Milagro para Gaby(Miracle for Gaby)

Dark hair and eyes and a magnetic smile radiate from this little girl of only 5 years old. At least that is the age they believe her to be. When her soon to be adoptive parents first laid eyes on her she was only 18 pounds at the age of 3. No one is for certain how old she really is since her past is extremely vague. She was found on the streets and brought to a lady in Tegus, (short for Tegucigalpa) Honduras. This lady called some American missionaries and asked if they would be interested in trying to work with her, love her and to help her gain weight and restore her health. Of course, they said yes. At first Gaby, the frail little girl, was very fearful and scared of everyone. If anyone would try to hold her she would bite, kick, hit and scream. Then, at times she would retreat somewhere deep within her own self  to try and "hide" and no one seemed to be able to reach her. One can only imagine the torment, torture or fear she must have endured at such a young age. To look at her now, you would never know she ever lacked food, love or attention.

I got to meet Gaby last week for the first time, up in the mountains of Seguatepeque. She took to me right away, or maybe it was I who took to her. She is a doll. Being raised by American missionaries who haven't conquered the spanish language yet, Gaby's English is very good. In fact, she hardly remembers her native tongue at all.

 Men pretending to be officials with the adoption agency and orphanage have been to the missionaries home a few times, inquiring about Gaby and always showing great interest in her ability to speak english and as to how well she is doing with her english. The missionaries have since learned that these people are indeed not officials but are only interested in selling Gaby into prostitution and she can bring much more money if she speaks english. The last time these men tried to take Gaby away from the missionaries, the mother got on the phone and called the real officials and found out they hadn't sent anyone, so she told the "bad" men to leave her house immediately.

So Gaby took my hand and pull me out onto the huge front porch of the house where she is now living. And she then pulled the cushions off of the outdoor furniture and sat down with her new puppy, pulling on my jeans, commanding me to sit down with her. "I like your earrings and your necklace is very pretty," she said, as she twirlled a part of my hair around and around her finger. Then she reached down to pick up my camera and said, "take a picture of me and you." I obeyed. Then she giggled after I showed her the picture of us. "Again, again!!" she said, so I obliged. Then she reached up to touch my eyelashes, and said, "I like your eyelashes.". I said, "Thank you, and I like your smile." Gaby then laid her head on my shoulder for a few minutes and hugged my neck, an action her mother said is not common at all with strangers.

I had to fight back the tears. Little does Gaby know as she touched my eyelashes, that she touched my heart as well.  She has no idea the life that awaits her, and the miracle that she is, having been rescued and soon to be adopted by a precious couple who took the time to take her in and unlock her fears, all because of the love of Jesus. A miracle indeed, for Gaby.....Love.

MEMORY MOMENTS

Imprinted in my mind of long ago
You red-faced, veins protruding,
harsh words- for what I don't know.
My heart hurt. I made you mad.
Or was it sad?
Memory moments like these
can never be reversed...you're gone.
Still, even now, if I could apologize
for the missed beats of your heart--
I'd trip over myself, running to do so.
To have my back warmly against your chest,
our fingers laced--with your arms crossed about me,
drawing me close--
as we stood on the water's edge---
Is a memory moment forever fingerprinted
in my soul....with a smile.
This time, when you yell---
I'd buffer those words with "I'm sorry."
Just to have that once ordinary, heart-melting,
feels-like-home,
Memory moment embrace.

(written in 1977)

Procrastination!

                       What's left of my homemade spaghetti sauce, apple butter and dehydrated eggplant.

                                      My homemade stevia powder               

Mother walks into my badly disheveled house, with her friend from Texas, and as she enters the kitchen, she questions, "Good Lord, Dawne Marie, what on earth are you doing?" "Hi Mama," I responded, as I pulled the last quart jar of newly canned spaghetti sauce out of the canner. "I'm canning spaghetti sauce, 11 quarts to be exact, with enough leftover for supper tonight, plus I canned apple butter yesterday, straight from our tree out front. I just couldn't let all these tomatoes, onions, bell peppers, eggplant, apples and dehydrated stevia plants go to waste before we move and I certainly wasn't going to lug them all with me to Kansas City in a freezer or ice chest, so I decided to can them," I said smiling. "You are crazy, Dawne, you're moving in two days," Mama responded, "you should be packing," as she glanced around at all I had yet to put into boxes, and piles of stuff everywhere.

She was right, I was moving in two days, and my house was upside down, so much so that I just wanted to sit down and cry, but I had done that repeatedly within the previous 2 weeks. Afterall, what woman enjoys having her nest completely torn up, especially one who is an artist and avid reader, and has literally dozens of bins of art supplies in every form that she just can't part with AND ONLY 42 boxes of books. :) But, how could I just let all this produce from my garden go to waste. So, as Julia Roberts said on "Pretty Woman," "No, I'm not a planner, I'm a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants-kind-of-gal." Yep, that's me. Well, one side of me. I do love to plan, and plan I do, but having inherited the fine quality of procrastination from my beloved father, my plans usually take form in the last minute. I'm finding out something about myself, which is, I always work best under pressure. Don't get me wrong, I am very much organized in several areas, where I don't like things messed up or out of place, but when it comes to getting a "planned" task done, it usually involves scurrying around, last minutes and late nights. haha Somehow, I'm just never quit as proud of accomplishing something that has been planned weeks or months in advanced. I make my husband a nervous wreck with this quality I have, but he admits, he's never been disappointed. For example: When I set out to paint a huge mural on a wall, I never do a "real" drawing of it first, but just a quick sketch, half finished. Then I approach the wall with reckless abandon, he would say. But I say, why draw it twice when it is already in my head. What a waste of time. One time I planned to create a "fake" waterfall, about 18 feet high, cascading down through "fake" boulders, on the stage of our church for our annual "campmeeting." Paul asked me," so where is your sketch, what is your plan?" "Aw, don't worry, it'll all come together," I replied. I remember as I was building the waterfall, a friend of mine, Della, walked up one day, mid way through the project, knowing what I was creating, and said, "I just don't see it yet, but I trust you." "What?  You can't see it?" I laughed. But when she returned a few hours later, all she could say was, "wow!"

