Friday night grateful moment

Tonight I am grateful to be in Canada, surrounded by family, celebrating the 95th birthday of my grandma tomorrow. I am grateful for safe travels, for lots of laughter, for car naps and for sunshine and blue skies along the way. I'm grateful for such a loving extended family, and for their laughter and hugs. I'm grateful for such a great kid, and the prospect of a road trip together next week. I'm grateful for a wonderful partner and spouse, one who is my biggest cheerleader and best friend. I'm grateful for sleep, which is arriving very soon, and for the joy of sleeping in. I'm grateful it's the weekend, and I'm so very grateful it is THIS weekend. That my grandmother is 95 is the best and biggest thing on my grateful list this week. She's amazing and lovely, and I am grateful for every day she's on this planet.

Hope your weekend is filled with gratefulness too.

Peace.

One Little Word for 2014: Pray

When this word first crossed through my mind, I thought, oh, I can't pick *that* word. That will be making far too big a deal of my faith; I mean, I'll actually have to write about it, on the blog. (Because you, know, God forbid I actually pick a word for the year and NOT blog about it!). But of course, once I had that actual conscious thought, I knew it WAS the word, whether I acknowledged it or not. And I've lived long enough on this planet to know that nothing good comes from stuffing it down and not living what and who you are. So that's my word for this coming year: Pray.

Prayer is such a fraught thing. When someone tells you they're praying for you, it can hold a myriad of agendas and baggage. I've been there and felt that. It can also be the biggest gift possible. When someone loves you (and loves you in a healthy, open and unconditional way) and says they're praying for you, it takes the weight of the world off your shoulders. I've been there too, and felt such weight being lifted; it's amazing.

A few weeks after mulling over the word, I was at Grandma's and leafing through some of her journals and lists and such. She has been such a keeper of information over the years. Aside from the logging of what she gave and got for Christmas or birthdays, and the binders full of ancestry information, she has jotted little thoughts and notes about her daily doings. They can be rather amusing to read now, out of context; I'll point to one or another and ask her if she remembers what this or that note was about, and if she does we talk about it for a bit. It can lead to some pretty interesting conversations.

On this visit, I happened upon this poem by Helen Steiner Rice, a Grandma favorite. And while Rice might not have written my personal must-have books of poetry, I have a sentimental heart for her writing and what it's meant to Grandma. In my very "me" way, I saw this poem as a sign of validation for my word (of course!), and had to snap a picture of it. Grandma is quite used to me taking out my phone and pointing-and-clicking it at various things in her apartment, and she usually gives a funny shrug and a smile.

You can tell by the picture that my grandmother had great penmanship, in her day. I would date this writing at maybe five years ago, given that there's some shake, but not nearly what she has now. It's unmistakably her handwriting, and there's preciousness to that for me as well.

For all my condescending little smiles about Rice's poems over the years (much fewer as I've gotten older and wiser) (and kinder, too), these words cut right to exactly why Pray is my word this year:

A New Year Prayer
You are ushering in another year
Untouched and freshly new,
So here I am to ask you God,
If you'll renew me too.
But, Father, I am well aware
I can't make it on my own,
So take my hand and hold it tight,
For I can't walk alone.

I've had years where prayer was a regular occurrence, and years when that has not been the case. The years themselves haven't been dramatically impacted by my prayer, or the lack thereof--I would never try to make a case for "and then I prayed and it all got better!" Sometimes it seems almost unmagically the opposite; real challenges arise when you lay yourself bare and see revealed your damn humanity and all the ugliness that implies. (Or maybe that's just me?)

The years themselves, and the events that have unfolded within them, have run the usual gamut of good, bad and indifferent. I would venture, though, that the difference has been subtle but palpable, between the times I've been in close communication with God and not--to me. Well, mostly to me. If you know me very well, you might be able to tell. (Maybe.)

That's where the C.S Lewis quote comes in: I pray to be that quote, to have that kind of need, and be changed by praying.

In a way, I feel like Pray could (should?) be my word, every year. But I also still feel that way about Pause (2010), Focus (2011), Grace (2012) and Light (this year). I love the way these words stay with me, and layer on top of each other. I've even said, laughing, that I must be a little slow, because I feel like I just get the word into my consciousness, and then wham, it's a new year with a new word. I need an overlap year, where I can hold onto the word from the past and move forward into the new word... it's all rather beautiful and complicated in my own mind... I'm sure you get it, too?

But the thing that makes me so happy about this word, and why I could see holding on to it for awhile, is that this word makes a lot of other words (and things) fall into place. At least, that's how I imagine it *could* go... If I put the proper attention to living this word, I have optimism that other priorities will align. Of course, now that I've said it out loud, the "other shoe dropping" part of my nature is poised, waiting for something to mess it up and distract me, obfuscate my vision from that which I know is important. You know, my usual ADHD. Awesome.

