books

A warm day with a cool breeze.  Strawberries, lemonade, and barbecue.  Dear friends I hadn't seen in ages.  (Robin, Vicki and Leah) And a passionate conversation about books.  Close to a perfect afternoon!  Robin had some personal growth titles he knew I'd be interested in, like When The Past is Present.  I brought Vicki and Leah Second Wind: One Woman's Midlife Quest to Run Seven Marathons on Seven Continents.  We all love stories about women adventuring to find themselves.  And for Robin Foreskin's Lament - since he enjoys the "escaping a troubled religious past" genre.  Oh yeah, it's summer.


There is something about summer that promises me new books.  Longer days, fewer tv shows, two sunny beach weeks.  It's time.   Most of the year I read a lot of hospice and spiritual books as part of my work.  But summer gives me permission to branch out, time to explore, and even indulge in a little junk food reading.  For the last few months I have been stockpiling books in my Amazon cart.  I've purchased books I couldn't resist after wandering around in Barnes and Noble.  I have collected other people's favorites.  And now my stack has grown to intimidating heights.


My sister-in-law tells me I've got an addiction.  "Just go to the library."  She is one to talk!  She just keeps her book pile neatly hidden on her Kindle.  But if I needed any validation that I'm not the only one who loves to be surrounded by books, I was introduced to this awesome site.  BookShelfPorn.  If these pictures don't make you want to read, I don't know what will.


And one final piece of advice from the above site, to make us book worms feel desirable.
"Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes. She has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve."   A Girl You Should Date via @brainpicker


As of today here is my stack.  Here are the stories that will hopefully challenge, inspire, entertain and enrich me in through the summer.

Two novels -
The Expats, by Chris Pavone.  "Smart, clever suspense, skillfully plotted" says John Grisham.  I bought this for Steve because of the title and promise of suspense.  Then read the front flap and knew I would have to read it first.
And Jennifer Weiner's latest Then Came You.  I bought this for my mother-in-law's beach reading, and am sneaking a read through first.


Two "life changers" - To The Last Breath.  A story of bucket lists and going to extremes by Francis Slakey.
And Wild. From lost to found on the pacific crest trail by Cheryl Strayed.  Recommended and lent to me by my mom, who knows a book I'd love when she sees it.


Some history - Lady on the Hill.  How Biltmore Estate became an American Icon.  I peeked at this at a patient's house and  was intrigued to learn more about my neighborhood.


A memoir - This Is Not The Story You Think It Is... A season of unlikely happiness by Laura Munson.  It caught my eye...


A travel guide (of sorts) An Idiot Abroad, the travel diaries of Karl Pilkington.  I bought this for my brother after he got us turned on to the show.  But again, am compelled to read it before I gift it....


Two food books -  Wheat Belly and Beat Sugar Addiction Now.  Because they just seem to hit the nail on the head.


Then two inspirational-
Love Does, discover a secretly incredible life in an ordinary world. by Bob Goff.  A fascinating Christian whose stories have already captivated me.  Jake is going to read this book with me.
And Seven Sacred Pauses, living mindfully through the hours of the day. By Macrina Wiederkehr.  I got introduced to this book through the book 7, and realized I had to read the whole thing.


If you are still reading this, I know you have some book suggestions for me.  Though you know I really shouldn't buy another book until 2013....but oh well.  Tempt me...

millie's memorial day

I met a darling 90 year old woman last week.  One of the first things I noticed when I entered her room was an 8x10 picture of a handsome soldier hanging next to her bed.  "Is that your husband?" I asked.  "Yes, that's him at the beginning of World War II."  She answered.  "He was one of the two miracles in my life."  I sensed a good story and settled in.


Millie met Thomas right after she turned 17.  There was something about the young man that drew her.  Something beyond the big smile and clean, pressed uniform.  Her interest didn't wane when he told her that he was leaving in one month to fight in Germany.  When Millie found out that Thomas wasn't a believer she committed to pray for him while he was gone.  That turned into a lengthy commitment.  "God hovered over Thomas for years even though Thomas wasn't a Christian.  God took Thomas through 5 years of war, through 4 major battles. Then He brought him home to learn the truth."


