My childhood super hero is retiring today.
I can remember as a very little girl when my handsome daddy would be getting ready for work. He would sling on his heavy, wide black belt with the various sized pouches on it just before he left for the evening. When it was off and sitting on the table I would latch and unlatch the "keepers", little black loops for keeping things on the belt, apparently. I would marvel at the weight of the mag light, and couldn't understand why it needed to be so much heavier than our household plastic flashlight. I never could figure out how a night stick could actually be a weapon. And the .357 Magnum was more of a paperweight than anything else to me. Taught with firm discipline that it was not a toy, I was a child who was surrounded by firearms and was never tempted to use them. I still am not.
If I was able to be awake when he left for the midnight shift, I would hug my daddy tight around the neck, kiss his smooth cheek, deeply breathe in his cologne, and think about how handsome he was in his uniform with his dark hair. Even as a young girl I could grasp that in his line of work there was a chance that he wouldn't be coming back home. I told myself that the heavy bullet proof vest he wore, which I would throw on my skinny shoulders and parade around the living room each time I could, was like Captain America's shield, able to protect in all circumstances.
My daddy, in my mind, was 10 feet tall. After all, when your daddy is a cop, he is the one everyone else calls when they are in trouble. He was called on duty, and off duty----to help break up domestic skirmishes among the neighbors, or the time there was a peeping tom in the neighborhood. He had really cool places to take us, like when we got to go to the courthouse and ride in the elevator, or to the county fair when he directed traffic, or for rides in the Crown Vic. It seemed we always had friends with German shepherd dogs, and we had them too. We knew the clerks in the convenience stores by name, and listened to a scanner at home. We had lots of cops that were friends----most good, a few bad, and a few somewhere in between.
As I got older and my dad got more experienced, he moved up to different positions, culminating as a police chief. But no matter where he was working or what he was doing, being a cop continued to touch our lives. There were times the job or the pager interrupted family activities. There were long, long hours that would stretch into nearly days sometimes, whenever a substantial crime was first committed.
Perhaps the most pressing thing is the interruptions I didn't see. Being a cop, or a soldier, or anyone else who deals with the basest of human behaviors, touches places inside that most of us don't have to visit very often. It changes your world view of humanity. It causes a silent, secret tap dance inside between the reality of the workplace and the reality of home.
This is what other families don't see. They don't see Superman coming home after a long day of dealing with sinful shenanigans, only to change out of the cape and into Clark Kent's suit to pretend the job was just another day at the Daily News. They don't see the up close evil in the day to day, the cruel and hard ways in which people deal with one another. Other families can live in relative normalcy, assuming that bad things happen to other people-----when the super hero's experience tells him that in the blink of an eye, we can all be the other people.
So it seems strange that, after being a cop, a detective, a captain, an investigator, working for the coroner, and finally, pasturing out at a bailiff (haha!)----my dad is retiring. For the first time in my lifetime, my dad will have the chance to be like everyone else. And I hope that he enjoys it to the very fullest.
Dad, thank you so very, very much, for the hard work and sacrifice you have made for me. For providing for me through multiple jobs at a time, and for doing it in such a taxing way. I am so very proud of the service you have provided to your community; for helping others in their most despairing moments with little thankfulness, but I thank God for giving you to me. I hope you have a wonderful day today and rather than send you some cheesy gift, I will send you what ends every Superman's career.
Kryptonite. Not in the form of a donut, but in the form of an entirely different cheesy gift---
You can pick up your double anchovy pizza tonight after work from Guido's.
Love,
Sandra :)
Friday, January 30, 2015
Saturday, January 17, 2015
Laundry Soap
Hello ladies (and fellows, if you are reading this)!
I want you to know, that both as a blogger and as a person, I never want to put something in my blog that makes me look like I have it "all together". You know the blogs----the cutesy, flowery ones where the moms are confessing some terrible humble brag about something like, "sometimes when I clean out the van, I am so embarrassed--- today I found ONE french fry under the car seat". Or maybe, "I must confess that this year I only made 5 quilts, since I am busy making cheese, roofing the house with synthetic shingles the children created with rocks and Play-do in our home school engineering class, and making sure that I have ironed all the socks. Remember, the ones that I hand-knitted, not while watching TV, but while I was watching my children put on a spontaneous musical adaptation of 'War and Peace'?" Ugh.
My friends, I am a student of life. I am learning who I am, what I struggle with, and how to try to rule over my flesh every. Single. Day. As a mother, a wife, a friend, a daughter, and most importantly, a child of God, I fail a lot; but God is so good to patiently teach and instruct me. That is what I want my blog to be about: how God has put me on this adventure, and what He is teaching me, and how absolutely, wonderfully awesome He is.
This is precisely why I don't share a lot of "how to" things. I usually wait for someone to ask me, and then I share in person. Because I don't want to be that "Ugh" person.
Well, today I want to share something with you that I have been doing now since about 2010, if I am not mistaken. It has saved me hundreds of dollars and countless trips to the store. And it truly takes about 10 minutes to do, once every four to six months:
I make my own laundry soap.
I remember when I first read an article in our local paper about someone doing this. "What?!? She does. . . WHAT?!?" The woman may as well been making ricin or Spam. I thought, "Can you really DO THAT?" Well, why couldn't you do it?
I don't know what I was afraid of. I mean, I am hardly a professional laundress. We have a laundry checklist: 1. Is it clean? 2. Is it dry? 3. Is it not too embarrassingly wrinkled to wear it in public? Three yes's and we are ready to go out.
But making my own detergent was sort of going rogue. I was a Rebel at Home. It was a way to, well, stick it to the man. I felt like I was sitting on some big enormous secret. Psssst-----hey! You there! The one hauling out your 55 gallon drum of Tide that cost $700 from Sam's Club. Do you know what I can do? And can you find your receipt you just crammed in your purse before you get to the lady at the door with the marker? I felt a little Amish. I felt like if there was a zombie apocalypse, that my family would be the only one in clean clothes. I'm sort of a laundry doomsday prepper: if the nation's economy ever shut down and the stores were empty. . . well, we could trade laundry detergent for some rice and beans!
A woman who is a keeper at home may be doing many manual tasks with her hands, but don't be fooled: our brains are moving a hundred miles an hour. We are CEO's of our households and are always looking to lower that bottom line because, after all, that is what keeps flavored coffee creamer in the fridge.
