The Best Excuse for a Holiday

geriraedean

After this past week, month, year….I agree with whoever penned the words ‘Stop the world, I want to get off’.  But that is not really a choice I, or any of us, have is it?  We have to plow through… whatever.  We live in a world gone mad.  No seriously.  Most of the happenings don’t even make sense anymore.  Where are the wise men?  I guess its true that there were only three of them and they are gone. So sad.   Maybe that’s the reason we celebrate Christmas in honor of those last three wise men.  I am sure you have heard the axiom ‘wise men still seek Him’.  That for sure is true.  Maybe if we looked really, really hard we could find some wise men and women with their Bibles cracked open and their knees bent in prayer and supplication. Men and women with a direct line to the Almighty interceding on behalf of the world.   There is no arguing we need it.

In John 16,  Jesus explains the way of things to the disciples and what is about to happen (and He is saying this for our benefit in the here and now) He concludes with “I am telling you these things that you may have peace.  In this world you WILL have trouble, but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world (for you)”.  There are many passages where it is explained how the world would evolve into madness but we do not have to succumb to the madness.  We don’t have to be paralyzed by fear.  We don’t have to lean unto our own understanding.  He is never leaving us or forsaking us.  He is here.  Emmanuel.  God with us.  Oh right, that is why we celebrate Christmas.
I believe that God was and is all about the celebrations.  He gave explicit instructions to His people how to commemorate everything that He ever did for them and He did a lot. He is a believer in celebration.  This weekend we celebrate ‘Thanksgiving’.  Thank goodness someone came up with this idea in a kinder, gentler era and we are still allowed to celebrate it.  So, I, for one, am going to celebrate with flare.  I always do.  Give me an opportunity to celebrate and I’ll be there with duct tape and wire and push pins.  I’ve got my table set and chicken thawing and my pumpkin pies bought (because Costco’s are the best). I’ll whip the cream. My pumpkins painted. Oh you didn’t know you were supposed to paint pumpkins??  Well orange is such a garish color and given my house is decorated in black, orange makes the place look like Halloween. Painted Pumpkins…it sounds like a rock group. I digress….
I have so much to be grateful for.  Even if its just the fact that in a world full of chaos and fake news and insanity I hold the truth close to my heart.  It is my compass.  My true north. I can see evidence of God’s presence and power in everyday circumstances and things.  I am so grateful He has opened my eyes to see.  So grateful for my family gathered around me…literally.   Grateful for health and wealth.  And we are wealthy in all the ways.  We have amazing friends.  Friends that would help us bury the body (to coin a new description for true blues). We have shelter and safety (well as safe as one can be these days).  I would not have a problem finding three things to be grateful for each and every day, which is supposed to be an excellent way to have a better life BTW.
So I will celebrate the holiday of ‘Thanksgiving’ with enthusiasm and joy and freedom for as long as is possible. No one can stop me from celebrating Thanksgiving in my heart all the time.  Its a great excuse for a holiday.

A Letting Go

geriraedean

My happy little pansies.  My voluptuous petunias. My regal geraniums. My dancing zinnias. I have let them go.  I was wearing fleece, down and boots yesterday.  Somehow I just can’t reconcile watering my plants today.  They’ve served me well.  They’ve brought joy to my heart, life to frost’s death and color to winter’s greys.

