It’s been on my mind that there might be another book on my horizon...or maybe a painting....or maybe God is simply asking me to share myself. I don’t know...not yet anyway...but in looking inside, I see myself responding with “yes” a lot more frequently. I don’t have to overthink things because the truth resides in my heart. I simply have to look inward to find it. The stuff that comes into my head... if it doesn’t agree with my heart... is not truth. Knowing that is freedom.
I’ve also come to recognize other things. I know I love and I know the more people who come into my life, the more there are for me to love. There is a fullness within which continues to overflow....a fullness which puts a lump in my throat and brings tears to my eyes. There is a joy which bubbles up all on its own and I find myself happy even when I’m sad. And there is peace....the peace and comfort of knowing God is with me at all times.
There is a hunger. It’s not a gnawing hunger as I once experienced, but a constant hunger...one which insists on being fed...at all times, in all situations. It’s hard to describe, but it’s as if I’ve been invited to sit at table and partake of a never-ending meal.....the meal which fills my soul and gives me all I need and enough to share. Yet, I remain hungry. I am the loaves and fishes with which Jesus fed the multitude.
I don’t know what’s around the corner or if there’s another book on my horizon. I don’t know if I’m being led to another painting. I’m not even sure if I meant to write this as a blog. I’m not really sure of much these days but there is one thing I am very sure of.....one thing I never doubt....God loves me. I am truly blessed. I thought I’d share a bit of that here with you.
Tuesday, June 28, 2016
Wednesday, June 8, 2016
A Happy Accident
This is not my usual but I thought it might be fun to share it with you.....
Those of us who watch Bob Ross know one of his most famous quotes is, “I love happy accidents!” While this has more to do with cooking than painting, the “happy accident” still applies. Things sometimes pop into my mind and I think it’s a great idea....at the time... and then I have a chance to think about it. Please bear with me as I review the steps that brought me to my “happy accident”....or to put it more accurately, the accident that turned out to be a happy one.
I often go on the internet to look up recipes....more often to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything than to look up something new. Well, last night I wanted to make shrimp scampi and happened to run across a recipe that called for the shrimp to be marinated in Italian dressing and then broiled. I didn’t follow that recipe but I thought it was a good idea and the Italian dressing stayed on my mind.
Today I’d planned to make meatballs and sauce. As I gathered together the ingredients, I impulsively grabbed the Italian dressing. “Why not?” I thought. “What could it hurt?” and not too generously (but generously enough) added it to my meatballs.
The sauce was bubbling along nicely and I decided to take a little break before cooking the meatballs. It was then it hit me! There’s vinegar in Italian dressing. Vinegar would make the sauce sour. Then what would I do? As far as I could figure out, the best solution would be to add brown sugar to counteract the vinegar so that’s exactly what I did. I don’t know how much I used. I never measure. But I made sure it would be enough. It was probably more than enough as it caused another problem.
The mixture was too wet to hold its shape. I added more bread crumbs hoping that would stiffen them up a bit but was leery about adding too much. I didn’t want the meatballs to be 50% bread crumbs. I tried them in the fry pan, hoping searing them would hold them together. It didn’t. As a last resort, I threw everything back in the bowl, re-mixed, re-shaped and baked them 30 minutes in a 400 degree oven.
They looked perfect when I took them out and put them gingerly in the sauce to continue cooking on simmer. A higher heat would have broken them apart. I was very conscious of their fragility. I can’t remember ever being so careful with a simple meatball. But these weren’t ordinary meatballs and there was a very great possibility of them ruining the large pot of sauce I’d made. I didn’t relish the thought of having to throw everything in the garbage. So I prayed.
Prayer was answered. For once, Mom didn’t tell me I’d given her too much and I enjoyed it enough for a second large helping....(which I’m sure I didn’t need). But let me tell you! That Italian dressing and brown sugar made the most delicious meatballs and sauce I’ve ever tasted. I may do it again sometime.....if I can remember how. The thing about “happy accidents” is....if I try to repeat it, it won’t be an accident and I have doubts about the “happy” part.
May our lives be full of “Happy Accidents”!!
