Never Judge a Bread by it's Banana!

Last night Jacob and I are putting away groceries. As I'm handing him items for the freezer, I hear this:

"Why do we have those in there, Mom? They're gross looking!"

Before I look I think, what's grossing him out? The chopped spinach? The garlic cod? The burritos that have been there since 1995?

Closing my eyes and turning, (I get so few surprises these days you know!) I take a deep breath and look.

They're shriveled up, brown...bananas.

"Oh!" I say, "I'm saving those for banana bread."

"I ain't eatin' it!" says my son vehemently...and leaves the room.

Yeah, I think...Hannah and I will make banana bread tomorrow.

So we did that this morning, she and I.

And I got to thinking...as I was mashing them up...that Jacob was right. They were gross looking at the moment...yuck!

But after adding some other ingredients...and heat...the finished product was delicious...



and Jacob ate four pieces.

Go figure.

And as I type this, I'm thinking...that's how it can be with us. With our lives.

We all go through tough times. Hard times. Difficult times. Tragedies happen to us...and we can become brown, shriveled bananas.

And just when we think that's the worst it can get...we find ourselves mashed...and thrown into a fire....for about 60 minutes at 325 degrees...as a matter of fact.

But here's the thing: Sometimes we are so caught up in our shriveledness...our mashed life...our heat...that we forget that those are the very things we need to make us into beautiful banana bread. Warm...comforting...perfect with some coffee and a little butter...

You, my friend...are being made into someone special BECAUSE of the things that happen to you. Don't forget that.

And don't forget this. Bananas come in bunches. You're not alone. Chances are there is another banana that has been in similar shoes. Reach out to them...

(oh...and for the record...my banana bread is a little nutty...just like me!) :)

now...who wants another piece?

Chuckhole and the Chocolate Factory

The other day I'm driving down the road in my Mom's Toyota Corolla. It's not a very large car, by any means, but it's faster than walking...and gets good gas mileage...two things I think highly of right now, you know?

So I'm driving down the road...and suddenly I drive INTO (that's right! I said INTO!) the largest, deepest chuckhole I have ever seen! It was like a cave! I'm serious! This chuckhole (which I just like saying more than pothole...no offense to anyone named Chuck, by the way!)was huge! And it swallowed up my car.

I bounced out of it and felt a little like a Bond martini (only shaken AND stirred!) and drove on.

Well, later...I was driving down the same patch of road...and I remembered the chuckhole, and when I reached it, I swerved around it.

Whew!

Makes me wonder about some things:

What created a hole that big?

Why hasn't it been filled in?

The obvious answers are "the weather and traffic and wear"....and "the road dept. is too busy putting detours on detours that they just haven't gotten around to shoveling in some roadpack into that pit of despair in the middle of the street there."

Okay...but I'm still wondering:

Do I have chuckholes in my life? Is there a pothole in my soul large enough to bury a Corolla in? Do you?

And when I considered that question...I was struck by all the stuff (the ridiculous stuff) I had tried to...well....stuff into my chuckhole.

Chocolate, for example.

Can you imagine a chuckhole filled with chocolate? I can see that exchange:

Two burly roadworkers...in the heat of the day...repairing a chuckhole.

"Hey, Mac! We got any roadpack?"

Mac surveys the chuckhole. "You know, I been thinkin', Bernie...

(Bernie...Mac....that's funny! Wasn't even intentional...tee hee!)

"I been thinkin', Bernie. We're not gonna fill that chuckhole with roadpack. We're gonna use a little somethin' I like to call...brownies."



Sounds silly, doesn't it? And yet...I've tried to use food to fill holes. I've tried boyfriends...and work...and money...and...and...the list goes on and on, my friends.

A computer in a chuckhole? A checkbook in a chuckhole? What if you were driving down the road and saw a guy sitting in a chuckhole?

"Hey! What're you doing there?"

"Me? Oh, Carrie put me here. You know, to fix the hole."

Even typing that...I'm feeling a little ridiculous. And not quite bright.

How about you?

My friends...I should not be in the road repair business for myself. I believe there is Someone who is much more qualified at filling the soulholes we all have...and He uses stuff much stronger and longer lasting than chocolate...or cash...or a guy named Jeff.

lovingkindness...grace...forgiveness...mercy.

All better than brownies. Believe me!

With One Condition...

"Dad loves the dog more than he loves me!"

My son stomped into my bedroom and repeated himself. "Dad cares about Speedy more than his own kids!"

"Oh he does not." I reply.

"Well sometimes it feels that way." he stomped out again.

