Little Creek Life

A Different Christmas

2011-12-03T10:30:00.001-05:00

This Christmas, my thoughts are less "Let It Snow" and a little more "Away in a Manger." I'm not wishing away the snow, and I'm not bah-humbugging the heart-warming, holiday traditions, nor am I cynical about the child-like excitement that comes from exchanging gifts.

It's just that my thoughts have been obsessed with the story surrounding the birth Jesus. "The tinsel and the lights are nice" and fitting, even, because He came to be the Light of the world. He brought Hope for lives filled with Joy and Peace where before we were simply lost in darkness.

But His Light didn't look like glossy Christmas presents and twinkling lights on fresh cut evergreens. It looked radically different -The story of Jesus' birth is messy, dirty, smelly and downright risque.

A girl winds up pregnant. Her boyfriend decides to marry her but swears they aren't sleeping together. No one is okay with this, and they are subsequently shunned by their families and dropped by all their friends. They road trip in a beater car across country, and when they get to their destination, no one will let them through the door, much less give them the guest room or even let them sleep on the couch. The girl ends up having the baby in a garage, using the dog's bed for a cradle.

That's the kind of story that changes the world? It's crazy. It's over-the-top, you've-got-to-be-kidding-me, just plain crazy.

Here's another crazy thought: What if she had had an abortion?

On second thought, that isn't so crazy. Women - and girls just like her - have abortions every day. In fact, given the circumstances, she was crazy not to. For heavens sake, she got booted out of her house and even ended up having her kid in a barn, amidst animals who poop on the floor and pee in the hay. Nasty. It was not like she was a nobody, another teenage pregnancy statistic from the ghetto. She was not well-to-do, but her prospects had been pretty good. She had a lot going for her. And her pregnancy wreaked havoc on all that.

Yet, without that child, the world would be lost.

And that is the Christmas story.

So while I belabor whether to replace our sofas with hay bales and forego the garlands and twinkling lights, I want to ask you to join me in celebrating Christmas a little differently this year. Join me in standing alongside women and girls who are unexpectedly pregnant, who are scared about the scandal and scared about what having a baby will do for their plans and prospects. Organizations like the Hope Pregnancy Resource Center in our town and other similar centers across the country set out to provide a supportive environment for these women. They are creating choices for pregnant women, by providing resources and a supportive network and counseling them through their decision to parent, adopt or abort their baby.

As you check off your holiday list, consider giving one more gift - the gift of Hope, hope in an unknown future for an unexpected child.

Make a donation by clicking here to visit my fundeasy.com page.

To learn more about the mission and ministry of Hope PRC; visit www.friendsofchoosehope.org.

Pregnant? Scared? Struggling with a past abortion? Know someone who is? You are not alone in this. Write me at athalia(at)littlecreeklife.com or visit www.choosehope.org.

Spaghetti Squash Frittata

2011-10-02T17:49:00.000-04:00

I am coming close to a weekly meal plan, one that has eight (maybe nine?) meals on rotation. Boring. To shake things up a bit, I decided to cook spaghetti squash to serve instead of the durum pasta I usually cook for my sweet Blueberry Gal. It did not work out, and it was not because she did not like it. I over-baked the lovely squash and the strands became lumpy mush. Alas.

Even I, in my more-vegetables-for-children enthusiasm, knew it would not pass as thin spaghetti, no amount of lovely marinara sauce could hide it. I forsook the over-baked squash and boiled durum noodles and heated a can of cannelloni beans (for me). The over baked squash sat in the fridge, still in its rind, for a few days while I weighed my options.

A search turned up a spaghetti frittata. While the recipe called for leftover pasta noodles, my squash seemed a reasonable substitute. I gave it go, got nervous and tossed in two more eggs just to be sure, and watched the vegetable dish puff golden in the oven. Before this experiment, I would have considered a frittata to be a potato dish. Once again, thank you, Karina Allrich for expanding the scope of ingredients and techniques in my kitchen.

