Menu for a Party When You Can't Prepare

So what do you do when you're having 18 people over for Sunday dinner, but you'll be gone from 7:00 until 12:30, arriving at home from church the same time as the guests? All my standard company dinners (lasagna, meatloaf & mashies, tetrazzini, brats & burgers) wouldn't work in this situation. I needed something that could be prepared on Saturday and then served straight out of the fridge or the crockpot(s). Here's what I came up with:

~ sub sandwiches: buns, meats, cheeses, lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, onion, green pepper, peperoncini, olives, mayo, mustard, ketchup, pickles
~ roast vegetables, roasted the night before and warmed in the crockpot on Sunday morning
~ baked beans (same plan as the roast veggies)
~ fruit: based on availability, we have a bowl of fresh pineapple, a bowl of grapes, a platter of sliced oranges with dried dates
~ potato salad
~ beverages: sweet tea, unsweetened herb tea, wine, beer, water, milk
~ dessert: Glenda's most evil dessert plus whatever Katie brings


It's been a long time since I've cooked for company. Today has been fun! As much as I like my job at the bank, today again has me dreaming of catering.

Gumbo

Katie's old blog disappeared. That's where I stored my gumbo recipe. I used to just wing it, but she and Rachel wanted to follow my recipe. (Recipe? There's a real recipe?) So the deal was for me to make gumbo while somebody wrote down the tweaks to the written, "kinda-sorta-guideline" recipe. Gary helped me find a cached copy of her blogpost, and now I'm rescuing it from electronic destruction when the caching peters out. And so, without further ado, my gumbo recipe --


Stew one chicken (or four leg quarters).
Let cool enough to handle.
Debone. Chop chicken.

Chop:
1 onion
2 ribs celery
1 green pepper
some hot peppers if desired.
Saute in olive oil until the onion is softened and translucent.

Add 1/3 pound sausage or ham.
Fry until meat is cooked.

Add 1/4 or 1/2 cup white flour.
Cook on low heat 10-40 minutes,
scraping the bottom of the pot frequently
so that the flour browns and you don't have a mess stuck onto the bottom of the pan.
(A few minutes will work if you're in a real hurry,
but if you can make yourself keep browning that flour for 30 minutes, that's when you make a fantabulous gumbo!)

Add:
the chicken and broth
1 pint can of diced tomatoes
small can of shrimp or crabmeat (optional)
garlic (to taste)
1 tsp sugar
2-3 tsp salt
black pepper
1/2 tsp thyme
1/2 tsp oregano

When boiling, add 1-2 pounds frozen chopped okra.
Cook about 10 minutes, or until okra is done.

Serve over rice. Add cayenne or Frank's Red Hot for those who desire more heat.

Zoe

One week old:

Posted here because there are blog-readers who aren't Facebook-friends with Katie to see what she posts there.

Donuts

Oh, sadness, oh, woe. I think yesterday I may have eaten my last donut.

I was working the polls. The town administrator brought in a box of hard rolls and pastries for us. Discipline; smarts; thinking nutritionally. I was a good girl.

For a while.

C'mon ... a box of crullers and Danish and Bavarian-cream-filled donuts and apple fritters. Finally I decided I could have one. Right? Just one. They were calling to me, begging to be eaten, looking delicious, smelling wonderful.

Dang it. I'm old. And donuts are sweet. And full of fat and white flour. And they weren't little donuts. I can't remember the last time I had a whole donut. I think it was at Emmaus, South Bend, so it would have been several years ago.

Ten blissful minutes of savoring that donut, and I paid for it all day with an upset stomach. I intend not to make that mistake again. (But I wouldn't be surprised if my tastebuds overrule my stomach again someday when I am weak.)

The Light of the World

In Sunday's [3-year] Gospel, we hear about Jesus' giving sight to the man who was born blind. The story starts with the question about "Who sinned?" that this man should be punished with blindness. Jesus explains that it wasn't a punishment for a particular sin, but that it was in order that God's works might be revealed in him. Then Jesus tells them that He is the light of the world.

Huh. I didn't realize that line was in that story. I knew "I am the light of the world" from the previous chapter. Huh.

So Pastor's making a point in the sermon about how the miracles of Jesus are merely signs. The point is not that somebody with bad legs could walk now. The point is not that a blind person could see, or a deaf person hear. The point is not that Lazarus was brought back to life. After all, these healing miracles were not permanent: these people eventually died. These are signs which point to the greater reality: the true healing found in the forgiveness of sins and the resurrection of the body.

And that is seen so well by looking at the two locations where Jesus claims to be the light of the world. First, Mary Magdalene is caught in adultery and is about to be stoned for it. Jesus speaks to her accusers, and they go away, and He says to her, "I do not condemn you." That's when He says He's the light of the world. A little later, still in Jerusalem, when He talks about being the light of the world, the important part is still the forgiveness of sins. But this time Jesus has a sign connected to His gift of merciful absolution: the man's physical eyes were opened to physical light, just as his eyes were opened in faith to the Light of the World.