And truly, seriously-----I think that a lot of mama's out there could reduce their work hours by living a thriftier lifestyle. I would highly suggest to read a "Little House" book. Reading those helped me to see that out on the prairie, joy was found in WORKING. Not at Target with Starbucks in the hand, strolling for hours. And yes, I am sure there were times that Ma wanted to run Pa, still wearing his shirt, through a wringer washer because he went hunting all day and left her there with kids that only had 2 toys between them, but there was still joy in just doing a hard day's work. The Lord started to show me that I have trouble feeling satisfied with a simple lifestyle and that I crave distractions, and while it is something I have grown in, I still have a long way to go. If we could find our joy in tasks rather than in goods, we wouldn't have as much leisure time for entertainment and we wouldn't buy as many things. And more women could stay home a little more. I fear for our nation as a whole, as we have become so very dependent upon entertainment to get us through our discontented, busy, soft, and unnecessarily stressful lives.
So, someone inquired of this laundry "elixir", and I thought, "I am going to tell the whole world about my laundry soap!!!! With pictures!!!" Just in case you are too skeerd to try it.
So enough rambling. On to the soap!
1. You need the following:
STEP ONE:
Unwrap the Fels-Naptha, which is an old school laundry soap. You may use other soaps for fragrance, etc., but Fels has a great reputation as a degreaser. You will then grate the soap as pictured by my lovely model below. It will look like cheddar cheese. Keep all husbands and male children out of the kitchen and do not leave the faux shredded cheese unattended. Trust me. (Some people also use their food processors to grind up the soap, therefore limiting the amount of knuckle present in the final product.)
STEP 2:
It is time to cook the Fels. Put the shredded soap in the pot and add 1/2 of a gallon of water. You don't have to be exact, you just need to eyeball it. Turn it on low and stir (with stick) until it is melted. You don't want to boil this.
STEP 3:
Fill your bucket with 3 gallons of lukewarm water. Don't use cold. It will cause the soap to "set up" really fast. Pour 1 CUP of washing soda and 1 CUP of borax into the bucket, and stir with the stick. Be careful with these powders. It's kind of like making Kool Aid, as in it is easy to inhale accidentally, so you should hold your breath when pouring it out. Mix it until it is dissolved.
STEP 4:
Gently pour the contents of the pot (the Fels) INTO the bucket and stir. Your soap will congeal a bit, typically by the next day but sometimes before. It is perfectly OK to use the soap as soon as you make it. You will either need to stir it before using if the gel-like consistency grosses you out, or you can just use it straight in there. After significant self-talk, I can now use it straight in.
Congratulations!! You just made detergent!! Cover your bucket with a lid, keep it up high from little people, and you can use it immediately.
FAQ'S:
1. How much do I use in a large load? 1 cup for top loading machines, 1/4 cup for front loading machines.
2. Will this hurt my machine? I don't think so, but you'd have to ask it. It hasn't bothered mine and I have had both machines.
3. Does it sud? No. Which is awesome because you can use it in a front loading machine, and you DON'T NEED FABRIC SOFTENER. At all. Not even a dryer sheet.
4. What does it smell like? Nothing. It is just clean. There is a tiny bit of a fragrance from the Fels, and you can add essential oils, but to me the price of the oils negates my laundry savings. What I do is use the Downy Unstopables for fragrance, and it doesn't take much for a great scent, probably because it isn't competing for fragrance space with my detergent. P.S. Those Unstopables are great for making auto air fresheners. Just make up a "Christmas Ornament Dough" recipe, and put some of those in the mix. Use a cookie cutter for the shape and use a straw to poke a hole in the top to put a string through. Great gifts from kids to grandparents.
5. Does it really work? Yes, it does. I do use the detergent to pre-treat really bad stains. I also use peroxide for blood stains too. But it really does work. Try more or less in your machine.
6. Is it safe for my clothes? I have not had one problem in using it on my clothes.
7. Do I really save money? Ok, this is the fun fun part:
I wash about one load a day. I have a family of 6.
Cost per batch: Borax, $0.80 + Washing Soda, +$0.48 + Fels Naptha, $1.00 = $2.27
So I spend less than $10 a year on washing all of our clothes! And SO CAN YOU!!!!!
Aren't you inspired now?!? Get your keys, get to Walmart, and
. . . . . stick it to the man.
Have a great day!!
I want you to know, that both as a blogger and as a person, I never want to put something in my blog that makes me look like I have it "all together". You know the blogs----the cutesy, flowery ones where the moms are confessing some terrible humble brag about something like, "sometimes when I clean out the van, I am so embarrassed--- today I found ONE french fry under the car seat". Or maybe, "I must confess that this year I only made 5 quilts, since I am busy making cheese, roofing the house with synthetic shingles the children created with rocks and Play-do in our home school engineering class, and making sure that I have ironed all the socks. Remember, the ones that I hand-knitted, not while watching TV, but while I was watching my children put on a spontaneous musical adaptation of 'War and Peace'?" Ugh.
My friends, I am a student of life. I am learning who I am, what I struggle with, and how to try to rule over my flesh every. Single. Day. As a mother, a wife, a friend, a daughter, and most importantly, a child of God, I fail a lot; but God is so good to patiently teach and instruct me. That is what I want my blog to be about: how God has put me on this adventure, and what He is teaching me, and how absolutely, wonderfully awesome He is.
This is precisely why I don't share a lot of "how to" things. I usually wait for someone to ask me, and then I share in person. Because I don't want to be that "Ugh" person.
Well, today I want to share something with you that I have been doing now since about 2010, if I am not mistaken. It has saved me hundreds of dollars and countless trips to the store. And it truly takes about 10 minutes to do, once every four to six months:
I make my own laundry soap.
I remember when I first read an article in our local paper about someone doing this. "What?!? She does. . . WHAT?!?" The woman may as well been making ricin or Spam. I thought, "Can you really DO THAT?" Well, why couldn't you do it?
I don't know what I was afraid of. I mean, I am hardly a professional laundress. We have a laundry checklist: 1. Is it clean? 2. Is it dry? 3. Is it not too embarrassingly wrinkled to wear it in public? Three yes's and we are ready to go out.