Those of us who watch Bob Ross know one of his most famous quotes is, “I love happy accidents!” While this has more to do with cooking than painting, the “happy accident” still applies. Things sometimes pop into my mind and I think it’s a great idea....at the time... and then I have a chance to think about it. Please bear with me as I review the steps that brought me to my “happy accident”....or to put it more accurately, the accident that turned out to be a happy one.
I often go on the internet to look up recipes....more often to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything than to look up something new. Well, last night I wanted to make shrimp scampi and happened to run across a recipe that called for the shrimp to be marinated in Italian dressing and then broiled. I didn’t follow that recipe but I thought it was a good idea and the Italian dressing stayed on my mind.
Today I’d planned to make meatballs and sauce. As I gathered together the ingredients, I impulsively grabbed the Italian dressing. “Why not?” I thought. “What could it hurt?” and not too generously (but generously enough) added it to my meatballs.
The sauce was bubbling along nicely and I decided to take a little break before cooking the meatballs. It was then it hit me! There’s vinegar in Italian dressing. Vinegar would make the sauce sour. Then what would I do? As far as I could figure out, the best solution would be to add brown sugar to counteract the vinegar so that’s exactly what I did. I don’t know how much I used. I never measure. But I made sure it would be enough. It was probably more than enough as it caused another problem.
The mixture was too wet to hold its shape. I added more bread crumbs hoping that would stiffen them up a bit but was leery about adding too much. I didn’t want the meatballs to be 50% bread crumbs. I tried them in the fry pan, hoping searing them would hold them together. It didn’t. As a last resort, I threw everything back in the bowl, re-mixed, re-shaped and baked them 30 minutes in a 400 degree oven.
They looked perfect when I took them out and put them gingerly in the sauce to continue cooking on simmer. A higher heat would have broken them apart. I was very conscious of their fragility. I can’t remember ever being so careful with a simple meatball. But these weren’t ordinary meatballs and there was a very great possibility of them ruining the large pot of sauce I’d made. I didn’t relish the thought of having to throw everything in the garbage. So I prayed.
Prayer was answered. For once, Mom didn’t tell me I’d given her too much and I enjoyed it enough for a second large helping....(which I’m sure I didn’t need). But let me tell you! That Italian dressing and brown sugar made the most delicious meatballs and sauce I’ve ever tasted. I may do it again sometime.....if I can remember how. The thing about “happy accidents” is....if I try to repeat it, it won’t be an accident and I have doubts about the “happy” part.
May our lives be full of “Happy Accidents”!!
Sunday, June 5, 2016
Not Very Christian
“That’s not very Christian of you” was a comment directed at me a couple of times yesterday.
I admit I was a little annoyed when pulling into the church parking lot...early as usual...and seeing it already beginning to fill up with the overflow from across the road. According to that church’s billboard, they were hosting the High School graduation ceremonies. I’d never been inside but judging from what I could see, its size was probably large enough to hold most of the people of Brooksville and it was surrounded by parking lots. Unfortunately, there weren’t enough spaces to handle this particular crowd.
My immediate thought, when I saw cars beginning to fill the spaces of St Anthony’s was that there wouldn’t be places for people to park for the 4:00 Mass. This was a real consideration for me as most who attend the Saturday evening Mass are senior citizens.
As I parked my car and walked toward the entrance of the lot, I called out to one group who were just exiting their car, loaded with balloons and gifts. There was no doubt where they were headed. “I’m sorry,” I called, “This is a private lot and we’ll be having services this afternoon. We’d appreciate it if you didn’t park here.”
“That’s not very Christian of you,” the woman called out in a sharp accusing tone, purposefully walking faster. “What about these other cars here?” she added as she waved her arm accusingly.
I swallowed the words I was tempted to say because I knew they would fall on deaf ears. This woman wanted me to be Christian and wasn’t too concerned about her own “Christian” words and actions.
It wasn’t much fun flagging down cars while standing in the blistering heat. When I explained the situation, the majority of people were understanding and courteous. They were very nice about turning around and finding other parking. There were the brighter moments, too, like my not recognizing Father Pecchie’s car, having him roll down his window and giving in to the impulse of asking him if he was coming to Mass. Then there was Theresa who laughingly asked, "Does everyone want to be Catholic today?"
One young lady, when asked if she was there for the Mass or graduation, hesitated for a moment and responded with, “What time is Mass?”