Responding to Someone's Foot in the Mouth

One of the guys at church was admiring Zoe after church on Sunday morning. He teased Rachel that she was not keeping up with Katie. Katie has two kids, and Rachel doesn't have any yet.

I was stunned. I couldn't think what to say.

Rachel's face was pretty stunned too. But she gently and kindly responded, "I suffered a miscarriage in December." The man dropped the teasing, apologized, and expressed sorrow for their loss.

It was awkward.

But what do you do? He didn't mean anything hurtful by his teasing. Rachel didn't want to make him feel bad for having brought it up. But what do you do?

Seems to me that the honest way Rachel responded was perfect. She didn't lie or pretend; neither did she blow up. He could not undo what he'd said, but he could say he was sorry. Sometimes that's all that can be done. Honesty and concern and forgiveness go a long way to smoothing over those blunders that sinners commit against each other. I was truly quite impressed with how my daughter handled the interchange.

Rocks in the Rain

Just when you could use a run of sunny days to help a newborn overcome her slight [and perfectly normal] jaundice, the forecast has days and days of clouds and rain. And rain it did during church this morning! When you looked out the door after church, it looked like there'd been snow, the hail was piled so deep. Luckily, the massive amounts of hail came down in tiny pieces.

Interesting perspective to be in the back of the church, with the lights thinking about flicking out, seeing the zots of lightning out the window, hearing huge rumbles of thunder, glad to know the words Pastor was saying from the liturgy because the banging of hail on the roof sometimes made it a bit hard to hear. It made me think of Noah and Mrs Noah in the ark, safe and secure inside the refuge God had provided, no matter what was going on outside. In reality, that's what church is every Sunday, even when the weather is lovely; the devil and the world rage against her, but inside we are safe.

Anyway ... while we visited with our family's Chicago-Contingent in the narthex after church, and of course ogled Baby Zoe, Alia decided she had to go outside. Philip accompanied her to ensure that she didn't go out into the traffic of the parking lot or wade through 40° water up to her ankles. When he wouldn't let her wade, she had to walk on the driveway littered with pebble-sized hail. "There were rocks in the rain!" Yes, dear, that's about the size of it.

Arranged Marriages

What does a person do with a whole day to herself? (Well, besides clean and cook and catch up on all sorts of tasks?) Last week the kids were visiting friends, and Gary was at work. After cooking lunch-for-one (and I managed to pare back the recipe appropriately, amazingly enough!) I sat down to watch the beginning of a movie that none of them would want to see.

Self-control didn't kick in very well. I watched the whole movie that afternoon [like potato chips -- so good that ya just can't stop] and I didn't accomplish one lick o' dusting while watching.

The movie "Arranged" is about an Orthodox Jew and a Muslim. The two gals met each other as first-year teachers. Even though many people expected them to view each other as enemies, it turned out that they got along with each other better than with their co-workers, who had very different views of morality and faith and family. Each girl had reached the age where the parents were ready to arrange the daughter's marriage. Were they scandalized by the prospect of having the family involved in choosing a husband? What did the people around them think? How does it work?

I enjoyed the movie simply for the sake of a mushy love story, as well as a story of friendship. But what resonated most with me was how the main characters were fairly comfortable with their own beliefs in spite of being misfits with so much of the world. Yes, there is discomfort in knowing that the rest of the world thinks you're off your rocker, but not enough discomfort to abandon your integrity. I wonder sometimes how my co-workers see me: as a complete oddball or as just a little different?

A link to a video from a Lutheran pastor about the topic of dating and marriage.
A link to an article about homeschoolers being oddballs and proud of it.

African Peanut-Chicken Soup

Celebrating Gary's birthday, we ate supper at a little coffee shop around the corner from the theatre we attended. My adventurous choice was the African Peanut-Chicken Soup. Upon tasting this heavenly concoction, I melted with the joy of its deliciousness. Then I came home and decided I had to figure out how to make it myself.


Combine:
1 pint of chicken broth or turkey stock
2 Tbsp uncooked rice
1/2 cup chopped onion
1 tsp chopped hot pepper (more or less, to taste)
1/4 cup chopped fresh tomato

(or canned petite-diced tomato)

Bring to boil over high heat.
Lower heat and season soup with:
garlic powder
pepper
chili powder
salt if necessary
Then simmer until rice is done. (If using white rice instead of brown, saute onion for 5 minutes before adding broth and rice and tomato.)

Add:
1/3 cup chopped, cooked chicken or turkey
When meat is heated through in the soup,
stir in 3-4 Tablespoons peanut butter.