But making my own detergent was sort of going rogue. I was a Rebel at Home. It was a way to, well, stick it to the man. I felt like I was sitting on some big enormous secret. Psssst-----hey! You there! The one hauling out your 55 gallon drum of Tide that cost $700 from Sam's Club. Do you know what I can do? And can you find your receipt you just crammed in your purse before you get to the lady at the door with the marker? I felt a little Amish. I felt like if there was a zombie apocalypse, that my family would be the only one in clean clothes. I'm sort of a laundry doomsday prepper: if the nation's economy ever shut down and the stores were empty. . . well, we could trade laundry detergent for some rice and beans!
A woman who is a keeper at home may be doing many manual tasks with her hands, but don't be fooled: our brains are moving a hundred miles an hour. We are CEO's of our households and are always looking to lower that bottom line because, after all, that is what keeps flavored coffee creamer in the fridge.
And truly, seriously-----I think that a lot of mama's out there could reduce their work hours by living a thriftier lifestyle. I would highly suggest to read a "Little House" book. Reading those helped me to see that out on the prairie, joy was found in WORKING. Not at Target with Starbucks in the hand, strolling for hours. And yes, I am sure there were times that Ma wanted to run Pa, still wearing his shirt, through a wringer washer because he went hunting all day and left her there with kids that only had 2 toys between them, but there was still joy in just doing a hard day's work. The Lord started to show me that I have trouble feeling satisfied with a simple lifestyle and that I crave distractions, and while it is something I have grown in, I still have a long way to go. If we could find our joy in tasks rather than in goods, we wouldn't have as much leisure time for entertainment and we wouldn't buy as many things. And more women could stay home a little more. I fear for our nation as a whole, as we have become so very dependent upon entertainment to get us through our discontented, busy, soft, and unnecessarily stressful lives.
So, someone inquired of this laundry "elixir", and I thought, "I am going to tell the whole world about my laundry soap!!!! With pictures!!!" Just in case you are too skeerd to try it.
So enough rambling. On to the soap!
1. You need the following:
- 5 gallon bucket
- Empty, clean, 1 gallon milk jug
- Cooking pot dedicated for laundry soap only----I got mine at Goodwill
- Cheese grater
- Long stick, like a yardstick, 5-gallon paint stirring stick, or just a plain old stick.
- 1 box of Arm & Hammer washing soda, which on walmart.com is $3.24 for 55 ounces
- 1 box of 20 Mule Team Borax, on walmart.com for $7.70 for 76 ounces
- 1 bar of Fels-Naptha soap, at walmart stores for $1.00
- One cup measuring cup
 | ||||||||||||
| What you need to get started. |
STEP ONE:
Unwrap the Fels-Naptha, which is an old school laundry soap. You may use other soaps for fragrance, etc., but Fels has a great reputation as a degreaser. You will then grate the soap as pictured by my lovely model below. It will look like cheddar cheese. Keep all husbands and male children out of the kitchen and do not leave the faux shredded cheese unattended. Trust me. (Some people also use their food processors to grind up the soap, therefore limiting the amount of knuckle present in the final product.)
 |
| If she can do it, so can you! |
 |
| Can you see why they eat it? |
It is time to cook the Fels. Put the shredded soap in the pot and add 1/2 of a gallon of water. You don't have to be exact, you just need to eyeball it. Turn it on low and stir (with stick) until it is melted. You don't want to boil this.
STEP 3:
Fill your bucket with 3 gallons of lukewarm water. Don't use cold. It will cause the soap to "set up" really fast. Pour 1 CUP of washing soda and 1 CUP of borax into the bucket, and stir with the stick. Be careful with these powders. It's kind of like making Kool Aid, as in it is easy to inhale accidentally, so you should hold your breath when pouring it out. Mix it until it is dissolved.
STEP 4:
Gently pour the contents of the pot (the Fels) INTO the bucket and stir. Your soap will congeal a bit, typically by the next day but sometimes before. It is perfectly OK to use the soap as soon as you make it. You will either need to stir it before using if the gel-like consistency grosses you out, or you can just use it straight in there. After significant self-talk, I can now use it straight in.
 | ||||||
| Finished product, before it congeals. |
FAQ'S:
1. How much do I use in a large load? 1 cup for top loading machines, 1/4 cup for front loading machines.
2. Will this hurt my machine? I don't think so, but you'd have to ask it. It hasn't bothered mine and I have had both machines.
3. Does it sud? No. Which is awesome because you can use it in a front loading machine, and you DON'T NEED FABRIC SOFTENER. At all. Not even a dryer sheet.
4. What does it smell like? Nothing. It is just clean. There is a tiny bit of a fragrance from the Fels, and you can add essential oils, but to me the price of the oils negates my laundry savings. What I do is use the Downy Unstopables for fragrance, and it doesn't take much for a great scent, probably because it isn't competing for fragrance space with my detergent. P.S. Those Unstopables are great for making auto air fresheners. Just make up a "Christmas Ornament Dough" recipe, and put some of those in the mix. Use a cookie cutter for the shape and use a straw to poke a hole in the top to put a string through. Great gifts from kids to grandparents.
5. Does it really work? Yes, it does. I do use the detergent to pre-treat really bad stains. I also use peroxide for blood stains too. But it really does work. Try more or less in your machine.
6. Is it safe for my clothes? I have not had one problem in using it on my clothes.
7. Do I really save money? Ok, this is the fun fun part:
I wash about one load a day. I have a family of 6.
Cost per batch: Borax, $0.80 + Washing Soda, +$0.48 + Fels Naptha, $1.00 = $2.27
THIS LASTS ME ALMOST 6 MONTHS.
So I spend less than $10 a year on washing all of our clothes! And SO CAN YOU!!!!!
Aren't you inspired now?!? Get your keys, get to Walmart, and
. . . . . stick it to the man.
Have a great day!!
Sunday, December 14, 2014
Engaged
"and Mary was espoused to Joseph. . . .. "
The teacher is the student again.
I was teaching the kids this morning about "The Christmas Story" of the birth of Jesus. It doesn't really feel like Christmas at all to me this year. Maybe its no snow, or the fact that I saw a daffodil in full bloom the other day, which I am still coming to terms with.
