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My last post was in November, 2009. Most of you know why...my 26-yr-old daughter Saralyn had a stroke on January 3, 2010. Last year disappeared in a blur of hospital stays, rehab facility, moving in with Saralyn and Landon to take care of her, home health visits, trips to therapy, another surgery to replace the missing piece of skull bone, and many, many doctor visits. Then in December our family moved to Ohio where Jim accepted the pastorate of West Chester Wesleyan Church. And that was 2010!

Labels: Recipe

Evelyn's Angel Eggs

Today is my mother-in-law's birthday. Happy Birthday, Evelyn! (She won't see this unless Tammy prints it out and gives it to her, but oh, well.) She has never particularly liked to cook; her mother was such a fantastic cook that Evelyn never got to do it while growing up, and her mom was too busy to teach her. Kind of like the shoemaker whose children have no shoes. Or me, who didn't take the time to teach my children piano. :( Well, anyway, she learned to make deviled eggs and that was always her specialty at potlucks and family affairs. Only she won't call them deviled eggs to give Satan any credit...she insists that they are Angel Eggs. Here's her recipe, in honor of Grandma's 82 birthday.

Evelyn's Angel Eggs (this is in her words)

Let's say for a dozen eggs. Blend this stuff with the yolks (hard-boiled, of course). You can use your blender if you want. Add the mayo a bit at a time, since you don't want too much.
try a half cup of mayonaise (little at a time)
a tablespoon and a half of mustard
1/2 teaspoon of salt
1/2 teaspoon of sugar
1 teaspoon of vinegar
When you get it blended and it looks right and tastes right, put some in each half egg and arrange on a platter or a special egg plate. Sprinkle with pepper and paprika.

Once Evelyn took her eggs to a Marshall Family Reunion. This is at least 45 years ago. Her husband, "big" Jim, was the first to try an egg. Suddenly he choked, began spitting out the egg, all the while yelling she was trying to kill him. Turned out she had put rubbing alcohol instead of vinegar in the mixture! Course, everyone else thought it was hysterical! Happy Day, Evelyn! We love you and hope you have many, many more birthdays before you join big Jim and Wayne in Heaven! (No wonder God says there is no marriage in Heaven...whom would you live with??)






Fresh Blueberry Pie and Scrapping

Today I want to talk about scrapping, not the fighting kind, but the "paste it in an album" kind. For years as we traveled from church to church, we lugged along boxes and boxes filled with "the stuff of our lives"--pictures, kids' drawings, school papers, more pictures, trophies, awards, more pictures...you get the idea. I know Jim was aggravated moving so many boxes of "Marg's Stuff", thinking it would never make it out of a box and into something permanent. And I always felt guilty, which is something I do quite well, worrying that precious memories were being ruined in damp boxes cause I couldn't find the time to do something with them.

In Calgary I visited with a friend who had chronicled her family's vacations in wonderful scrapbooks full of pictures, stickers, artwork, little boxes of dialog; gorgeous books that were fun to look at and full of memories for her family. That evening got my brain working. Soon after, she asked me to help her start a scrapbooking class at church, as an outreach to our community. That was the beginning. Ruth has kept it going, expanding, holding all-day workshops in the church foyer, ladies meeting ladies from outside the church, developing friendships and inviting people to be a part of their lives and their church life, if they don't have one.

Meanwhile, my mom was approaching a milestone birthday, and so was Jim's mom. What better gift for a huge birthday than a memory book? I emailed all the sisters and begged for photos, anything they were willing to part with of their kids, especially pictures of them with the Grandmas. I already had 20 years' worth of school pictures, plus occasional family reunion or holiday photos. I set up plastic containers labeled with my kids' names, the cousins, Christmas, reunions, etc. Then I sorted, sorted, SORTED! It actually was fun, and felt SO GOOD to get the pictures out of boxes and into my plastic bins.

The next part is history. The completed books of their lives, starting with baby pictures and moving through the years, mostly focusing on the grandkids, those books were a HUGE success. But something else happened. I found that "scrapping" as I called it, put me in touch with the little Margie I used to be! I felt creative again, excited to be doing something fun and rewarding and GETTING RID OF THE GUILT! It was a win/win situation. Yes, the books and supplies cost money. After awhile I quit keeping track. I decided you can't put a price tag on memories! And when a person is gone, all that is left is pictures and memories, right? (No one has left yet, but I know someday I'll have to face that.) After the moms, I moved on to do a book for Jim on his 60th birthday. It is precious to him, showing the "days of his life." And of course, it is expandable! There are more days coming.

So--this is to encourage those of you who have boxes of memories. There never really is a good time to stop housework, leave the outside flowers, forget the laundry and go do some scrapping. That's why I had been married 29 years before I tackled those boxes. Somehow I thought I was supposed to get all my "work" done before I could do something fun like play with memories. You know what? That never happens. You NEVER get it all done. And there will come a time when you will be too old, too tired, too crippled, too SOMETHING to even care about pictures any more! So, my challenge to you is...stop putting it off and start scrapping! Do something once a week. Find your local store and buy that first album. Go to Wal-mart and check out the scrapbook aisles to get you excited. There's a whole world out there waiting for you, and a family who will absolutely love your books when you start making them. It's worth it.

Did you think I forgot about the blueberry pie? No, it's a recipe I got at the Scrapbook Shoppe last week. It's wonderful for a summer evening, perhaps a treat while you sort through photos!

