A Taste of Love

Eris says that I should write a post on our biscuits. While I was making a quick batch for breakfast this morning, I decided she is right. These simple biscuits cut in the shape of a heart are an essential ingredient in our little family. I assume that the recipe is not unique; there are no unusual ingredients. The baking powder biscuits are simple to make and go with everything from vegetable soup to bacon and eggs. In our house, they can form the staple of a meal or be a dessert. Eris is proud to have joined the generations of women who can mix the dough without looking at the recipe. Little Simeon joins in the clamoring for a piece of dough to snack on. I personally have made these biscuits in three countries, two Native American "Nations," and eleven states. I've made them in electric ovens, gas ovens, over a campfire, and now in my cast iron skillet on my two burner gas stove. They are certainly a family tradition.

Growing up, my mom would make biscuits at least a couple times a week, often to go with Sunday noontime dinner. They became a favorite snack with neighborhood children and visiting friends. The biscuits weren't always in the shape of hearts. That started on my parents first married Valentine's Day; my mom dyed the dough pink and biscuits out with a heart shaped cookie cutter. My dad did not appreciate the food coloring but did like the shape. Somehow, it seems that hearts baked just right and tasted even more delicious than  round biscuits. Since then, the biscuits have always been heart-shaped, regardless of the day. When I left home, my mother gave me the correct sized heart shaped cookie cutter so I could continue the tradition. Eris has experimented a little with the shapes - stars around Christmas, "Queen Esthers" (gingerbread shapes) for Purim - but we generally have the hearts.

When I make biscuits, I am connected with my mother, my grandmother, my daughter, my friends with whom I have shared the recipe. I remember making them for Christmas, for sick children, for my husband in our first home, for numerous gatherings. I cherish the memories of sharing a piece of dough with Maiden; she loved to try to catch it and sometimes she would even succeed. I've pretty much made biscuits at one time or another for anyone I've loved and in any home in which I have special memories. These simple six ingredients manage to conjure up the taste of home and love wherever I make them.

In case you want to join my "Biscuit Family" here is the recipe:

4 cups flour
1/4 cup sugar (can add more or less depending on how sweet you want them)
5 tsp baking powder
1 tsp salt
2/3 cup oil (1/2 cup seems to work better in Thailand due to the humidity and extremely
                    fine flour, I think)
1 cup milk

mix ingredients together, press out dough with your hands to desired thickness (will rise in oven but not as much in cast iron skillet on the stovetop), cut out in heart shapes, bake for 10-15 minutes at 400 degrees Fahrenheit, 200 degress Celsius, 477 degrees Kelvin, or whatever works with the method you happen to be using. Enjoy!

Thunderstorm with Maiden

A couple of nights ago we had our first thunderstorm in several months. After a busy day at the water park, Hollis managed to sleep through it; Meriel and Eris joined us in bed for a few restless, noisy hours. Midnight thunderstorms always remind me of our dog Maiden, who was terribly frightened of loud bangs. During a storm, I would always find her to hold and comfort her. One particular storm I will never forget.

During our transition time of finishing up medical school in Beer Sheva, Israel and getting settled in Terre Haute, Indiana, Maiden stayed at my parents in Oregon. When we found a house to move into in Terre Haute, my parents arranged for her to fly out to us. We had planned it so our first night in the new house was on the day Maiden arrived. We had mattresses on the floor and a few pots from Goodwill; we were ready to start getting settled in our own home. Eris was already asleep and I was getting ready for bed when we started to notice a subtle smell of gas. It was an old home not well kept, so while we really wanted to just ignore it and stay in the house, we knew the smart thing to do was to get out. Philip called the appropriate agencies regarding a potential gas leak while I packed what we would need for the night and got Eris and Maiden into the car. We were fortunate to have not finished the temporary contract with the apartment nearby, so we had a ready place to stay. However, pets were not allowed.

I was sad to have to live Maiden in the car on her very first night in Terre Haute and after a separation of nearly six months. I made sure she had her favorite blanket and some water if she needed, cracked the windows, and hugged her good night. Some time in the wee hours, I was awakened by a loud crash. Rain rushed down in torrents while lightening tore up the sky. I knew Maiden would be terrified. Eris was sound a sleep on a bed of pillows on the floor; Philip was snoring lightly on the bed. I slipped out of the bedroom out to the front porch. From there, I used the unlock button on the key fob to unlock the car doors before dashing through the rain.

Maiden was shaking uncontrollable but was extremely happy to see me. I spent the next hour or so with her, holding her, talking to her, singing, praying. The storm right over our heads, as was a huge, ancient oak. I prayed that the oak would not fall on the car or the house. After a particular loud clap, I thought I should check to make sure Eris was ok and that Philip was not awake wondering where I was. I again hurried through the rain and then tiptoed to the bedroom. Both humans were sound asleep, so I returned to comfort Maiden. I was never so happy to come to the end of a storm. I usually don't mind thunderstorms and even enjoy the display of power and the refreshing rain, but they are better enjoyed from the comfort of a home than the back of a car.

