Tuesday Talk # 17: Stranded

I've given my husband some extra hugs and kisses this past twenty-four hours.

Because he spent the 48 hours prior to that on a bus, 30 of those hours stuck on the Pennsylvania Turnpike with two feet of snow between each vehicle.

P. led a group of 50+ from our diocese down to Washington D.C. for the annual March for Life on Friday. Thousands of people showed up to to walk down Constitution Avenue and be a voice for the unborn and for their mothers (and fathers!) who suffer physically and emotionally after an abortion. It's always a hugely powerful and inspiring event (which the media generally chooses not to cover despite the large numbers that show up -- hundreds of thousands) and I would have been there if the little bun in the oven was not causing so much morning sickness.

Instead, I was warm and well-fed at home when I got the message they were stranded on their way home from D.C., stuck on the Pennsylvania Turnpike with the snow coming down fiercely and trucks, cars, and buses stopped for miles and miles ahead.

The next 30 hours proved to be challenging but so, so grace-filled for them-- and actually me as I heard the ways God was providing. It's such a beautiful thing when people pray and when God shows up in the midst of a tough situation. Looking back, the stories are just beautiful. God truly uses everything, and he orchestrates good from bad.

The #turnpikemass celebrated by a couple priests on a snow altar on the roadside with hundreds of people attending.

Students posting pictures of them brushing their teeth in the snow, their smiles joyful instead of fearful or complaining.

The firefighters and military bringing water and food supplies to the hundreds of vehicles stranded.

And finally-- an opportunity for P.'s bus to share their experiences with each other from the March for Life...and then the bus driver himself opening up about a past abortion his girlfriend had...mourning his loss and crying for his child. My husband was able to share with him about the mercy and love and healing of our God. I was particularly touched about this moment because of the way God loved this grieving man so much that he used the crazy storm to provide a moment for healing and renewal for the bus driver that might not have happened if they had simply driven straight home.

News reporters and writers published and aired multiple stories on the stranded group and even that had the fingerprints of God all over it. While the media typically doesn't cover the March for Life, they were sharing stories of it now and all were able to see the peaceful, joyful students and adults who were on the trip to stand up for every single life, that every life matters and has meaning.

P. and I celebrated his return last night simply, with Chinese food and football. (MSG-free for me!) But ever since his return, and as I process the pictures and the stories, I'm just overwhelmed by the way our God cares for us and provides for us. As His children...but also as an individual child. He loves us all and cares for us as family, but He also loves each one of us as if there were only one of us to be loved (St. Augustine). So beautiful. If I could rest more in God's personal love for me, I have a feeling it would change my life.

How was your weekend? Are you near the East coast or are you enjoying warmer weather? Where did you see God in your days?


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Second Week of Advent

Sitting at the kitchen table with the Little Dog on my lap. Homemade spaghetti sauce warming on the stove (thank you, freezer, for giving me fresh food in the winter!). Achingly beautiful Christmas music playing in the background, making me tear up at the slightest swell of instruments.

And I'm thinking about you.

All you wonderful people who visit this site.  (um, and just a little bit about the Christmas cookies in the fridge.)You who welcome me into your home by reading my blog. (okay, I understand if that sounds a little creepy.) Who type comment love or friendly emails here and there, reminding me that my brothers and sisters live all over this big world but are so very beautifully connected.

So I wanted to say hello. And happy Advent.

You know I love this Church season of Advent. This invitation to slow down, seek quiet, trust in waiting, surrender to mystery. It wraps itself around my soul with gentle beckoning.

I responded this year to that call as with other years. I was ready to prepare Him room. I told my women's share group about my goals of finding Christ in the quiet, darkness, fasting, and waiting...just as our Advent program had focused on.

Somehow I pictured myself transformed by fervent prayer, calm solitude, overwhelming peace.

Instead these first two weeks have been more characterized by fervent grumbling, calm despair, and overwhelming uncertainty.