So, here I am AGAIN, in the midst of a moving mess. If God would have told me I would have been moving two times in one year, I would have said, "Bury me now!" I now understand why He doesn't let us see the whole picture all at once. argh!

So, as I'm packing up my "cupboard" of canned goods(does anyone still can these days besides me?) I grabbed my homemade spaghetti sauce and was instantly taken back to that day, almost a year ago, when I was hurrying around to pack and can at the same time. This time, though, I am not canning, but I am having a garage sale, and I have to admit that chopping vegetables, peeling tomatoes, sterilizing jars, and cooking sauce all day long, is still easier than having a garage sale any day in my book.

So, as I prepare to sell furniture and things I do not want to sell, I have no time to sit down and cry. I just keep saying to myself, "His grace is sufficient for me, His grace is sufficient for me." There, I feel better already! Ok, I'm off to make my garage sale signs and do more packing.

Little Girl, Grown up Emotion

She's seen too much, felt too much hurt, pain, emotion for a tiny girl of only 5 years.
Her mother sits in difiance, won't listen to truth, only to the lies the devil fills her head with.
They all are so tired. So tired of being held hostage by this mother's choices. The very ones that love
her the most, and have sacrificed everything for her, are the very ones she is turning her back on.
Even her little daughter can see this so plainly. Only 5 years old, but her wisdom is way beyond her years.
Her mama sits like a stone, won't listen to reason. Her little girl puts her little hand on her mama's face.
She turns her mama's face towards her grandma, and says,"Mama, listen to her, she is telling the truth."
Yet, her mama turns her head back, staring off into space, like a stone. The little girl starts to cry.
"Why won't Mama talk? Why won't she listen to God and not the devil?" "Why doesn't she love us?"

Several months ago, her mother disappeared, and was gone for 4 days and no one knew where she was. The little girl was told by her grandma not to worry, because God knew where her mama was and He would take care of her and bring her home. One evening the door opened, her mother walked in, barefoot, dirty, exhausted and hungry. The little girl watched as her mother sat down on the couch. She smiled hesitantly, because her mommy was home, but yet, one could sense her restraint to show her joy. Still, something wasn't right and she knew it. A few moments later the police were notified that the mother had come home, and moments later the ambulance showed up with 2 emergency technicians along with 3 police officers. The little girl watched while they checked her mama's swollen, sore feet, checked her vital signs and the police asked questions. Her mama tried to answer the questions as best as she could. Some things she just couldn't remember. The grandma was seated next to the little girl, who sat quietly staring at her mama next to her. Afterall, this little girl's mama was the grandma's little girl too. Then suddenly but quietly, the little girl gets up and walks a few feet to the stairway and climbs up about 5 steps, then burst into tears. The grandma immediately leaves the side of her daughter and goes to her granddaughter. She tells her grandbaby to come to her and she places the little girl on her lap and they sit back down on the couch next to the little girl's mama, the grandma's baby.  The grandma asked her grandchild, "What's wrong Honey?" The little girl, through hard sobs and gasp of breaths says, pointing to her mama, " I just don't want her to EVER run away again." Then she places both of her small hands over her face and sobs. Her shoulders are heaving and her tears are flowing. She just doesn't understand. The grandma looks up at the ambulance people and the police and everyone is crying. Everyone, except the little girl's mama. The little girl crawls up in her grandma's lap and places her arms around her neck tightly and sobs. The little girl was right, her mama did run away again, and again and is still running.

Months have past. The little girl is having to grow up fast, to take care of herself, to pick out her own clothes, to brush her own long, tangled golden curls. She worries about things that a little girl shouldn't
have to worry about. "I can do it myself."  "I CAN do it myself." She's holding so much pain and anger deep inside. Somehow she thinks she is taking care of her daddy and siblings too.

Her grandma is fixing her hair as she gets ready to go to school. The little girl says,"My mommy doesn't love me anymore." The grandma says, "of course she does Honey, she just isn't thinking right, right now. She loves you a whole bunch." The little girl responds with absolute "knowing" in her voice, "No she doesn't. She doesn't love anybody, she only loves the devil." The grandma's heart stopped for a moment and she fought back tears before she answered, "Your mama know's God's voice, she just has to learn to hear it again. She will. She does love you very much." The little girl shakes her head no, then says to her grandma,
"You can't move far away, please don't go. Who will fix my hair and make me brush my teeth? Who will help me clean my room? Please don't move far away, then I will have to get someone new to love me." The grandma assures her, through tears, that she will always love her very much and her mama loves her too and everything will be alright. Then the grandma goes into the bathroom and cries.

Somehow, this little girl thinks she has to be strong. She wants to have fun, to laugh, to play, but every day she is force to deal with her life without her mama. Every day her grandma cries for the torn up lives, the empty lives, the hurt lives,yet, she clings to her God and His promises He has given her, that says, "As for me and my house, we WILL serve the Lord."

The grandma sits quietly at her breakfast table. The knot in her stomach doesn't allow her eat her morning meal. Suddenly she feels like a little girl, herself. Her heart is breaking. Then she remembers a song she sang just days before to her granddaughter, that she has sang countless times before,.....a song her mama sang to her when she was a little girl full of grown up emotion.
     My mommy told me something that a little girl should know, it's all about the devil and I learned
     to hate him so. She says he causes troubles if you let him in your room and he'll never ever leave
     you if your heart is filled with gloom......So let the Son shine in, face it with a grin, smilers never
     lose, and frowners never win, so let the Son shine in, face it with a grin. Open up your heart and
     let the Son shine in. .......If I forget to say my prayers the devil jumps with glee, and he feels so
     awful awful when he sees me on my knees, so don't forget to say your prayers and always wear
     a grin, and open up your heart and let the Son shine in......

