Bitter and Sweet

Happy New Year to all of you! Thank you for sharing in our joy, and I pray that God poured out His Spirit over your homes this Christmas. Later I'll share a few pictures from our celebration.

The word of the season is bittersweet. As I get older, I recognize that life really is a series of antonyms. More and more, I see the tension of living, the coexistence of pain and beauty.

The day before our family's good news, many in our church gathered around a sweet grandmother whose biopsy revealed aggressive Stage 4 breast cancer that is unresponsive to chemo.

Christmas Eve, an extended family member was in a car accident that broke a lower vertebra. Her husband is out of work, they have three young boys, and she faces a lengthy recovery and possibly a lifetime of pain.

A close friend my age, probably one of the most fit 40 year old women I know, reacted to anesthesia from surgery and now has emphysema. (Did you even know that could happen? I didn't.)

Bitter.

This year, our choir struggled with our Christmas music. Sickness plagued several of us, and I for one never got "attached" to any of the songs. Yet, the morning we sang, three people accepted Christ as Savior. Before the service, the precious ladies I teach, the elders of our church, and our pastor anointed me with oil and prayed for me in advance of my tests. The Holy Spirit filled the room that December morning. People are still talking about the "something different" that marked that service.

The state patrolman who arrived at that young mom's accident told her husband that she should have died. Folks from our hometown have commented on the similarity of circumstances with an accident that claimed the life of a high school friend of mine a few years back.

My friend's surgery with the disturbing side effects revealed that a suspicious nodule on her thyroid was benign.

Sweet.

Living and dying.

Joy and sorrow.

Pain and peace.

Bitter and sweet.

Christmas, this precious season of joy that we mark with carols and lights and the Pioneer Woman's cinnamon rolls, is meaningless without the agony of the Cross. In so many ways, the way we celebrate brushes over the harshness of His coming and the violence of His death. We read of gold, frankincense, and myrrh but ignore their meaning. Our King, our Priest, would suffer greatly in His death that brought us hope and salvation. Beauty for ashes was a costly exchange.

Dying for living.

Sorrow for joy.

Pain for peace.

Bitter for sweet.

Be blessed in 2010,
Ginger

Unspeakable Joy

"Our mouths were filled with laughter, our tongues with songs of joy
Then it was said among the nations ,
'The Lord has done great things for us,
and we are filled with joy.
Restore our fortunes, O Lord,
like the streams of the Negev.
Those who sow in tears
will reap with songs of joy.
He who goes out weeping,
carrying seed to sow
will return with songs of joy,
carrying sheaves with him."
Psalm 126:2-6

Biopsy results negative.

Celebrating...

a very special birthday!

Numbers 6:24-26

²⁴ " ' "The LORD bless you
and keep you;

²⁵ the LORD make his face shine upon you
and be gracious to you.

²⁶ the LORD turn his face toward you
and give you peace." '

Merry Christmas!

Ginger, Big Red, DD#1, & DD#2

My Soul Magnifies the Lord

Back in my cantata-singing days, it was a joke among us altos that Mary always seemed to be a first soprano. Any song based on the Magnificat was always a slow, soft, and dramatically high solo. Beautiful to hear, but impossible for my range to sing along.

That's one of the reasons I love this particular song on Chris Tomlin's new Christmas album, Glory in the Highest. It's an unexpected twist on what is usually the bastion of operatic female soloists. I love the effusive joy, the unabashed praise, the sheer happiness of it.

The last few weeks have been full of emotional ups and downs. It is no accident that God has called me to the Stepping Up study at this time, because I have needed the Psalms to speak words I didn't even know I needed to say (or hear), and I have needed the push to get on my face (literally) before Him daily. We were talking in at church last week about how we didn't just need God to be our shield, we needed Him to be our fortress--because we needed to be surrounded. I have felt His walls around me, and He has given me this song, I think, for the pure fun of it, that in the presence of my enemy, I would have rejoicing.

I hope you will rejoice today, for your Strong Tower has come.

Lightening the Mood, not the Menu

After several days of serious--or at least semi-serious-- posts, I told DD#1 that it was time to lighten the mood.