Below are the ingredients I used. This was a two bowl, one skillet, fork and spatula production. In this recipe I use a 12 inch cast iron skillet with deep sides. I am crazy about cooking with this skillet, so long as I do not have to pick it up.

Ingredients
1 medium spaghetti squash, baked and scooped from rind
4 oz chevre (soft goat cheese)
2 pieces thick-cut bacon, diced
1 small onion, chopped
1 large portobello mushrooms, chopped
1 red corno di toro pepper, seeded and chopped (or sweet bell pepper)
8 sun-dried tomatoes, reconstituted and chopped
2 sprigs fresh basil, torn
7 eggs (divided, 5 + 2 eggs)
3/4 plain greek yogurt (divided, 1/2 + 1/4 cup)

Directions

Preheat oven 350 degrees.
Heat cast iron skillet over medium high heat.
Cook the chopped bacon in the skillet until it begins to release its fat.
Add onion and mushroom, cooking until just limp.
Toss in red pepper and reconstituted sun dried tomatoes and basil. Remove vegetables from skillet and set aside.
Strain spaghetti squash of excess water (press through sieve or colander or just squeeze between hands).
Whisk 2 eggs and 1/4 cup greek yogurt until well-incorporated. Mix into squash to coat evenly.
Spread the squash mixture into the warm cast-iron skillet, pressing against sides and bottom to create a "crust."
Dust with salt and black pepper.
Drop soft the chevre in soft clumps, creating a cheese layer on top of the squash.
Spread vegetables evenly over the cheese.
Whisk remaining 5 eggs and 1/2 cup greek yogurt briskly and pour on top.
Grab a nearby utensil (I think I used a fork and then my flat spatula when I misplaced my fork) and shuffle everything just a bit, making sure the egg mixture thoroughly seeps in everywhere.
Dust with a little more salt and black pepper.
Call your neighbors for help lifting the skillet into the oven.
Cook for 30 minutes (mountain altitude) until puffed and golden and lovely.

Tips:

You can double check doneness with a little pat on top: it should be springy and feel solid. If the top is browning but the pat test yields a soft (not done) center, cover with foil and cook another oh-so-many minutes.
I followed Karina's advice to let the frittata cool for ten minutes before slicing. Honestly, any recipe that calls for cool time is a blessed thing. I sliced and peeled pears for a sweet and crunchy compliment to the delicate frittata.

Enjoy!

Little Creek Risotto

2011-09-30T21:21:00.001-04:00

Normally, I would add cooking notes after the ingredients and the cooking directions, but I feel differently about risotto. If you have not cooked it before (or have not cooked it in a long time), let's all make sure we know what we are getting into before this party gets started.

Notes
I have heard it say that risotto is a "house dish" and reflects the individual flavors of the chef making it. If ever a risotto suited this little mountain family, it is this one.

This dish is about commitment. Making risotto requires a slow-cooking process in which the rice releases its starch and creates a creamy dish. In our cabin, this comfort food is a speciality that is cooked only when I have the luxury of an uninterrupted hour and the patience to stand in front of the stove for that stretch of time. Rare indeed.

A little tongue in cheek, I would compare cooking risotto to making a pie crust: the ingredients are simple and straight-forward, but the technique and timing takes a bit of know-how. This article explains the how-to basics of risotto making. My style is a lazy one. No simmering pots or ladles or sautéing and removing and replacing. This is a one pot, mason jar, big spoon approach, and whatever goes in the pot, stays in the pot. Secondly, I am in the no-cream camp. That is cheating, not simplifying, not short-cutting, but cheating. One should not cheat oneself out of the natural creaminess of a risotto well done. Amen.