The lyrics of a beloved song come to mind.
A bit of earth
She wants a little bit of earth
She’ll plant some seeds
The seeds will grow
The flowers bloom
Their beauty just the thing she needs
She’ll grow to love the tender roses
Lilies fair, the iris tall
And then in fall, her bit of earth
Will freeze and kill them all.
– A Bit of Earth from the movie a Secret Garden.
Sad but beautifully poignant.  If I kept watering these flowers they would probably thrive until the next frost – I’m surprised they made it through the first one.  But I am done.  I must move on.  I have other concerns to take my focus in this season.  So I am letting my beauties go while they are still lovely.  To walk away from something lovely is a good practice.  It builds character.  It is easy to walk away from something dead.  But to walk away from something that pulls at your heart?   They are going to be done soon anyway and I am going to remember them in all their beautiful glory.  I don’t think this is mean.  I think I am letting them go with dignity.  I won’t look back.
I am not usually very good at letting go….of anything.  Especially anything that was life changing (even painful).    Anything that is nostalgic.    Anything that was sacred.  But sometimes we just have to let go.  Let go of our kids childhoods.  Let go of our own childhoods.  Let go of friends that were for a season.  Let go of unrealistic expectations.  Let go of disappointments.  Let go of pain that has been a constant companion.  Let go of bad habits.  Let go of circumstances that served us well in a certain season but are not longer required.  Let go of anything toxic in our lives.  Let go of perfectionism.  Let go of getting our own way.  We must let go to free our hearts and hands up for whats ahead.
Very often we perceive some event, some person or some set of circumstances in a false light.  Something we believed was good and working turns out not to be.  We have been deceived and we mourn for something that never was. The more time we waste mourning it the longer it takes for us to move into the next phase of growth and discovery.  I don’t want to waste anymore time hanging onto things that have been holding me back or making me miserable or just sad.  Why would I do that?  The unknown doesn’t have to be scary.  It can be exciting.  The possibilities and opportunities that we have no perception of yet.  There’s just as good a chance that they will be amazing as not.
Our pastor talked about letting go of the helm of our lives yesterday.  Letting go of our inner control freak.  Surely I had no idea what he was talking about.  Inner control freak?  He’s so funny.  I want everything to happen just a certain way and in a certain timing. I want my plans to go off without a hitch.  I want people to behave the way I want them to and I want life to unfold according to my imagination.   How often does this happen? In my experience, not very often.  Conundrum.
Am I going to let go of my unrealistic expectations and embrace disappointment and learn from it?  Or am I going to hang on for dear life and suffer unnecessarily?  I am an emotional and nostalgic soul.  Very often events that I thought were one thing turn out to be about another thing altogether and I need to let go.  Let go and save any good memories and then move on.  Its moving day for this girl.  Letting go and moving on.  Maybe a paradigm shift of sorts.  Dare to believe that things are different that what I have labeled them.
I believe letting go with give me strength and courage.   Or at least momentum.  Momentum to move forward and learn from the past, not cling to it.  Letting go will move me closer to hope for what could be.  Letting go of the helm of my own life so HE can lead me into what HE has for me.  Letting go will always be my choice. Empowering.

Dont you love New York in the Fall?

geriraedean

Repost from September 2015

 

I DO love New York in the fall. I’ve never experienced autumn in New York but I have enjoyed it in summer and I have been enchanted by it in winter so given the fact that fall is my favorite time of year I am sure that it would be exactly as I imagine and what I’m imagining – I love. It’s like Camelot. The winter is forbidden till December and exits March the second on the dot. By order, summer lingers through September. In Camelot. The rain may never fall till after sundown. By eight, the morning fog must disappear. In short, there’s simply not a more congenial spot for happily-ever-aftering than there in Camelot.

Last weekend I was in Vancouver as fall began to unveil its lovely face. We sauntered through Stanley Park (a wannabe Central Park) and I collected fallen maple leaves (since maples don’t grow here in Alberta). I also stumbled upon a broken branch from an oak tree which I dragged through the park and loaded in my brothers rented van to use as the centerpiece for our Thanksgiving dinner – it still had acorns on it and rich fall colored leaves. My heart leapt for joy when I received the fall cups from Starbucks with the Warmly Fall sleeve wrapped around it. There is a reason why the Pumpkin Spice Latte is so popular – its a sentimental thing. I remember kicking through the crisp fallen leaves as I walked to school as a child. I loved the crunch of them underfoot. I loved the smell of the crisp air. There is something about donning a comfy cozy stylish sweater for the first time since last winter. Something about holding a hot beverage to your lips and taking in the warm aroma. Even though it’s still warm enough to wear summer clothes I have dragged all the items I could get away with for fall to the forefront. The boots, the sweaters, the scarves, the vests…..I love cool weather dressing, it’s so much more…. forgiving. Love sitting around a crackling fire outdoors or in. Try to remember the kind of September when life was slow and oh, so mellow. Try to remember the kind of September when grass was green and grain was yellow. Try to remember and if you remember then follow. Try to remember when life was so tender that no one wept except the willow. Try to remember when life was so tender that dreams were kept beside your pillow. Try to remember when life was so tender that love was an ember about to billow Try to remember and if you remember then follow.

