Readings for the fourth week of the year

The readings for this week are found in Genesis, Psalms, Matthew, and Mark. They are as follows:

Sunday, January 21- Genesis 37-38, Psalms 19:7-14, Matthew 24

Monday, January 22- Genesis 39-40, Psalms 20, Matthew 25

Tuesday, January 23- Genesis 41-42, Psalms 21, Matthew 26

Wednesday, January 24- Genesis 43-44, Psalms 22:1-18, Matthew 27-28

Thursday, January 25- Genesis 45-46, Psalms 22:19-31, Mark 1

Friday, January 26- Genesis 47-48, Psalms 23, Mark 2

Saturday, January 27- Genesis 49-50, Psalms 24 Mark 3

This week in reading through the year

Although I tend to prefer the lectionary, this year we have started doing a read through of the Bible.  So I will try to have a weekly Sunday post of the readings for the coming week.

Sunday, January 14 - Gn 27, Ps 14, Mt 16-17

Monday, January 15 - Gn 28-29, Ps 15, Mt 18

Tuesday, January 16 - Gn 30, Ps 16, Mt 19

Wednesday, January 17 - Gn 31, Ps 17, Mt 20

Thursday, January 18 - Gn 32-33, Ps 18:1-24, Mt 21

Friday, January 19 - Gn 34-35, Ps 18:25-50, Mt 22

Saturday, January 20 - Gn 36, Ps 19:1-6, Mt 23

Stuffed Mushrooms

I used to really hate mushrooms.  They are fungi.  The texture used to bother me, and I did not appreciate the flavor.  Tastes change.

Those white button mushrooms are tasty, in their own mild, earthy manner.  I like them a lot, but then you add dressing--you know that savory bread stuff that everyone is supposed to eat on thanksgiving--and that is delicious.  It struck me as a hobbity sort of snack; one would just need a lot of them. 

So, mushrooms stuffed with stuffing, extra cayenne optional, is a good appetizer to try.  While you are at it, try mushrooms stuffed with hummus, or with feta and balsamic vinegar. 

Do you have any stuffed mushroom suggestions?

Religion and Relationship

“It’s not about religion, it’s about a relationship.” Have you seen that saying? Or maybe you have heard it; or both. I have heard it many times, and lately I pass this posted up on a church billboard. My first response, mental, but it IS also about what we BELIEVE, therefore, yes, it is “about religion” too. I may be reacting a bit, but I am a bit skeptical of anti-religious claims. Religion is hugely important. What we actually believe affects what we do, what we say. It would help ourselves and likely the people around us if we were more clear about what we believe and why.

So, what do you believe? Why do you believe it? Seriously, what stands at the core of your belief?

It is not that I came up with this question on my own. Some years back, my father asked his children this very question, challenging us to write it out. What do you simply accept, what is the undergirding, the foundation stones on which you rest everything else?

I started with, “God exists.”

I think I may have written about a page on just that, mostly copying scriptures. I did not continue writing out my beliefs, but that exercise in faith, reason, and belief had an impact on me. I realize that whether or not I fulfill my purpose in being, or even just understand it, God is God. He is and He is Good. I may never understand this world, but I am confident in that. Descartes began with, “I think, therefore I am,” and reasoned to the existence of a God outside himself. I am grateful for his reasoning, but must begin with God. He is our author.

I am a bit part in this play called life. I recognize that ultimately I hope to experience it as a traditional comedy—a story that ends well, has a happy conclusion. I recognize that along the way will be losses. I am not in control. I do get to choose how I act, though, and if I am sensitive to the Great Author’s promptings, maybe I will do the right things and say the right words at the right time. I am often slow. I am like the child who, after five rehearsals still does not even remember when it is her turn to step on the stage. How is it that God is still patient with me? I do not even know that, but I trust myself to his goodness and mercy because I believe.

This is my relationship with God. He calls. He opens my ears and mind and heart. I listen. He loves. I must love in return. “Must?” you might complain, but yes, “must” is the word. I do not understand how I could not love God. My earliest thoughts of him are connected to his death for me and because my sins. My earliest remembrance of him is connected to the Communion. “Why can I not eat and drink?” My mother explained what the bread and grape juice meant, that Jesus had died because of our sins to make us whole; that he rose again from the dead and wants to live in us so that we could be complete, we could inherit eternal life. I believed. Jesus loved me, enough to die for my sake. How could I not love him? I had to respond somehow, so I accepted his invitation to join him.  I would become his disciple, his daughter. When I turn to some sin that would separate me from God, he calls me by name.  When I would despair of ever "getting it right" he shows me one step and then another; one thing at a time, he teaches me.  It may take me three years to "get it", but he still continues to work with me. How can I not love him?

Is “it about relationship”? Yes, and it is also about religion. What I believe about God affects my relationship with God. What I believe affects what I say and do. I know a lot of what I believe.