Thomas finally returned home.  He joined Millie's church and then he and Millie got married.  Thomas returned to school and entered the ministry.  For the next fifty years he was a traveling preacher, moving throughout the Carolinas, Virginia and Tennessee.  If a church was without a pastor for a while, Thomas would fill in.  If a church was dwindling, Thomas would come to help strengthen it.  And after "praying Thomas into the truth",  now Millie turned her prayers to her unbelieving brother, Jim.


Millie's mother was a "shouting Methodist".   I had never heard the term before but love this description.  "Frontier Americans cracked jokes about the "shouting Methodists" but the Wesleyans wore the label as a badge of honor. They felt their own joy was one of the best advertisements for the truth of the message they preached."


Millie found her mother's faith inspiring and longed to be a shouting Methodist.  But instead she was a "crying Methodist" like her father.  She began to pray for the gift of shouting, and one day, clear as a bell, she felt God telling her that He would give her the gift just one time.  At the right time.  So she waited.


When Millie was forty years old, she moved with Thomas to serve three churches in Western Carolina.  They moved to the same town as Millie's family.  One prayer meeting night was made challenging by hail, thunder and lightening.  Millie's mother offered to watch the youngest children and stay home.  Millie's brother, Jim offered to drive the rest of the family going to prayer meeting in his car to keep them dry.  That night while Thomas "laid out the gospel plain as day", Jim gave his heart to God.  As he walked to the altar, Millie began to shout, hearing God's voice saying "See!  I done told you the time would come."


The joyful group packed into the car to return home.  Millie couldn't wait to tell her mother the good news.  But she didn't have to.  When they drove up to the house, Millie's mother was standing in the doorway shouting.  "God told her plain the moment it happened, and she didn't stop shouting til we was all home."


"So there was my miracles."  Millie smiled as she wrapped up her story.  "Thomas came home from war, and Jim joined the winning side of the battle."  And Millie got to shout.


The LORD will march out like a champion, like a warrior he will stir up his zeal; with a shout he will raise the battle cry and will triumph over his enemies.  Isaiah 42:13

beautiful

I've been thinking about beauty a lot lately. 

I just got People magazine's Most Beautiful In The World edition.  Lots of pretty there.  We just watched the season finale of Hawaii 5.0.  Lots of pretty there.  :)

And I've been planning for our 25th high school alumni weekend in Maryland.  If there is ever a time to look your best, it's alumni.  With all your old friends who knew you when you were all youthful, cute and fresh.  So hair has been cut and highlighted, clothes have been bought, nails have been done.  I even signed up for a half marathon in mid May, so by alumni I would be hard into my training.  Tight muscles and many, many calories burned.

Then April arrived and brought with it HIGH pollen counts and off-the-chart allergy levels. My immune system went into "full, exaggerated response mode."  Fresh air and an elevated heart rate became my worst enemies.  My new look is bloodshot eyes, red and cracked nose, a puffy face and starting-to-atrophy muscles. 

I made it through Friday night and Saturday morning of alumni.  Wore my new clothes, saw my old friends.  But by Saturday afternoon I was curled up in our friend's guest room with a box of kleenex and a cold washcloth over my face.  In between my sneezing and nose blowing, I could hear our friends laughing and talking upstairs.

The last straw was a text from my friend Barbara, five states away, commenting on an alumni picture.  "You are looking beautiful right now!  Love the new top."  I rushed to facebook to find a number of pictures posted from that morning.  It was worse than I thought.  Much worse.  Bad angles, bad lighting, and most of all, a bad dose of reality.  I picked the pictures apart, found all the unfavorable comparisons and plotted my move to a distant land.  Then I put the wet washcloth over my red, runny nose and curled up again.  Not so pretty....

After a while, in that dark room, I had to get strict with myself.  Allergy season will pass.  It always does.  My cracked nose will heal.  I can start exercising again.  Those things will help.  In the meantime I do have control over some truly unattractive facets in my being - like envy, jealousy, resentment, anger, self pity.... I identified these little monsters and released them out into the pollen filled yard.

I thought about people I know and love whose inner beauty shines so brightly.  I remembered how much I want to be filled with the qualities of grace, gratitude and generosity.  I practiced them right there in the dark room.

And I thought about how "beauty is in the eye of the beholder."  I am so blessed to have friends who see the same pictures I am so critical of and find something lovely in them. 

