I asked what she wanted for her Birthday meal. "Grandma's noodles," she answered. In my large farm family we never had a Holiday meal that didn't include my Mom's specialty. I don't know where she got the recipe, for It was written only in her head; But she taught me to make it, To take little bites until it Tasted exactly right. By today's standards the dish is Old fashioned with simple ingredients like Hamburger, Onions, Whipping cream, Tomato juice, and of course, Noodles. Mom's noodles, however, were always Homemade. She rolled the dough so thin that the design of Her wooden pastry board underneath showed Through. She sliced the noodles in extra thin strips too. My brothers and I competed for the top layer of The casserole which was extra crunchy. I can't remember when I last made Mom's Signature dish, but I haven't forgotten the Process. I'm glad Missy requested the old stand-by, for A dear daughter deserves the best on her Birthday. And for our family, the best means Grandma's Noodles. (And to top it off Rachel is bringing hickory nut cake, one of Grandma's specialties too. It will be nostalgia overload.) |
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I was tired and eager to go home.
I had run errands all morning and was Looking forward to kicking back in My recliner and enjoying the Coffee I had missed. But my conscience wouldn't allow me. "Vist Betty. You're long overdue." So instead of heading home I steered Toward the nusing home. And I did get my cup of coffee in the Facility, stale, but drinkable. As I greeted my friend in her new room I Discovered that she was feeling Overwhelmed. Boxes were piled in the corners. I helped stash some of her belongings Into drawers and cabinets. I called her eye doctor to set up an Appointment she had missed. I sat across from her wheelchair, held her Hand in mine and prayed. "Thank you for helping me," she said as I left. "Thank you for helping me." But I was the grateful one, for I had almost missed out on the Blessing. I was at the podium and as
I shared my heart with the group I Noticed that one of the listeners wasn't Listening. She was absorbed in her handheld device Rarely looking up at me. Perhaps she was receiving a Series of vital messages. I don't know. But her behavior gave me pause. Am I distracted when Jesus wants to Speak to me? Does He give up trying?
When I'm struggling and I've
Messed up again, I need to push Aside the thought that God must Surely be mad at me. As I bow humbly, quietly in His Presence I sense His heart of mercy. I see love on His face. My Father always responds to A contrite spirit with grace. "...a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise." Psalm 51:17 How would I recognize her?
A mutual friend had set up our Luncheon date, and I had never Met the woman. But as soon as our eyes met outside the Restaurant I knew she must be the New widow. I asked the host to seat us by the Bright window rather than in the small Back room where we were first headed. Our conversation would be bleak enough. "Tell me your story," I said. "Start from the beginning." I was silent as she recounted the Details of her husband's death just days After he became ill. I experienced her pain with her. I nodded in agreement as she Described her loneliness. I shared my story too. After our lunch we lingered and lingered. Kay and I are from different cities and Under ordinary circumstances our Paths would never have crossed. But widowhood isn't ordinary. It's the most drastic, heartwrenching, All encompassing challenge I have ever Faced. And it was theraputic to sit across the Table from a gal I'd never before met and Connect. We both comprehended loss. We sympathized with each other's struggles. And since I'm farther along in my grief journey, Kay could see my progress and know that in time She will recover too.
I've learned not to judge my
Spiritual health by how I feel at The end of the day. My weary body and befuddled brain skew My vitals. When I'm up in the morning and Recharged I get a more Accurate reading of my Love, joy, and peace levels. |
Dorothy Kalb Hsu Seitzinger
Writing poetry has helped me process and express my sorrows and joys, my concerns and blessings. "Life is hard, but God is good!" Archives
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