Don't get me wrong. I still love the season. I have my decorations up and my heart lights up when my Christmas tree does. I hosted a cookie swap with a dozen or so girlfriends. I sipped hot chocolate with two of them and crafted Christmas cards. I've absolutely relished a new Advent devotional recommended by a friend (Watch for the Light: Readings for Advent and Christmas).

But amidst all that, I find myself being selfish, discontent, lonely, and discouraged. I play the comparison game. I get frustrated at both jobs. I need a break from people but I get lonely at home. I choose the temporary over the eternal. I whine. I pout. I sin. It's not a pretty sight, soul-friends. And that further discourages me, because this isn't how I wanted my Advent to be. Old memories surface. Unfulfilled desires nudge. It hurts.

I'm not where I want to be. I'm not who I want to be.

Emmanuel. My heart cries out.

I keep learning.

God-Is-With-Us.

Instead of the warmth of Advent wrapping around me, I'm feeling stripped of control and comfort.

It's cold. It's vulnerable. It's painful. It's messy. But hope draws near. Because these are the conditions of the Christmas stable. Of the uncomfortable Christmas journey to Bethlehem.

Messy manger. Messy heart.

I'm finding He chooses both to dwell within.

This Advent is not what I planned. But somehow He's using it. He's making it beautiful before I can see it.

Like Mary, He simply wants me to be open. To be. To look to Him with trust so that He can enter in and be born to the world through me. (From that amazing devotional I mentioned above!)

Maybe I'm not where I want to be or who I want to be. But I know this tender Savior enters into our messes. To transform us into who He wants us to be.

Maybe He's already here.

Emmanuel.

Bigger

Sunday night blues. Monday morning blahs.* There’s something about getting up early and going to work that can be a struggle some days!

I love my job. I love my morning prayer time. But getting in that car and driving down snowy roads on a cold winter morning while the heater attempts to wake up…can take some effort. (You know the feeling, northern friends?)

It was on one of those icy morning drives that I felt a few worries pulling me as low as the temperature. God is bigger, I kept reminding myself as I put my turn signal on. He is bigger than any of our worries and burdens.

As I turned onto the main street, I was met with a tangible example of how big our God really is: a breathtaking sunrise with marshmallow clouds and paintbrush colors. Beautiful extravagance. From a God very much involved in the details of our lives.

The voice on the morning radio station was singing lyrics to match:

You are more than flesh and bone
Can’t you see you’re something beautiful…
He wants you to see…
That you’re not just some wandering soul…
You are someone worth dying for.**

I saw a young woman through my passenger window. She was walking on the sidewalk through the wind, head down, shoulders slumped.

The song and sunrise were soaking into my soul as I kept glancing over at her. I wanted to talk to her. I wanted to help her.

I wanted to tell her that He’s bigger.

He is. Bigger than our struggles. Bigger than our Sunday night blues. Bigger than anything that threatens to weigh us down or hold us back. And when we are blessed enough to realize that, we are called to share it with others.

*yes, I know. I work part-time, so mine are more like Tuesday night blues...

**lyrics from Someone Worth Dying For, by Mikeschair

Wisdom for Wednesdays

"Take time to be aware that in the very midst of our busy preparations for the
celebration of Christ’s birth in ancient Bethlehem, Christ is reborn in the
Bethlehems of our homes and daily lives. Take time, slow down, be still, be
awake to the Divine Mystery that looks so common and so ordinary yet is
wondrously present.

"An old abbot was fond of saying, ‘The devil
is always the most active on the highest feast days.’

"The supreme trick of Old Scratch is to have
us so busy decorating, preparing food, practicing music and cleaning in
preparation for the feast of Christmas that we actually miss the coming of
Christ. Hurt feelings, anger, impatience, injured egos—the list of clouds that
busyness creates to blind us to the birth can be long, but it is familiar to us
all."

-Edward Hays, A Pilgrim’s Almanac

The (Im)Perfect Christmas

If you know me well (…or actually if you know me at all), you know I love holidays. I love decorating, cooking, hosting, and anything festive that coordinates with a holiday. I drink tea in pink mugs for Valentine’s day and make red-white-blue desserts in July and read Christmas stories in December. Oh yes, I celebrate holidays with the best of ‘em.