When I feel this way about a task (like doing Christmasy stuff)----"why am I doing all of this again?"--- I have to dig deeper. The veneer of the day to day looses its luster, and I have to go digging to find deeper meaning about why, whatever the task I am doing, matters. (This is probably why I wasn't a good math student). What a better way to do this than to dig my teeth in deeper into the Christmas story?
So today we talked about Mary being told by Gabriel about how she was blessed and favored among women, because she would be the vessel chosen not only to bear, but raise, Jesus. My goodness, could there be any more daunting task in the history of totally humankind? As if ordinary motherhood doesn't provoke enough anxiety!
And what I learned doesn't have so much to do with that at all.
~~~~~~
Babies, puppies and engagements. They all invoke a sweet, precious sort of love that is reserved for all things innocent, and a love that is somewhat one-sided. Its a love that springs from the way someone or something makes you feel, and the delight that you take in that person. How can you not absolutely drink up a sweet five month old baby? Or rub the full little belly of a sleepy puppy? Or be madly, deeply in love with your recently betrothed?
I remember the first time I wore my engagement ring out in public. I was 18, tall and thin with a long slender ring finger. And the sun was shining. I walked with my best high school friend with that shiny gold ring just glittering light, blinding both my eyes and my heart. I was just smitten----by the ring, the man, the whole idea of being a wife. Just consumed by it.
And the ring! Well, I loved showing it off. I was so sure that it was the best ring ever (because it was a diamond you could really see and not just take on faith), that I worried about appearing too boastful. I loved people asking me about it, looking at it when I was driving, and how it made my hand go from that belonging to a teenager. . . . to that belonging to a woman.
At our marriage I was given a plain gold band. Very simple, with absolutely no detail. I picked it out. It is very thin and I wanted to be sure that my engagement ring maintained top billing. I don't have to worry about it much. It is dependable, stays put, and doesn't get snagged on anything or scratched.
Marriage is so summed up in those two rings.
That engagement ring is a symbol of laying a claim to something. It is sort of like a beautiful form of mutual branding---"Property of the J.Stotler Ranch". I was claimed, and anyone looking at me who cared to glance at that hand would have seen that. We were young, and took great delight not only in the person of each other, but in the whole new, young love experience, and in dreaming of our future together. A future that has largely, at nearly 40 years old, become the present day.
An engagement relationship is lots of flash. Lots of excitement and activity and "look at me". Delighting in one another, and being delighted in. It is a beautiful season of life.
But that wedding band. . . . that band is a utility piece of equipment. It isn't made to say "look at me". It is made to be worn easily. It is easy to serve others with that band on----in the garden, changing oil in the car, washing dishes, mowing the lawn. The real beauty about the wedding band is the hand it is on-----worn, rugged, strong, wrinkled, calloused. It is a hand marred by working and serving the other. To the eye it is not much to see, but oh what a deep, lasting promise it is! It is for better or worse. When we talk about our vows, usually the one that gains our attention is "in sickness and in health". "For better or for worse" can both occur during the same day!
The cares of this world may pause the dating for a season, and the frenetic pace at which we move may tempt us to disengage for a while. But we are past the engagement ring. We are working off of the band. The band is a covenant to serve one another, with joy and gladness and tenderness----a covenant made with our betrothed, and with God. It is the part of marriage where we learn to love like Jesus.
And it is deeper, and stronger, and more satisfying and beautiful than the first type of love ever could be. When you give your all to your spouse, and they give their all to you, marriage is a picture of perfect heavenly love. If you are struggling to do this, ask God to help break your pride. In eighteen years I have had to do this many times, and I am sure that my hubby has too.
(Well. . . . probably at least once.)
You are loved this Christmas by God and me,
Sandra
The teacher is the student again.
I was teaching the kids this morning about "The Christmas Story" of the birth of Jesus. It doesn't really feel like Christmas at all to me this year. Maybe its no snow, or the fact that I saw a daffodil in full bloom the other day, which I am still coming to terms with.
When I feel this way about a task (like doing Christmasy stuff)----"why am I doing all of this again?"--- I have to dig deeper. The veneer of the day to day looses its luster, and I have to go digging to find deeper meaning about why, whatever the task I am doing, matters. (This is probably why I wasn't a good math student). What a better way to do this than to dig my teeth in deeper into the Christmas story?
So today we talked about Mary being told by Gabriel about how she was blessed and favored among women, because she would be the vessel chosen not only to bear, but raise, Jesus. My goodness, could there be any more daunting task in the history of totally humankind? As if ordinary motherhood doesn't provoke enough anxiety!
And what I learned doesn't have so much to do with that at all.
~~~~~~
Babies, puppies and engagements. They all invoke a sweet, precious sort of love that is reserved for all things innocent, and a love that is somewhat one-sided. Its a love that springs from the way someone or something makes you feel, and the delight that you take in that person. How can you not absolutely drink up a sweet five month old baby? Or rub the full little belly of a sleepy puppy? Or be madly, deeply in love with your recently betrothed?
I remember the first time I wore my engagement ring out in public. I was 18, tall and thin with a long slender ring finger. And the sun was shining. I walked with my best high school friend with that shiny gold ring just glittering light, blinding both my eyes and my heart. I was just smitten----by the ring, the man, the whole idea of being a wife. Just consumed by it.
And the ring! Well, I loved showing it off. I was so sure that it was the best ring ever (because it was a diamond you could really see and not just take on faith), that I worried about appearing too boastful. I loved people asking me about it, looking at it when I was driving, and how it made my hand go from that belonging to a teenager. . . . to that belonging to a woman.
At our marriage I was given a plain gold band. Very simple, with absolutely no detail. I picked it out. It is very thin and I wanted to be sure that my engagement ring maintained top billing. I don't have to worry about it much. It is dependable, stays put, and doesn't get snagged on anything or scratched.
Marriage is so summed up in those two rings.
That engagement ring is a symbol of laying a claim to something. It is sort of like a beautiful form of mutual branding---"Property of the J.Stotler Ranch". I was claimed, and anyone looking at me who cared to glance at that hand would have seen that. We were young, and took great delight not only in the person of each other, but in the whole new, young love experience, and in dreaming of our future together. A future that has largely, at nearly 40 years old, become the present day.