The grandma told her little granddaughter that God's promises are always true and He always keeps His Word, we just have to believe in those promises.

Seasons-though summer's best

How could it be that summer is almost gone? The intense heat has now given way to cool, crisp mornings, with fall creeping in and close on my heels. Don't get me wrong, my days are still plenty fierce enough with heat for me, yet the pleasant smells of spring, that engulfed my senses have long since vanished with the gentle breezes that carried them on their wings and encircled me.

When I was young, summer was my favorite time of the year. It always had been for as long as I could remember. Not because it was a break away from the school year, because I always enjoyed school, but just simply because I loved feeling the warmth of each day and the evidence that the sun had kissed my skin with a tan only matched by some aboriginal tribe, thus making it indisputable that my heritage was, indeed, Cherokee. I'd spend my days lying out on the swimming dock, in one of my many bikinis, either reading a book, watching the boats go by, enjoying the way the shadows danced about on the huge leaves of the sycamore tree growing on the shoreline, smiling as my sisters fought to try to stand and balance on the large innertube we used as rafts, or embracing the daydreams of a young love I held in my heart. In those days, I never once pondered the thought of actually ever regretting the summer heat. It was the very essence of the core of me. As I child, I could spend my days tucked away under some ledge of a rock, surrounded by red oaks, pretending to be hidden away in a cave, making myself a pillow out of thick green moss that grew under the overhang of my bluff. I relished the gathering of acorns which the squirrels had missed to store up the previous fall,  and I used them to decorate my "cave," along with unique stones and driftwood I'd gathered from the lake's edge. My mind took me places rivaled only by Huck Finn, himself.

Yet as the seasons in my life changed, I no longer grieved when the hot summer would drift way, only to introduce the changing of leaves and the announcement of fall approaching. I had long since also learned to enjoy the early springtime too. When my children were young, all four of them, and we moved to Dallas, Texas, I remember eagerly planting my very first herb garden. It was very small, as were the funds to lavish upon it at the time, but I still delighted in it and the simple pleasure it brought me. The boys would be up early, starting their school work for the day, Nic awaking first, to get an early start, thus forcing Kyle to arise too, because he didn't want to be left doing his work long after Nic was off playing with the legos without him. Adam was practicing his alphabet and numbers, Molly still sleeping the morning away, and I'd step outside with a clean load of freshly washed laundry, ready to hang in the morning breeze. Inspite of the hardships we were enduring, I looked for things to make me smile: like the fenceline covered with tangled honeysuckle perfuming the morning air, (taking me back to my mid-school days where my best friend, Areta, taught me how to suck the sweet nectar from the pale blossoms), or the mama rabbit and her 4 newborn babies that were safely "hidden" in a hole in the ground in the middle of the backyard, or my newly planted herb garden, which I encircled with purple and yellow faced Johnny Jump ups. I quickly learned that the ants, which also accompanied my backyard, thought that I had planted the delicious little edible flowers just for them, "thank you very much," they seemed to say. The small pasture behind our backyard just came alive mid-spring, with an endless sea of deep purpley-blue Texas bluebonnets, sprinkled among them, were brightly dressed indian paint brush wildflowers in brilliant orange and gold. I can not tell you the hours I spent taking in such a visual splendor of beauty. This may sound silly to someone not taken to noticing the simple gratification of: flowers, trees, birds, insects, rocks, seashells, driftwood or leaves.....but one would have to be completely "dead" to all his senses if he did not notice the pallet of exquisitness, laid out by God Himself, in the form of a solid sea of bluebonnets in the springtime. Could I cry or did I? Absolutely. When I see such beauty, I thank God He created eyeballs, so I could be so blessed to behold such a sight. Does it sound melodramatic? Maybe. But I make no apologies. For as long as I can remember, I have been enthralled with and loved dearly anything in bloom. Afterall, how many 7 year olds receive crape mrytle shrubs from their grandma, as a birthday present. *smiling*  Yet, it took moving to Kansas City, Kansas to taste my first experience of spring or early summer, by way of the Linden tree. I first noticed these, often, multi-trunked trees, while on a late evening walk. Long before I actually took note of the tree, itself, the intoxicating fragrance hit my senses in such concentration, that it almost left me drunk by the multitudinous danggling, honey scent blossoms, almost hidden under the heartshaped leaves of the waving boughs. Never had I been introduced to this tree before, and I wondered why. So I set out to do some investigation. I learned that it thrived in just a tad bit cooler weather than where I was from, and that they were extremely common in Europe, also known as the Lime Tree there,(although it bears no fruit neither smells of lime) and that it is also referred to as Basswood. One of the things I love about this tree is the way the leaves on the branches almost droop lazily, while the pale white to golden blooms hang like gaudy earrings from a Spanish flamenco dancer. Somehow, this tree just makes me want to crawl up underneath it and take a nap. Maybe that is why one of the beneficial properties of it's blossoms is considered a good sleep aid. Nonetheless, this conventional tree does not hold it's jewels long enough to enjoy, and I found myself crying for the last gulp of perfumed air on one of my mid-summer June walks.    