Compare Yourself to Jesus

I struggle with humility. I have grown up around supportive people who have made sure that I know how wonderful I am and encouraged me to my full potential. Today my husband admires my tenacity and ability to keep the household running while caring for four children. I am the sort of person who knows herself; I know what I want and then set about reaching my goal. I am in a position to be aware of my good qualities. So is it a problem to be praised and encouraged? Should we not lift one another up for fear of introducing pride?

On the flip side, I know of many people who struggle with self worth. They feel like their best is not enough. Close family and friends have criticized and belittled them. They are not self aware; they are unable to fulfill their needs, much less their wants. Should we not attempt to lift them out of their despair for fear of losing humility?

The answer to the above questions of course is "NO!" The true answer in humility lies in not even looking at ourselves. We should feel self assured that we are just as the Lord has made us. We should know that our best is not enough, but that in the Lord, our everything is exactly what He requires, and with that He will do the impossible. When I daily focus on the Lord, He shows me who I am without Him and who I am in Him. Without Him, I compare myself to others; I'm better than my husband in this area, I'm better than my friend in this way. In Jesus, I compare myself only to Him, and, of course, I am never better. Without Him, I feel like a failure compared to another friend or to my husband in another area. In Jesus, I know that He is making me into His image, not that of my friend or husband.

When we encourage one another, let's show each person that God has created them for His purpose and He cares for each of us personally. We should lift each other up and help each person find her place in the body. True humility is not focusing on our shortcomings but rather realizing who we are in Christ and what we can do for His kingdom. We can delight in our reliance on God and feel honored that He has chosen us, allowing God to complete the same work in others' hearts.

Humble yourselves in the sight of the Lord, and he shall lift you up.

James 4:10

Mommy, Will You Read to Me?

We always have something that needs to be done. As mothers, we never truly have a "spare" moment. However, many of us have quite a bit of flexibility in how we spend our time. While we can't spend every minute actively engaging our children, I have looked up to the moms that seem to have found the balance between parenting and housekeeping. One of my dear friends has as frame quote her in kitchen which I can never remember word for word, but the essence is that there will always be cooking and cleaning but moments with our children are few and fleeting. In an effort to help myself claim those precious moment with my children, I have made a rule for myself: "When a child asks me to read to her (or my son brings me a book), I will read it."

Of course, there are exceptions to every rule; sometimes I do legitimately have to say "no," but my self-imposed directive makes me think twice before making an excuse. When the children recognize that I am busy, they usually do not ask me to read. With the exception Simeon, they can tell that I'm in the middle of preparing a meal or hanging up laundry, activities not conducive to reading a story, although I have been known to tell a story when I'm unable to read one. However, when I'm sitting down, in my children's eyes, I'm fair game. Most of the time they are right. I can be interrupted while reading my Bible or another book, writing an e-mail or blog post, even folding laundry. At the moment, I can't think of anything else, other than eating or reading to another child, that I do while sitting down. If I am about ready to get up and start supper, no one will notice supper being ready five or ten minutes later because I've read a chapter of "The Long Winter" to Meriel. The amount of laundry that can be folded in the time it takes to read a picture book to Hollis will be unnoticeable by the next afternoon.

I have always loved books. When I was just a toddler, my mother decided to see how long I would be entertained by her reading books to me. I spent the entire morning picking a book off the shelf, listening to it, and returning to the shelf to pick another. It was my mother who had to call it quits so she could fix lunch. I learned to read early on, so that I wouldn't have to wait for Mom to be available to read to me. When I had children, I wondered if any of them would share my joy of reading. It turns out to be a resounding yes! My seven year old daughter zips through books almost as fast as I can find appropriate reading material for her. Both my five year old and three year old will bring me books for as long as I will read to them. Meriel even enjoys certain "chapter books," notably the Laura Ingalls Wilder series. Little Simeon will not sit through stories the way Eris did at his age, but he will point at pictures and listens carefully as I enunciate the words.

I believe all my children have the makings of future bookworms. What better gift can I give to them, and to myself, than the love of reading? I imagine in the future being able to share loftier volumes and debating the meaning of a particular article together. For now, I am content to treasure the moments sharing "The Long Winter," "The Phantom Tollbooth," and "Three Bears in a Boat." So when one of my children asks, I answer with a smile, "Of course I will read to you!"

A Lesson From Mary and Martha

As you know, one of our biggest struggles here in Thailand has been the language barrier. As a mother of four young children, I have neither much time nor money to devote to this ambition. And  yet, I feel that part of my time here at this time is to learn the language and the culture of the country to which God has currently led us. To this end, I had the innovative idea of hiring a Thai speaking "mother's helper." I thought that we could have a woman spend a couple days a week with us - playing with Hollis and Simeon while I did school with the older girls, working alongside me in the kitchen to prepare meals, and all the while speaking Thai and patiently guiding us as we attempted to speak it. My parents even graciously offered to provide financial assistance in this endeavor. So I duly set about composing a "job description" and asked a friend to translate it for me.