Ingredients
2 Tbsp bacon grease (or butter or oil, if you must)
1 cup short grain rice, such as arborio
1 large carrot, diced (1/2 cup)
1 celery stalk, diced (1/2 cup)
1 med onion (1/2 cup)
1 quart low-sodium broth or stock
2 cups water

4 oz mushrooms, chopped
2 Tbsp fresh herbs, minced (sage, thyme)

1 cup cooked dark-meat turkey, chopped
1 cup sweet green peas

Directions

Heat bacon grease in a large skillet over medium-high heat.
Toss the carrot, celery, onion in hot grease and braise 2 minutes until the onions are slightly translucent.
Add the rice and stir.
Just before the rice begins to stick, add a cup of stock and stir. Allow the rice to soak in most the stock, stirring in an uncovered pan.
When the rice has mostly absorbed the stock, add another half cup of stock and stir. Repeat until the rice is al dente (about 30 min cook time and just under a quart of stock for me).
Salt and pepper to taste.
Add fresh herbs, mushrooms and a half cup of stock (or water), cook for 5-10 minutes.
Add the turkey and the peas, and toss to heat through.
Add just a bit more stock (or water), cover and remove from heat. Let stand 10-15 minutes.
Scoop into bowls - or ramekins for the individual "pot" experience.
Serve with sliced pears on the side.
Beam from ear to ear.

Instead of Chicken Pot Pie.

2011-09-20T00:45:00.003-04:00

We love chicken pot pie.

It is a favorite family dish, right up there with pizza, pot roast and egg sandwiches. Except that pot roast and egg sandwiches do not really count, since only two out three of us like them. At least we all agree on pizza. And pot pie.

I like it because it's pretty and somehow comforting and decadent in the same mouthful. The colors of the bright carrots and peas with the dark splotches of mushrooms are gems against the backdrop of neutrals - the dark meat, celery and onions. And I have come to appreciate the comfort of gravy. Pot pie goes beyond pretty and comforting: the flaky, buttery, soft crunch that melting in one's mouth is just bliss.

Enter the gluten-free version of my life. Exit the buttery crust and gravy.

I missed chicken pot pie, so much so that I adjusted the classic recipe several times, attempting to recreate the goodness without the gluten. The results varied from okay to not okay. Once, I used a brown-rice flour and potato starch to create a gravy, and boiled and mashed potatoes for a shepherd's pie meets the chicken pot pie. It was good. Not "wow" good, but it was good. Later, I followed directions on the bag of a gluten-free baking mix to create a gluten-free pastry crust. Disastrous. The baking mix contained beans and tasted like unsalted split-pea soup. I tried not to cry. Mountain Man bravely ate a second serving and declared it tasty. I swore off gluten-free baking mixes that contain bean flours and stepped away from the chicken pot pie.

Until yesterday, when a ziplock bag of chopped turkey meat in my refrigerator asked me to please make it into a pot pie. I brushed off the request because I did not want to fool with a gluten-free crust, and I was saving the potatoes in the pantry for another dish. No crust for "pot pie," no potatoes for turkey "shepherd's pie." No, I'm sorry chopped turkey, no pot pie for you.

This morning, though, when I opened the pantry door, a jar of arborio rice shuffled to the front, cleared it's throat and stared at me until I changed my mind. "Yes, you're right," I told her, "It just might work!" I would make risotto. A chicken-pot-pie-flavored risotto.

Folks, this is about to get good. Really good.

I started with the medley pictured below: diced carrots, chopped onions and celery stalks, arborio rice, low-sodium stock, and a little something special: bacon grease.

When the onions were translucent, I added the rice and sauteed it with the vegetables. Just before the rice started sticking to the pan, I poured in a cup of stock. (This is where I remembered my seasonings and grabbed a pepper grinder to add as much black pepper as I could before the steam hit it.) For the next thirty minutes, I cooked the rice and vegetables on medium-high heat, adding broth a little at a time, letting it slowly absorb. In between stirs, I prepped the other ingredients: chopped the turkey, thawed sweet green peas, and collected and prepared the herbs... for our tastes, I selected thyme and sage.