Fresh Blueberry Pie (or strawberry, or peach)

8" graham cracker crust, or a baked crust (make sure to let it cool)
3 cup fresh blueberries, washed and dried
1 cup sugar
3 TB cornstarch
1 cup water
3 TB lemon jello powder (or strawberry, or peach)
(Note: DON'T use sugar-free. It doesn't come out right.)

Brush the crust with a thin coating of corn starch to keep the pie from getting soggy. Place berries in the cool crust, making a nice mound. In medium pan combine the sugar and cornstarch, stirring till there are no lumps. Add the water and stir till dissolved. Cook this liquid over medium heat, stirring constantly about 5 minutes until it starts to boil, gets thick and clear.
Remove from heat, cool slightly. Stir in the jellow powder till dissolved. Pour this cooled filling over your fruit, tilt and tap the pie pan until the filling has settled evenly in the pie. Chill at least 3 hours, then serve with Cool Whip or vanilla ice cream. Or plain, with coffee. It's delicious!

Labels: Recipe, Scrapbooking

TOM'S SPRIGHTLY SPROUTS

I know there are people out there who like Brussel Sprouts. My niece here in Columbus has the good fortune to be dating a master chef, and Tom's Sprouts are something to write about. So I am.

2 lbs. Brussel sprouts, washed and trimmed
1/2 cup golden raisins
1 small yellow onion (sweet)
1 lemon (using the zest + the juice)
1 Granny Smith apple
1/2 cup apple juice
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg (less than)
salt, pepper
1/2 stick butter

Slice onion, melt butter, then carmelize onions in butter. Cube apple (peeled, cored). Add apple, apple juice, raisins and lemon zest to the carmelized onions. Simmer to reduce by half, about 4 minutes. Turn the fire off and add the nutmeg.

Cook sprouts with the juice from the lemon added to the cooking water. Drain, mix with the sauce. Serve with ham and scalloped potatoes for a fabulous meal!

Labels: Recipes

MARG'S MOCK MIMOSA

This is for Saturday sipping by your pool (or lake or hot tub or puddle). Wash some strawberries and pop one into each section of an ice cube tray. Fill tray with water (or white grape juice.) Freeze at least 3 hours.

Then mix the following:

12 oz. orange juice concentrate (thawed)

6 oz. limeade concentrate (thawed)

2 cups water

6 cups sparkling apple juice, chilled

Serve over several strawberry ice cubes in a beautiful glass. Enjoy!





WHY DO PEOPLE LIVE IN HUMIDITY
WHEN THERE IS THIS???




Another perfect day in the Okanagan Valley of British Columbia. And by the way, the 90 mile long lake is Lake Okanagan, not Lake Kelowna. (my editor kindly corrected me.) Just look at all the blues in that picture! Those guys are Byng and Gini Olive, who made our wonderful vacation possible.

These are both Ladyslippers.








This is a twining honeysuckle.


And this beautiful spot is another view of the lake, a few miles south of Kelowna, where we stopped for our notable picnic lunch that the baby bear romped through. We had toyed with the idea of going in the water, until the bear changed our mind. One thing that makes Canada so refreshing is that there aren't so MANY PEOPLE everywhere. Even crowds don't feel that crowded, when you remember there is only one tenth the population of the US. I think heaven will be like that, though perhaps our Chinese friends wouldn't feel at home unless they were squashed in with millions of folks on all sides. God will have to figure that one out.

On another entirely different note, here are two quotes from Pastor Tony last Sunday. "If it's not down in the well, it won't come up in the bucket." He had told of a pastor calling a parishioner, to have the phone answered with "Who the h--- is this?" When the man found out it was his pastor calling, he stammered and stuttered, "Sorry, pastor, I don't usually talk like that." I thought that had "elements of humor", as my mom likes to say. And then this one: "I would rather settle a riot than perform a resurrection." How true! Let's have some life, some emotion and noise and act like you're in this thing! Don't save your yelling just for the football games...let your pastor know you're awake and listening! There, I've said my piece for today. Tomorrow...the famous shrimp curry recipe I'm known for all over two huge lands. love you all, Margie

Labels: Canadian Vacation

This sweetie is a lady moose, another of Linda Vick's wonderful photos. I lived in Canada for over five years, and never saw a moose once, nor an elk. But I did see a mother bear and two cubs right along the highway, and several exceedingly stupid people out of their cars trying to get pictures. Reminded me of the people in Kenya at the game park, out of their cars to photograph lions, like they were tame zoo animals.
We were in a line of cars, unable to go back or forward, with a rhino on one side pawing the ground, obviously agitated. Our senior missionary said the rhino could flip our VW combie with one swipe of his horn. Like they said of Aslan, in The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe, "He's NOT a tame lion, you know!"

Several of you wrote me back, commenting on Canada's beauty. I remember being a child at Niagara Falls and realizing with jealousy that the Canadian side was much prettier than ours. I guess that's part of growing up, realizing that other people and other countries can have things better than ours, without lowering our own value or preciousness. I'm including several of my vacation photos today, then some more of Linda's beautiful flowers.

This is a part of the Canadian Rockies, called "The Three Sisters", about one hour from Calgary. They have names...I think Alberta and Victoria and not sure of the third. This is just a view out the car window...can you imagine what it's like to actually climb one of these?