Now, it is late August, and while the heat still wanes, and I'm packing up to move back to Oklahoma and then on to Honduras for several months, in the next two weeks, I hold tightly to all these memories in my mind. While we will be flying out towards the end of November, I will get to enjoy the changing of leaves, the sight of porches decorated with pumpkins, gourds, and dried corn stalks once again, before I step off the airplane into, what feels like, hot humid summertime year 'round in Honduras. With growing older, comes more of an intolerance to heat than what I delighted in during my younger years on that swimming dock of our fishing resort, or the cherished years of my children, where we spent many blistering summer days on the banks of the cool running waters of Elk River. Yet, I believe, with this move to this foreign land, will awaken in me, all the feelings of my youth, when summer heat was my greatest desire, and it will spark in me, not the reminder that I am aproaching my "fall" years, but that my youthful strength will be renewed with the Central American sun, not to mention, a whole new spectrum of tropical plants, birds and insects, my inquistive inner child is just waiting to explore. I long ago wished it could always remain summertime, and now, it's seems that wish is about to come true. *laughing at the thought of myself, once again in a bikini....oh my!*

Trujillo-the tiny Carribbean village of my new home.

YAYA CRIED

Today was a really sad day for me. But not sad in the way that you would think.

Today my oldest grandbaby, Kylie, whom I affectionately call Toogie, started Kindergarden. She was so excited that she woke up extra early, only to have to be sent back to bed by her father for another hour.

I woke early, too, as I was not going to miss this very significant day for her. I threw on my clothes and was out the door before 7:00 am to help get her ready for her big day. (we only live a mile apart) I'm sure I would have been there for this monumental day even if her mommy was there to get her ready, but she wasn't, and this precious little girl just needed a "mommy's" touch for this important day. I had joyfully accompanied her and her dad, just two days before to officially enroll her and to bring in all the necessary forms. She wanted, so badly to go see her classroom right then, but the hall was locked up for the day. She breathed a heavy sigh and disgustingly announced, "I am just so sick of waiting." (truly, she is an actress already)

When I arrived at their house, Toog leaped in excitment as I entered the door. She said, sticking out her chest, "Look Yaya, I'm ready for school. I'm wearing this because this is Justice's favorite color.(her almost 3 year old little brother) and I will miss him today, so I'm wearing this for him. Is that good?" It took me a brief moment to answer her because I was swallowing the lump that was rising up in my throat. "Yes, Honey, that is a great idea." Her other grandma had bought her a cute "Hello Kitty" dress and a "Hello Kitty" shirt and shorts which had been her favorite choices to have to decide between for this day, but she chose to forsake both of those pink, girly favs to honor her little brother. I really couldn't believe that she picked a green shirt with multi colors on front, and blue shorts to match, over her prized possessions, but she did. She brushed her teeth and I fixed her hair and off we went, along with her two little brothers, her daddy and her Poppy too. When we arrived, I took some quick pictures of the whole family in front of her school sign, then she reached out for my left hand, and squeezed it tightly, with her "Hello Kitty" backpack flung over her left shoulder, and we headed toward her new environment, walking down that long sidewalk. My first tears were shed as I whispered her mommy's name to myself and knew that down deep inside that tiny little girl's heart, she would give anything to be holding her mama's hand instead(or too). We entered the classroom and she walked straight to her cubicle that had her name on it and put away her backpack, then found her desk with her name on it as well. Pictures were taken left and right by myself and her quiet daddy, whose face showed both excitement for his daughter, saddness because the love of his life and mother of his daughter wasn't here with us, and a tiny loss because his baby girl was growing up. Toogie smiled, looked at me in the eyes, as I squated down next to her sitting at her desk, and kissed me. We said our goodbyes and walked out. Fighting back tears, so full of joy and sorrow, we exited the Kindergarden hall and approached the main lobby. The loud speaker came on and the voice of the lady principal rang out, "Good morning students, let's all stand and say the pledge allegience to the flag of the United States of America." That did it! I could no longer hold back every pent up emotion I was fighting. I let the tears flow, looking down at Justice, as his daddy paused to place his little hand over his heart, for the last words of the pledge spoken," and justice for all." YES, I thought, with a smile on my face and a pride in my heart as we walked out those doors.  Another generation learning to pay tribute to our Godly heritage, even if things aren't exactly like we long for them to be, a yaya can smile and cry, full of pride for her grandbaby and for her country. What could be better than that?

veggie supper

I wasn't in the mood to cook last night so I literally threw this together in under 30 minutes.(hmmm, who does that sound like?) An almost completely vegetarian meal, minus the cotija cheese on the salad.
Paul was in heaven even after a hard day's work, he was still very satisfied. As he was stuffing his mouth, he was quoting a good friend of ours, Mike Cafasso, who came to eat supper at our house one night while we were still living in Grove. Mike questioned, with a mouth full of spring rolls and Vietnamese fried rice, "So, uh, do you guys ever go out to eat? Why would you?" Truly a sweet compliment.

Plated up here is a simple salad of romaine, arugula, and spinach, topped with dried cranberries, red onion, sunflower seeds and cotija cheese.(you could use any white crumbly cheese(Mexican) or Feta). Then I steamed some broccoli and jasmine rice, and while that was cooking threw together a fresh pineapple salsa( or hawaiian pico de gallo, as I call it) to go on top of the hot rice.No butter is needed for this rice.

Recipe for Hawaiian Pico de gallo:
1 small sweet bell pepper(red, orange or yellow), diced
3 rings of fresh pineapple(you can use canned, but I never do), diced
2 small roma tomatoes, diced
5-6 green onions, chopped
handful a fresh cilantro, chopped
the juice of one whole lime
OPTIONAL: 1 small avocado, diced and one jalapeno, seeded(for the whimps) chopped

The salad in the picture is topped with Caesar salad dressing but I prefer, with this meal, homemade Fresh Orange Vinaigrette. Only takes a few minutes to make I just didn't have any fresh oranges on hand.
Recipe as follows:
the zest of 2 oranges                                            fat free version and smaller amount:
the juice of both oranges                                              1/4 cup fresh orange juice
1 clove of garlic minced                       OR                   zest of one orange
about 2 Tbls. balsamic vinegar                                     2 Tbls. Balsamic vinegar
1/3-1/2 olive oil                                                           1Tbls. dijon mustard
salt and pepper                                                            about 1-2 Tbls. honey

I put the ingredients in a jar with a lid and shake well.