An engagement relationship is lots of flash. Lots of excitement and activity and "look at me". Delighting in one another, and being delighted in. It is a beautiful season of life.
But that wedding band. . . . that band is a utility piece of equipment. It isn't made to say "look at me". It is made to be worn easily. It is easy to serve others with that band on----in the garden, changing oil in the car, washing dishes, mowing the lawn. The real beauty about the wedding band is the hand it is on-----worn, rugged, strong, wrinkled, calloused. It is a hand marred by working and serving the other. To the eye it is not much to see, but oh what a deep, lasting promise it is! It is for better or worse. When we talk about our vows, usually the one that gains our attention is "in sickness and in health". "For better or for worse" can both occur during the same day!
The cares of this world may pause the dating for a season, and the frenetic pace at which we move may tempt us to disengage for a while. But we are past the engagement ring. We are working off of the band. The band is a covenant to serve one another, with joy and gladness and tenderness----a covenant made with our betrothed, and with God. It is the part of marriage where we learn to love like Jesus.
And it is deeper, and stronger, and more satisfying and beautiful than the first type of love ever could be. When you give your all to your spouse, and they give their all to you, marriage is a picture of perfect heavenly love. If you are struggling to do this, ask God to help break your pride. In eighteen years I have had to do this many times, and I am sure that my hubby has too.
(Well. . . . probably at least once.)
You are loved this Christmas by God and me,
Sandra
Saturday, October 11, 2014
Busy Mama Healthy Bean Soup
1 pkg Hillshire Farms Smoked Turkey Sausage (like kielbasa), chopped
1/2 onion, minced
2 cloves garlic
1 box chicken broth, 32 ouunces
1 tablespoon olive oil
6 carrots, peeled and sliced
1 12.5 ounce can chunk chicken breast
All bean cans are 15.5 ounces, and all should be drained:
2 cans Great Northern, 2 cans Navy, 2 cans Cannellini (white kidney beans)
1 tsp black pepper
1 tsp garlic salt
1/2 tsp. liquid smoke
Saute onion, garlic, sausage in olive oil. Lower heat, add chicken broth.
Add black pepper and garlic salt, bring to boil. Add carrots. Cook until just softened slightly.
Add chicken and beans. Reduce to a simmer, and cook until carrots are cooked through.
Fat content: There are 36 grams of total fat in the entire pot, 10.5 of which are saturated fat. I cooked it in a very large Dutch oven. I would estimate that there are about 12 servings in the pot. This number is NOT including the olive oil. The olive oil would add another 2 grams of saturated fat to the pot. Which means each serving has 1 gram of saturated fat. You could reduce it by reducing the onions and garlic with the chicken broth.
Total cost at my Walmart (minus seasonings, onion and garlic): $11.93
I love bean soup, I love butter, and I love bacon. . . .but they don't love me or my wallet!
1/2 onion, minced
2 cloves garlic
1 box chicken broth, 32 ouunces
1 tablespoon olive oil
6 carrots, peeled and sliced
1 12.5 ounce can chunk chicken breast
All bean cans are 15.5 ounces, and all should be drained:
2 cans Great Northern, 2 cans Navy, 2 cans Cannellini (white kidney beans)
1 tsp black pepper
1 tsp garlic salt
1/2 tsp. liquid smoke
Saute onion, garlic, sausage in olive oil. Lower heat, add chicken broth.
Add black pepper and garlic salt, bring to boil. Add carrots. Cook until just softened slightly.
Add chicken and beans. Reduce to a simmer, and cook until carrots are cooked through.
Fat content: There are 36 grams of total fat in the entire pot, 10.5 of which are saturated fat. I cooked it in a very large Dutch oven. I would estimate that there are about 12 servings in the pot. This number is NOT including the olive oil. The olive oil would add another 2 grams of saturated fat to the pot. Which means each serving has 1 gram of saturated fat. You could reduce it by reducing the onions and garlic with the chicken broth.
Total cost at my Walmart (minus seasonings, onion and garlic): $11.93
I love bean soup, I love butter, and I love bacon. . . .but they don't love me or my wallet!
Thursday, September 25, 2014
Hide and Seek
Colossians 3:3: For ye are dead, and your life is hid with Christ in God.
1 Timothy 6: 1-6:
Let as many servants as are under the yoke count their own masters worthy of all honour, that the name of God and his doctrine be not blasphemed.
And they that have believing masters, let them not despise them, because they are brethren; but rather do them service, because they are faithful and beloved, partakers of the benefit. These things teach and exhort.
If any man teach otherwise, and consent not to wholesome words, even the words of our Lord Jesus Christ, and to the doctrine which is according to godliness;
He is proud, knowing nothing, but doting about questions and strifes of words, whereof cometh envy, strife, railings, evil surmisings,
Perverse disputings of men of corrupt minds, and destitute of the truth, supposing that gain is godliness: from such withdraw thyself.
But godliness with contentment is great gain.
A long, long time ago, before marriage and babies, I was a young woman of about 19 and I had some fairly deeply rooted thoughts about what my life should look like. The "should" generally came from public opinion at large, that which society feels that a moderately academically successful young woman should look like. I should be educated, I should establish a career in something fulfilling to me, and at some point I should marry and eventually have children.
(I need to interrupt myself a bit at this point and just go on record as saying I have no problem whatsoever with a woman being educated beyond high school. In fact, it is my intention to steer my daughter in that direction, but it is her job to submit to what God's will should be in her life, whether that is what I should desire or not, which will be up to her to figure out.)
Well, I did that. And in doing so I always felt like a "lady in waiting"----- a lady waiting to have and raise her own children. I would go to conferences and meetings in my suits and heels and doodle names of future babies in pretty cursive in my notebooks. I would draw pictures of my dream home----big porch, on a hill, on a farm----when I should have been engaged in the latest Medicaid rule changes. And at last, eight and a half long years after saying "I do", I became a mother.
As much as I have loved the adventures and joy that is parenting, and as much as I felt like I was no longer "in waiting", I would occasionally feel something else: invisible.
The more babies, the more laundry, the more cooking and cleaning and mopping and pediatric appointments, the more invisible I felt. And in my heart I would sometimes panic about this invisibility, worried that I was missing out on something, though I wasn't sure what.