Here we go, off into another year! Wish me luck. Or, better yet, pray for me. ;)

Friday night grateful moment

You're surprised I'm doing a grateful list in the middle of the A-Z blogging challenge? Don't be surprised. If you've been following this blog from its beginning, or hopped on at any point along the way, you surely know that if there's ever a post to NOT be missed, it is the Friday night grateful moment. Hell or high water, there's a post. They're not always fly-me-to-the-moon posts, but gratitude is posted, dammit.

This week has been a fun one, with the A-Z challenge. I'm more than a bit thankful to have the weekend to get caught up/organized for the coming week, in more ways than just blogging! I'll also have a chance to visit other fun blogs in the challenge.

We had a wonderful storm here last night. I was on the phone with dear friend Kate, talking about life and options/opportunities, and I watched the storm roll in, described it to her, took some pictures while on my phone, and kept talking. I love spring storms here in Walla Walla, and this one was perfect--not too long or destructive, though some people I know had power outages for more than an hour--it seemed to sweep through dramatically. The first picture is mine, but the last two are not--they were posted on Facebook, from other parts of town. I tell you, Facebook is really helpful, in learning about weather. Politics, not so much, but weather, yes!

I am so grateful for laughter. Such a release. This video is posted for a co-worker who makes me laugh (much appreciated on long days!).



Seth's been spring-break road-tripping this week, keeping in touch via text. Sure grateful to have the ability to keep in touch that way. And will be thankful to have him home on Monday too!

It's my Grandma's birthday today--she's 94. Such an amazing thing, 94 years on the planet. I'm glad that she has family with her on this day--at least two of my aunts are with her, as well as my brother and his family. When I think of my grandma, I have many memories over the years, but the most precious to me are the more recent visits, as they are sweeter each time. (The Helen Steiner Rice poem below the picture of Grandma is in her honor, as she loves a little HSR.)

For all the little things that go into a day: morning routines, work, meetings, email, conversation and discussion, debate, more email, evening routines, peaceful quiet time, sleep (theoretically) and the whole thing all over again. Sounds a bit hampster-wheel-like when I put it like that, but the routines are good too. I have always liked routine, and being adaptable, I can get into the rhythm of things even if a routine changes...

I saw the video below awhile back, and then again recently. Had to share. It makes me realize what a very white middle class North American existence I have. Which is fine, I'm not all guilty-like about that, I'm very grateful for the blessings and aware of the responsibilities that come with those blessings, but wow, we are in a bubble, aren't we. (And yes, I'm putting you in that bubble with me.)

I hope your weekend brings you peace and sleep and all little joys that make ending one week and beginning another so wonderful! 

Applesauce and memories...

This post is less a recipe and more a walk down memory lane. I made applesauce this week and it brought back a lot of fall memories from my childhood, especially of making applesauce with my mom. It was probably more like my mother making applesauce for us, as I'm pretty sure I was about as helpful as Seth currently is for me: moral support rather than actual knife work. Seth was perched up at the counter working on his homework, then over at the computer fiddling around; he came over for a few taste tests, but his interest in my "old style" way of making applesauce was minimal. Ah well. Such reminiscing is lost on the young...

My fondness for homemade applesauce is in no way related to how often I make it--I think this is the first time I've put it up in jars in probably a decade. Sad but true. But this year I knew I wanted to make some, being on the preserving path as I've been for the past month or more. So on a recent trek through the area of the valley where the apple orchards are, I stopped in and got a couple of boxes.

I told the lady at the stand that I was making applesauce and she thought my choice of a mixture of fuji and honeycrisp was a good one... I didn't explain to her, though, that I was planning on making "chunky" applesauce--what we called the kind my mom made, with the skins on, and the apples cooked through but not to complete mush. Well, the fujis went right to mush--I could tell they were going to as I was cutting them up. The honeycrisp stayed true to their name for a very long time!

Thus, I gave up on the chunky idea. I pulled out the old reamer that my Grandma Goerlitz used and got it set up, and churned away. Just using that old "machine" brought back so many memories... I was thrilled with how sweet the apples were all on their own, and barely added any sugar and just a hint of cinnamon before I packed it all in jars that pop, pop, popped throughout the evening. It was dark out by the time I finished, and chilly, too--it really felt like fall!

My chunky pot of sauce, prior to reaming.

Beautiful color, lovely applesauce! Doesn't that contraption look like something from outer space--or at the very least, the thing that launched the space capsule in Contact?

Look at this gorgeous piece of wood. It's so beautiful and sturdy--really gets the job done!

Seeing Grandma's reamer out again reminded me of a few other things I have of hers that I rarely use--like this grape trivet. The grapes are made up of bottle caps that have crocheted covers. How cool is that?

And this little covered pot is so sweet and little--about six inches long. I never use it, but I love having it around to remind me of her.

Grandma Goerlitz died in the fall of 1999, before Seth was able to remember her, but I try to tell him little stories every so often to keep her alive for us both--what she was like, things she was interested in. Like me at his age, Seth isn't so compelled by these stories, but I also know that over time he'll be more curious about these people who came before him, how they did things, what they might have in common with him.

Thinking about my grandparents who have passed brings some regret for being such a young and flighty thing that had little time for them in their old age... It's a good reminder to do that now, with those who are still with us.