This is Crazy Creek Waterfall, in British Columbus, on the way back from the Okanagan Valley to Calgary.
I can't figure how to flip the picture right side up. sigh Well, maybe one of you will write me back and tell me how to do that. We climbed out on a swaying bridge right over this thing...SOME of us climbed out on the bridge. I won't mention that Virginia was too chicken. And she had the nerve to ask Byng for his car keys, in case he fell down into the gorge!

Jimmy in front of a beautiful Ford truck at a car show. I think the truck was older than he was.


The two of us on one of the swaying bridges over the waterfall.








Me, out in the MIDDLE of that horrible bridge, with the waterfall behind me. And of course Byng made
it shake horribly.








The Alberta provincial flower, the Wild Rose.







The Calypso Orchid




More pictures tomorrow. Margie





Yes, that is a baby bear! Sorry it's not clearer, but I was so shocked to see him come galloping through our picnic site, it was all I could do to snap the picture! I mean, even in Canada, you just don't expect a baby bear to suddenly run past your picnic table! He was obviously on a mission, and desperately looking for his mama. At which point we began to wonder about her, where she was, and if she could suddenly descend on us. We decided we were through and hightailed it back to the car! As did other diners around us. You just don't mess with Mama Bear. That's Canada, folks, always a new surprise around the corner.
We so thoroughly enjoyed our few days with our friends Byng and Virginia Olive, driving with them out to Kelowna, BC for a few days in a lovely condo/resort called the Delta Grand Kelowna. Lake Kelowna is over 90 miles long, and surrounded by wine country and fruit orchards, somewhat like California and Washington combined. In fact, the Okanagan Valley we were in continues on down into Washington, also producing wonderful fruit down there. Boats, fishing, hot tubbing, swimming in both indoor and outdoor pools...ah, the life of Reilly, whoever he is.

While in our old home town of Cochrane I went over to the Bethany Care Center to play for the residents. It was a bittersweet pleasure; so many of the familiar faces were missing. But it was good to think of them released from their wheel chairs and pain, their foggy memories and lonely lives. How fabulous Heaven must be, those first few hours when you realize what you've left behind, and the new existence ahead of you!
I reconnected with a volunteer at Bethany, Linda Vick, who sent me some of her photography. Take a look and marvel at the beauty God spread all over Alberta!


Kananaskis Big Horn Sheep in Spring



Wedge Pond, Kananaskis, Alberta



Upper Kananaskis Lake, Alberta




Grizzly at Bow Valley Park Beaver Pond, Alberta



Baby Fox in Cochrane, Alberta (my former home town)


Rocky Mountain Sheep, Mom and Baby



Kananaskis in early Spring, Alberta, Canada

Isn't this country beautiful? You can see why Jim and I go on and on about Canada! Tomorrow, some of my vacation pictures, though they're not in this league! blessings, Margie

Labels: Canada, Summer Vacation 2009

CRANBERRIES AREN'T JUST FOR THANKSGIVING ANY MORE!

Just returned from a visit to friends in Alberta, Canada. Brought back a recipe for Cranberry Chutney. You are probably eating turkey sandwiches if it's hot and you don't want to cook; try this with your sandwich and see if it doesn't perk it up!
CRANBERRY CHUTNEY (fabulous on sliced turkey)

1 cup water
1 cup sugar
12 oz cranberries
1/2 cup vinegar
1 cup raisins
1/2 cup peeled, diced apples
1/4 tsp allspice
1/4 tsp ginger
1/4 tsp cinnamon
1/8 tsp cloves
1/4 chopped walnuts (optional)

Directions: 1. Bring water & sugar to a boil over medium heat.
2. Add all remaining ingredients & return to a boil.
3. Reduce heat & simmer 15 minutes or until apples are tender.
4. Pour into glass mixing bowl & let cool to room temperature.

Here's a cool idea. Make a delicious, festive appetizer: Spread low fat cream cheese and cranberry chutney on a tortilla wrap. Roll and cut into bite sizes. Wonderful!

Labels: Recipe

Greetings. Haven't posted for a while. If I were my imaginative son, Hyperion, I would say I have been on safari in Swaziland. Since I'm me, I'll say I haven't been up to anything interesting.

Take that back...I attended a beach wedding two weeks ago, my very first! It was on Holden Beach, North Carolina, a stone's throw from the South Carolina border and the more famous Myrtle Beach. My nephew Jon Walls married Emily Jones; he's the first of the grandchildren to marry.



It was a long, rainy trip there and back, but the wedding itself was beautiful. There were two oval lines of shells marking where the bridal party should stand, and the two minister fathers married them. The family and friends sat on blankets, with the rolling sea just yards away.

The best moment came when Jon and Emily, newly pronounced husband and wife, turned, joined hands, and skipped back toward the beach house. Skipped. He in long cream colored shirt and khakis and she in beautiful white wedding gown, with her long veil whipping out behind her in the sea breeze. It was one of those priceless moments; hope the photographer caught it.



My sister Liz and I decorated the beach house for them with shells, candles and touches of turquoise and chocolate brown, Emily's colors. Our husbands strung lanterns on the deck, and twinkle lights along the railings. The scene out there was magical; of course the humidity kept me indoors.