I was truly disappearing----behind my children. Behind the endless needs and demands and under the burden of caring for others to the extent that I was just turned inside out, emptied, with very little left to give.
When I would feel that way I would sort of scramble inside myself, desperately seeking to carve out "me" from the mountain of domestic duties. Sometimes that would look like a new haircut. It might be a new pinterest activity, or an attempt at renewing a friendship. And even though society told me that I deserved to have my own life, for some reason extricating myself from Mt. Laundry felt a little like treason.
God has turned my world upside down since moving to Oregon. Not in an earthquake way. More like in a snow globe way: one big flip to throw up the snow, and lots of time to see the beauty of it drifting down, down, down, in a very soft, deliberate peacefulness. Rather than lying monotonously on the bottom, the snow clings to the delicate parts of the figure inside, enhancing its beauty.
One particular Saturday I was working hard for my family. In fact Saturday was usually my "day off" after working all week on household things. I had indeed worked very hard all week. On this day I had been meal planning, trying the best I could to speak kindness to my children because I truly wanted to, looking to feed the emotional needs of my husband and kids by being hospitable to them because I truly wanted to, and . . . .
I wasn't exhausted.
I was very, very contented.
I was contented in a way I don't think I have been in many years.
As I drove over the bridge coming home from some errands, my heart's cry of thanksgiving filled up the car. I was so thankful to Jesus for my blessings, for the people I have in my life to serve. I sought Him for wisdom in how to treat my husband, how to teach my children, and wisdom for how to live my life. And as I prayed with tears pouring down like rivers, I just sat there and fellowshipped with my Lord a while, and I realized that my life WAS disappearing.
But now, instead of being buried by my children, my life was becoming "hid with Christ in God." In serving like this, I was serving, in a very small small way-----like He did. In a patient, loving, altruistic way. And He was erasing me so that I could be more like Him.
There is a difference in raising children as service to Jesus and becoming more like Him in the process, and raising children by creating little idols for yourself-----even if you are following the letter of the law and doing things the way your are "supposed" to. One of those things will leave you spent and exhausted.
But the other? When the Lord blesses your efforts with joy unspeakable and full of glory in the soul, so full that your heart just brims over with love from your Savior and you can't even contain the joy inside?
Oh sisters. Godliness with contentment is a great, great gain indeed. And that is all the strength we need for this journey. No haircut or pinterest board will ever rival that.
My favorite quote goes something like this:
It matters not if the world approves or understands
The only applause we're meant to seek is that of nail-scarred hands.
Lord, help me to remember the wisdom you showed me on the bridge. Help me to take my exhaustion as a sign of self-reliance, and help me to repent and try again by doing it Your way----by loving my blessed family and friends the way that You love me, in word and in deed and in my soul.
You are all loved on this day-----
Sandra
1 Timothy 6: 1-6:
Let as many servants as are under the yoke count their own masters worthy of all honour, that the name of God and his doctrine be not blasphemed.
And they that have believing masters, let them not despise them, because they are brethren; but rather do them service, because they are faithful and beloved, partakers of the benefit. These things teach and exhort.
If any man teach otherwise, and consent not to wholesome words, even the words of our Lord Jesus Christ, and to the doctrine which is according to godliness;
He is proud, knowing nothing, but doting about questions and strifes of words, whereof cometh envy, strife, railings, evil surmisings,
Perverse disputings of men of corrupt minds, and destitute of the truth, supposing that gain is godliness: from such withdraw thyself.
But godliness with contentment is great gain.
A long, long time ago, before marriage and babies, I was a young woman of about 19 and I had some fairly deeply rooted thoughts about what my life should look like. The "should" generally came from public opinion at large, that which society feels that a moderately academically successful young woman should look like. I should be educated, I should establish a career in something fulfilling to me, and at some point I should marry and eventually have children.
(I need to interrupt myself a bit at this point and just go on record as saying I have no problem whatsoever with a woman being educated beyond high school. In fact, it is my intention to steer my daughter in that direction, but it is her job to submit to what God's will should be in her life, whether that is what I should desire or not, which will be up to her to figure out.)
Well, I did that. And in doing so I always felt like a "lady in waiting"----- a lady waiting to have and raise her own children. I would go to conferences and meetings in my suits and heels and doodle names of future babies in pretty cursive in my notebooks. I would draw pictures of my dream home----big porch, on a hill, on a farm----when I should have been engaged in the latest Medicaid rule changes. And at last, eight and a half long years after saying "I do", I became a mother.
As much as I have loved the adventures and joy that is parenting, and as much as I felt like I was no longer "in waiting", I would occasionally feel something else: invisible.
The more babies, the more laundry, the more cooking and cleaning and mopping and pediatric appointments, the more invisible I felt. And in my heart I would sometimes panic about this invisibility, worried that I was missing out on something, though I wasn't sure what.
I was truly disappearing----behind my children. Behind the endless needs and demands and under the burden of caring for others to the extent that I was just turned inside out, emptied, with very little left to give.
When I would feel that way I would sort of scramble inside myself, desperately seeking to carve out "me" from the mountain of domestic duties. Sometimes that would look like a new haircut. It might be a new pinterest activity, or an attempt at renewing a friendship. And even though society told me that I deserved to have my own life, for some reason extricating myself from Mt. Laundry felt a little like treason.
God has turned my world upside down since moving to Oregon. Not in an earthquake way. More like in a snow globe way: one big flip to throw up the snow, and lots of time to see the beauty of it drifting down, down, down, in a very soft, deliberate peacefulness. Rather than lying monotonously on the bottom, the snow clings to the delicate parts of the figure inside, enhancing its beauty.
One particular Saturday I was working hard for my family. In fact Saturday was usually my "day off" after working all week on household things. I had indeed worked very hard all week. On this day I had been meal planning, trying the best I could to speak kindness to my children because I truly wanted to, looking to feed the emotional needs of my husband and kids by being hospitable to them because I truly wanted to, and . . . .
I wasn't exhausted.
I was very, very contented.
I was contented in a way I don't think I have been in many years.
As I drove over the bridge coming home from some errands, my heart's cry of thanksgiving filled up the car. I was so thankful to Jesus for my blessings, for the people I have in my life to serve. I sought Him for wisdom in how to treat my husband, how to teach my children, and wisdom for how to live my life. And as I prayed with tears pouring down like rivers, I just sat there and fellowshipped with my Lord a while, and I realized that my life WAS disappearing.