I’m so over summer! It has its charms to be sure but I love that we have seasons. September marks a time of new beginnings much more so than does January. First of all I have much more energy and motivation in the fall. As a mom, it always marked the season of kids going back to school and therefore freeing up much more time for me to accomplish whatever. It felt like a new start and it still does. Two weekends ago we dropped both of our adult children off in Vancouver for at least a season and I am feeling very fancy free and happy go lightly. I’m looking forward to evenings by the fireside reading and sewing with cinnamon pumpkin spice candles burning in the background and Bennett and Gaga (or Frank and Ella) filling the room with soothing music. I have this urge to go to the Farmers Market and bring home my spoils to make soups and chili’s and salsa and such. Apple pies…oh how I used to love to fill the freezer with apples pies for the winter. I may do so again this autumn. I may make salsa as well. I’m going to set aside my Friday’s for quilting and my evening’s for studying and reading and blogging (watch for it). I’ve got projects lined up til Christmas and it’s not overwhelming me, it’s exciting me. I’m going to try my hand at French cooking – first up – beef bourguignon. Oh yes – mustn’t forget – I have to finish last Christmases puzzle. Which was New York at Christmas…we’ve come full circle folks. Last December Mom, Lexie and I went to New York in December. Magical. Deep in December it’s nice to remember although you know the snow will follow. Deep in December it’s nice to remember without the hurt the heart is hollow. Deep in December it’s nice to remember the fire of September that made us mellow. Deep in December our hearts should remember and follow.

Mike and I are toying with the idea of joining the kids in Vancouver for Thanksgiving (at my brothers). I truly think I will revisit Stanley Park and Granville Island. Thanksgiving is the precursor to Christmas for me. Well I guess it is in the states too but their Thanksgiving is about 6 weeks later. Too bad for them. I desperately want to play the Home Alone Christmas album but I’m saving it until after thanksgiving. Not going to be easy but when I break it out, it’s going to be so worth it. In the meantime, I will quilt and bake and sew and cook and blog and read by the fire and wear cozy sweaters and hang at Starbucks and drive to work in the dark and watch ‘You’ve Got Mail’ a bazillion times.

Its not all about the Money, is it?

geriraedean

I told a friend today that life wasn’t all about the money and I truly believe that.  I haven’t always believed that.  It was a long time coming.