After thirty minutes, the rice was tender but not yet thick and gravy-like. I added the herbs and mushrooms and cooked it for another five minutes, stirring it to keep it from sticking. When the rice was thick, I added the turkey and the peas and a little more stock and folded them in gently. I turned off the heat, covered the pan and let rest for ten minutes, while I set the table and such. Then I served her up and smiled.

I have found nothing that replaces donuts or pie crusts, but when it comes to chicken pot pie, I have found a worthy stand-in.

Click here for the Little Creek Risotto recipe.

"When I say, 'Goose!'"

2011-09-17T13:47:00.002-04:00

The youngest Neighborhood Boy tried all summer to teach her to play "Duck, duck, goose." The three of us would sit in a circle in the grass, sometimes joined by an older brother, and try to make a sensible game of tapping each other lightly on the head and chasing each other around in circles. What most often ensued was Buddy and I would take turns being "It" while Blueberry would sit and watch and intermittently jump up and run off for a spontaneous game of chase.

Good times.

After dinner last night, we sat on the floor around the coffee table and colored together, until she launched a game of "Duck, duck, goose!"

It went something like this....

And the Winner Is....

2011-09-08T23:58:00.000-04:00

Claim Your Prize!

Lauraand Amanda - please contact me at athalia(at)littlecreeklife.com about getting these little guys from my kitchen to yours.
Becky - I'll hand yours over as soon as I see ya!
Miss Vicky - I have your address and will send them directly.

I hope everyone else had a great lunch. Someday, my bento obsession will mellow, and I will spend less time taking pictures of lunch boxes and more time taking pictures of tractors and mountain apples. Until then, thank you for playing along!

Mac-n-Cheese Cups

2011-09-07T19:30:00.000-04:00

This spring, following tips from Teesa, I started cooking "sneaky" meals to ensure that my Blueberry Gal was eating her veggies. I learned how to add pureed broccoli, spinach, cauliflower, pumpkin, beets and carrots to some her favorite dishes, like spaghetti with meat sauce or lasagna or macaroni and cheese. I experimented with some new recipes and introduced her to chocolate chip "cookies" made from sweet potato and quinoa flakes.

I know one day she will eat the cornucopia of vegetables that Mountain Man and I love, but right now the texture of (most) vegetables overwhelms her. I have learned the Take 3 rule for introducing new recipes and foods. The first time I serve it, she will have nothing to do with it. The second time, she is curious and asks to try it but typically claims not like it. The third time is telling: if she eats it, then I have gained another dish, if she refuses, I mark it off the list, knowing that the time has not yet come. As her palate slowly expands, I balance introducing new foods in their natural form with disguising the new textures in foods she knows and loves.

I used the last box of semolina macaroni in our pantry to make macaroni cups. These nifty lunchables are from the Sneaky Chef; view the recipe here. Here's my mega-batch version, which uses two cups of frozen pumpkin, thawed from last year's harvest.

Ingredients
5 cups cooked macaroni elbows
2 cups cooked pumpkin puree
10 eggs
1/2 lb white cheddar
1/2 lb low-fat mozzarella
1/4 tsp nutmeg
1 tsp kosher salt
1/2 tsp black pepper

Directions
Cook the macaroni.
Pulse the pumpkin puree in a blender until very smooth.
Grate the cheese.
Whisk the eggs and seasoning.
Combine pumpkin puree, 2 1/2 cups grated cheese, eggs and macaroni (be sure mac has cooled to room temp before adding cheese and eggs.)
Spoon into lined muffin tins* (I love silicon baking cups for this).
Sprinkle with remaining cheese on top.
Bake 20 minutes until lightly brown and bubbly.
Serve OR Freeze.