I sat there and thought about that for a moment. What was my husband doing with the dog that he wasn't doing with his son?

I looked at it another way. What was the dog doing that my son was NOT doing?

Our dog is a well-behaved dog. Really. In fact, he has one fault. He'll run for the hills if you open the door...and he will keep running. You have to go get him.

Other than that, we've had no problem with this pup. He's a good dog. Easy to take care of...cuddly...doesn't talk back when you ask him to do something. Doesn't make you repeat yourself fourteen gamillion times to pick up his room. Doesn't make that FACE at you when you ask him to stop playing video games and take out the trash.

Come to think of it, the dog's got another fault. He's kickin' my behind when we play Guitar Hero.

No...seriously.

Ah...you know I'm kidding. As you can see, when I compare the dogs behavior to that of my son's, I think that most of us would say, "Yep. I'd rather spend time with the dog."

My son is not 'easy' to love right now.

Perhaps that's the problem. Ease.

We like things to be easy, don't we? I mean, yes....a challenging 200,000 piece jigsaw is a fun way to spend a Wednesday night, but we generally want smooth sailing. We don't want to have to work really hard at something.

Especially if we think it SHOULD be easy.

You know what I mean?

Many is the time I've been totally frustrated by a project that I thought SHOULD be easy. Programming a VCR...making Jello...knitting a scarf. They've frustrated me and forced me to seek solace with the dog.

Especially making Jello. Who knew that it was so difficult?

Oh...maybe it's not difficult for you. Think of your difficult project.

Now think of a difficult person.

Now think about loving them.

Unconditionally.

Regardless of how much they frustrate you with their behavior. Regardless of how EASY you think it SHOULD be.

Now's the really hard part.

Do it.

Love them.

Because you know what? You, my friend, are not always EASY to love either. As hard as that may be for you to believe...sometimes the dog looks pretty good.

But...BUT...BUT BUT BUT...

You are loved. Deeply. Truly. Madly.

Despite your difficult-ness. Despite your un-lovable-ness.

Can you believe it? Do you believe it?

For God so loved the world...

Strength Training

Once in a while, a word comes up...again and again...over and over...making me think about it's definition at great length. Here's one:

Grace

What do you think of?

Saying grace before a meal?

We call it 'the blessing' most of the time at my house...and when my son says it, he likes to add "may we all live long and prosper"....you know...the Vulcan grace....I guess.

A church name?

We attended Grace Church in Mahomet. Several churches have the word "grace" in their name.

A person's name maybe?

One of my parent's friends was named Grace. And I'm a huge fan of Burns and Allen-George Burns and Gracie Allen. "Say Goodnight,Gracie."

My family watched "Ferris Bueller's Day Off" last night...and the secretary's name is Grace.

And maybe you think of the t.v. show "Will and Grace"....or the song "Amazing Grace"...

maybe...like me...sometimes you're thinking about the 'grace period' you've got with your credit card bill.

Or you've watched "Dancing with the Stars" and thought, "My, I had no idea that Emmet Smith could be so graceful!"

Maybe you've said, "There, but for the grace of God"....

Or perhaps, (again...like me!)...you're watching PBS and someone British says, "Your Grace"...with that way cool accent.

Okay...so maybe you're not like me watching PBS....but I'd venture a guess and say that we've all used the word "Grace" in several different ways...and I'm wondering if you've considered what it means.

Could you tell someone what "Grace" is?

It's all the things I've just listed...and more.

Oh...and before I forget....thank you for gracing me with your presence today... now let's look more closely at this word "grace".

As a noun -

1. elegance or beauty of form, manner, motion, or action.
2.a pleasing or attractive quality or endowment.
3.favor or good will.
4.a manifestation of favor, esp. by a superior: It was only through the dean's grace that I wasn't expelled from school.
5.mercy; clemency; pardon: an act of grace.
6.favor shown in granting a delay or temporary immunity.
7.an allowance of time after a debt or bill has become payable granted to the debtor before suit can be brought against him or her or a penalty applied: The life insurance premium is due today, but we have 31 days' grace before the policy lapses. Compare grace period.
8.Theology.
a.the freely given, unmerited favor and love of God.
b.the influence or spirit of God operating in humans to regenerate or strengthen them.
c.a virtue or excellence of divine origin: the Christian graces.
d. Also called state of grace. the condition of being in God's favor or one of the elect.
9.moral strength: the grace to perform a duty.
10.a short prayer before or after a meal, in which a blessing is asked and thanks are given.
11.(usually initial capital letter) a formal title used in addressing or mentioning a duke, duchess, or archbishop, and formerly also a sovereign (usually prec. by your, his, etc.).
12.Graces, Classical Mythology. the goddesses of beauty, daughters of Zeus and Eurynome, worshiped in Greece as the Charities and in Rome as the Gratiae.