She challenged me, that for the couple who are both unemployed and the bills just keep on coming – it IS all about the money.  For the family that is drowning in medical bills and going under…it IS all about the money. When the bank is threatening to foreclose on your house and repossess your only vehicle – it IS all about the money.  When you are trying to get cozy and warm under a layer of brown paper in a cardboard box on a cold winter night – it IS all about the money.   Not having to worry about where our next meal is coming from or where we are going to sleep tonite or how we will keep our children alive and healthy.  I DO get that.  We need money to live in this world.  Fact of life.  Truer than true.
The marketers of this world want us to believe it is all about the money.  And so much of what is going on in this world and life is all about money.  Looking out for number one.  Making a buck.  Living in comfort.  Feeling financially secure. Having status and power.
But for me… I started to realize that I have sold my creative soul to practicality.  To fear.  To squelching my dreams and goals.  To living up to other people expectations. To falling for the manipulation of the marketers.   All for the almighty dollar.  I found my security in a job and in a paycheque and in my spending power. And no….we can’t all afford to follow our bliss.  If we could, everyone would be doing it. But as long as I had the ability to produce wealth – I lived with a sense of security, albeit false.  Being able to spend money and what I could get with it was my security.    It was my image and my status. It was my comfort and my bubble.   Inspite of being a believer in a Creator that owns the cattle on a thousand hills.  Inspite of knowing that I was a daughter and an heir to everything that was HIS, I chose to believe that I had to make it all happen.  I had to do it all. I had to grasp for whatever I could get my grubby little hands on and then hang on to it for dear life (AKA hoarding).  What if HE didn’t bless me with enough? or the with the right stuff?  What if I didn’t like what HE would provide?  What then?  What if I didn’t want to wait?  I’m not getting any younger you know.  I am of the instant gratification generation.  I’m not particularly fond of His timing at times.
Each time I have had a job taken from me (several times in this life) I have felt the rug pulled out from underneath and panic and sheer terror has set in.  This last time finally did me in.  What was to become of me?  Of us?  Why did my heavenly Father keep blessing me with amazing opportunities and then allow them to be taken from me?  Was He mad at me?  Did He want to teach me a lesson?  Did he want me to suffer?
I have to admit, I am as stupid as those Israelites that wandered the desert for 40 years looking for the promised land when it should have taken 11 days.  I read something in a book recently that stated… Life is not supposed to be like a merry-go-round where we keep going around in circles always ending up back in the same place.  This was my life and to be honest, I was getting very dizzy of it. I keep purging my home every 6 months or so and am in the process of doing so once again and I usually have heeps of boxes of things to donate.  Why is this?  Why is my home bulging at the seams?  Because I keep making bad choices, that’s why.
Here’s the thing.  I have made bad spending choices. Disobedient spending choices, if I am going to share my shame story with you and it appears that I am.  I have found my security in things.  I have found my security in comfort.  I have found my security in image.  And yet….turns out it wasn’t secure at all.  And I am not secure.  Its my insecurities that have caused me to make these bad choices.  Over the last year and a half as I have finally had to realize that I need to adopt a different lifestyle.  I need to tone it way down. I am now reaping what I have sown.  And this financial irresponsibility is what has kept me up at night.  I need to simplify and live with less.  I need to stop worrying and panicking and fearing.  I need to trust the one I believe in.
And I am finally realizing that I do not need everything I once thought I did.  Having a beautiful home and a nice car to drive, a trendy and extensive wardrobe, opportunities to travel and buying whatever my little hearts desires were once heady experiences.  Don’t get me wrong…I DO still love all of those things and I do still succumb to old ways  now and again but I am making progress.  I’ve come to  realize that I don’t need all of this to have a rich, fulfilling, purposeful life. Those things turned out to be a noose around my neck and very often have made me a slave.  And I’m not too fond of slavery.  Who is? I believe, in the slavery, I have lost my sense of purpose, my calling, some might say.  And I need to find it again or finally. But first I need to strip away the clutter in my soul and in my life.
And then I reflect on how faithful HE has been even when I have been unfaithful.  When I revisit my personal journey, I can see how HE has come through for me time and time again.  HE will never leave or forsake me…or you for that matter.  Most of my greatest fears have never come to pass.   No, I have not always embraced His methods but in the end, He’s always been there.  And I realize that my pursuit should not be material gain but rather abiding in Him and clinging to the vine and learning to trust Him because I have found Him faithful.
And no, HE has not always been pleased with the way I have stewarded his blessings (or not) but He is not trying to make me suffer. I am doing that to myself.  He is for me. He KNOWS the plans he has for me, even if I do not and those plans are not to harm me (in any way), they are to prosper me (in every way) and to give me a future and a hope.  And as long as my hope is in Him…then it is not all about the money.

How do you like them apples?

geriraedean

Where this day began was out in the yard watering my plants which are miraculously still alive on September 6.  Then the plan was to lock myself into my studio and slipcover cushions for eight hours but on my way back into the house I tripped over the 40 pound barrel of apples we picked on Tuesday night,  so, something had to be done with those.  I dug out my handy dandy vintage apple-peeler, corer and slicer with little hope that it would work for these mini apples.  It has its own temperament and usually plays coy but it was in fine form today.  It did everything it was supposed to with those little apples and then some and I decided I had better make an apple crisp  to see how the apples tasted when cooked.  Not all apples work for baking and I had no idea what kinds apples these were.  No name brand?  I didn’t want to waste the rest of the day making apple pies that nobody would eat.