Patio Plot of Potted Plants

 My patio plot of potted plants is doing ok. Since this is my first year to garden strictly out of pots I have been met with a few challenges. One being, they need more "food" during the hot weather. Since I am trying to go strictly organic and REFUSE to use "Miracle Grow" which kills all the friendly bacteria
 and good "friendly" garden insects, I have chosen fish emulsion as my supplemental food and eggshell water. Well, that and my faithful standby, mushroom compost.(which isn't organic, but I'm sure by the time the heat has broken it down I would hope there wouldn't be too many harmful effects left.) It sure made for beautiful gardens back home in Oklahoma. 


So pictured here is my tiny bounty I picked this morning. :) Not pictured is the second round of huge comfrey leaves I have drying in the basement and a large handful of basil leaves which are now sitting in a glass of water in the fridge for tonight's fresh basil rolls. *mouth watering even now at the thought*

I sure miss my huge gardens and flowers beds back home but this is the hand that has been dealt to me now, so I am enjoying these few, small, simple pleasures of my patio plot. Truly, gardening veggies in pots is far more challenging than in my large plots of ground, but I'm not complaining. This venture is teaching me new things every day. So....I'm off to plant a mixed variety of exotic lettuces to hopefully enjoyed in a few short weeks. As Alfred Austin, English Poet Laureate"The garden that I love" 1905, once said, " There is no gardening without humility. Nature is constantly sending even it's oldest scholars to the bottom of the class for some egregious blunder." *I smile thinking,* There's hope for me.

BLUE

A great expanse of pale blue skies
Unending deep blue seas,
Distance sounds a heart that beats,
But not for me.

Early mornings, busy days
A smile, a talk, a song,
Strong hands make a warm embrace,
But not for me.

Young to the call, swift to respond
Years wear happiness.
The plan fulfilled, a promise, still?
But not for me.

The home place holds it's beauty,
Oaks shadow many stones.
Across the lake, once pure,
Moon lit the water's edge,
But not for me.

TERIYAKI NIGHT

I have been experimenting with a homemade teriyaki sauce recipe for some time now and I think I have finally perfected it....no, I know I have.(well, to my liking anyway) Never again will I buy the chemical-laden, preservative filled, bottled kind from the grocery store.(oops, never say never) Not only does it make your home smell like heaven, but it takes moments to make and when it is thickening on the stove, all I can say is WOW! I could just eat it right out of the pan. Oh...wait a minute.....I did do that. :)

preparing the chicken for baking

This sauce is great for baked chicken wings(with lots of cayenne pepper added to it to make teriyaki HOT wings, but I used it on a whole baked chicken last night, baked in my Pampered Chef stone. The only other thing I added to the chicken before baking, was a finely chopped, small yellow onion and  onion powder...the sauce really does it all, trust me. 

The picture below is after it has finished baking. I made baked potatoes, and instead of using butter, we used the teriyaki flavored juice that was made during the baking process. I think this juice would also be great poured over rice, like a gravy....OR just get yourself a good piece of bread and "sop" up the excess on your plate. yum!

It fell off the bone. We all were moaning with delight as we savored the tender, moist, amazing taste.  Truly.

So who needs homemade dipping oil for your bread when you have the teriyaki sauce juice from your baked chicken? (Although the dipping oil is heavenly too. If you want that recipe just holler.  :)

For those of you who have asked for this recipe it's as follows:

1 1/2 T. cornstarch

3 T. water

1/4 c. Braggs Amino Acids(taste like soy sauce)

1/4 c. Braggs apple cider vinegar

2 large cloves of fresh garlic(minced)

1 1/2 t. fresh zested ginger

1/4 c. or a little more of pure maple syrup

1/4 t. black pepper

Combine all ingredients in a sauce pan and simmer until it thickens. Stir ocassionally so it won't stick. 

( It will become much thicker as it cools and leftovers can be stored in the fridge for a few days)

ENJOY!

Son

Cradled in her arms, colicky and crying,
She holds him close and tracks her steps
she's etched in the old wooden floor.
Silently she sheds her tears in unison
with her tiny son.
Another sleepless night is drawing near.

Can she bring comfort to him?
Can she speak words to soothe his soul?
Will her countenance show she loves him?
Or will his cries dictate the rhythm for which
her heart will beat?

He's 17 and late again, the clock strikes 3 a.m.
The back door opens but not so quietly,
as she watches him stumble into the washing machine,
trip over the coffee table and collapses onto the sofa
where he sleeps the drunkenness away.

Pain and sorrow flood his mother's heart.
His life in shambles as he's lead astray.
Intelligent and full of talent
she recalls his finger's as they danced across his violin.
"Fisher's Hornpipe" he would play.
His eyes would twinkle, his smile infectious,
"Mom, one more time," he'd laugh,
if he missed one note, he'd say.

Can his mother comfort him?
Can she speak words to soothe his soul?
Will her countenance show she loves him?
Or will his cries dictate the rhythm for which
her heart will beat?

He needed help, he couldn't do it alone.
The bottle and tobacco were his friends.
To the airport they headed.
He would fly to California.
The ties that bound him had to end.
Mom hugs his neck tightly,
she feels his fears and turns and walks away.
As she sits in the car, she sees her son stand at the ticket counter.
Through the big glass window his scared eyes meet hers
and he helplessly mouthed the word slowly, "M a m a."
And for a moment frozen in time
she saw her hurting little boy
and her tears flowed as she drove away.