This easy-breezy recipe makes about 3 cups of delicious soup in about 45 minutes (or less, if you insist on white rice).


(Shhhh... nobody caught on to my near-rabid preference for brown rice here, d'ya think?)

Sharing in the Mystery of Suffering

A quote from p 312 of Hammer of God --
Aunt Agneta is speaking to the pastor, Torvik, about the cross and suffering and sharing each other's burdens (as she was talking about her grandson's apostasy and her plan to adopt his baby and take in the girlfriend he abandoned).

"Usually we suffer only for our own sins. But sometimes we are given the favor of suffering for the sins of others. That is part of the mystery of the Atonement: when one is joined to Christ, one is given the task of lifting a portion from a certain sinner and suffering in his stead, so that he does not have to carry alone all the bitterness of his deeds."
She spoke slowly and gently, as if she were afraid to distort a fine and fragile secrecy through clothing it in words.

Yes! There is joy in sharing someone else's burden.

And yes! There is something almost unspeakable about trying to explain some truths.

Today's Laugh

A cartoon of an April Fool's Joke gone very wrong.

Zoe

Just grabbing a couple of minutes to throw some pictures on the blog of Katie & Nathan's new arrival.

The Implanted Word

Pastor was talking the other day about how he likes the phrase, "the implanted Word." It reminds us of the seed being sown or planted (as in Matthew 13 and Mark 4). It reminds us that the Word grows and bears fruit. It reminds us that the plant grows better when manure is dumped on it [fertilizer, doncha know].

But what I never thought of before is that the seed is planted in dirt. What does God say in Genesis 3 (and every Ash Wednesday)? "Dust you are, and to dust you shall return."

Buying and Receiving Gifts

When there's not much money, a family learns to buy only what it needs, not what it wants.

But what constitutes needs and wants?

Yes, we need food, but do we need hamburger, or can we live on black-eyed peas and rice? Do we need fresh fruit, or is canned good enough? Do we need to go to the doctor and the pharmacy when we're sick, or is that a want? Would recuperating at home (with garlic and herbs and chicken soup) be sufficient? When you have back pain that a D.O. could alleviate, is it a need or a want to visit the doctor and get relief? Do I really need a car to drive to work, or could I walk or bike the 9 miles if I had to? We live in Wisconsin, so we need heat to stay alive through the winter, but do we need 67°, or is that a want? Would 55° be enough? I suspect that we are far more spoiled than I'm willing to admit.


For quite a few years, we've pretty much skipped over birthday presents. I don't think we've ever given anniversary gifts to our kids. What's under the Christmas tree is pretty minimal. This bothers other people more than it bothers us. When I think how many Americans are burdened by too much stuff, I realize that minimal (or sometimes even non-existent) gift-giving may not be such a terrible thing.

There is, however, one rule we've tried to follow. When we receive birthday gifts of cash, we don't spend it on necessities. When our parents say, "Here's a check; do something fun with it," we figure we ought to do something FUN. Right? But when you're living a mega-frugal life, it's hard to let money slip through your fingers. Often we go out to eat with gift-money, but (being frugal) we usually have money left after paying the bill and the tip. So rather than racking our brains to figure out something to spend the money on, we cash the checks, place the money in an envelope, and wait until something really really obvious shows up that we want to do for fun. That's part of the reason we could go to the marvelous play we attended Sunday. It's also why we decided to send two of our daughters to this play. Hey, we can justify it as their past birthday gifts!

And at times like this, I know for sure that we are much wealthier than I usually recognize! The expansive, joyous feeling in my chest from having watched that play -- well, that's not a need. But what a treasure it is!

Keeping His Word in Affliction

Before I was afflicted, I went astray,
but now I keep Your word.
It is good for me that I have been afflicted,
that I may learn Your statutes.
I know, O Lord, that Your judgments are right,
and that in faithfulness You have afflicted me.
Let, I pray, Your merciful kindness be for my comfort,
according to Your word to Your servant.

(Psalm 119:67, 71, 75-76)

If God were an angry judge, you'd think those verses meant that He kept sending us troubles until we Learn Our Lessons, and shape up, and fly right. Punish-punish-punish until we get our act together and obey already.

But ... if God is a loving father ... if God desires more than anything that we cling to Him in faith ... those passages from Psalm 119 look different. When we are afflicted and troubled, we see that we have no strength within ourselves to straighten up and fly right. When we are afflicted and troubled, we recognize our need for His kindness and mercy, His "judgment" that declares us righteous for the sake of Jesus' death to atone for our sin.