But now, instead of being buried by my children, my life was becoming "hid with Christ in God." In serving like this, I was serving, in a very small small way-----like He did. In a patient, loving, altruistic way. And He was erasing me so that I could be more like Him.
There is a difference in raising children as service to Jesus and becoming more like Him in the process, and raising children by creating little idols for yourself-----even if you are following the letter of the law and doing things the way your are "supposed" to. One of those things will leave you spent and exhausted.
But the other? When the Lord blesses your efforts with joy unspeakable and full of glory in the soul, so full that your heart just brims over with love from your Savior and you can't even contain the joy inside?
Oh sisters. Godliness with contentment is a great, great gain indeed. And that is all the strength we need for this journey. No haircut or pinterest board will ever rival that.
My favorite quote goes something like this:
It matters not if the world approves or understands
The only applause we're meant to seek is that of nail-scarred hands.
Lord, help me to remember the wisdom you showed me on the bridge. Help me to take my exhaustion as a sign of self-reliance, and help me to repent and try again by doing it Your way----by loving my blessed family and friends the way that You love me, in word and in deed and in my soul.
You are all loved on this day-----
Sandra
Wednesday, August 20, 2014
IN MY SCHOOL
I am a home schooler.
I use that new school clothes budget to buy our school
books.
I use that backpack and sweet lunch box money to buy
laminate paper and dry erase markers.
(Actually, dry erase markers a kind of a luxury item. So we make it stretch.)
Instead of cool shoes like all the other kids wear, we buy
unit studies on Ancient Rome and rocket kits.
I rock my one-room school like a boss with the best that the
Dollar Tree has to offer.
In my school, the teacher is scandalously close with the
principal.
The teacher is a part-time student.
We have all of our meals in the same cafeteria. We all work in the cafeteria.
I have no say in how my property taxes are spent, but I have
to clear my curriculum with the people getting my taxes.
You could put us in a room with an empty mason jar and we
could find something to learn from it.
All of our work is home work.
We read the Bible and pray in our school. Our teacher prays
more than any of the students.
My smart board is a laptop with YouTube and a dry-erase
board.
We are all janitors.
In our school, it is cool and also required to fraternize
with the younger students.
In our school, the younger students are sometimes taught by
the older students.
There are plenty of hugs in our school, and physical
affection is encouraged.
There are plenty of tears in our school. The teacher cries more than the students do.
There is plenty of discipline in our school.
The principal works full-time in a separate gig to
supplement the fiscal year budget.
In our school, we study a subject until we learn it.
We pay for all of our own testing.
The only common core you will find in our school is after we
have all had apples for a snack.
The PTA works seamlessly unlike any other school in the
universe.
We speculate that the teacher is required to wear yoga
pants.
In my school, the teacher has to frequently communicate with
her Ultimate Superintendent, to get wisdom and guidance on what to do with the
students He has loaned to her.
In my school, the children are safe.
In my school, the children are loved.
In my school, we all sacrifice.
And even though we are all the janitor, teacher, principal,
gardener, secretary, and fiscal manager-----
I wouldn’t trade my school for any other school in the
world.
----Sandra Stotler
Wednesday, July 16, 2014
Running on empty
First off, let me say that I could really use a scribe to follow me all over and write down my thoughts. I have about a zillion things to say on this blog, but just haven't taken the time to do it.
I cannot even express to you the goodness that God has shown me this past year. Can't even begin to share it. Our transition to Oregon---not just the move, but the surrender and the willingness----has shown me just how very much my Lord loves me. It defies logical sense and any practical notion within the human brain, but just know that if the Lord wants you to do something----you have NO IDEA what you are missing by not doing it. The Lord knows all, and He blesses not like a laser beam, but more like a shotgun blast, with bits of blessings all over your life. He has blessed us with a house of our own, our children with good friends, our church family with love, our marriage with a deep closeness we haven't experienced in a while, and just mountains and mountains and mountains of blessing that I could take the next day to write about. The joy is pouring out of my heart and over my lower eyelids as I type, and I am so very humbled and so, SO grateful that God cares enough about a little stay at home mom on the Oregon coast to show me so much love, grace, and mercy that I KNOW I don't deserve.
I was explaining to my kids the other day the difference between joy and happiness. I told them that happiness is circumstantial----like going to Chuck E Cheese, or the movies, or a glass of crisp, cold Diet Coke. (Yes. I really did say that to them. It's not like they don't see the satisfied smile on my lips as I crack open a cold can of chemical, caffeinated carbonation. I may have shame in my game, but I will 'fess up to the game. I can only handle so many self-improvement projects at a time.)
Oh, but joy-----joy is lasting, deep, bursting forth like a fountain in the soul! I told them that the disciples who followed Jesus probably didn't have a whole lot of "happy". Think about it----you are following Jesus for what, three years? If they had families, they likely didn't see them much. They were learning, making mistakes, being followed themselves by crowds of people who were needy, destitute, gravely (and oftentimes, contagiously) ill, and suffering. Jesus had no where to lay his head at night, and I am assuming that was much the same for the disciples. They watched him die, boldly proclaimed the gospel after He resurrected, endured tremendous persecution, and died martyrs' deaths.
WHY would anyone do that? How could you do it?
Because you had joy.
Happiness is comfort. It is comfort; newness; excitement. It is a new relationship, a new pair of shoes, a new destination, a new job. And because that new is only new for so long, happiness is fleeting.
We are a nation of people starving for joy, and attempting to fill it with "happiness".
Happiness is self-serving. Joy comes in surrender to God. Joy is a gift from God, and unlike happiness, it never grows dim. It only grows stronger, and stronger, and stronger. And it never, ever, EVER grows old.
It is so powerful, this joy from God, that men and women throughout history have exchanged their comfort, their desires, their impulses, their will, and for some their very own lives, and while the flesh may have come up empty-----
The soul is soaring on swelling clouds of joy unspeakable and full of glory.
Every single day, I make decisions to choose happiness over joy. Because very rarely does one get both.
That's sort of like eating a McDouble when you have access to filet mignon.