“Four o’clock”, I smiled, realizing she was considering whether the price of a parking spot was worth her attending Mass.
“Oh, the same time as the graduation,” she said, a thoughtful expression on her face. “I’ll just make a u-turn then.”
There was one other man, however, who couldn’t keep from venting his frustration by accusing me of "not being very Christian”. I didn’t respond....maybe because by that time most of the energy had been sapped out of me. I couldn’t help but notice his company logo on the side of his van and wondered if he knew what kind of witness he was giving me.
I can’t tell you how many cars I turned away but I’m sure the number would have filled our lot to overflowing and I can’t help but wonder about the two people who voiced their “That’s not very Christian of you” comment. I wonder if these people expected everyone else to be Christian without putting that same expectation on themselves. Being Christian to them meant that they should be made the exception. They couldn’t see beyond that.
I met a lot of “Christian” people yesterday afternoon. They were the ones who understood and respected the situation. They were the ones who realized they could be infringing on the rights of others. They were the ones who didn’t think only of themselves. I appreciated meeting them and having my faith in humanity reaffirmed.
A special thanks here to Sally who stood with me for a while in the heat, ushered me inside when she saw it was getting to be too much and brought me the water I so sorely needed. Thank you, Sally!
I admit I was a little annoyed when pulling into the church parking lot...early as usual...and seeing it already beginning to fill up with the overflow from across the road. According to that church’s billboard, they were hosting the High School graduation ceremonies. I’d never been inside but judging from what I could see, its size was probably large enough to hold most of the people of Brooksville and it was surrounded by parking lots. Unfortunately, there weren’t enough spaces to handle this particular crowd.
My immediate thought, when I saw cars beginning to fill the spaces of St Anthony’s was that there wouldn’t be places for people to park for the 4:00 Mass. This was a real consideration for me as most who attend the Saturday evening Mass are senior citizens.
As I parked my car and walked toward the entrance of the lot, I called out to one group who were just exiting their car, loaded with balloons and gifts. There was no doubt where they were headed. “I’m sorry,” I called, “This is a private lot and we’ll be having services this afternoon. We’d appreciate it if you didn’t park here.”
“That’s not very Christian of you,” the woman called out in a sharp accusing tone, purposefully walking faster. “What about these other cars here?” she added as she waved her arm accusingly.
I swallowed the words I was tempted to say because I knew they would fall on deaf ears. This woman wanted me to be Christian and wasn’t too concerned about her own “Christian” words and actions.
It wasn’t much fun flagging down cars while standing in the blistering heat. When I explained the situation, the majority of people were understanding and courteous. They were very nice about turning around and finding other parking. There were the brighter moments, too, like my not recognizing Father Pecchie’s car, having him roll down his window and giving in to the impulse of asking him if he was coming to Mass. Then there was Theresa who laughingly asked, "Does everyone want to be Catholic today?"
One young lady, when asked if she was there for the Mass or graduation, hesitated for a moment and responded with, “What time is Mass?”
“Four o’clock”, I smiled, realizing she was considering whether the price of a parking spot was worth her attending Mass.
“Oh, the same time as the graduation,” she said, a thoughtful expression on her face. “I’ll just make a u-turn then.”
There was one other man, however, who couldn’t keep from venting his frustration by accusing me of "not being very Christian”. I didn’t respond....maybe because by that time most of the energy had been sapped out of me. I couldn’t help but notice his company logo on the side of his van and wondered if he knew what kind of witness he was giving me.
I can’t tell you how many cars I turned away but I’m sure the number would have filled our lot to overflowing and I can’t help but wonder about the two people who voiced their “That’s not very Christian of you” comment. I wonder if these people expected everyone else to be Christian without putting that same expectation on themselves. Being Christian to them meant that they should be made the exception. They couldn’t see beyond that.
I met a lot of “Christian” people yesterday afternoon. They were the ones who understood and respected the situation. They were the ones who realized they could be infringing on the rights of others. They were the ones who didn’t think only of themselves. I appreciated meeting them and having my faith in humanity reaffirmed.
A special thanks here to Sally who stood with me for a while in the heat, ushered me inside when she saw it was getting to be too much and brought me the water I so sorely needed. Thank you, Sally!
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