And let me remark about the food! My sister Trish and her husband Billy cooked not only the rehearsal luncheon for the wedding party of 20, but also signed on for the wedding dinner. Both were cooked and served right there in the beach house, the lodging for the wedding party. Trying to prepare for a wedding where 12 young adults are billeted is NOT recommended, should any of you decide on a beach wedding.

Jon had requested pulled pork sandwiches, mac & cheese, baked beans and potato salad...kind of a "picnic at the beach" type affair. Serving that to 80 people alongside the waves seemed a bit difficult, so Trish opted to serve in the beach house. A friend of Billy's did the pork, with his own special rub for the meat, then l-o-n-g roasting and tedious "pulling" by Trish and Billy. Definitely labor intensive. But without a doubt the finished product was the best pork sandwich I have ever had, and the other dishes were fantastic also. I think it was the best wedding supper I've ever eaten, followed by a three layer cake done by their friend Johan. Talk about exotic flavors: poppy seed with lemon filling, white cake with berry filling, and chocolate with kahlua fudge filling. Incredible, and all decorated with tiny frosting sea shells. And done by a young man who said "I worked at the Kroger bakery and they taught me some stuff."

Anyway, that's enough for now. Tomorrow, the world's best lasagna. marg

---

"Maybe You'll Be In Here Soon"

Winds blew and dark clouds threatened as I pulled my car into the parking lot. Today's music was for the residents of a beautiful assisted living facility. The time was set for 1:00 pm; right after lunch but hopefully before nap time.

---

"MAY I WALK WITH YOU?"

After years of playing piano for church, I'm branching out. I have started playing for Nursing Homes and Retirement Centers. It has taken some getting used to. And it is hard work, trying to communicate with people who are hard of hearing, sleeping, or off in la-la-land. But then there are others who are as sharp as can be, but maybe physically disabled. There they all are together, a jumble of people in various stages of disintegration. I quickly learn who to smile at, who is "with me". And how fun to see a face light up when they hear "their" song!

One lady asks for "Yellow Bird"--over and over again. Finally I laugh and tell her no more, she's already had it twice. The worse the memory, the less chance of coming up with a request. So I have learned the songs that get a response. World War I and II songs are really popular. "Don't sit under the Apple Tree with Anyone Else But Me." "Over There." "White Cliffs of Dover." And of course, hymns. Very, very few people won't try to sing along on the hymns. My preacher father told me once that there are no atheists in fox holes. I believe there are very few atheists in here either, with death perhaps just around the corner.

I finished one morning at ll:30. The aides started getting folk headed toward the dining room. It's always a bit like the Pied Piper: those who can walk hold onto their frail neighbors; a few can push a wheel chair and help in the slow procession. Then I heard one little lady say to another, "May I walk with you?" Her companion smiled and took her arm. "Of course you can walk with me. I don't know where I'm going, but you can come along!"

Can you imagine life in a fog? Never knowing where your room is, perhaps not even remembering why you live here. There are always signs at the doors warning you not to let someone escape when you leave. And of course the Alzheimer's units are always locked. People want to go home. They might not know where it is, but they know they have one, somewhere. Oh, the joy when they will finally get home, see their loved ones, and know exactly whom they are walking with!

Labels: Retirement Home Music

Years ago I found a little book in Kenya called "The Creative Homemaker". I didn't have TV at the time, so read anything I could get my hands on. This paperback by Mary LaGrand Bouma had a few of her family recipes at the back. The "Graham Gems" recipe for quick muffins became a Marshall favorite. She says "If you preheat your oven immediately, you can be serving these a half hour after getting the recipe out." That's true; the other great thing is you can add absolutely anything to them for variety. I have added different kinds of nuts, pared apples, apricots, pineapple bits, coconut, chocolate chips, bananas, poppy seeds and lemon flavoring...the sky is the limit!

Marg's Marvelous Muffins (a.k.a. Graham Gems)
2/3 c brown sugar
1 stick margarine (1/2 cup) (or butter)
1 egg
1 c sour milk (put 1 t. lemon juice in your milk to sour it)
1 small teaspoon baking soda
2 cups stone ground whole wheat (graham) flour

Grease or spray with Pam a 12-cup muffin tin. Blend sugar and margarine; stir in egg. Add other ingredients. Fill muffin cups 2/3 full. Bake at 375 - 400 for 15 minutes. Makes 12. Before spooning into muffin cups you can add 1 cup of any of the following: raisins, chopped nuts, chopped dates, chopped dried apricots, diced apple pieces, etc. Mostly I make them plain and eat them with butter and cheddar cheese for breakfast. (Mary L. Bouma's words)

This was copywritten in 1973, long before whole wheat anything came into vogue. Regular flour works too, but the whole wheat makes them healthier and chewier. I use 375 degrees instead of 400, and it took about 17-18 minutes last night. The toothpick should come out clean, and the muffin be pulling away from the pan. I lift and tip each muffin side-ways in the pan to let the steam come off the bottom (with my toothpick), then get them out and onto my rack to cool. Hypie says I make the best muffins in the world. It may not be true, but it keeps me baking! :)

Labels: Recipe

Sorry for the month off. "Into each life some rain must fall..." (I was underwater last month.)

I'm preparing to record a CD of oldies for the sweet people I play for each week in Retirement Homes and Alzheimer's units. I can only be there once or twice a month; several places it's only once a month because of limited budgets. I thought it might be a blessing to have an inexpensive CD of favorites they could purchase and play in their room whenever they choose. My brother-in-law has a recording studio here in Columbus, and has counseled me to pick "public domain" songs for this first one, to avoid the expensive royalties.

