my slice of americana: kitchen edition

this weekend, my family and i went further up into the mountains to visit my aunt and uncle and see the wonderful addition to their house. on saturday afternoon, my dad graciously watched judah for me while i joined the ladies in downtown sonora for some antiquing.

pretty much a one-street town, sonora is a tourist stop for those visiting the "mother lode" country. its main street has covered sidewalks and that old town feel that comes from being . . . well, an old town.

i wandered a bit, fussing with my camera because i can't seem to get the lens lint free, and took a few pictures.

and somewhere past the candy shop, i stumbled upon my dream kitchen in the window of antique store #18. it was breathtaking. from the porcelain-topped, expanding table (in red and white!) with red chairs, to the turquoise dishes with matching, intact, glass lids.

oh dear sweet kitchen heaven.

i became envious. and then i reminded myself that the Lord has commanded that we not covet. and there on the chair i saw a beautiful yellow, white and red cake tin.

it called to me, i heard it. i picked it up. visions of spice cake danced in my head.

it was reasonably priced. i considered the purchase. i glanced up to see the store retreated far behind me and realized i was having a hard time leaving the window display. i sent a hurried picture text to emily saying that i'd found my kitchen. she understood completely. with a deep breath, i moved on, still clutching the cake tin. i helped my mother find the perfect glass jar for her candy corn, tried on amazing vintage hats, exclaimed aloud over a turquoise, tiered, rolling kitchen shelf with removable top tray. i searched for "old fashioned girl" by louisa may alcott and for copies of "now we are six" and/or "when we were very young" by a.a. milne. i was unable to find any of these. i carried my cake tin past displays of vintage toys, racks of quilts, and shelves of old lighters. somehow i found myself right back in "my" kitchen. i sat on the red chair. and there i debated.

it's silly, really, to put so much thought into a cake tin. but here's what was behind my struggle, as i confessed it to my mother:

i could purchase the tin. but then when i got it home, it would most likely go into storage like the rest of my wonderful, valued kitcheny things. i dream, very often, of a place all my own. my own kitchen in which i prepare every meal for judah and myself. my own kitchen in my own home and i can have friends over for dinner parties whenever i fancy. this cake tin was not only a tin, it was a symbol of something i want. a life i miss and want to return to everyday. boxed up in the garage not 50 feet from where i now sit are kitchen treasures all my own, waiting. and somedays, that's exactly how i feel. like i'm just waiting for the day when i (like my kitchen aide so pretty and red, or my mixing bowls, porcelain and multi-colored) can be put to use again.

but my struggle doesn't end there. because the other side of me, the practical but also bleeding heart-ed side, says that none of this is necessary. it says that nicole doesn't even have a kitchen. it reminds me that mme valet is living in a tent. the other side of me pictures mama joassaint cooking over that charcoal fire all day to feed the hungry neighborhood children and never ever dreaming of a silly cake tin in which to carry a cake to a party.

how ridiculous. how superfluous.

i confessed these things to my mama and set the cake tin down. having said this aloud, i realized how unnecessary the tin was. beautiful, yes. desirable, of course. necessary? not in the least. and i have limited funds. they can be put to better use.

(did i mention i'm sponsoring a child?)

without a backwards glance, i lead the charge to the next store where my mother found a wonderful muffin top tin, thank you, jerry seinfeld. we had a delightful afternoon although we were unsuccessful in finding a whirley pop popcorn maker for my aunt.

returning to my aunt's house, i filled the evening with judah and family. i didn't think again about that silly (and perfect) cake tin. it wasn't until sunday when we were driving out of town and my mom asked that my dad stop the car for a moment, did i start to think about the tin again. but what she did next i did not expect.

my mother returned to the car carrying a paper bag. as she sat down, it made an unmistakeable tinny sound. she smiled as she turned and handed the bag to me.

"what did you do, mama?" was all i could ask.

and do you know what she said?