Do you know what you believe? Do you know why?

Miso Soup

Joshua wanted to have Japanese food for his birthday, and I have always liked miso soup, therefor I had to look up a good recipe and try my hand at really making some.  I have previously played around with miso in soup.
I found this helpful site and went to work.  We have miso paste. We did not have the tofu I was hoping for, nor did we have dashi.  On the other hand, we did have a bag of cabbage and Mama had just gotten some miso with "dashi extract" (bonito flavorings).  So, this would have to work...I was hopeful.
Papa was going to the store and I asked if he could pick up mushrooms, or dry shitakis on the off-chance the local Kroger might have them.  The store had fresh shitakis so that is what we got.

I poured 12 cups of water into the heavy pot and set it to boil while I pulled out the cabbage.  The cabbage was that bag of coleslaw mix with mostly green cabbage, a little purple, and a little bit of carrot all thinly chopped.
I noticed a bag of chopped onion and dropped a handful into the heating water.  It came to a boil.  The heat was turned down to medium low. 
I dropped in three big handfuls of the cabbage mixture and waited around 15-20 minutes.  It was bright and lovely.
Next came the carton of shitakis, dumped in minus one or two that appeared not so good as the rest.
After a stir, I turned off the heat and began stirring the miso with dashi in, one big soup spoon at a time, approximately how the lady in the video does--she mixed the paste in the ladle before adding it to the rest of the pot.
I think I put in around six spoonfuls or so.  I tasted it it and added a little more.

It tasted good.  It is best fresh and hot or warm.  I ate some with an egg for breakfast the next day.  I did not like the mushrooms cold, but the broth and cabbage were still good cold.  I warmed it after tasting the cold mushroom and enjoyed the soup.

Part of a family...

Here is the short story.  (As in, when I started writing back last August, I began to write what would have to end up as a book, before I got to the point.)
We got to go to the Cannon-Butler Family Reunion last August because from my mother's side of the family we are related.
Now this was exciting for me, because I had not met these cousins of ours.  I had met Tony and Sheila (Sheila is the blood related one), but not The Sisters, my mother's first cousins, nor any of the others of this side of the family I had only found out about after my family moved to Tennessee.  I hadn't known my grandfather on my mother's side, and I had not known his side of the family.  It turns out, they are black.  So, I, pale and blue eyed, have a great grandfather who was known as "an upstanding negro of the community."
I have always, at least as far as I remember, been interested in knowing about my family history, and when we were first in contact with these knew-found relations, Cousin Kennetta sent us information about the family history.  I was especially eager to meet her, because I am grateful for her picture albums and genealogy papers.
So we went to Massanutten to the family reunion.  As we were getting to the building on the resort where we were to stay, I noticed a black family coming out of a building nearby.  It occurred to me, "What if they were part of the family?"  As I smiled, it struck me, "Isn't that the way to look at people?"  That person, you know, the one on the street corner with missing teeth, might be related to you--IS related to you.  So is that one, you know, the stranger in front of you, taking too long to unload her shopping cart.  That one over there, you know the one that sits over there in the congregation always looking perfectly done up--that one too.
Anyway....a bit more closely related than that one, are the cousins we met.  Oh my word, it was so exciting!  I spent most of the time with "the Sisters" which was delightful.  Cousin Kennetta told us stories and showed the albums and picture board.  Cousin Donald, who organized the event, was agreeable to take Joshua around where they went.  Some went to the water park, we ate meals together, played games--it was so wonderful. 
It warmed me so much, one time when we were sitting around eating (I actually think Peggy was doing something by the sink, cleaning or preparing food) but Naomi was mentioned, she being absent, and Cousin Janie just exclaimed, "I love that girl!"  It still makes me smile, almost a year later, recalling that.
Towards the end, I enjoyed taking a walk with Buttons (one of the Sisters) and Tomika and Elizabeth.  We talked a bit, the weather was lovely, and we found a shortcut back that was probably not supposed to be used.  It was chained off at the closer end.
Adventure.  Family.  You cannot ask for a better way to spend a week of summer.

Toothbrushes and Homes

Have you experienced life-changing hospitality? Hospitality that accepted you into a space that became home because someone said “Make yourself at home!” and proceeded to do all the work to make that possible? A toothbrush is one of those things that every traveler knows to bring with them if they may end up staying somewhere other than home. If you can go somewhere and not worry about whether or not you brought a toothbrush, you’re probably at home or plan to be home later that day. Maybe that's why the toothbrush is such a big deal in relationships... if you feel comfortable leaving your toothbrush at your SO's place, you know things are getting serious.