I've been asking the folk for favorites. With memory loss, they cannot pull out a favorite, but I can tell by their faces when I've hit on a goodie. Which prompted me to ask you, my fair readers. If you were confined to a room, perhaps a bed and wheel chair, contemplating your departure from this life, what songs would you want playing to comfort or inspire you? Use the comment spot below to send me your top five songs. Also, ask your oldest friend or relative; that's more the age I'm targeting, with this first CD. thanks for your help on my project!





Yesterday was the 13th anniversary of the day my son changed his name to Hyperion. I decided to make his favorite birthday cake, a recipe I got from a friend, Leona, years ago at our Oregon City church. This cake became a family favorite, the designated choice of both boys on their birthdays. One year in Canada I bought all the ingredients and sent them to Landon in law school in Atlanta. And at the price of Canadian postage, that was probably his whole present that year.

Leona's Fabulous Butterskotch Cake

1 yellow cake mix (plain, not with pudding)
1 small butterskotch cooked pudding
2 cups milk (you won't even notice if you use skim)
6 oz butterskotch morsels (see why the milk won't make a difference?)
pecans (or peanuts if pecans too expensive)

Cook the pudding with the 2 cups milk as directed on the box. Whisk in the cake mix, stirring thoroughly. Pour into a greased 9 by 13" pan. Sprinkle morsels and pecans on top. Bake the cake for around 30 minutes at 350 degrees.

My oven is weird, so I baked mine closer to 45. You can take it out when the middle is still a bit gooey...that's one of the charms of this dessert. If you eat it warm with cool whip or vanilla ice cream, the gooey-ness is fantastic. Hype doesn't like cake, but loves this one. You know how food evokes memories? This butterskotch cake has come to mean "celebration" in our family, synonymous with family good times and laughter. We all needed it last night.

There is another variation: use a german chocolate cake mix, a chocolate cooked pudding, chocolate chips and walnuts. We've never gotten past the butterskotch to try the chocolate, but it sure sounds good. And don't wait till a birthday to try this! The Lord may come back before you have a chance!

(If you would like to know why my son changed his name from Thomas to Hyperion, write him at hyperioninstitute@gmail.com.)

Labels: Hypie's birthday, Recipe

This picture has nothing to do with mashed potatoes; she's just so cute I decided to use her again! She's Carly Mix, granddaughter of my friendinCanada Virginia.

Anyway, I made fantastic mashed potatoes last night and decided to tell y'all exactly how to do it without making them fattening. It's possible! I discovered this years ago while trying to do a very-low-fat diet. They are so good I never quit making them this way.

Here in the South we like to leave the skins on. Adds fiber and vitamins. So I use red potatoes with thinner skins. Scrub them really well and cut into quarters. Boil just till tender and drain immediately, leaving some cooking water in the pan. (Maybe 2/3 cup for 8-10 red potatoes. You'll get better at eyeballing this as you try it several times. You can't go wrong; if they are too dry you can always add some skim milk.)

Now here's the secret ingredient: powdered milk! You just sprinkle some in and start beating with your electric beaters. Once you get the powdered milk and cooking water mixed in, add salt and fresh ground black pepper, maybe a TINY bit of margarine for flavor (or butter). Start tasting and adjust the seasoning. We add garlic powder and sometimes chives. The beauty is that you don't have to heat milk; the cooking water is boiling hot and the powdered milk adds flavor and NO FAT! And they are delicious! It's so fun to have mashed potatoes without guilt. My son and I decided last night they are in the top five comfort foods.

Labels: Recipe

Perhaps this is for you today. Hope it helps you through the day!

THERE IS A GOD (from Psalm 91)

There is a God and He's aware;
He knows your fear; He knows your care.
He's not aloof or far away;
He'll stand beside you all the way.

You're in His hands, held like a child,
When storms are fierce and winds are wild.
His mighty wings will shelter you
and keep you safe the whole night through.

He tells his angels to stand by
and when it rains to keep you dry.
They'll bear you up and o'er the stone;
So be encouraged; you're not alone

Sometimes my faith seems weak and thin;
I fight the doubts, without, within.
And then I glimpse His leading hand.
I know He's here to help me stand.

And when my back's against the wall;
I'm on a ledge, about to fall.
Then brand-new hope in me is poured.
That wall behind me is the Lord!

And when I fall into the well,
This pit is dark and cold as hell.
I reach my trembling hands in fear,
And touch the Master; He is here.

He shines His light, dispels the gloom.
I'm not alone, here in this tomb.
He wraps me 'round with warmth and love;
I feel His power from above.

I'm going to make it! I hear Him say.
He's been here first to pave the way.
The goal's in sight, 'tis Heaven's door.
We'll be together evermore!








Today's post is about S U B S T I T U T I O N.

If you know me well, you are aware that for the last two years Jim has been between churches and we have been just barely surviving. We have fought all sorts of battles, from small ones like cockroaches to large ones like almost losing our cars. Somehow, through the grace of God and our wonderful families, we have stayed in the game.

Some day there might be a book about this wilderness experience. For now, I am content to share some ideas with you, my blog-audience...blaudience. Hey, cool word! I want to give you a recipe that I made today, then tell you about substituting when you don't have the things you think you need.