"it's a hope-tin for you. i'm praying for a kitchen to go around it. the Lord has a plan for you, sister. and i can't wait to see what He does."

and i cried just a bit.

disneyland

for those of you who are not on facebook (and therefore, haven't had a chance to see these pictures), i put together this slideshow. as you can see, we had a BLAST!!

how to make applesauce

some of the best things about fall are the foods. tomato soup, pumpkin chocolate chip bread, zucchini bread, and applesauce. today i made my first batch of applesauce for this fall season (clearly it's not actually fall yet, but the apples are in) and i thought perhaps, i'd write out a little tutorial in case anyone else was interested in making their own. (i prefer to use gravenstein apples, but use your favorites for your sauce.)

so without further adieu,

step one: wash apples. (if they are store-bought, then step one will be to take off the stickers.)

step two: quarter apples and take the core out. i like to put a strainer in the sink to make clean-up real easy.

step three: throw 'em in the pot.

step four: add a TINY bit of water (not more than a tablespoon).

step five: let them simmer on low heat for a long long time. depending on how many apples are in there, it could take awhile. stir 'em so they don't burn. they're ready when they're nearly sauce without you straining them. like this:

step six: strain your apples. now, i use something like a foley food mill, but use whatever tool you have. i scoop the apples into the strainer a couple at a time and strain, clean the sides with a spatula and repeat.

step seven: enjoy!

will work for food

these

are the men working on our house.

just thought you might like this picture.

not wasting their lives

you're probably familiar with john piper's view of the custom of retirement in the western world. if not, you can read about it here. basically, piper thinks that we should continue to actively minister and work for Christ all the days of our lives. he thinks that retirement should not mean throwing in the towel, traveling the world for selfish reasons, and/or patting oneself on the back, saying, "you deserve this" and in essence wasting the rest of your life.

i know some men that would be excellent "case-in-point"s for dr piper. these men (all 65+) literally built our church building.

(it sounds redundant, but the church is not a building: we meet in one.)

at 8AM sharp this morning, Capt'n, Billy, and Dan the Man showed up on our front step ready to work. more accurately, at 8AM, they showed up in the front yard and began taking the frames off the windows of our living room. a ruckus immediately began throughout the house. we had assumed they would start with the dining room and had not prepared the living room. my parents and i started removing mini blinds, paintings, wall hangings, lamps, furniture, books, shoes and toys from the living room while judah began shouting from her high chair.

you would have thought it was the beatles at shea stadium.

she went wild. shouting their names and trying to get herself out of her bib and high chair simultaneously. "capt'n and billy here!!!!"

(she's a big fan.)

they were attacking the front of the house with such fury (hammers and pry bars and such), the sound was deafening. i was attempting to help my parents move things from the room, keep judah out from underfoot, and answer the business line for discover yosemite all at the same time.

sheets were brought in, draped over couches, tarps were laid, drywall was chipped off, and someone started the shop vac. (at this point i'm trying to remember why i thought it would be a good idea to dust last saturday.) within a matter of hours, these men installed four new windows in our living room and another in our dining room. two months ago, they completely re-windowed two of our bedrooms.

tomorrow, it's sliding doors.

next week? they're re-roofing someone's house.

this is not a business for these men.

it's a ministry.

they have helped countless people in our church and our community with endless projects. not for personal gain, but simply to serve.

Capt'n, aptly named for his leadership, runs the crew. Billy, an ex-marine with the softest heart and sweetest voice, is his right-hand man; always ready with a hearty laugh at all of Capt'n's teasing and jokes. Dan the Man is an instrument of precision; a wood-worker of the highest craftsmanship. their ministry is to do projects that people cannot do on their own. serious projects. like window installation and roofing. my dad, Gunner (for his avid use of the nail gun), follows all Capt'n's instructions beautifully.

i smiled from the kitchen after serving coffee and coffee cake to hear them pray and then discuss the next job, people in need, organizations in the community that might need a hand, and how to effectively fundraise.

i believe this is exactly what dr piper was thinking when he started writing down his thoughts about not wasting our lives. these men have a skill, a talent, that the Lord gave to them. instead of spending their retirement years collecting seashells, Capt'n and his gang are using these God-given gifts to bless the church and the community.

i think we can all learn from their example.

miranda lambert and the israelites

her new single has slipped all the way down to #6 on the country music charts. i guess she held steady at #1 for a few weeks there. and i can see why. it's a catchy, sweet song. and it pulls on those old heartstrings. what more could you ask for? i hear it in the car and start humming it while doing the dishes or washing judah's hair. but i resisted it for awhile. you know why? because it doesn't apply to me. oh, it's as american as songs can get, but it's not for me. we (americans, that is) like nostalgia. we like the heartland. we like going home (although it's been rumored that's not possible).


and july? well, that's like america's Christmas, you know? we break out flags, eat fried chicken and apple pie, and start talking baseball. and it's funny to me. because if those things were really that important, that integral, they wouldn't only happen in july. we'd hoist old glory every day of the year, if we truly loved her. we'd make time to eat dinners around a dining room (kitchen?) table, if it were truly important. right?