So don’t think me a Scrooge when I say the commercials on TV this year are driving me crazy! Every other commercial teaches us about the ‘perfect’ Christmas. First, everything must look perfect—clothing, smiles, food, families, homes—with the assumption that perfect things make a perfect holiday. Secondly, the preparation for a perfect Christmas includes buying, buying, and more buying—the more expensive the item, the more you love that person.

The perfect Christmas, right?

I don’t think so.

The only perfect Christmas I know of…was the first one two thousand years ago.

When nothing about it looked perfect… a full inn, an uncomfortable stable, a tiring journey.

Instead of elaborate, it was simple.

Instead of noise and hurry, there was silence and stillness.

Instead of extravagance, there was humility.

Sorry, media. The perfect Christmas looks a little different than you thought. It’s not about making the yummiest cookies, sending the most cards, or even giving the best gifts.

It’s not about stuff. It’s about souls. Salvation. The ultimate gift from the only One who is perfect. It’s about preparing our hearts to give Him even more room than we have before.

Happy Advent, sweet friends. May you have an imperfect Christmas season that leads you closer to our perfect God.

Not Your Typical Lasagna

I'm a self-proclaimed and (roommate-proclaimed) Rachael Ray fan. I love her bubbly, energetic personality and her fun, casual demeanor in the kitchen. This particular recipe aired on her show earlier this month at the perfect time-- a couple days before I was having two girlfriends over for supper. Intrigued by the flavors, I gathered the ingredients and tested it out on my obliging friends. It was delicious! I can't say I agree with the 'lazy' part as the many pots on the stove kept me on my toes, but I loved this unique spin on one of my favorite meals. Enjoy!

*Note: I used spinach instead of escarole.

Lazy Lasagna with Butternut Squash and Escarole

Ingredients

• 1 medium butternut squash, peeled and chopped into 1-inch pieces
• EVOO – Extra Virgin Olive Oil, for drizzling plus 2 tablespoons
• Salt and pepper
• 1 pound ruffle-edge lasagna noodles, broken into irregular shapes
• 4 cloves garlic, finely chopped
• 1 medium head escarole, chopped
• About 1 cup chicken or vegetable stock
• 1 1/2 cups fresh ricotta cheese
• A small handful of sage leaves, thinly sliced
• 1/2 cup grated Parmigiano-Reggiano, a couple of handfuls
• 2 tablespoons butter
• 2 tablespoons flour
• 2 cups whole milk
• Freshly grated nutmeg, to taste
• 1/3 pound Italian Fontina or Gruyère cheese, shredded (about 1 1/2 cups)


Preparation

Preheat oven to 400°F. Arrange the squash on a baking sheet and lightly dress with a drizzle of EVOO, salt and pepper. Roast for 35-45 minutes, until golden at edges and tender.
Meanwhile, bring a large pot of water to a boil and under-cook pasta by about 2 minutes, a little shy of al dente.
While the water comes to a boil, heat about 2 tablespoons EVOO, a couple of turns of the pan, over medium heat in sauté pan. Add garlic and stir a minute then add escarole and wilt. Season with a little salt and pepper, and add stock, simmer gently until ready to use.
In a small bowl, stir together ricotta, sage, salt, pepper and Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese.
In a saucepot, melt butter over medium heat. Whisk in flour, cook a minute or so then whisk in milk. Raise heat a bit and season sauce with salt, pepper and a little freshly grated nutmeg. Let sauce thicken to coat the back of a spoon then taste to adjust seasonings.

Drain lasagna noodles and add them back to hot pot. Stir in ricotta cheese mixture, combine evenly, then fold in roasted squash and escarole. Transfer to a casserole dish and pour the milk sauce evenly over the top. Cover with scant layer of Fontina or Gruyère cheese and place in the hot oven on center rack.
Switch oven to broil and leave casserole in oven until lasagna is brown and bubbly all over, about 4 minutes.

My Texas White Christmas!