Here's the original recipe: SLOW COOKER LENTIL SOUP (from the newspaper) serves 6-8

2 cups dried green lentils, rinsed & drained
8 cups canned chicken broth
1 meaty ham bone
1 1/2 cups chopped carrots
1 1/2 cups chopped celery
1 cup chopped onion
1/4 cup chopped fresh parsley
3 cloves garlic, finely chopped
1/2 tsp thyme, crumbled
1/4 tsp freshly ground pepper
1/8 tsp cayenne pepper
1 bay leaf
2 cups thinly sliced spinach

Combine all ingredients except spinach in slow cooker. Cover, cook on low 8 hrs. (high, 4 hrs) Remove ham bone and bay leaf; discard leaf. Remove & chop meat from ham bone; discard bone. Stir meat & spinach into soup; cover and cook until spinach is wilted, about 2 minutes.

Okay, that's what my little card said. And as a newlywed, I would have made sure I had every single ingredient on hand. But after 35 years, plus the lessons God's been teaching me, I surveyed my almost bare cabinets and "made do."

I never have ham bones...plus, ham is too salty for every day. (New Year's Day, maybe) I had a cup of cooked chicken, so I threw that in plus extra buillon since the bone would have added flavor. Didn't have much celery. Figured up the total amount of chopped veggies, then substituted extra carrots for my lack of celery. Had half a bag of wilting spinach salad; picked all the slimy ones out and got enough for my soup. Only had one cup of lentils, so substituted my last cup of brown rice. AND...Jim just told me it's the best soup I've ever made. It's called "Cooking outside the Box." Hey--another great book title!

Labels: Recipe

I went to The Green House, an Alzheimer home where I play every other week. I had been there on July 4th, and we sang patriotic songs. (I played and sang, and they nodded, or mouthed the words, or listened with eyes peacefully closed.) One lady struck me as being better than I had ever seen. She usually pushed a walker around, and had bright, inquisitive eyes, though she never spoke or sang a word. She usually couldn't sit still, which caused a couple other ladies anxiety as they thought she was going to fall. On the Fourth she was walking around with no walker! I was happy for her and commented to the helper what a great change.

Went back the 18th. Our group had shriveled to only 4 ladies, and I asked where Ms. M was. The LPN on duty waved her hand in a circle by her ear, which I always thought meant "went bonkers." When she could see I didn't understand her signal, she gestured toward the ceiling. Light dawned. I whispered, "You mean she went to Heaven?" She nodded.

I found myself uncomfortably shocked. I know these people are close to the end of their lives, and I have noticed they love songs about Heaven. But it simply never occurred to me someone would die on my watch. I mean, I had just talked and smiled with her, held her hands and commented how cold they were, patted her little skinny arm that was purple with bruises from falling, and told her to be careful. She had gazed at me; she was all there. And suddenly she was no more. I wonder, as I've heard some say, if she had started "breathing the air of Heaven", which would explain why she was suddenly walking without her trusty walker.

I only know it shook me up. Here, and then GONE! We all are terminal; we say that glibly and yet don't believe it for a moment. But it is true. I'm not grieving for Ms. M...I know she is dancing and bopping around, able to clap, smile and sing again! But I am more conscious of trying to "live like you're dying." Trying to make each day count, saying "I love you" often; even communicating with God more.

Jim always says he wants to go to Heaven, but not on the next load. I have so many family and friends who aren't ready, I could never pray "Come quickly, Lord Jesus." But I must live ready.








Today's fascinating subject is Meatloaf. My Mom gave me a recipe from her Mom, years ago when I first left home. When I cooked for Jim for the first time (just dating, not engaged yet) I made this meatloaf. Unfortunately, the oven in the little apartment where I lived, up on the third floor of an old, decrepit building in Marion, Indiana, that little oven had seen better days, and knew it. While I was happily talking to Jim out in the sitting room, (you couldn't be in your room with a guy!) that little oven burned my precious meatloaf. I was so disappointed, Jim kept eating it to tell me how wonderful it was. I knew right then he was husband material.

Here is the original recipe:

2 pounds ground beef (I use 1 lb. beef, 1 lb. ground turkey to make it leaner)
6 pieces toast, broken into tiny bits
1 small onion chopped or diced
2 eggs slightly beaten
1 can cream of mushroom soup
salt & pepper, optional (there is plenty of salt in the soup)

Mix well and form a loaf. Bake 30 min. at 425, then 60 min. at 375.

OKAY, that's the original recipe. It is fantastic. I have been experimenting, after watching the Food Network's "Alton Brown". Take a baking pan and line with foil, then make a double-thick pad of foil a little larger than your meatloaf. Punch holes through it with an ice pick so heat can hit the bottom of the loaf. Set a baking rack or cookie rack on top of your foil-lined pan, (spray with Pam) then place your meatloaf on its foil pad on top. Alton recommends one hour at 400 degrees. THE GLAZE: I use an old-fashioned glaze my BH&G cookbook taught me years ago; mix together about a third cup of ketchup with a tablespoon or so of Karo syrup. Paint this on the meatloaf the last 15 minutes, because the sugar will tend to burn.

Now. Try that meatloaf, that way, and let me know if it isn't absolutely fantastic.







ANGIE - By Patricia Walls Perrelli

Today is my daughter, Angela Rose Walls’, birthday. I am using Marg’s blog to take the opportunity to write a little tribute to her.