With prayers and trepidation in my heart, I picked a day to approach a woman who runs a small, local restaurant with my "description." She has been helpful to me on many occasions, so I hoped that she would be willing to post the advertisement or spread our need by word of mouth. I wasn't entirely sure I was ready to change our routine (actually, lack thereof) to include a stranger, but we certainly going to learn Thai or make Thai friends in our current situation. After eating lunch, I handed the piece of paper to Khun Jeab and watched her face for understanding as she read. She did not understand; she thought that I was asking her if she would be available to come to our house and help us learn Thai. She began to respond before she finished the whole carefully thought out description. She thought I wanted someone to come live with us. I pointed to the part that stated the times "10am to 5pm" Her face clouded, and she indicated that she was busy in the restaurant during that time. I tried to explain that I understood and just wanted to know if she had any friends that would be able to provide the service. She still did not understand. Finally, after some consideration, she explained that she was available after 5pm ever day and she could come over the following evening for free. Thinking that this had not gone at all as I had expected, I smiled and accepted, graciously thanking her.

I didn't know what to expect the next evening. Since she was to be here at a normal mealtime, we thought it would be reasonable to offer her food. It was our weekly "pizza night" where Philip picks up store bought pizza from The Pizza Company with their buy one get one free deal. Since it was the end of the week, I did not have a lot of vegetables on hand, but I decided I could make a side of garlic and herbs pasta and slice up some tomatoes. Khun Jeab and her three year old son, Beum, arrive about ten minutes before five. She brought some paper, pencils, and a book with the Thai consonants. I invited her in the house, but she refused. Philip explained to me later that he thought inside a home was considered by some to be very private. Many houses in Thailand are very small, just a bedroom, and all the cooking, cleaning, and eating are done outside. I was unprepared for this, and awkwardly indicated that we could sit at a concrete outdoor table at which the girls had been making mud pies. I tried to clean it up quickly with a broom. It was too small to accommodate all of us and the rocky surface made it impossible to write upon. Used to living outside, Khun Jeab called her father to bring an outdoor sitting mat. I wished I had thought of that first; I sent the girls inside to get ours so we would have plenty of room.

When the time came for me to cook the pasta, I stepped inside for a moment. When I came out, another woman (a relative of Jeab) and two other little boys had arrived. I slipped back inside to add a bit more pasta to the pot. We only had porcelain plates, which are unsuitable for eating picnic style with seven children running around, so we made do with plastic lids and some washed styrofoam take-out containers. Khun Jeab offered to come over every day from 5-6:30 pm. I asked her if she could come Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. I wasn't prepared to do this every day of the week.

After everyone had left and the dishes were washed, I tried to explain my feelings to Philip; I felt overwhelmed. No, I wasn't overwhelmed by gratitude to the Lord for this opportunity He has provided. On the contrary, I focused on the difficulties of preparing meals for my family, Jeab, and whoever else she might invite that had to be ready at 5pm. I thought about how usually I have time to relax in the afternoon and then start getting ready for supper at around 4:30 or 5, but now my "free" time would be taken up with making sure supper was ready before they arrived. I also felt that I needed to have something prepared that I wanted to learn, so Jeab's time wasn't wasted. Philip gently chided me, reminding me of all the months when we wanted to have Thai friends and didn't know how to go about befriending anyone. And that very evening, we had had two Thai women and three Thai children in our garden! I knew in my mind that I should feel amazed at God's work and it was ridiculous to complain, but my heart wasn't there yet.

As I prayed that night for God bring my heart in line with His will, He brought to mind the story of Mary and Martha. To be honest, I've always struggled with this story. In Luke 10, the physician recounts a time when Jesus was staying in the house of two sisters. Mary sits at Jesus' feet while Martha makes all the preparations for their guest. I can relate to her frustration, so much to be done - make the bed, cook the meals, wash the dishes. She could really use some help, but Mary shows no sign of stirring. That evening, the Lord revealed to me the truth of the story. Our whole reason for being is to know and glorify God. In Martha's case, God incarnate was in her home, and she was unable to just sit in His presence. She needed to let it all go and spend time with Jesus. The meal did need to be prepared, but it would have been okay to have a simpler meal so that she could listen to Jesus. Clean up could have been complete after Jesus had went up to rest. Martha's heart and desire needed to be with Jesus and the rest would have fallen in to place.

For my part, God changed my heart so now I can delight in this circumstance He has given. I still have the challenge of preparing meals early for an unknown number of people to be eaten outside picnic style. But I am working on keeping my focus on the blessing of friendship instead of the mess on my skirt from a toddler sitting in my lap to eat spaghetti; to enjoy the time of getting to know my neighbors through actions instead of words; to show love rather than try to cram all the Thai practice I can into our hours together. So while on "Khun Jeab" days I may still dread the prospect of a long day and the challenge of communication, I do also look forward to spending time with a friend and seeing how God can use us to show His love.