but like i said, that doesn't apply to me. and i'll tell you why. first of all it doesn't apply because my "home" is not a house. oh sure, i remember once going back to our childhood home and listening to the cupboards creak open and enjoying that sound. i enjoyed checking out our old tree house and reminiscing about all the sleepovers we had up there. that was a good time. but it didn't define me. and i certainly didn't need to go back and "touch" that place in order to "find myself." because that house (mobile home) isn't who i am. my family is who i am. and my Jesus.

so then my mind goes to abraham. who was he? what do i know of abraham? he was extremely wealthy. he was old. he had a barren wife. whom he passed off as his sister TWICE out of fear. and he was the first israelite. well, kinda. because they weren't called that then. mainly because israel was abraham's grandson. he was chosen. the Lord God chose this man abraham (abram) out of the whole earth's population and claimed him for Himself. God basically said, "you are Mine." and from this one man, the Lord started a nation. a nation that hadn't existed before. a people set apart as God's own people. although He created everybody, israel was special. israel is His.

God told abraham to leave his home. again, i think it's funny. we often use the same phrase as miranda does in her song, "you don't know me from adam." abraham didn't know this God who called him and ordered him to leave his home, from adam. but he believed, he trusted and he followed. hebrews tells us that "by faith abraham, when called to go to a place he would later receive his inheritance, obeyed and went, even though he did not know where he was going. by faith he made his home in the promised land like a stranger in a foreign country . . ." (hebrews 11: 8,9).

i think what i'm getting at is that we should not be nailed down, so to speak, and defined by a place or a building. our home is not who we are. our country, our land, or the empires we've built in this world. these things should not define us. our home is wherever the Lord has us. our home is the body of Christ. our home will one day be, and is already, in Heaven.

i'm not going to stop listening to this song. it's not harming me, it's just not applying to me either. because i'm not taking steps backward to figure out my life. i'm pressing on. i'm reaching up. i'm waiting on the Lord. in Him i will find my peace and my worth. and in His body (the "you and i") of the present time.

dirty

this morning i got up, pulled on some exercise clothes, went walking/jogging with my mama, did yard work, hung many loads of laundry, watched judah in the wading pool, pulled an old desk out of the shed, blasted it off with compressed air, sanded it, painted it and cleaned the kitchen once or twice. by about 5, i was dirty and tired. the weather today was up in the 90s and you could feel it.

do you know what i did?

i came into my air-conditioned house and i showered.

i simply turned on the faucet and showered.

and while i was in there i started thinking about my friends. friends in haiti. friends who have been "displaced."

i think "displaced" is kind of a funny word. they're not misplaced. we can find them. but they're surely not where they're supposed to be. they're not supposed to be in tents. on medians. outside.

in march when i visited haiti, two friends of mine, mireille and her mother (known as "mama" joassaint) described the living situation in port au prince like this:

"we're in the streets, you-you. we're all living out in the streets. where you throw your trash. we're not trash, you-you. we don't belong in the streets."

this evening, while showering, i thought about them. i thought about the fact that at the end of their days they are most likely much dirtier and much more tired than i ever am. and they don't have the option of going inside and turning on a faucet.

they never have.

when i stay in mama's courtyard, this is where i shower:

i take a small plastic tub of some kind, fill it with water from a basin and pour it over my head, all the while trying to avoid the three-inch long cockroaches climbing the walls, slipping into that gaping hole, and being seen over the metal "door" that comes up to about my shoulders.

and that's a typical haitian shower.

but even mama and mireille are lucky there. because they're merely sleeping under a tarp in their own courtyard. they're not in a tent city. and that cinder block stall you see pictured as where they've always showered.

others have it much worse.

because where do you shower here:

there is so much on my mind. the "re-building" of haiti. the friends still in tents. the fact that it's been six whole months. the people who are in the states longing to get back home. the people in haiti who want to be anywhere but. the people in haiti who are working day and night to minister to one another.

the bombings in uganda.

my friend who is going there on friday.

all i am saying is that we are beyond blessed. and i don't ever want to take it for granted. i don't want to get comfortable with the ability to shower. with the abundance of clean water. with electricity and food. because it's not a right. it's a blessing. and a great majority of this globe lives on less.

for a good article about haiti, check here.

please read this as it was meant. read it as encouragement to be grateful for what you have. not guilty. read it as a reminder that we are fortunate. read it and think about giving to others. time, talent and/or treasure. and maybe read it and then think about re-reading this.

(all photos via the miami herald except for the cinderblock shower, which i took.)