Angie made her appearance 27 years ago on a hot, sultry July day in Wauseon, Ohio – a small town in northwest Ohio. I was in labor 36 hours with her because my doctor was on vacation and the only other doctor on call was out playing cards and drinking with his buddies Thursday night and the nurses didn’t want to bother him. They let me go all night with back labor every three minutes until the doctor was sober enough in the morning to come in. I finally delivered Angie at 12:24 pm on Friday, July 17, 1981.

We had picked out the name Jessica Lee if we had a girl but looking at our baby, she just didn’t look like a Jessica. I don’t know how someone can or cannot look like a name but it just didn’t fit her. She had a round face with a dimple in the middle of her chin. One ear flopped over endearingly like a little rabbit. Since the hospital was small, there were only about 8 babies in the nursery and Angie was the only girl. So when the nurses lined up the babies in the viewing window, they put Angie in the middle surrounded on both sides by the boys. She has spent the rest of her life surrounded by the male species! The nurses kept saying what an angel she was so Angela she became.

I was so thrilled to finally be a Mommy. That’s the only ambition I can ever remember having – to get married and have children. As a child, I had loved playing house with my sisters and our dolls. We would spend hours dressing up our dolls and taking them to “church” which was on the steps leading from our basement playroom up to the kitchen. The steps were the pews and we lined up our dolls for church while one of us girls preached a sermon at the bottom of the steps. Our dolls always acted up in church and we had to take them out to spank them. I wonder what life experience we got that from?!

When Angie was a few days old, I remember sitting in my bed holding her and I just started crying because I loved her so much and felt such a responsibility that I had brought this living creature into the world and now I was accountable for her – for her physical well-being and to help determine where her soul would spend eternity. It was overwhelming.

I’ll share a couple of my memories of Angie which I hold dear. One was when she was in the brownies. She was going through a difficult time of low self confidence and negative self image so when it came time to sell Girl Scout cookies, I determined to help her sell the most cookies and get an award. We sold cookies like crazy. She stood up on a table in the cafeteria at Asbury Seminary and announced her wares, we went door to door, we sold outside WalMart…in the end she had sold the most cookies in the county. I don’t remember the exact number of boxes but it was in the hundreds and I had cookies stacked everywhere in our little apartment. Of course you-know-who then had to go deliver all those cookies. But Angie got an award in front of all the Brownies and Girl Scouts in the county and she was so proud, all the hard work was worth it.

Another memory is when Angie was in the sixth grade. She tried out and won a lead in the sixth grade Christmas play. Angie played Mrs. Claus. She not only had her lines memorized flawlessly, but she had everyone else’s lines memorized too and could prompt them when they faltered. Aunt Liz came to Kentucky that night as a surprise to see her perform and once again, we were so proud of our little Angie Baby!

As the years have passed, Angie has grown into an incredibly beautiful, loving, young woman. She persevered to finish college even though it took her 7 and a half years and many people doubted that she would ever finish. She has struck out on her own in an exciting adventure, moving to Florida to pursue new friendships and to start a career. I miss her so much but thank goodness for cell phones and email. We keep in touch daily.

Angie and I have had our differences and misunderstandings over the years but in the last several years, we have grown so close that I now feel like she is one of my best friends, as well as my daughter. She is always there to listen and sympathize when I have a problem, she gives wonderful clothes and makeup advice, and I know she loves me unconditionally. And I don’t think one could ask more from a daughter than that. Unless it would be to get married and give me grandchildren.

Angie, I love you and I am so proud to be your Mom!





HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ANGIE WALLS! This is my sister Trish with her only daughter, lovely Angela Rose. She's a graduate of Asbury College, now living in Miami and looking for work worthy of her lovely self! We love you, Angie! May this be the beginning of a fabulous new year! Her birthday was actually July 17, yesterday.

Labels: family

This is Mother's Day 2007. I guess we do look something alike, don't we? My son Hyperion had bought us both bears and we are posing on sister Trish's back deck in full Kentucky sun.

My mom was always much stronger than I ever imagined growing up. Until I had children of my own, it never occurred to me how difficult it would be to have your husband gone in ministry all the time, and you left home with four girls and no money. That generation believed firmly that the mom should stay home with the kids, and find ways to live on one salary.

My parents found classy second hand shops, like one in the basement of a church in Columbus. I still remember the nice dresses I found there. Remember, we didn't have Walmart back then, with access to cheap clothes and shoes. Mom's favorite store was Lazarus, in downtown Columbus, but she would wait till they had their huge sales. Their policy was "Lazarus will never be undersold." And buddy, did she ever hold them to it.

My high school years we lived in her old family home in Findlay, Ohio. A farmhouse built in the 1880's, it had the gingerbread on the front porch, the high ceilings, pocket doors and lots of woodwork painted white that are so typical of that era. The green carpet in the front rooms was old and getting bare, with the plain floor boards beginning to show through. I will never forget the day that Mom decided to let us all color the carpet. We found green crayons the right color (don't believe we even had markers back then...probably 1964 or so) and had a ball coloring the bare spots in the carpet. Somehow she made that fun and an adventure, and I don't believe any of us realized we were "poor"!!!