Riding horses on a sunny 70's December day

Building a snowman after the blizzard came the next day!

Bundled up in our stylish parkas for the ice sculpture exhibit

Singing Christmas carols with the family

Making Christmas goodies (and eating them!)

Remembering the true meaning of Christmas

All is calm, all is bright.

Wishing you a beautiful Christmas season and a New Year full of joy and peace!

My Ski Trip Adventure

We took the teens from church on a ski trip a couple weeks ago. And I'll never be the same. Okay, maybe it didn't scar me for life but it gave me enough paranoia that I might need some Xanax or Ativan for that girls' retreat in Michigan coming up this month.

We met at church bright and early that day. If there was any concern with my driving abilities at such an early hour, those doubts would soon vanish. Trust me, I was wide awake as I rounded the corner of the church to the vans being loaded, only to see the back van door slam and glass shatter. And the shocked look on the face of the guy who had slammed it.

Life happens. So we cleaned up the glass and used some duct tape and plastic to take its place, and then were on our way. 20 degree weather with several inches of snow-- perfect for skiing, not so much for driving. Especially when I'm driving a 12 passenger van that is not mine. The roads were covered with packed snow and patches of ice. Even the interstate wasn't as clear as I had hoped.

Enter disaster...er, I mean, adventure...#2. My windshield would not stay clear of slush. I tried the wiper fluid, but it was empty. The windshield wipers were no match for the sticky, icy mess without wiper fluid. So we stopped on the side of the turnpike-- yeah, where it says only to stop for emergences--and thankfully, one of the other drivers had some wiper fluid for me.

Off we go again. My teens seemed rather oblivious to any dangerous road conditions at times, particularly when I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw feet where their heads should be. I calmly explained to them that I prefer them buckled since I'm responsible. Yes, you may have some snacks, but you don't need to flip over the seats to get to them.

Ah. The window was patched, the windshields were clear. What more could happen? Only that my van decided to have convulsions when I used the brakes. Gary suggested it may be from a problem with the anti-lock brakes on the right side...that made me feel so much better? I decided that was not the source of the problem, however, when the van stalled at the turnpike station--about 10 feet before we reached the station.

Since I'm writing this, you can guess the end of the story. We arrived safely at our destination and enjoyed a day of skiing, snowboarding, and falling down the slopes. One of the girls lost her ski goggles. A couple of people from our group accidentally went down a Black Diamond. My skis were sized wrong and I didn't realize it until I was putting them on by one of the slopes.

All in all, though, it really was a fun day. The Lord had His hand on us and taught us some things about faith. He is good. Life is beautiful. But I'm still hesitant to go on that trip with the girls this month...

Delightfully Insignificant

With a full mind and confused heart, cabin fever wasn't helping. Feeling the need for some fresh air and surroundings, I piled on the snow gear and trekked to the woods with my faithful dogs. As I headed back via the path in our field, I felt refreshed already. How could I not when Micah skipped and jumped and smiled the whole way?

And then I entered a snow-covered Narnia. Stillness. Peace. Beauty. It was my tryst with the past. I made a snow angel, tasted some fresh snow, and swung on the tree swing. I visited all my old haunts, reminiscing about the imaginative games we played as kids. It was magical. I felt almost as if I had walked back in time. It was good to step away from the present and its concerns and confusion.

Looking up at the clear blue sky and around at the pure snow, I felt delightfully insignificant. I felt very small in this vastness, yet I knew the God who created it all. And He wanted to know me. He was immeasurably greater than all of this-- yet cares for me individually. He was big enough to hold and mend all my worries and fears.

Those worries seemed insignificant anyway in the simplicity of the moment. Life is not as complicated as I make it. I just need to take note from His other creations to see that. The trees in the woods-- they wait patiently and quietly for spring, keeping their branches raised to their Creator. My dogs-- they aren't worried about the future but are more concerned with living each moment to the fullest.

I don't need to have my life figured out. I just need to wait patiently and quietly for the next step to be revealed, living each moment to the fullest, with my arms raised to the One who does have it all figured out.