as are most of my pies, a creative endeavor making use of the materials at hand.

We (daughter and I) peeled enough for two pies, sliced them thinly and smashed and piled them into one pie.  I asked the birthday boy if I could add raisins (no!), and how about doing a crisp top crust made up of oats, butter, sugars, salt, and chopped walnuts?  “No, Mom, just plain, traditional apple pie.”

I don’t really do “plain, traditional” but I came close enough.  The pie was a big pie and a big hit, and it didn’t hurt that I whipped heavy cream with a pinch of salt, a bit of almond flavoring, and a tablespoon or so of honey to liberally pile atop each slice.

The pie was enjoyed with laughter, candlelight, and song.  I was chastised by my wondering children for starting “Happy Birthday” before the candles were lit (we are all in agreement that a large three-wick candle in the midst of the table works just fine for every birthday, and eliminates the cringing we all do when someone spits on the candles, and thereby the pie).

As a student of economics and government, I thought about pie slice sizes, and how my professors talked so often about scarcity, and pieces of the pie.  I thought of the socialist idea that there is only so much pie to go around, and that we must all share and share alike, our tiny sliver of a sliver.

I thought of the apple pie served to the masses – storebought, from old and tired and flavorless apples, with bleached GMO white sugar, thinly layered into a nasty, off-tasting crust.  Said pies are not, as was mine, baked at home in a large red pie dish.  Rather, they are each merely one of hundreds, baked in throw-away aluminum via industrial ovens.  For the masses.  Those of whom there are too many, supposedly creating scarcity.

I am here to submit that God’s way is a very large and luscious and multi-nuanced, soul-nourishing pie.  God’s way is more people to plant more apple trees, to get creative and try new varieties of apples, cooked with various kinds of sweeteners, in pies, cakes, tarts, ciders, juices, sauces, and anything else the unendingly creative human mind can dream up.

God’s way is more pie.  Enough for you and whoever He puts on your heart to invite into your home and partake.

God’s way is a variety (for every individual taste, because He is not the God of stereotypes, of groups – He is the God of each and every precious individual, unique-in-all-the-world human being) of coffees and teas to go with the pie, and the giving of thanks that He is the Blesser, the Giver, the Abundant One.

The Church of Apple Pie.  Try that thought on for size.  Your have a choice:  The Church of Slivers and Scarcity vs. The Church of Apple Pie.

It begins with each of us, looking in the mirror, being Apple Pie to those at home – not stingy in anything at all.  Partakers of His bounty, that we might pass it on.

We live in a world physically and spiritually starving for big, spicy, delicious slices of apple pie.  And since we’re all different, some of us want raisins, some want rum sauce atop our whipped cream.  Some want plain, traditional apple pie.  Some, unbelievably and inconceivably, don’t want apple pie at all, ever.  They want pumpkin, or peanut butter chocolate.  But I think it’s safe to say, whatever pie we prefer, we want more than a sliver, about which we have to feel we’re stealing from someone else.

Let’s do away with the lack mentality.  Like storebought pie, it’s from Hell.

 

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No Thank You Very Much!

mother and child hands

You do not want a soul tie to anyone who thinks the brutal demolition of a full-term baby is “reproductive health”.  Period.

In all elections, in all issues, take the life stance.  Take a stand for life.  If someone wants your support for a position on your podunk library board, find out where they stand – life or death, blessing or cursing.  They may run for mayor next, and then for state rep, and perhaps one day be your governor.  It is not hate to have the courage to stand against those who will call you a hater for choosing to choose life.  Life.  If we don’t stand for life, we are bowing to death.

Educate yourself and you will find unborn babies have beating hearts, they feel the pain of their bodies being mutilated, and they are unique in all the earth, as are we all. As the Word of God says, we’re knit together in our mother’s wombs, fearfully and wonderfully made.

The pro-life view is not the view of hate.  What could possibly be more filled with hate, more hateful, than the murder of a baby?  And yet, as in all things Satanic, there is the confusion of people calling those of us who disagree with their positions “haters.”

I, for one, am a lover.   I love my aborted friends, and bleed for them as they struggle with their bone-deep regrets.  I love the children we’ll never know, and their fathers and grandfathers.  And I love those souls, so many of them Christians, who don’t want to see Roe v. Wade overturned.

I also love inconvenience, financial struggles, embarrassment, and having my plans messed with.  Inconvenience means I’m going to sweat a bit, which is good for me.  So, if a pregnancy is inconvenient, hooray!  Financial struggles always bring out the fight in me, and cause me to get smart and creative, another hooray!  Pride is the root of embarrassment, so anything that roots that out is a good thing.  And having my little plans messed with – oh, that is such a grand thing!

Yes, we’re talking about unplanned pregnancies.  I think it’s a good bet that I was “unplanned” by my parents, but God has a different view of me.  I’m sure I was a financial burden, and at times very inconvenient.  So, out of these four reasons people often cite as a justification for killing their baby (inconvenient, too expensive, embarrassing to the family, unplanned), I scored three out of four on arguments FOR abortion.

And then there’s that STUPID “health of the mother” argument.  I was once told I would die if I didn’t abort.  Well, I’m still here, as is my lovely daughter.  As I told the doctor.  “If I die, I die, there will be no abortion.”  He screamed at me, I found another doctor.  But back to the argument:  there is nothing on earth more unhealthy for a mother than destroying her child.

And what could be more unhealthy for a society than the belief that life doesn’t matter?  The ramifications of abortion are beyond measure.  I will never forget having to answer our kids’ question, “Mom, what’s abortion?”  And as I struggled to answer it, watching the horror and the disbelief on their young faces, I thought of the busybody home schooling opponents in our lives.  “You’re overprotective.  Your kids won’t be properly socialized.”  Blah, blah, blah.  In a world where children are ripped from the wombs of the one created to nurture and love them all the days of their lives, there is no way to fully protect a child’s heart.  The best I could do was to assure them that this was the ultimate example of the evil of the enemy of their souls, and lead them in prayer that one day, we would again be a nation under the love and blessing of God, rather than under the curse of abortion.

How are we different from societies who threw their children into volcanoes to appease angry gods?  They at least thought of it as a sacrifice.  We abort because we do not value God’s ultimate gift, the greatest showing of His creative power and grace:  a child.

Let us no longer look to the opinions of liars and fools, deceived to deceive.  Let us look to Jesus, the one who made us free.  Free to choose love, liberty, and life..

Vote life.  Period.