Failed-Fudge Cookies

Ever tried a new recipe and it didn't quite come out the way it was described or the way you thought it would? Or you remember something your Mom used to make and you search the internet to see if you can find it and you do, but something goes wrong in the making?

That's what happened with me recently. As Mom and I were looking toward the excitement of Christmas gatherings and having family here, I asked her if there was anything she'd like me to make. She mentioned that it had been a long time since we'd made fudge. I remember enjoying her slightly crumbly, not too creamy chocolate fudge with walnuts, as a child, and it really had been a long time. Let's do it! I immediately started scanning the internet for old-fashioned fudge and found one that sounded just like hers.

Within the hour, I was in the kitchen whipping up some yummy fudge. Or so I thought. I followed the directions, but by the time it came to stir in the walnuts, I could barely stir this glob of chocolate goo. There was no way to pour this glob into a pan. I dumped it in and mashed on it hoping it would press into the pan and act like fudge. It didn't. It was a VERY crumbly disaster; however, it did taste like Mom's!

For about a day, we picked out and ate the big crumbs or grabbed a spoon to eat it. I don't like to waste good stuff, so I decided to try to make something else using the failed-fudge. I pulled out a chocolate chip cookie recipe and substituted the crumbly fudge for the chips and nuts. The cookies were delicious and Mom really liked them!

Sometimes we feel like everything we touch is a failure or everything is going wrong. Yet when we stop and look at the broken pieces or crumbs, we often can see something beautiful or different from what we had originally planned. A few years ago I read an article about a company that takes broken glass and re-purposes the pieces into beautiful bowls and vases. It may take an attitude adjustment, change of thought, more work, or lots of perseverance on our part, but I believe we can always find something good or beautiful even in the failure or brokenness.

Jeremiah 18:1-4

The word that came to Jeremiah from the Lord: 2 “Arise, and go down to the potter's house, and there I will let you hear my words.” 3 So I went down to the potter's house, and there he was working at his wheel. 4 And the vessel he was making of clay was spoiled in the potter's hand, and he reworked it into another vessel, as it seemed good to the potter to do.

God is the Master at looking at broken, misshapen lives and making something new and beautiful out of the pieces. He is the potter, we are the clay. He can break and He can restore. But His purposes are always for our good. If we've gone astray, it may be His way of calling us back. Or in the case of Job, He may have allowed the enemy to have his way with limits and for a time. How do we react or respond to being broken or failing or maybe even being caught in sin? Do we wish to cast away the broken pieces and turn away from God or turn towards Him and seek out how to become who He wants us to be? Will we allow Him to mold and shape us into a new vessel useful to the Master?

I will probably never be able to exactly replicate failed-fudge cookies again. That's OK. It was a unique recipe for a unique circumstance. Isn't it wonderful that God sees each of us as unique individuals? He will work with us right where we are and make something beautiful out of our lives no matter how broken or how much of a failure we think we are. No life is worth wasting. God has a purpose and plan specifically designed for each one of us and it is beautiful. 

Let's let the Master Potter rework our lives as it seems good to Him to do.

My Mom

An afternoon walk

My Mom is the personification of sweetness and selflessness. She has lived her life in service to others for the majority of her 89 years. My Dad depended on her and she was right there to help him for almost 70 years.  Now that he has preceded her into Jesus' presence, there is a gaping hole in her life.

Growing up, my Mom was the one who truly made our house a wonderful home. Everyone, I mean everyone, who ever put their feet under her table to eat one of her from-scratch meals wanted to come back again. Everyday she could be found making homemade yeast dough so that we could enjoy hot rolls for supper - either to eat with the meal or to save and eat with Grandma's Molasses, a family favorite. Often when we returned home from school, there would be fresh cinnamon bow knots or coffee cake or jumbo raisin, butterscotch, or chocolate chip cookies waiting for us with a glass of milk. Of course her open arms were waiting with a warm embrace also.

Puzzle time!

She is a beautiful soul inside and out. Her patience in teaching us how to do things amazes me when I think of it today. In the kitchen, I remember pulling out the bottom drawer and standing on it to "help" her bake or cook. I'm sure we probably all did this at some point in our growing up years and she has 5 children! (Well, maybe not Hugh, he was usually outside helping Dad.) Just imagine how much faster she could have done her work without her helpers. However, she knew the importance of passing on the lessons of cooking, baking, handling yeast, how to roll out a pie crust, shape rolls, measure dry and wet ingredients, sift, cut-in, etc. and so she patiently worked with us while she accomplished her daily chores. I learned so much from her gentle instruction and ways.

Our Mom made sure that each of us, as well as, our home was clean and neat. She worked right beside us showing and teaching us how to make a bed with crisp corners, how to set a proper table, how to iron our clothes, dust, vacuum, clean a bathroom and be organized. We made our beds every day, we hung clothes on the line to dry, we helped clear the table and wash the dishes. There is a great feeling of teamwork and accomplishment when everyone is working together and it is so pleasant to live in an organized and clean environment. I loved inviting my friends to come over to play or spend the weekend. I was proud of my parents, siblings, and home. Mom welcomed whomever we brought through the door. (having asked permission, of course.)