Wow. That's a lot of information, isn't it? Gotta love dictionary.com....

#8. caught my eye as I read through those. "the freely given, unmerited favor and love of God."

Yeah, I've heard that. I know about that. There's nothing I can do to earn it. It's a gift.

Good stuff to remember. But look at the next line.

"The Spirit of God operating in humans to regenerate or strengthen them."

I don't know about you...but there are times when I do NOT feel strong. When I can't handle the weight of the world any longer. When I could use some strengthening. When I think I'm at my weakest...the Bible has references to grace and it says "full of grace"....or "abounding in grace"..."more grace is given". It's like there's more than enough to go around. Plenty for me and for you.

Good to know. Reminds me of another reference to grace:

Turn your eyes upon Jesus

Look full in His wonderful face

And the things of earth will grow strangely dim

In the light of His glory and grace

I don't know about you....but I feel stronger already! Grace to you, my friends...

Oooooh...I hear laughter in the rain...

Early this morning I was dreaming. I was dreaming that I was sleeping and there was this incredible storm with a lot of thunder and lightning. Oh. Wait.

That wasn't a dream. That WAS my early morning.

The thunder woke me up first. Then the lightning. I lay there in bed...listening to the storm...and began to almost subconsciously count "one one thousand....two one thousand" as soon as the lightning struck...and then stop when I heard the thunder. So I could tell how many miles away the storm was from me. Do you do that? I'm not even sure when I began to count miles...but I've been doing it for like, forever.

Why I count is something that also baffles me. I think I like the reassurance of 'counting' the storm away after it hits. 'Four miles away....now five...now seven.' It calms me down.

Wasn't calming the dog down, however. I felt this pawing at the bed in the middle of the storm and realized that Nina (my mom's dog who lives with us now) was very frightened. So I got up with her, and let Steve sleep...and she and I made the coffee, visited the 'little girl's room' and sat down to watch some early morning tv. Which consisted of weather updates...and paid programming ads.

As I'm flipping thru our thirteen channels (yeah, we don't have cable tv...we still think it's 1970 here in Seymour!!) to find something to watch-I land on a portion of the Carol Burnett Show.

"EXCELLENT!" I say...scaring the dog and some sparrows from a tree. I LOVE THE CAROL BURNETT SHOW! Funny Stuff.

Well, it was an ad for this DVD collection for the show. I sat there and watched the snippets...and laughed...and seriously considered actually buying something from a tv ad for the first...er, third....um (don't forget the Ronco Pocket Fisherman!) seventh time in my life.

I love to laugh. I mean, who doesn't, right? But lately....I haven't felt much like laughing.

So I sat there and smiled as I watched. And it occurred to me that I would make up a list of Twenty Five Things Guaranteed to Make Carrie Laugh.

Here they are. For your amusement. In no particular order:

25. Dogs eating peanut butter.

24. John Candy.

23. John Candy eating peanut butter. (okay...I'm sorry. I couldn't resist. Actually, I don't believe I've seen him do that. Although I'd bet the farm that he could make me laugh doing it.)

22. Old people dancing.

21. Little kids dancing.

20. Dogs dancing. (well, let's face it. Dogs doing anything 'human' is pretty funny.)

19. Daffy Duck cartoons. (when his bill falls off....heeheehee...hysteria ensues....hahaha!)

18. A well told joke.

17. A badly told joke. (Badly told? Is that right? It sounds weird.)

16. Clown cannibals. (I myself have never cared for clowns. They taste funny. *crickets chirping* sigh....well...it makes me laugh!)

15. Good impersonators. (where'd Rich Little go? When did that humor stop? I know Fred Travelina did some too....but man, I love it when someone can impersonate someone else....cracks me up. Johnny D and Drew rule in that area!!! :) )

14. John Cleese. (Anything that man does makes me laugh. I adore him.)

13. Danny Kaye. (same thing. I love his work. He's so funny!!)

12. Calvin and Hobbes.

11. Baby Blues.

10. Any of the funnies, really. (Except Prince Valiant and the Phantom. Oddly enough, I rarely smile at those when I read them. OH! And I've never cared for Frank and Earnest. They frustrate me...but that's an entirely different list....!)

9. Jacob's giggle. (I'd bottle it and sell it if I could. Again, another laugh guarantee. It's infective. You can't NOT laugh when Jacob laughs. Seriously.)