There's a whole drama that led me to the point when a toothbrush did me in, but that's a different story which I will briefly reference. Enter stage left: me, without transportation, trying to pick up as many shifts as I could at my job one town east of where I live. Some of these shifts meant that I had to work past the last bus route. Usually it wasn't a big deal. My guy usually had my back. I'd either stay with him or he would give me a ride to the closest Metrolink station. Or he wouldn't and I'd be stuck in town with my pride and my backpack, making terrible decisions. And then we'd break up and my support in this town would dissolve. (Something to note, if your support system is one person, fix that) It would be 7 pm on a Tuesday, and I'd be working up the nerve to ask the store manager if she could give me a ride. She had a few times before, but that was an hour of driving for her. I didn’t feel right asking her for that every week. It seemed like too much.

That evening, as we were closing the store together, she ended up asking me if I needed a ride before I was okay enough to ask her. I answered hesitantly... “yeah... if you are able, I would appreciate it…” She answered quickly, "It's no problem, honey! I don't mind driving you home!" After a few minutes of thought, she added, "What would you say to sleeping over at my house? I have a couch you can sleep on. I am sure I can get some pajamies for you to wear. I open tomorrow, so there won't be any problems getting you to work on time. We can work out the rest. What do you think?" I immediately began to break down this idea in my head. I ran through what it would cost for me to spend the night. Food, space, a little extra weight in her car… but I wouldn’t be eating up an hour of her life that she usually spent at home prepping for the next day. Sure, it might be an inconvenience, but in this case I could at least try to pay her back by doing the dishes or laundry or both. It didn't take long for me to answer, "Yeah, I think that would work."

"Alriiight!" she responded enthusiastically, "You'll get to meet my brother-in-law Roy. He's a trip. The house is a wreck. I’m sorry about that, but shit happens, right? We’ll get some food going and pour a couple cocktails when we get there. I am ready to kick back after today."

"Sounds good! I'm used to a mess. It doesn't bother me. I'm just thankful you're giving me a place to stay!"

"Oh sweetie, It's okay. I’m happy to have you." And it was okay... I don’t remember what else we talked about on our way to her house. I was a little apprehensive entering her space. We got out there, and I was struck with the beauty of her old farm house. It was like all the old houses I had visited when I was younger. Duke, their chocolate lab mix, met us at the door. He was excited to see us. The mess was a familiar mess. Random odds and ends piled onto the kitchen table, laundry in baskets in the hallway. We settled in and she poured us a cocktail- rum and diet cherry coke. We sat for a while and relaxed, talking about everything: the store, our families, town gossip. Some of it went over my head, but it was good to share that time just listening. I don't remember what we had for supper that night. Chances are, it was something leftover or thrown together at the last minute.

The entire time, I still felt a little off... It was homey enough, but it was someone else's home. I felt like an odd piece of furniture that you kinda want, but you're not sure where it's supposed to fit into the scheme of your home. I've felt like that a lot of places, so it wasn't an unfamiliar feeling. As we were getting ready for bed, Sue pulled out a pillow and some blankets and some old pajamas. They were falling off of me, but I made them work. She called out from the bathroom, "Hey, I've got you a toothbrush in here. I've put it in a baggie so that you can leave it here with our toothbrushes. There's a towel right here in the bathroom and a washcloth in the basket here. You can use my shampoo and bodywash when you take a shower in the morning. Let me know if you need anything."

She planned to keep doing this. She gave me a toothbrush to keep with theirs. We hadn’t discussed me coming over in the future yet. This was a convenient thing for tonight, but she had already started thinking about next week… any week in the future. That night, I brushed my teeth in her bathroom... I don't always brush my teeth. It's something I always hated doing as a kid, and I don't enjoy it much as an adult. With as chaotic as my life had been, I hadn't gotten the chance to brush my teeth regularly. But here I was... Any time I was here, I would be able to do this basic routine that had ceased to be basic for me. As I laid down that night, I felt strange. It was incredibly peaceful out here. I'm not a country girl by any means, but something about this contrast to my life captured my attention. Duke wandered over, sniffed my face, and plopped himself in front of the couch by my head. I had just been adopted, and things were going to be okay.

I woke up early and refreshed. Well, as refreshed as I could after having several cocktails and staying up close to midnight. I am a lightweight for real. The living room was chilly. The door had been propped open all night since we had been experiencing warmer weather. After a while, I got up and showered. I ate breakfast and brushed my teeth. I had wondered about a lot of things the previous night before nodding off to sleep. This family didn’t know much about me. About my relationship with people in town. But they decided to take me into their home and give me a place to rest. I hadn’t experienced this kind of generosity in a long time. I ended up washing dishes that night, not because it was expected of me but because I had to do them for my own sense of self.

When we got to the store that morning, we took a look at the schedule. I was working every Tuesday evening for a while. "How about you plan on staying at my house when you work late. Does that sound good?" I agreed. I mean, heck, I already had a toothbrush there.

*brought to you by toothbrush induced reflection aka I stayed at my Mascoutah Parents’ house last night.