Mom has 21 great-grands

Her 22nd great is due November 7
to my son and his wife 👶

In the summer, we would help pick the garden harvest and then sit side-by-side snapping green beans, shelling butter beans, peeling scalded tomatoes, cutting corn off the cob, cutting cucumbers or watermelon rind. All the preparation that goes into getting things ready to be canned, frozen or pickled. Mom did it all. The house and food were her responsibility. Dad took care of the farming and gardening. They both raised us. They worked well together and my brother and sisters and I had the blessing of growing up with love and responsibility entwined in a beautiful way. 

My brother played softball and Mom loved to cheer him on. We also had a co-ed church league and Mom rarely missed a game when we were playing. Mom was on hand to help with homework, bandage a skinned knee, or to soothe a broken heart. I don't seem to have very many memories of when I was really young, but I do remember Mom reading to us and tucking us in at night. Those fresh line-dried sheets smelled so good as I snuggled under the covers and received a good night kiss.

Mom's famous rolls ready for the
first Dinner on the Dairy

Still to this day, Mom remembers our likes and dislikes, as well as, those of our spouses, children and probably many others. Hugh doesn't like nuts in his strawberry jello salad and likes the inside rolls, Jennifer doesn't like raw onions, Carol doesn't like chocolate and likes the crusty rolls, Gayle loves bread pudding, Vivian drinks diet Coke, not Pepsi. (I may not be remembering all of this correctly, but Mom would! LOL!)

Mom and her daughters enjoying
 a week at the beach this summer.

Mom is a quiet, gentle woman. Someone who was in a Bible Study or some organization with her once told me that Mom didn't say much, but when she did it was well worth hearing. She doesn't waste words, she doesn't gossip, she doesn't speak ill of anyone. She is quick to listen, slow to speak as the Bible instructs us. She has a deep love of the Lord Jesus and desires to please Him in all she says and does. She has been an example of that to us throughout our lives.

Morning stretches.

As I write, Mom is spending time with one of her other daughters. I have the privilege of being with her most of the time in her home and it is a privilege. We enjoy quiet, slow mornings. Spending time with the Lord before we do a few bedside stretches and get breakfast. Sometimes we have breakfast or supper in the living room by the fire, we may watch a movie in the evening or work a jigsaw puzzle. We often take afternoon walks when the weather is mild. We sit and talk or she reclines and reads or naps. Life has definitely slowed down for Mom and that is not easy to adjust to after a life of so much activity and recent years of caring for her lifetime partner. She is at a loss. So much has changed since July.

Mom loves holding
a baby. This is Hugh's
daughter and grand-daughter.

While we are glad to be able to serve her and care for her, it is hard for her since she has been the one who has spent her life caring for her household. Suddenly she finds herself with so much time on her hands, low energy, and an aging body. It is understandable that she's finding it hard to adjust. I know she pushed herself to care for Dad at the end, even when she didn't feel well, but that's who she is. She loves serving people and has worked hard her entire life. She is a giver, that's what has always brought her joy. While a lot of it came from her labor in the kitchen, mostly it was from her heart and everyone felt that.

Just writing this has brought me to tears. Mom is not able to do as much of what she wants to do and spends more time sitting and reading. I think it is wonderful for her to have the time to do something else that she loves, but rarely had the time to do, yet I understand in a small way that this is frustrating to her. She is not able to give as much anymore and is learning to be on the receiving side. That's a big adjustment late in life. I do wish that she felt better and was able to do a bit more, but all of us are so glad to do whatever we can for her, giving back in small measure what she has given to us. Please remember her in your prayers.

I know my Mom is not perfect, but she is the perfect Mom for me and I am quite sure my siblings would say the same. I feel most blessed to have been raised by her and now I am doubly blessed that, in God's mysterious ways, I can be with her in her home. We are a help and comfort to each other and I look forward to the days, months, or years that God gives us with our dear, sweet Momma.

I love you, Mom!

Lunch at King's Bar-B-Q
after a doctor's appointment

Magnets on the Fridge

When I recently moved into my own little space for the first time in 5 years, I couldn't find my refrigerator magnets. I knew I had kept a few tucked away somewhere, but that somewhere was not to be found.

This past Saturday I had time to organize a bit more and came across Christmas cards and photos of family and friends sent during the Christmas season. Again I tried to locate the missing magnets so that I could attach these photos to my fridge as prayer reminders. After wracking my brain and looking in the same places a second or third time, I gave up and ordered these really fun little magnetic balls, like I had seen at my son's house in Arizona.

Yesterday as I was helping my Mom put away her winter clothes, I walked into the back bedroom closet and saw a small blanket and a poncho of mine. Oh yeah! I do still have a few things over here. I think there's a box or two under the bed. Down on my belly with my head under the bed,  I spied a small box with "Kindle" on it and a memory was stirred....magnets! Sure enough, there they were. I was so excited!