8. Hannah's stories. (it's actually not the stories that are funny, necessarily...but the WAY that Hannah tells a story is soooo comedic. I wonder where she gets that from??? Certainly not from me...I still have mine!)

7. Monkeys. (monkeys are funny. And I don't. know. why.)

6. The Monkees. (are also funny. And I do. know. why. Mickey Dolenz. Plain and simple. The guy had it going on!!!)

5. Blooper and outtake reels. (when actors crack up and can't get through the line...I laugh. Every time.)

4. Humor from people I don't 'expect' it from. (nothing makes me laugh harder than 'traditionally unfunny people' saying or doing something hysterical or witty.)

3. Real Men of Genius commercials. (beer is sooooo funny. Until, that is....someone gets hurt. Or drunk dialed. Which, actually, is sometimes pretty humorous...)

2. The Carol Burnett Show. (well, I'd feel stupid if I left it off the list!)

1. Making faces at myself in a mirror. (it's therapeutic. Really!)

So there you go. 25 things. That make Carrie Laugh. Good to remember. Now go make up your own list. I'd love to hear about it...

And now a word from a garden...

Four years ago I wrote some devotioinal little things I called "Plant Ponderings" that I emailed to folks. I'm going to post them here for those of you who either can't recall what I wrote, really enjoyed what I wrote then...as well as for the new folks who have never read these.

My creative writing juices are tapped out right now. I don't get it. Something is in the way...I dunno...I do know that I've been very overwhelmed...so maybe I'm just using a lot of my energy to tread water right now...keeping my chin up. At any rate, revisiting my garden was refreshing...I hope you enjoy your visit...

"Walk with me into my garden...let's see what's planted:

I want to take a moment to talk to you about houseplants. I have one plant in my home that I think I've taken care of for about 15 years. At least! With an occasional watering (and an even more infrequent dusting) it seems to do just fine. Doesn't ask too much of me. All in all, it's a pretty easy green thing to have around. Just the way I like it.

A few years ago I received a gorgeous African violet as a gift from some co-workers in my office. While I had never taken care of a violet before, still I thought, "How hard can it be? It's a plant, right?" and I treated it as I treated my other houseplant. Badly. Oh, it did alright those two days at my office; but when I took it home, I think I had that violet in my house a total of 39 minutes before it shriveled up and died. Died a violent, violet death...you might say. And you know what?

I decided then and there that I wouldn't mess with violets. Ever. They were too hard to take care of! Too "high maintenance" for me. I'd stick with the easy houseplants, thank you very much. Besides, African violets weren't meant to live in Central Illinois anyway, am I right?

One day I was visiting someone who actually raised violets. As we admired them, I said, "Why do you bother with these? They're so....needy! You have to take such special care and mess with them all the time, don't you?"

She smiled, "Yes, they require a good deal of care...but see how beautiful they are? And I don't have too many, just a few...so it's not so bad."

Which leads me to my pondering for today: Is there a plant in your life that's a little on the 'high maintenance' side? Do you avoid taking the time to care for it's needs? Have you even neglected one to the point where it just 'shriveled up'? My friend didn't have a whole roomful of violets...she only had a few. As she cared for them, she benefitted from their beauty. Maybe you need to look closely at the plants in your garden.

And while I'm thinking about it, don't neglect the easy-going plants in your life either! While they seem to take care of themselves, they still enjoy being appreciated. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go talk to a certain houseplant. Why don't you go talk to yours? From what gardeners tell me...plants like that a lot.

Every plant could use a good word. Thanks for coming to my garden today."

Like...fer shure!

Once again, I think I'm making up for lost time by writing a really long entry. And part of me wants to apologize for that...but then again...when I think about it...how much should what you think of my writing matter to me??? Hm....read on, my friends.

GLINDA: (spoken) And of course, from the moment she was born,she was - well - different...

MIDWIFE: It's coming!

FATHER: Now?

MIDWIFE: The baby's coming!

FATHER: And how!

MIDWIFE AND FATHER: I see a nose! I see a curl! It's a healthy, perfect, lovely, little -

FATHER: (spoken) Sweet Oz!

MOTHER: (spoken) What is it? What's wrong?

MIDWIFE: How can it be?

FATHER: What does it mean?

MIDWIFE: It's atrocious!

FATHERIt's obscene!

MIDWIFE AND FATHER: Like a froggy, ferny cabbage...the baby is unnaturally Green!

FATHER:(spoken) Take it away! Take it away!