When I first started making apple crisp for my husband in our first year of marriage the response was usually ‘this is not how my mom makes it”….”Maybe you should get her recipe”.  I should have slapped him but being the young submissive wife and eager to please I asked for Roses’ recipe and have never looked back.  It was delicious.  The main difference in the two recipes was that my mom’s recipe had oatmeal in it and Roses’ did not.  Ironically, my husband loves to eat oatmeal every morning of his life and usually does, so why there was a problem with it in the apple crisp I have no idea.  Simply because ‘this is not the way my mom makes it”?
I thought to myself (Louis and I like to think to ourselves)….I’m going  to reintroduce the oatmeal to my apple crisp.  Roses’ recipe with a little oatmeal added.  Those apples were so pleasing to the palate. Perfect for baking.  Just the right amount of tartness with a little sugar…ok, a lot of sugar!  This recipe was every bit as good as Roses’ and every bit as good as my mom’s.  I tweaked the family heirloom recipe to make it my own.
Now that I knew first hand that the apples were going to be great for pies I called up my mom to see if she had the day free and wanted to join me.  So much more pleasant spending the day in the kitchen with someone, especially mom.  I often wonder how many opportunities I will have to spend great days like this with my mom and I cherish our time together making memories.  We both love being in the kitchen whipping up something delicious.  We stopped for a Starbucks, put on our aprons, turned on Harry Connik Jr and mom started running apples through our secret apple weapon while  I began rolling out pastry.
We managed to get 14 pies and 2 apples crisps out of the apples.  I thought I hadn’t picked too many – as I had no idea if I would be able to use them but…14 pies. Not one apple left.  So now I am thinking of going back for more.
We are having guests  tomorrow night so I’ll  bake one of the crisps for dessert.  Naturally I had to make some homemade ice cream.  May as well do it up right.  I made some caramel pecan homemade ice cream to eat with the crisp.  That stuff is so decadent.  Real ice cream.  No preservatives or chemicals.  Just whole foods.  Eggs yolks,  sugar (well hello?  ice cream?) cream, whipped cream and whole milk, some caramel and pecans.  Nobody said it was low cal.  Its very rich with all that creme but its real food.  You can feel good about serving it and eating it (in moderation..yeah, yeah, yeah).   It seems when I make the ice cream, we fight over it.  How many bowls did you have?  Well I only got one.  None left? I didn’t realize I ate that much.  Fortunately, the only way to get the ice cream off the mixing paddle is with your finger.  So I get to lick my fingers which usually leads to a three spoon quality control . That means I end up tasting it and taking a new spoon for each taste…no double dipping. At this stage it’s soft serve ice cream but no one usually gets the benefit of that except me. There are perks to being the cook.

Not Another Cookbook…

geriraedean

The reason I changed the name of my blog to ‘The Red Plaid Apron’ is because…..I am writing a cookbook.  An inspirational, lifestyle, artistic cookbook.  I’m writing it because I have a story to tell.  Well, we all do but most just don’t have the inclination to put it down in sentences.  But I want to share my story because I have so enjoyed reading the stories of others.  Especially the real, honest, poignant, strong, encouraging stories of women of faith. Some didn’t start out in faith but found their faith through along the way.   As I read their words and stories  I realize that we are all on similar journeys and we all have something to offer.  Sharing your story makes you feel ‘less alone’ and more ‘understood’.  And I’m going to do it with food.

As I have shared previously, I love to eat and I love to make food.  What can I say?  It’s one of my languages of love…even to myself.  So I am on quest to make better food.  ‘Good for you’ food.  Food as medicine.  But also food as love and nourishment.  My motto is ‘all things in moderation’.  Well that actually hasn’t been my motto at all.  My food motto has been more of “if a little is good then a lot must be wonderful”.  Not so much.  I’m starting to realize that all things in moderation will serve me better.  More wise words from a wise person are these  ‘All things may be permissible but are they beneficial?’

But back to my cookbook.  I’ve been collecting cookbooks from the discount table at the local book store for about a year and a half now and I have a wonderful collection.  I’m not planning on making all the recipes –  ever.  I bought them to read more as novels.  I only bought hardcovers.  I only bought cookbooks with stories about the people, the geography and food customs.  I only bought cookbooks with beautiful photography.  They had to be under $10.  I feel bad for the authors of those cookbooks because I am picking them up for $3 and $5 but I’m loving their books.  Maybe someday my Cookbook will be on the discount table.  I don’t care.  I’m doing it anyway.  These books are now my inspiration and my education.

So I am going to spend the next sixteen months testing recipes and sharing my experiences with you on this blog.  Possibly making up recipes.  I’m going to resurrect and modify old family recipes that were my favorites growing up.  Most will be healthy but a few will be decadent.  All things in moderation.  One has to live, right?  And celebrate, right?  And I will do all of this wearing my Red Plaid Apron.  (There is a previous blog post about my red plaid apron).