We fatigue on this journey with the Lord because we are filling our joy tank with happiness. We weren't created to run on happiness. We were created to crave, desire, and sustain with joy. Joy is present in all circumstances. It was present with Stephen as the stones broke his bones. It was present with Paul and Silas as they sang praises to God in bonds. It is the evidence to a lost and dying and suffering world that there is a true HOPE found in Jesus---not in the idea of Jesus, or what someone thinks about Jesus, or what some pastor or religious person has said Jesus is----but really found in. JESUS. That God cares for them, loves them, and is waiting ready to save to the uttermost.
Jesus said, "He who finds his life shall lose it. He who loses his life for my sake will find it."
Isaiah said, " Behold, God is my salvation; I will trust, and not be afraid: for the Lord Jehovah is my strength and my song; he also is become my salvation. Therefore with joy shall ye draw water out of the wells of salvation."
Oh God, that we would not settle for cheap imitations of your wonderful grace. Help us to run to you like our own little children do----with honest hearts and open minds, and show us what we need to do to find joy in surrendering our lifestyles to You.
You are all loved with an everlasting love from above, and also by me----
Sandra
p.s. I started to write about my daughter. You see, she and my husband's birthdays are both today. I cannot believe that God has given me such a beautiful, sweet, loving, spunky, intuitive, resilient child. He uses her to bless me and to teach me that it is OK to be girly. He knows I need that, and she helps me with it tremendously. She loves her mama and wants to be just like her, and that scares me to death. Pray for me, that I will be the soft, sweet, meek, loving, strong person that I want her to be. She is already better than me, and that is exactly what I pray for.
p.s.s. Thank you Lord, for a wonderful year with my husband. Thank you for each and every year we have together. Thank you for using him to help me, to shape me into who You want me to be. Thank you for making him have great hair.
I cannot even express to you the goodness that God has shown me this past year. Can't even begin to share it. Our transition to Oregon---not just the move, but the surrender and the willingness----has shown me just how very much my Lord loves me. It defies logical sense and any practical notion within the human brain, but just know that if the Lord wants you to do something----you have NO IDEA what you are missing by not doing it. The Lord knows all, and He blesses not like a laser beam, but more like a shotgun blast, with bits of blessings all over your life. He has blessed us with a house of our own, our children with good friends, our church family with love, our marriage with a deep closeness we haven't experienced in a while, and just mountains and mountains and mountains of blessing that I could take the next day to write about. The joy is pouring out of my heart and over my lower eyelids as I type, and I am so very humbled and so, SO grateful that God cares enough about a little stay at home mom on the Oregon coast to show me so much love, grace, and mercy that I KNOW I don't deserve.
I was explaining to my kids the other day the difference between joy and happiness. I told them that happiness is circumstantial----like going to Chuck E Cheese, or the movies, or a glass of crisp, cold Diet Coke. (Yes. I really did say that to them. It's not like they don't see the satisfied smile on my lips as I crack open a cold can of chemical, caffeinated carbonation. I may have shame in my game, but I will 'fess up to the game. I can only handle so many self-improvement projects at a time.)
Oh, but joy-----joy is lasting, deep, bursting forth like a fountain in the soul! I told them that the disciples who followed Jesus probably didn't have a whole lot of "happy". Think about it----you are following Jesus for what, three years? If they had families, they likely didn't see them much. They were learning, making mistakes, being followed themselves by crowds of people who were needy, destitute, gravely (and oftentimes, contagiously) ill, and suffering. Jesus had no where to lay his head at night, and I am assuming that was much the same for the disciples. They watched him die, boldly proclaimed the gospel after He resurrected, endured tremendous persecution, and died martyrs' deaths.
WHY would anyone do that? How could you do it?
Because you had joy.
Happiness is comfort. It is comfort; newness; excitement. It is a new relationship, a new pair of shoes, a new destination, a new job. And because that new is only new for so long, happiness is fleeting.
We are a nation of people starving for joy, and attempting to fill it with "happiness".
Happiness is self-serving. Joy comes in surrender to God. Joy is a gift from God, and unlike happiness, it never grows dim. It only grows stronger, and stronger, and stronger. And it never, ever, EVER grows old.
It is so powerful, this joy from God, that men and women throughout history have exchanged their comfort, their desires, their impulses, their will, and for some their very own lives, and while the flesh may have come up empty-----
The soul is soaring on swelling clouds of joy unspeakable and full of glory.
Every single day, I make decisions to choose happiness over joy. Because very rarely does one get both.
That's sort of like eating a McDouble when you have access to filet mignon.
We fatigue on this journey with the Lord because we are filling our joy tank with happiness. We weren't created to run on happiness. We were created to crave, desire, and sustain with joy. Joy is present in all circumstances. It was present with Stephen as the stones broke his bones. It was present with Paul and Silas as they sang praises to God in bonds. It is the evidence to a lost and dying and suffering world that there is a true HOPE found in Jesus---not in the idea of Jesus, or what someone thinks about Jesus, or what some pastor or religious person has said Jesus is----but really found in. JESUS. That God cares for them, loves them, and is waiting ready to save to the uttermost.
Jesus said, "He who finds his life shall lose it. He who loses his life for my sake will find it."
Isaiah said, " Behold, God is my salvation; I will trust, and not be afraid: for the Lord Jehovah is my strength and my song; he also is become my salvation. Therefore with joy shall ye draw water out of the wells of salvation."
Oh God, that we would not settle for cheap imitations of your wonderful grace. Help us to run to you like our own little children do----with honest hearts and open minds, and show us what we need to do to find joy in surrendering our lifestyles to You.
You are all loved with an everlasting love from above, and also by me----
Sandra
p.s. I started to write about my daughter. You see, she and my husband's birthdays are both today. I cannot believe that God has given me such a beautiful, sweet, loving, spunky, intuitive, resilient child. He uses her to bless me and to teach me that it is OK to be girly. He knows I need that, and she helps me with it tremendously. She loves her mama and wants to be just like her, and that scares me to death. Pray for me, that I will be the soft, sweet, meek, loving, strong person that I want her to be. She is already better than me, and that is exactly what I pray for.
p.s.s. Thank you Lord, for a wonderful year with my husband. Thank you for each and every year we have together. Thank you for using him to help me, to shape me into who You want me to be. Thank you for making him have great hair.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)