Can his mother comfort him?
Can she speak words to soothe his soul?
Will her countenance show she loves him?
Or will his cries dictate the rhythm for which
her heart will beat?

Years would past, he'd take a wife
and darling children were his pride.
A happy life, a promising job,
his own world for him to guide.
One day he breaks, controlled by his demons,
he starts a fight, runs from the police and
finds himself in jail.
The charges stacked against him,
his heart with no remorse, has cast his family away
all for the love of self.

Still, can his mother comfort him?
Can she speaks words to soothe his soul?
Will her countenance show she loves him?
Or will his cries dictate the rhythm for which
her heart will beat?
Another sleepless night is drawing near.

Surrendering

One the the hurting ladies in Africa

I had a wonderful opportunity to share this part of my testimony to a very large group of single women, both young and old, while I was in Africa 2 years ago. I had no idea the impact it would have nor the results it would unleash for healing and restoration. God is so good. I'm so glad He never gives up on us and wants to see us healed, whole and healthily serving Him as we surrender daily to Him.

Due to being abused and raped repeatedly during the years I was 8-10 years old, had left shame and fear controlling my life. The very core of me was broken and fearful, and untrusting. I thought I had let go of all of these things, after all, I had truly forgiven the man many years ago, but these things had built up over many years and as a result, came out as years and years of anxiety and anxiety attacks, many times completely uncontrollable. I was a prisoner in my own body, in my soul. It took a toll on me physically, emotionally and spiritually. My home became my haven, but also my prison. I desired to go no place else, I couldn’t go any place else. Fear would grip me. At the time I had no idea it was fear or shame that had me so bound. What was I to be afraid of? Nothing.Yet it continued. Asking for help was and is the hardest thing for me, because of being hurt by people, people close to me and people I love, and having them see things not as they really are and then having my words twisted and thrown back in my face, which were never my words in the first place.

I dated so many guys, went thru so many relationships where they fell in love with me, but I couldn’t love back. So many of them wanted to marry me. In my turmoil, I ended up losing someone who loved me so very deeply because of my trust issues. I wasn’t sure he could accept my hurts, fears, and shame I was bearing. I loved him so much but was afraid to trust him enough to let me in to help me walk through my pain and shame.

The first step to healing and being set free was collapsing. I mean really collapsing. I felt I was at the end of myself many times, but I still endured more. I was up against a wall, scared, sad, so very sick, suffering and desperate. Admitting that I knew I hadn’t given all my hurt, fear and shame to God completely was hard to swallow because I loved Him so very much. I knew He redeems, sets free, restores, and blesses, but I just wasn’t sure He would want to do those things for me. But a few years ago, God told someone to tell me, that I was being set free and would be used mightily by God. They gave me a Word of great encouragement that started me on the road to restoration and healing. I had known God loved me, because He sent His son to die for me, but I just didn’t think He liked me that much. I knew He SAVED me, but I wasn’t sure He SAW me. I have loved God with my whole heart and entrusted that heart to Him since the age of nine and then merely one week after my salvation, surrendered my life to missions, by walking down that very long isle in my home church, not realizing how these things would put me on a path destined to follow Him all the days of my life.

Our walk with Him is always new, always fresh, always changing and always surrendering. Every moment of every day, when my will gets in the way, when that shame or fear tries to raise it’s ugly head, I am STILL learning to say, “It’s yours Lord….I trust you completely.” I think of my grandbaby, Chip, whom I have practically raised while my daughter has been in the hospital for over a year now, and how he is completely comfortable in my arms, knows I will care for him and doesn’t even question it, and that I will keep him warm and fed and loved unconditionally. He greets me, always, with a huge smile, and comes crawling as fast as he can, and lifts his little arms for me to hold him and then while looking me straight in the eye, smashes his glowing face as tightly against mine as he can, with both his chubby little hands on each of my cheeks, pulling me to him, and with his little mouth wide open, gives me the most wonderfully, intense, open mouthed wet kisses in the whole world. My God expects no less from me, in fact, He relishes in it so much so, that it delights Him and He rejoices over me with singing. What a thought!

Mount Moriah

Abraham was promised by God that he would be the father of many nations, yet by age 99 he still hadn't had a child of his own. Not to mention that fact that his wife, Sarah, was up there in age too and way beyond child bearing years. Yet, when God makes a promise He keeps it, afterall, He is God. So after many years of waiting on this promise to come to pass, finally at the age of 100, Abraham's son,Isaac, was born. He loved him so very much. Possibly too much. Because one day God ask Abraham to take his son Isaac, and go up to Mt.Moriah and sacrifice him as a burnt offering. Abraham loved God so much, that the next morning he loaded a donkey with firewood, took two of his servants, and his precious, long awaited promise of a son, Isaac, and with a very heavy heart headed out to do as the Lord ask of him.
Most of us know the story well. Abraham stopped at the place the Lord showed him, built an alter, and tied his son, Isaac, down upon the firewood for the sacrifice the Lord had required. As Abraham lifted the knife up high, I'm certain with tears in his eyes and a cry in his heart, to plunge it into his beloved son, an angel of the Lord shouted,"Abraham, Abraham, don't harm your son. I know now you love God more than you love your son..." Then Abraham looked and saw a ram caught in a thicket and sacrificed it on the alter instead of Isaac. Then Abraham called that place, Jehovah Jireh, the Lord will provide.
I've often thought, why on earth would God promise Abraham this precious son, and have him wait on this promise for so many years, only building the love and anticipation, then ask him to sacrifice this promise as a burnt offering unto Him. The only thing I can come up with is that Abraham must have grown to love Isaac so very much that his love for him must have made God jealous. Exodus 20:4 tells us we are to make no idols of any kind and place them above God. He is a jealous God and will share his affection with no one or thing.