That night I read this inspiring prayer from Seven Sacred Pauses.  It takes the focus off me.  It elevates beauty to so much more than a magazine cover or outfit.  It draws me to a better place.

O You whose face is a thousand colors...look upon us in this twilight hour, and color our faces with the radiance of your love.  As the light of the sun fades away, light the lamps of our hearts that we may see one another more clearly.  Let the incense of our gratitude rise as our hearts become full of music and song.  May the work  that we bring with us into this hour fall away from our minds as we enter into the mystical grace of the evening hour.  Amen.  

beyond mad men

After 18 months of anticipation, the 5th season of Mad Men finally premiered.  My friend Barb and I celebrated in her grandmother's vintage jewelry, with mini jello molds, deviled eggs and rice pudding.  We welcomed back Don Draper and his new bride Megan,  Peggy Olson bringing in a big account, and Joan's new baby.

The next morning I visited Ed and June, a couple who were my age in the real Mad Men era.  I sat at their breakfast table with them, listening to their stories and banter.  I was only a little disappointed to see no evidence of full skirts, thin ties, cigarettes or mid-morning liquor.

When I learned that they had been married for 65 years I was curious.  How did they evolve together  from a patriarchal society, through the feminist movement to a place of interdependence and equality?  In a world where some marriages are measured in days, how did they reach a milestone like 65 years?  And get there with such easy camaraderie?  Do any of the elements that made a 1940's, 50's and 60's marriage work, apply today?

Here's what they said.
"Well, I guess we learned to appreciate each other's differences."

June grew up in Canada.  She loved and revered the royal family. Ed grew up in Conneticut.  Every day is 4th of July for him.  She bought magazines featuring the royals.  He mocked the pomp and circumstance. One day he was making a snide remark and she said "Look.  You are never going to love them.  For me, they are in my heart.  Let it go."  He got the message. This began a practice of honoring each other's differences.  They applied it to his love of sports and her disinterest.  To her morning personality and his night owl habits.  They became intentional about appreciating each other's view points.
 
June was telling me this.  At one point Ed said to her "Speak louder will you?  I might learn something about our marriage." She just looked at me and shook her head.

"And we took the time to appreciate each other's work."

June grew up with a father who was a teacher.  She watched the work he put into crafting a lecture.  When she married professor Ed she had insight into the challeges he faced and the studying involved.  She respected the work he did, and looked for ways to make his life easier.   June put her homemaking/nutritionist degree into making their home a haven: pleasing colors, comfortable temperatures, declicious food and interesting conversation. Ed couldn't wait to get home each evening and bragged endlessly about his gifted wife.

Which led to Ed's last piece of advice. "Marry a beautiful woman who just keeps getting more beautiful.  Look at her.  She is so lovely." And she is.  Ninety two years of life experiences, smile lines and thinning hair won't land her the cover of Vogue.  But her smile..... filled with joy and contentment, the satisfaction of living unselfishly and being loved generously.  Yes.  She was absolutely lovely.  He was too.

The world has changed a crazy amount in the last 65 years.  But the marriage vows are timeless.  To have and to hold.  For better or for worse.  In sickness and in health.  And I am reminded that those simple acts of love are timeless too. Being thoughtful, interested, warm and appreciative. They go a long way.

Thank you Ed and June.

procrastionating

Last night I watched two episodes of Cupcake Wars.  The first one was "four bakers try to hang on as they fight for a place to showcase their cupcakes at the star-studded party for the Professional Bull Rider's Award Ceremony on the Las Vegas strip."  


Each baker had to invent three cowboy inspired cupcakes.  This is where the show hooks me.  Because my mind goes blank.  What on earth is a cowboy cupcake?  And then the bakers surprise us with these creative flavors - jalapeno chedder cornbread, maple bacon, and whiskey pecan.  Well of course..... 


The second round is judged on flavor and appearance.  And again I am stumped.  Until I see the fondant cowboy hat, the frosted lasso,  the coconut grass and the cookie dirt.  These people are artists!  And their creativity is enough  to keep this non-baking, gluten free, uncowboyed girl glued to my seat in full cupcake anticipation.


I recently read this throught provoking quote by Jessica Hische.  "The work you do while you procrastinate is probably the work you should be doing for the rest of your life."   