In fact I started tonite.  My daughter and I have committed to eating much healthier.  It finally hit us…why are we abusing our bodies as we have been?  Do we feel great?  or even good?  A resounding NO.  We are feeling kind of Meh.  So we are committed to eating mostly whole foods as much as possible and nothing processed.  For the most part.  That is the goal.  So I promised her I would make homemade mayonnaise tonite. Because I can make it out of whole foods and then we can enhance other whole foods to our liking.  Well….I made two batches and broke them both.  One is not as broken as the other.  But they mean what they say when they tell you to use ‘light’ olive oil and ALL ingredients at room temperature.  This is key.  Oh…and if you are using a regular blender.  Make sure its turned off before taking the lid off.  Unless you like to have homemade mayo in your hair.

I also clarified some butter. This does not mean I gave it a lecture.  It means that I melted the butter and skimmed off the frothy white dairy portion for those that don’t do dairy.  Seriously you can barely tell the difference when you are eating baked potatoes.  YUM.  Or popcorn…which I am trying to limit as corn, apparently, was never meant for humans.  When I think of the prodigal son eating with the pigs, I’m thinking it couldn’t have been that bad if they were eating corn.  I love corn.  However, the body doesn’t digest corn.  How do I know this?  Do you have to ask?

Finally…I finally made Alfredo cheese sauce out of cashews.  I’ve been meaning to do this forever.  I have to admit I was skeptical.  Cheese flavor from cashews?  I felt the same way Mike does when I tell him that portobello mushrooms taste like steak.  But it really is awesome.  I added quite a bit of real garlic because…flavor. I sauteed the onions before I put them in as well because…well, flavor.  Lemon juice to take the cashew flavor away.  I even used nutritional yeast.  I can’t even believe I had that in the house but I did and I used it.  Not sure what that contributed.  Feel free to enlighten me if you are wise about these things.

Tomorrow’s adventures with food….I have a barrel full of small apples I picked from a friends yard that I have to do something with..stay tuned

Change is Inevitable.

geriraedean

I have chosen to give my blog a new look.  The reason for this is that I am in the process of giving my life a new look.  I’ve finally decided, after much deliberation, that I would start living my best life.  What am I waiting for?  I am 61.  Probably in the last third of my life.  Why not go out with with grace and a legacy?  I’ve been holding back and back peddling in regards to my life because……well that is a very good question.  Why am I not just charging forward and living the best life I can?

For so long I have listened to voices that tell me, you can’t do that.   You don’t deserve that.  You can’t have that.  You can’t go there.  You can’t think that.  You can’t believe that. That’s too dangerous. That’s too scary.  That’s too risky.  That’s impossible.  That’s foolish.  That’s not practical.  You don’t have time.  You don’t have talent.  You don’t have skill.  You don’t have education.  You don’t have influence.  You don’t have fame.  You reached your peak…its all downhill from here.  It can’t be all down hill from here.  I can’t have reached my peak because I feel I’ve barely begun.

So no more sitting in the corner waiting for someone to ask me to dance.  No more waiting for the report card looking for A+’s with honors.  No more fear of the pink slip.  No more thinking someone else cares about my dreams and goals and wants to make them happen.  No more letting people and life intimidate me.  I want to be the Proverbs 31 woman that is clothed in strength and dignity and can laugh at the days to come.

Its time.  I think the older a woman gets the less tolerance she has for not getting it right.  Less tolerance for not getting what she wants from life.  The less tolerance she has for toxic people and ideals and anything that is dragging her down.  At least that seems to be my experience.   I’m not willing to sit back and let life happen and just react to whatever it throws my way.  To pick up the pieces of lost dreams and a broken and bruised heart.

So I am attacking every area of my life.  No stone will be left unturned.  My creative skills and calling.  My health.  My relationships.  My finances.  My time.  My ministry.  My legacy.  What am I leaving as a legacy? That is the most important item.

I always start of each New Year with a word from the Word. This year that word was stewardship. I’ve got four months to get  my stewardship  act together…. or a lifetime.

One of Steven Covey’s principles in the 7 Habits of Highly Effective People is to ‘begin with the end in mind’.  He even goes as far as to suggest a person writes their own Eulogy.  What do you want people to say about you when you are gone?  How do you want others to honor and remember you?  Then that is how you should live your life (with the end in mind).  Its not morbid at all…its wise.  None of us is getting out of here alive.