"Maybe I should share some reindeer jokes," I suggested.

"Mom, your jokes are so...so...so...." Insert wrinkled nose, eye-rolling photo here. "How about just a recipe instead?"

Okay.

Orange-Rosemary-Sweet Potato Pie. Oh my my my. (Say this in your best Southern accent.)

Do not turn away skeptically when you see the ingredients. Your tongue will experience a intriguing taste sensation that will have it wondering, "What's different about this? Could it be...? No, that's not it. Maybe it's...no, that's not it." The rosemary adds just the right amount of mystery to an oh-so-down-home dessert.

Orange Rosemary Sweet Potato Pie

(I am giving you the simplified version. If you really want to make your own pie crust from scratch, the recipe is in November's Southern Living.)

1/2 pkg. refrigerated pie crust
1 Tbsp. plain white cornmeal
2 tsp. chopped fresh rosemary, or 1 tsp dried rosemary

1 1/2 lb sweet potatoes
3 large eggs
1/2 cup sugar
1 cup evaporated milk
3 Tbsp butter, melted
2 tsp orange zest
1 Tbsp fresh orange juice
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp nutmeg
1 1/2 vanilla extract

Unroll pie crust on a floured surface. Sprinkle with cornmeal and rosemary. Lightly roll them into the crust. Fit into a 9 inch pie pan according to package ingredients. Crimp edges. Set aside.
Bake sweet potatoes at 400* on a baking sheet 50-55 minutes or until tender. Cut potatoes in half and scoop out pulp. Mash pulp and discard skins.
Whisk together eggs and sugar until well blended. Add milk, next six ingredients, and sweet potato pulp, stirring until blended. Pour mixture into rosemary-cornmeal crust.
Bake at 400*for 20 minutes. Reduce heat to 325*, and bake 20-25 minutes until center is set. Let cool completely.

Big Red is a pie man at heart, and he ate three pieces. One after the other. Oh my my my. ;-)
Blessings,
Ginger

A Winner!

We have a winner for the Casting Crowns Peace on Earth CD!!
Congratulations to Mellissa at Mellissa's Musings! Thanks so much for reading! May you and yours have a very Merry Christmas!

I've just polished off a yummy mocha with whipped cream and some of the best homemade chocolate syrup ever. There is a belated birthday pie in the oven for Big Red, Orange Rosemary Sweet Potato--the name alone should make you drool--and believe me, it smells amazing.

All this after Big Red had complimented me for losing a few pounds with my semi-faithful walking routine ( two miles in the morning, and two in the evening if all goes as planned--that's been rare). I meant to walk yesterday, but I spent most of the day clearance-sale coat shopping with DD#1; does that count as exercise?

Maybe I'll get up and walk now. Or I could join Big Red, who is snoring ever so gently on our couch, backlit by the Christmas tree. A comfortable scene, and since I like my hubby and want him to keep liking me, I won't show you the photo. ;-0

May your days be merry and bright!
Ginger

Sweetest Traditions

Thanks for sharing your awesome Christmas traditions with me! We may borrow a few for our family. Loved, loved, loved them!

Here is a picture of one of our favorites: baking gingerbread cookies.

I love this tradition.

It represents freedom to me.

The gingerbread cookie baking session was one of the first places that the Lord began to break the chains of perfectionism I'd forged for years. At the time, I didn't recognize what was happening, but I am so very grateful that it did.

You see, I had dreamed of being the mom who created the Martha Stewart Christmas for my family. Visions of neatly decorated cookies wrapped in cellophane and tied with silver ribbon danced in my head. The treats produced in our kitchen would be culinary masterpieces, awaiting their photo op in Better Homes and Gardens.

Then I made the cookies with a three year old.

Things were not going as planned.

The gingerbread men were misshapen aliens. More icing and sprinkles were on the floor than on the cookie.

After a few minutes of stress, I did something I'd never done before.

I backed off and let her do it.

We had fun, and we've had fun ever since. Every year, a friend or two join the fun and the flour flies. Only now they are old enough to clean most of it up themselves. :-)

Every year I can taste the freedom. I like it.