I have trudged up Mount Moriah several times in my life and have laid down my Isaacs on the alter, to my God, in surrender to His request. I've had dreams and yes, promises from God that He has asked me to sacrifice. I've lifted the knife and have anticipated a voice from heaven stopping me before I plunge it into my dream or promise, yet none has come. So with tears and sobs, and a heart crushed with sorrow and pain, I've sacrificed my dreams and promises to my God that I love more than any thing else. Did I love these things more than God? I don't think so for a second. If God promised me I could have them, why did He ask me to give them up? I don't have all the answers, but I trust the One who does. He is Jehovah Jireh, He will provide.

So as I journey up Mount Moriah, once again, and willingly lay, yet, another "Isaac" on the alter, it becomes a little easier with each climb. The obedience to sacrifice is a little less begrudging and the surrender is more a release of trust, knowing He will provide a ram instead, but if not, He has something far better in store. I trust Him. I dearly love Him. I believe I have proven that as I lay my Isaacs down.

Prince Charming

Just like a story in a fairytale writen long ago,
The wicked one had cast an evil spell, on one the story goes.
She fell asleep, no more to wake in darkness she would be,
To never know a love so strong and true, but the story changed you see.
Out from the darkness, came a knight riding galantly,
A kiss of love would break the evil spell and set his true love free.

Chorus:
You see, she knew him as her saviour, the one who set her free,
No more to lie in such darkness, for the wicked spell did flee,
Because the love of someone so great, she found her Price Charming.

Well, my story is somewhat the same, but not so long ago,
The evil one had me bound in sin, so my story goes.
I was slipping into darkness, dying more each day,
I never knew Someone could love me, in a very special way.
But from the darkness came a Light, that light was Jesus Christ,
He died to take away the curse of death, and set my spririt free.

2nd Chorus:
You see I know him as my Saviour, the one who died for me,
No more to be bound in such darkness, for He came to rescue me,
He's the love that I have longed for and oh, so much more.
You see I know Him as my Prince of Peace,
But He's Prince Charming to Me.
Yes, I know Him as my Prince of Peace, but He's Prince Charming to me.

NuNu

My husband and I have been watching our 3 grandchildren every evening while their dad goes to visit my daughter, his wife, in the hospital. So each evening, around 5:30 we arrive with supper, snacks and bible story book in tow.

Well, my 2 year old grandson, Justice, has had a little swelling of the nunu over the last few days. For those of you who do not know what a nunu is, well, it is the lower private parts of the male or female body. I'm certain I don't need to go into any more details, as I believe you get the picture. I'm not sure where the term really originated from, but my sister in law first enlightened me on this new word for these private parts many many years ago. Anyway, Justice's nunu has been very very swollen and red for a few days now. So swollen, in fact, that it is approximently 3 times the size that it normally is or should be.
This evening as we arrived at the door, we were greeted by "YAYA!" as were their yells of excitement upon our arrival. Toogie was wearing her Rapunzel wig, Chippy wearing one sock on and one sock of,f as he came crawling rapidly to me, and Justice, well, Justice was wearing nothing. Yep, stark naked on this winter day, with his bold red, swollen nunu practically flashing like a neon sign. Well, that is naked, all but the thick layer of vaseline which covered the whole protrusion. His father thought it would be a great idea to just let him run around naked, let it air out and hang free, instead of having it smashed into a diaper, making things quite painful for the little guy.
As he wrapped his little arms around my legs to hug me, I couldn't help but laugh out loud. Here is this sweet little boy, so soft spoken, laid back and shy(most of the time), running around the house without a stitch of clothing on, with a very oversized, red, vaseline covered nunu, literally sticking out for all to easily see, and not a hint of inhibition in his actions or character. Hmmm, I thought to myself, I wonder where he got such immodesty from? But before I could make my thought verbal, Leighton injected, "He did not get this immodesty from me OR his mom." I just stood smiling, as all fingers pointed to me. "Guilty," was all I could say.
After I finished feeding the kids and cleaning up the kitchen, we all 5 gathered on the couch for a bible story in which I would 'pretend' to read. But it's really more like narrarting and acting out instead, as the story book is writen for much older children than my audience of a 5 year old, 2 year old and 8 month old. Popcorn was freshly popped for everyone by their Poppy, and all were settled in their place, ready with eager little ears to hear the dialogue and story of Cain and Able. As my drama unfolded, I couldn't help but take in the pleasure of seeing such a precious sight on the couch in that humble little apartment. Toogie, the 5 year old, was sitting next to me, with her little popcorn bowl between her legs, Chippy, the 8 month old, was sitting on Poppy's lap with both little hands trying to dig into the white fluffy kernels and sweet, naked Justice, age 2, was wedged in between Poppy and Toogie with both of his fits and mouth completely stuff with his buttery morsels. They loved hearing bible stories, especially Toog, or was it that they just loved the over acting and dramatization of their Yaya?
As I concluded the story and closed up the book, we all proceeded to get up from the couch. Toog, being the most aggressive bounced off first, then Poppy stood up with Chippy still in his arms, and as Justice struggled to scoot to the edge of the couch and stand up, we all burst into laughter. His whole little nunu was covered in white pieces and crumbs from the popcorn which had dropped from his hands and mouth right into his vaselined 'area.' I could not stop laughing. My husband kept telling me to stop laughing and clean it off for him. Justice just stood there, frozen, looking down at his collection of leftover popcorn which has collected onto his nunu. He seemed puzzled as if he didn't understand how it had gotten there. I was on my hands and knees in front of him but I couldn't stop laughing. I pulled my camera out of my pants pocket to take a picture of this solemn faced little naked angel with the unusal nunu problem, and my husband said, "Don't you dare." I put my head down on the floor and roared in laughter.
Poor Justice. He didn't care if I took a picture of him or not(remember he has the modesty of his Yaya) or if I bothered to pick the popcorn pieces off of him, since it hurt when he was touched. He just could not understand why his YaYa was laughing so hysterically at his perdicament.
Maybe it was just pent up emotions. Maybe I just needed a really good belly laugh in the midst of all the trials and heartache I am walking through. Or maybe it was just the site of seeing a hugely swollen, vaseline coated nunu, covered with broken popcorn pieces all over it. Whatever the reason, I just couldn't help but smile, as I carefully removed the sticky popcorn kernels, and I thanked God for giving me grandkids. They are indeed a comfort and joy when your world seems to be spinning out of control, inspite of a swollen red nunu.