So after two hours of unproductiveness, I made a list of what I do to procrastinate.  It seemed more fun then finishing my hospice charting.


When I don't feel like charting, I procrastinate with house cleaning.  Last week I organized all my plastic food containers and their lids.  I weeded through the boys clothes and rearranged their drawers.  That's important, right?  Then I sifted through a stack of magazines and threw most away.  I'm at a loss to figure how I can turn this into an actual, money making career though.


Or I procrastinate from any form of work by blogging.  Like right now.  Or reading one of the books in the growing stack beside my bed.  But if that takes too much energy,  I always have Facebook.  Usually to keep up to date on what my friends are doing to procrastinate.  I just took a quiz on how many of the top 100 place in the world I've visited.  And this weekend I made a private facebook photo album of of all the hair cuts I've had in the last 5 years.  Just to prove to myself that there has been some variety in my style and color.  I could do the same for you if you would like to hire me!


So how do I know if the work I'm doing now is the work I'm supposed to do the rest of my life?  Chaplain or chef?  Blogger or baker? Maybe Cupcake Wars is just a colorful, frothy counterpoint to some of the sadness and seriousness I see during the day.  It helps to remind myself that I too get to be creative at work.  Not with flavors and sprinkles but with finding new ways to nurture and comfort my patients.  Besides do I really want to cook all the time?  Nah.  I'm keeping my day job for now. 

And maybe one day I will open a bakery.  A cute, sunny, inviting, little shop.  I will learn my way around a pastry bag and whip up flavors like buttermilk peach, chocolate tangerine ganache and banana toffee.  I could get a cute apron.  Did I remember to add daydreaming to my procrastinating list?  Seriously Erin, get back to work.
  
Ooh.  What about vanilla poppyseed cupcake with a bright lemon curd?....

easter sized

"It was the 80's man.  It was all about whatever drugs and booze we could get our hands on."  This story seemed incongruous being told by a shriveled up hospice patient in a country kitchen filled with wooden roosters and cow print curtains.  But he wasn't done.  "Dropping LSD made me feel huge.  I stand in front of a mirror and watch myself get bigger and bigger.  And everyone else got smaller and smaller.  Tiny.  I felt so powerful."

I couldn't help but smile.  Then I thought about how many dumb things I've done to make myself feel bigger.  It's universal.  We talk about someone else.  Act like we know something we don't.  Buy things we don't need.  Wish for things we don't have.  We inflate and amplify, accumulate and coerce.  I hate feeling insignificant, overlooked, unworthy.  Small.  And am as guilty as my trippin' friend in running from it.

Today in church, we talked about Saturday of the original Easter weekend.  How the sky turned dark and earthquakes shook the land.  How the temple veil ripped from top to bottom and the sacrificial lamb escaped.  How the death of Jesus left everyone feeling small.  Peter spent Saturday lost in horrified shame.  He'd betrayed Jesus and gotten caught doing it.  Mary and the women around the cross must have spent Saturday traumatized by the violence they had helplessly witnessed - Jesus beaten, whipped, nailed and hung.  The disciples spent Saturday hiding in terror that they would be hunted and killed next.  It was a day void of pride or power, direction or hope.  I've thought about them all day.  And ached for their painful feelings of smallness that echo into my world.

And then there was Easter morning.  A day that would exchange acting big or feeling small with BEING LOVED.

I love this description from Jen Hatmaker's book 7.

"Jesus is a redeemer, a restorer in every way.  His day on the cross looked like a colossal failure, but it was His finest moment.  He launched a kingdom where the least will be the greatest and the last will be first, where the poor will be comforted and the meek will inherit the earth.  Jesus brought together the homeless with the privileged and said, "You're all poor, and you're all beautiful."  The cross leveled the playing field, and no earthly distinction is valid anymore.  There is a new "us" -people rescued by the Passover Lamb, adopted into the family and transformed into saints.  It is the most epic miracle in history.  That is why we celebrate.  May we never become so enamored by the substitutions of this world that we forget."

"It was just before the Passover Feast. Jesus knew that the time had come for him to leave this world and go to the Father.  Having loved his own who were in the world, he now showed them the full extent of his love."John 12:1

Happy Easter!  Thank you Jesus.

time travel

In 1840 John Bidwell established the Western Emigration Society and published news that he intended to take a large wagon train from the Missouri River to California.  The idea was very popular and soon the society had 500 names of people who wanted to take part in this momentous event.