-from Wicked, the Musical

In the musical Wicked, the main characters are Glinda (who you may remember from The Wizard of Oz as the "good witch") and Elphaba...the Wicked Witch of the West. This musical tells a different story about what went down in Oz...we learn more about the Wicked Witch and her beginnings...and we learn that things aren't always as they seem...

As illustrated in the scene above, when Elphaba is born she is rejected by her father. School is also a site of rejection...and so it goes. How many of us have been rejected?

I can recall in elementary school desperately wanting to be 'picked' for a team first...instead of last. Instead of hearing, "Oh...we'll take her, I guess."

Our huge ol' desire to be accepted. To fit in. To have people like us...love us...want us.

Sigh.

Sometimes it seems neverending. We want our family to accept us...our co-workers to like us...we want people to be happy...to find no faults with us.

And I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, my friends...but we are FAULT FILLED!

Yep. It's a fact. We all got 'em.

What do you do with rejection? What do you do when you get the letter that says 'we're sorry. Someone else has been given that job.'? When you pour out your heart to the person you love and they reply, "It's not you. It's me. Let's just be friends." When you submit a poem to Highlights magazine and it's like, the best poem you've ever written in your ENTIRE life (you're nine years old, after all!) and they send you a letter that says, "No thank you. We're not publishing your poem."

Maybe you do what I did.

Maybe...maybe you stop writing poetry. I mean, let's face it....Highlights magazine didn't think my poetry was good...so why write it? I determined then and there...based on some dumb editor's opinion...that my writing wasn't worth it...at least from a poetry perspective.

So I quit. Other than school assignments, poetry was a writing arena that I stayed far away from.

I let Highlights magazine define my writing ability.

Well, until I entered jr. high, that is. And I made some feeble attempts at writing some poetry about the way I felt and stuff. Just for me...just for fun.

Guess what? The other day, I found those poems (there were like, three)...and I let my jr. high-aged daughter read them.

I know...it was a courageous move on my part. I hadn't shown those poems to anyone. Heck, I don't even know why I kept the goofy things...(other than the fact that I keep (or used to) EVERYTHING...!)

I watched her face as she read them.

And you know what?

I found that I suddenly, desperately...wanted her approval of my poetry.

A second opinion, if you will.

And you know what?

She laughed out loud and said, "Pretty lame, Mom. Poetry is not your strong suit."

She then proceeded to mock each line...in her own 'cute' way.

Brutal.

Yeah, I know, I thought...my poetry is lame...so says you and the editors at Highlights...sigh.

Now...I know that my daughter loves me...but I still felt totally rejected. It was like I was nine years old again...and all that pain of the first rejection came back. With a vengance.

What do you do with rejection? When you don't feel accepted by others?

Like I said, I know my daughter loves me. But she didn't like my poetry.

So...does she like...me?

Someone said to me, "You may not like your family...but you still love them."

I've been thinking about that statement a lot. Loving people...but not liking them. As if the one is enough for us humans. And I'm not sure, but I'm thinking that love doesn't always = acceptance. I mean, I know my husband loves me...but there's a lot I can do that he'd find unacceptable.

There's doing. The things I do.

And there's being. The things I am.

Doing. Being. Loving. Liking.

Friends may not like the things we do...but they like the things we am. I mean, are.

They like us.

Makes me wonder about my relationship with God. I know He loves me...

but...

but...

does He like me?

Right now I'm reading a book by Brennan Manning called The Wisdom of Tenderness and this is what he says:

'In a moment of naked honesty, ask yourself, "Do I wholeheartedly trust that God likes me?" And do you trust that God likes you, not after you clean up your act and eliminate every trace of sin, selfishness, dishonesty, and degraded love; not after you develop a disciplined prayer life and spend ten years in Calcutta with Mother Teresa's missionaries; but in this moment, right now, right here, with all your faults and weaknesses?'

(italics are mine.)

I think it's pretty easy for most to understand that God loves us. But this idea of God liking me...is an interesting one, don't you think?

I mean...He understands me.

And He understands rejection.

Like, totally.

Wow.

When I realize and trust and believe that the God that created me actually likes me (in addition to His love for me)...I lose the fear of rejection. When I see myself in God's eyes...I can start to see myself for the person He made me to be...not the person who does things. Like write bad poetry.

And I find that maybe...just maybe...I'm okay. And I don't need the approval of others.

Hm....God as my BFF (best friend forever)....there's an even more interesting thought!

I like you. God likes you. And Highlights magazine don't matter!

Say that to yourself today...

Oh...and yeah...you can leave out the Highlights part.