I AM YOUR CHILD

I am your child, and I know
That I'll not focus on things below
But I will set my heart to rejoice
On your unfailing love.

I lift my hands up and praise your name
Cause in the darkness your love remains.
My heart is steadfast and I choose
To renew my mind in you.

I am your child I'm not the same
Since I've called out upon your name.
And I believe that your Word restores
Every part of me.

The devil lies and he tries to steal
You Word from me, but I know it's real.
I choose to walk this life by faith
To please you Father God.

I am your child, I am your child
I am your child.
I am your child, I am your child
I am your child.

Heartbroke

While Molly was pregnant with Justice, my first grandson, she wasn't having much to do with us. It just broke my heart. No matter how much she tried, or didnt try to explain why she was cutting herself off, it made absolutely no sense to me. If it was suppose to be some sort of punishment, it wasn't. It was heartbreak. Yes, I missed Toogie(Kylie), my first grandbaby, but I was more saddened by Molly and what was going on in her mind and heart.

When Toog was born, I was there in the midst of one of the worst snow storms we had had in years. Molly wanted me there. It was wonderful experiencing labor and delivery with my only daughter and holding my new grandbaby only seconds after she was born, and spending many days with her aferwards. But it was not so with the birth of Justice three years later. Somehow we had become the enemy. I still have no idea how or why this all happened. She needed her space, didn't want to be around us, etc. etc. We obliged her wishes and kept the miles and distance apart. She made it clear she didn't want us there for the birth of Justice. For a mother to hear those words from her own daughter, was like asking me to not be present for the birth of my own child. I never knew such a request from my daughter could exist, yet it did. So I didn't find out when Justice was born until 2 days after his birth. I will never forget it. I was sitting at the computer answering an email to a friend of mine in California when I got a phone call from my son Adam. Adam said, "Mom, I just found out from a friend on facebook that had commented about Molly having her baby." I asked, "when?" He said, "October 31st." I was stunned. I could hardly speak, but I mustered up the response, "wow." He replied,"I'm sorry mom, I don't know why she would do this to you." I hung up the phone and immediately needed air. I felt as if I couldn't breathe. Out of nowhere the tears began to flow. As I past through the house, my husband stopped me to ask me why I was crying. I merely said, "Molly gave birth to Justice 2 days ago. Adam just found out through a friend and called to tell me." He stood motionless and then shook his head. He didn't have to say a word, I knew what he was thinking, merely saddness for Molly. I continued walking straight through the dining room, through the living room and out the front door. By the time I reached the end of the sidewalk and my feet hit the grass, I was completely oblivious to the crisp fall air, beautiful fall colors, and quietness of the morning. All I could hear was the sound of my cries growing louder and louder as I walked down the gravel road. All I could see was my own tears welling up in my eyes. I moaned. I sobbed. My heart was hurting so much I didn't think I could endure it. As I rounded the curve of our long drive, my neighbors buckskin and paint horses came trotting up to greet me as they did each morning I walked. Only this time I didn't stop to give them an apple from my tree or pat their soft noses. They followed me down the fenceline, almost to the end of the road, before giving up on any chance of my attention. Pain and heartache have a way of shutting out anything and anyone around, as you turn inward to try to cope. But turning inward never solves anything. When I got to the end of the drive and onto the road, I started to pray. I cried out to God, "Lord, help me. I feel I am dying I am hurting so much. I need to feel your presence right now." I bent over the ditch in front of me and coughed and cried until I threw up. I stood up and took a deep breath and wiped my eyes, and right in front of me, on the branch of a locust tree was a red cardinal. I couldn't help but manage a small smile in the face of my pain. I simply loved cardinals, loved birds, in fact, just loved nature, period. In that moment, I sensed a little peace come over me. I whispered, "Thank you God, that you never turn your back on me, and you ALWAYS give me something to smile about." I continued my walk and I opened my mouth and started to sing a new song to the Lord. Even with puffy, swollen eyes and a badly beat up heart, the spirit inside of this newly made grandma for the second time, wanted to reach out to the one who never rejects me... my Lord. If I couldn't hold my precious new grandson, or place a kiss on the forehead of my beautiful daughter, I could still be in the presence of the one who never breaks my heart. And so I sang,"Lord I hunger for your righteousness, Lord I'm thirsty for your holiness, Lord I'm longing for your loveliness, it's in your presence Lord, I am at rest...."

Lord I Hunger

Lord I hunger for your righteousness
Lord I'm thirsty for your holiness
Lord I'm longing for your loveliness
It's in your Presence Lord, I am at rest.

Chorus:
I find my peace renewed in you
I find my joy abounds a new
I feel your love surrounding me
I know your Word has set me free.

Lord when I wake each morning new
You are the strength that sees me through
From darkest night to dawning light
I give my life, my all to you.
(Chorus:)

Lord in your presence is where I belong
I life my hands and sing love songs
My hearts ablaze as I seek your face
Nothing else will do, but give praise to you.
(Chorus:)