Bidwell later admitted that the party included no one who had ever been to California: "Our ignorance of the route was complete. We knew that California lay west, and that was the extent of our knowledge."  But people signed up anyway.  They were enticed by the promise of bettering their condition - better crops, better weather, better opportunities, better health.  These promises outweighed the 2000 plus miles of rough roads, $1000 per family plus $400 for a specially outfitted wagon.  And once you paid, you were stuck in a wagon that averaged two miles an hour with no springs.  With rivers to cross and rains that made mud,  a good wagon might get ten miles a day. 


Local newspapers published stories about the dangers of travelling overland to California -  Shootings, drownings, Indian and Mormon attacks, starvation, sickness, cold and lack of water.  In 1843, Horace Greeley, the editor of the New York Tribune wrote: "It is palpable homicide to tempt or send women and children" through this distance and danger.   John Bidwell's trip was a testimony to that.  Of the sixty nine people that actually set out only thirty two of them reached CA. *

In 1800 Oliver Evans dreamed about easier cross country travel.  "The time will come when people will travel in stages moved by steam engines from one city to another, almost as fast as birds can fly, 15 or 20 miles an hour.... " he predicted. 

This dream would take many years to come true. Construction of a cross country railroad presented the "daunting task requiring the laying of over 2000 miles of track that stretched through some the most forbidding landscape on the continent. Tunnels would have to be blasted out of the mountains, rivers bridged and wilderness tamed."  Several railroad companies took up this challenge.  In 1876 The Transcontinental Express traveled from New York to San Francisco in a record breaking time of 83 hours and 39 minutes.  Instead of a thousand dollars per wagon, prices to cross country were now around $200.00.  Of course, the idea of spending 83 hours in one seat, with little food or bathroom privileges kept many from attempting such a trip.  One traveler wrote a diary account of his trip stating "Such a mess of filth, foul air and dirty people I never want to see again."  Travelers sometimes had to get off the train to help shovel snow or get a train back on the track.

Cross country travel starting look up in 1913 when 3,389 miles of the Lincoln Highway became the earliest transcontinental "auto trail" in the United States of America. ***

Lincoln Highway spanned coast-to-coast from Times Square in New York City to Lincoln Park in San Francisco.  "According to the 1916 Official Road Guide a trip from the Atlantic to the Pacific on the Lincoln Highway was "something of a sporting proposition" and might take 20 to 30 days. To make it in 30 days the motorist would need to average 18 miles (29 km) an hour for 6 hours per day, and driving was only done during daylight hours. The trip was thought to cost no more than $5 a day per person, including food, gas, oil, and even "five or six meals in hotels." Car repairs would, of course, increase the cost."  Gas stations were still rare in many parts of the country.  Travelers were advised to fill up when ever they could.  Drivers were also advised to wear old shoes and to wade through water before driving through to check the depth.  The list of recommended equipment included chains, a shovel and an axe. **** 

On March 2, 2012, our family spent the morning at school, at work, and in meetings.  After lunch we all made it back home to finish packing and print out our boarding passes.  At 3:30 pm my brother drove us the 20 minutes to the local airport and dropped us off.  We endured the ten minutes it took to get through security and tried to be patient with the thirty people ahead of us in line to board the airplane.   


Once airborne, I made sure the boys had sticks of gum to help pop their ears, then adjusted my neck pillow and settled in to enjoy my borrowed book and two new magazines. The most hazardous part of the trip came when a stewardess gave my son his second can of apple juice and then he had to use the bathroom even through the seat belt sign was on.  Twice.


We spent 90 minutes in Houston, Texas, long enough to choose dinner from a variety of restaurants.  Then hopped on another plane.  At 11:00 pm we landed in Ontario, CA.  By 11:30 pm we were sitting in my parent's kitchen eating mandarin oranges fresh picked in their back yard.


And nine days later we made the trip back.  This time rested, replenished and tanned.  I looked out the airplane window to the ground so far below.  What a huge country.  And it's been crossed by so many people in so many different ways.  We all have our reasons for wanting to get to California.  How lucky for us that our trip west is now just called Spring Break.