Mom NEVER ONCE grumbled about being left home with the kids while Dad traveled in meetings, coming home every three weeks or so. The call God had placed on my Dad's life affected Mom just as well, and she accepted her part in the plan without complaint. I don't know how she made the money stretch. At that time ministers were not well paid; evangelists were even below them on the salary pole. Somehow she kept us all going, raising us with dignity and self-respect and CLASS. That's the word. Mom had CLASS.

She used the good china and silver on birthdays. She let us choose our very favorite foods for our birthday supper. She arranged surprises or parties behind our back. We always went for ice cream after school concerts; she told us SHE had done the same thing with her folks. Dad missed most of the PTA events and school conferences and concerts; Mom never missed a one. She was a "church widow" for many years, getting the four of us there ON TIME, handing out gum or mints when all four of us reached out our hands to her in the middle of the sermon. Matter of fact, she STILL does that, only it's grand kids too now, reaching out their hands for mints.

I'm realizing how impossible it is to put into words a life of over eight decades, lived totally for God and her family. We all know she prays for us daily, and believes the best for us, one and all. Dad even beat her to Heaven, getting to go when he was only 60. She used to warn him not to go off and die on her, leaving her with all these children. Of course, he didn't pay any attention to her and did the very thing she dreaded. For 25 more years she has carried on without him, doing her duty, faithfully supporting her family and the Ohio State Buckeyes.

Mom, Happy Birthday from all of us, your four girls, their husbands, and your 8 grandchildren. We all love you and think you are amazing. And yes, you'll probably outlive us all, God willing.

Labels: Sarah Dorsey

When Sarah, my mom, was 21 years old, her Dad became sheriff of Hancock County, Findlay, Ohio. The family moved to the old jail building, a huge stone edifice that looked like all the other government buildings of the 20's. My Grandma Cooper became the cook for the prisoners, and for the first time in history, the prisoners of that town ate better than the righteous citizens. Grandma was German and a FANTASTIC cook.

When Mom went to Chicago to college, she met a young country boy from a dirt-poor southern Ohio farm. He was a fire-ball preacher, out-spoken, funny and a lover of hunting, making wooden gun stocks, and literature. Mom was a reserved, quiet, well-behaved Scotch/German musician who had grown up in the city and loved opera and the Ohio State Buckeyes. Totally, totally opposite, so of course they fell in love.

After college and marriage, Mom and Dad traveled from church to church doing what was called "evangelism". They had VERY LITTLE MONEY (you don't go into the ministry if your main goal is to make money), so their first home was a bedroom upstairs in the county jail! When little Margie was born in 1951, guess where her first home was? You're right, the county jail! I've gotten a lot of mileage out of that.

But let me go back to the year before, 1950. Dad went up to Michigan for a revival and also went hunting in the deep woods with several friends. He had orange on, saw his friend take aim at him, hollered "Don't shoot, it's me!!" and got shot anyway. The bullet went clean through his shoulder, and the friends panicked and stuffed his wound with KLEENEX. The Doctor said later it wasn't the bullet that almost killed him, but the bits of Kleenex.

Wow. And Mom was 8 months pregnant with me! She had to travel up there, stay in some nice church people's home, travel on the bus every day to the hospital, and contemplate being a widow before she would be a mother. But, God came through for them and used a grouchy, agnostic doctor to pull Daddy through. When Daddy tried to thank him, the old doc brushed him off. "It wasn't me at all. It was the 'man upstairs'." And Mom lived through that! What a trouper.

Tomorrow - "Coloring the Carpet"

Labels: Sarah Dorsey

Sarah Cooper lived in Findlay, the home of Cooper Tires and Marathon Oil. As a little girl I sat in the famous sandwich shop, Wilson's, and looked up at the wall opposite where it said COOPER in big blue letters. I thought my Grandpa Cooper owned that big company. I will not tell you how old I was when I learned we were no relation!

Anyway, little Sarah was born the last of three girls, eight and four years older than she. At night those mean sisters told her she was their "little stove" so she would let them put their big, cold feet on her! Despicable. I'm sure I never did anything like that to my 3 little sisters.

None of us are very artistic in the painting/drawing category. Our gifts are more in the music/writing line. But Sarah as a little girl had a blackboard, and one day tried to draw a bunny. It looked EXACTLY like Little Orphan Annie's dog Sandy. Mom was so proud of that drawing, she wouldn't let anyone erase it for MONTHS. One day her Mom finally cleaned off the board, and Sarah had a conniption fit. The only artistic thing she ever drew, and it was gone. That has been 80 years ago, and she still tells the story pathetically, as one of the great tragic moments of her life.

Tomorrow - going to jail.

Labels: Sarah Dorsey

Hope everyone had a great holiday. I played in two Alzheimer's units on the Fourth, singing as many patriotic songs as I could find, including the songs for Army, Navy, Air Force and Marines. Wow, what words! And - the word "caissons" has been changed to "the Army goes rolling along." So if you don't know what caissons are, it doesn't matter any more. :)

Today I am beginning a week of little stories about my wonderful mom. She was born Sarah Margaret Cooper in the town of Findlay, Ohio, eighty some years ago.
(You're not supposed to ever really tell a lady's age.) The most traumatic thing that happened to my mom as a child...she was run over by a car! Evidently she pulled away from big sister Ruth's hand, wanting to cross the street by herself. This was in the twenties, so cars weren't heavy steel like now. She was cross-eyed for a bit, and remembers wearing a patch on one eye. Tomorrow's story will be about "the little stove" and Orphan Annie's Sandy.








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