It may seem strange that I would be so excited about magnets, but most of these were handmade by a very dear elderly friend of mine who has since gone on to be with Jesus. I had even forgotten all about them, but evidently in the back of my mind I knew they were there and that's why I wanted to find them so badly. Memories of Don handing me a pile of different magnets flooded my mind and heart. "These are my uglies," he said as he handed me the little lady faces with kerchiefs on their corncob heads. He had also made owls from pine cones & twigs, a lady bug, a pipe-cleaner insect, and a cotton-ball chicken. They make me smile and bring back fond memories of my good friend.

Then there is the pair of dugongs. A momento that Mike and I purchased after going with his father to a dugong farm in Florida during our boys spring break one year. I was fascinated by these large, gentle creatures and this magnet reminds me of a fun time with my family on a rare vacation, seeing something new.

Another favorite is the one sent from missionary friends of ours that's sort of like a snow globe only it holds black sand and tiny sea shells from the Tasman Sea in New Zealand. There are magnets from a Vacation Bible School our boys attended, "got milk?" from my parent's farm, a cute stick figure girl that was attached to a card years ago, and one that shows an adult hand and the very tiny hand of an unborn child reminding me that all life is precious from the moment of conception whether we can see it or not.

The new magnetic balls arrived and I had fun playing with them while trying to put them to use. They are strong and were rather attached to each other! With 50 balls, I was able to attach all the photos to the refrigerator and scattered my treasured magnets on various surfaces throughout the kitchen. Now my place really feels like home with my refrigerator and other surfaces covered with old friends (magnets & photos!) It's like receiving good news from far away places.

Proverbs 25:25

"Like cold water to a weary soul

is good news from a distant land."

My Dad

Psalm 37:18 (ESV)

The Lord knows the days of the blameless,

and their heritage will remain forever;

I love my Dad. He always believed in us. He was never a helicopter parent hovering over our every move. He would instruct us in the basics of how to run a lawnmower, tractor, skid-steer loader and then walk away. He trusted that we had paid attention to his instructions and watched his example. He believed that we had listened and would remember, or if we didn't remember everything, that at least we had enough sense or smarts to figure it out.

Dad believed in hard work and expected us children to be obedient. We did work hard, but we also had time to play and he often made work fun also. I remember digging potatoes as a kid. He was digging ahead of me and I was coming along behind putting them in a bucket. I came to a spot where he had placed the potatoes in the shape of a smiley face or maybe a word like "Hi". I remember the year he made an obstacle course though the woods for my birthday. My friends and I had so much fun climbing over a wall, running through the stream or dashing between trees and running over tires football-player style. How many kids have that? On another birthday, maybe my 16th, we had a dance in the hay loft. Daddy loved to dance and I remember him really getting into it and kicking his barn boots off high up in the air as he hooped it up with absolutely NO alcohol involved.

Those same lively high-kicking legs won't hold him now. At almost 94 he has become almost bed-ridden in the last week. He's always been able to come back from illnesses, heart surgery, stomach surgery, falls, accidents and various episodes that we thought might take him over the past 15-20+ years. I'm not sure he's going to come back from this latest fall. His legs are tired and worn out from his hard work and play. He still has all his original parts except for the pig valve. No fake knees or hips and that was "some pig". A valve that was expected to last 10 years has gone way beyond.

He's ready to go. He has lived a full life and wants to go be with Jesus, his Savior and Lord. He told my sister and me
on Sunday, "I wish y'all would let me go." It's not ours to say, Daddy. Only God knows the day and the hour that He has appointed to be your last. From our limited view we wonder why he lingers with a sharp mind and failing body, but God has His reasons. Maybe it's to teach me more patience, perseverance and love when age makes my loved one a bit more grumpy and irritable. Maybe it's teaching me to hold my tongue when I'd rather complain. Maybe it's to learn from my sweet mother what sacrifice and service and selflessness really look and act like.

Being a caregiver is tough, especially as the loved one declines more and more. Yet it is also a privilege to be the one to give comfort, to handle gently through words and physical touch and seek to make the remaining days of life on this side as pleasant as possible. To be the one hearing the stories, one more time, of a life well spent; to hear the laughter as a favorite memory of younger days, when legs were strong and nimble, passes over dry lips and tears run down wrinkled, weathered cheeks.

Yes, this is a hard stage of life for Father, Mother and children, but I am so blessed to have had my Dad and Mom for almost 58 years. I am blessed by their love, their commitment to God, each other and all 5 of us children. Our children and grandchildren are blessed to know them and be able to enjoy the fruits of their labor here on the farm. The farm - oh how Dad loves this farm! My prayer is that whenever God says it's time to go, it will be right here from Daddy's beloved farm and the house in which he was born. I am thankful that all of us children are committed to taking care of him right here as long as we possibly can.

So, while this can be a sad time, it is also a celebration of a life lived fully that now anticipates and longs for it's eternal home. A longing to be free from a body that holds him down when he desires to be lifted up to his heavenly Father, where he will have no more pain and where he will be able to walk the streets of gold and be reunited with his parents and siblings. It is also a time to remember how very blessed I am to have this man as my Daddy.

Genesis 25:8 (NET Bible)

Then Abraham breathed his last and died at a good old age, 

an old man who had lived a full life. He joined his ancestors.