We are so quick to think "keeping His word" is about what we DO, instead of about hanging onto His promises of grace to us.

a capella chorales

What is it about singing good, strong Lutheran chorales, in 3- or 4-part harmony, without accompaniment? It's lush and rich. Our choir director (aka, pastor) doesn't like music to drag. And yet, when we sing in parts during the opening for Bible class or during chapel (that is, when there is no organ), the music slows down, almost like we're caressing the chords, enjoying the richness, letting it all soak into rafters and seep into our ears and our hearts.

Back When I Was Young

We had fire drills and tornado drills regularly at school. We even had drills to practice what we'd do in case of a nuclear attack. (I wonder if they still have those, or if it would be too scary for kids.)

But we but never lock-down drills. Murders? In school? Weapons? Who could imagine such a thing?

Talking to Yourself

On my second day of training at my new job, my mentor took me aside and told me that I had to stop talking to myself. She said that a couple of customers had given me odd looks while I was rehearsing to myself which step to take next in processing transactions. Sometimes the computer prompted me to insert a certain slip of paper into the printer, and I would pick up the wrong one, and then I told myself, "No, not the pink ticket, but the blue one."

Apparently, that is verboten.
People should not talk to themselves.

It was hard! I had spent decades narrating my life to children. That is a big part of how kids learn: Mom explains what she's doing and why and what the steps are. And then, when you homeschool kids, you have to discuss a gazillion different subjects, reading, dissecting, analyzing, postulating, all day, about nearly everything that comes into your life.

On top of that, I have found that I can focus better when I hear things and talk my way through new situations. I don't think that's so unusual, do you? I mean, maybe I ought not need that, but it helps with problem-solving in unfamiliar territory.

I worked hard to bite my lip at work and not let myself verbalize my way through the day.

It was SO good, then, when I repeatedly noticed my boss doing the exact same thing I'd been told to put a halt to. I'm not getting in trouble now for the times I slip up and talk to myself. And it's a good thing, because I still want to make use of the teaching tool of talking my way through the day!

I wonder about other people. Have you found that raising toddlers and/or homeschooling has nudged you into the world of talking to yourself? Is it normal for people to talk to themselves (and the refrigerator, and the laundry basket, and the toothbrush, and the grocery cart) more as they get older?

Over the Hill

Some years ago, we were visiting with our friends Fritz and Carol. Gary and Carol were in the kitchen getting a start on supper, and Fritz and I were sitting on the couch, just relaxing and talking. He said something I will never forget. He was 45 at the time, and he figured that meant he was probably "over the hill," more than halfway through life. He said he'd reached the top of the hill, and from here on out, he was not only closer to home, but also picking up momentum to reach his destination.

For most of the world, "over the hill" is a bad thing -- black balloons, black streamers, and birthday gifts of Depends and denture cleaner. But ever since Fritz made those comments in passing, I can't help but look at gray hairs and milestone birthdays as evidence of being that much closer to home.

I Demand an Apology

Well, okay, so that's not exactly how Paul put it.

Do you remember the story in Acts 16? Paul and Silas were preaching in Philippi. Paul cast the demon out of the fortune-telling girl, and her masters were majorly hacked off. So they went to the government, told lies about Paul's preaching (that he was teaching people to be subversive and to disobey the laws of the land), and had Paul thrown into prison. In the midst of the Christians' prayers and hymn-singing during the night, God sent an earthquake and opened the doors of the prison. The jailer was about to kill himself before his boss found out about the escaped prisoners and executed the poor jailer. But the prisoners were still there. They didn't save themselves when given an opportunity: they sacrificed their freedom for the sake of the jailer's life. That kind of love caught the jailer's attention. He heard their preaching, took them to his home, treated their wounds, and he and his whole household were baptized.

Okay, so the next morning the magistrates sent a message to the jailer to let these dudes go. The jailer told Paul and Silas they could be on their way.

"No."

What do you mean, "NO"????

They hadn't given Paul a trial. They beat him, uncondemned. They'd thrown him into prison for no reason. And now they wanted to shoo him out on the hush-hush. Paul said the government-guys were just going to have to come to the jail themselves and let him out -- they weren't going to get by with doing this in secret.

Was this snottiness? Was this revenge? Was this making them grovel and own up to their mistake?

I guess I'd never really thought it through before, but, yeah, that's kind of what I thought. But Pastor recently discussed a different (and more evangelical) reason for Paul's refusal to disappear quietly.

The public charge was that Paul preached against the government. The charge was that his preaching disrupted society. The charge was that his preaching was dangerous. But that's not true. As Jesus told Pilate at His trial, "My kingdom is not of this world." Christianity is no threat to the civil authorities. Paul wasn't wanting a personal apology. He wanted the authorities to publicly declare that Paul's teaching was not about insurrection or civil disobedience. And that was for the sake of the Gospel, not for the sake of mere human reputation. It was the honor of God --not self-defense-- that prompted Paul to wait for the magistrates themselves to come let him out of jail.