Makes 24-30 macaroni cups.
*regular size

Notes
Size: Use regular size muffin tins for a medium portion. Jumbo would yield a large adult serving, while minis might be a good size for mini appetites, but I have not tried these, so I cannot speak for the cooking times or textures they might yield.
Lower the Fat: Do use a low-fat cheese, like the original recipe calls for, and consider stirring the pumpkin into the hot macaroni to keep it from sticking instead of slipping in butter or oil. Doing so will improve the texture; otherwise the cups turn out kinda greasy. Ask me how I know.
Nutmeg: I tend to push the limits on this spice and take it as far as I can, while still keeping it in the background, flavor-wise. I used freshly grated, so 1/4 tsp is an estimate.
Black pepper: See "Nutmeg."
Salt: The block of white cheddar I used was particularly salty, so I was careful not to add too much salt to this batch. Normally, when it comes to macaroni and cheese, I add the amount of salt I think I should, then I add a pinch or two more.
Freezing: Let these cool in the silicon cups, then pop them out, lay them out on a baking sheet and place them in the freezer. If using paper cups, do not remove the macaroni from the cups until serving. Freeze them intact. Wait several hours (or until one opens one's freezer door and remembers them) and toss the single servings into a bag. This ensure that the entire batch does not freeze into a single mass.

These look and smell really good, and my mountain family says they're tasty!

Bento Gear for Happy Lunches.

2011-09-02T15:04:00.001-04:00

This is another one of my installment plans. If you missed the previous posts...I'm on a menu planning quest and am expressing myself in the kitchen with Bentos, and all of this made me very nostalgic. If you're just joining in the fun, welcome! You can catch up (just click on the links embedded above) or dive right in below. If you have been with me for the long haul, Wow, what a long and crazy trip it's been. I got love, nothing but love for you. Just to show you know how much ya'll mean to me, I made you a spreadsheet and bought you a present. See below. xox, athalia jane

Bento Box and Collectibles

Lunch Supplies:
I have been product-testing bento lunch gear for creating Blueberry Gal's daily bentos. Clipboard, lab coat, mechanical pencil, it's all very scientific. I compiled the list of our favorites pieces (and a few things I would still like to try out) using Amazon.com's wishlist feature. Check it out: Lunch Box on amazon.com. Below is the rundown of my favorite Bento gear, or you can view the spreadsheet here.

The Box:
Aunt Shelba gave us a set of Lock-n-Lock containers as a wedding gift. Bless her. Four years later, they still rock my world. We had two casualties, a clip broke off one lid when opened directly from the freezer (now I wait 3-5 minutes before opening), and another lid is slightly dome-shaped, from putting something straight from the oven into the box and clamping the lid on tight. Lessons learned. For Blueberry Gal's lunch, the Lock-n-Lock 16 oz rectangular short box is the perfect size, and she can open and close the top by herself.

For building bentos, any container with a tight fitting lid will work. The best results come from shallow boxes and leak-proof tops. It is important to appropriately size the box to appetite, so that it can be filled to brim with food (less shifting, no mess). I am a huge fan of Lock-n-Locks, and the best place I've found to buy them is Loc-nLockplace.com. They offer a full inventory and the best prices. Try the coupon code "Repeat5" to cover shipping costs?

The Dividers
Our Lock-n-Lock box came with two inserts, but I also bought Wilcon heart-shaped, silicon baking cups, and sometimes I use foil cupcake liners. Inserts function best when they reach the top of the box so that the lid rests on them but still closes properly. I am pleased with silicon baking cups, both for packing bentos and for baking. They are a win/win. Michael's carries a good selection (use that weekly 40% off coupon!).

The Place Setting
We use cloth napkins. I have not used paper since the nineties. For her lunch kit, I took two 'picnic' napkins from my stash and cut them into fourths. The ones I picked are absorbent, soft to touch and brightly pattered to hide stains. The smaller version fits better inside her lunch tin, and she did not need the bulk of full size napkin anyway. I think that cutting an old jersey tee or tie-dyeing infant washcloths would also make great kid napkins. For flatware, my Blueberry Gal uses a coffee spoon and salad fork from Ikea's Dragon collection. These come in a pack of six (either forks or spoons). I love that these are "real" and not plastic. Plus, they are well-proportioned for small mouths. They affordable and not heirloom pieces, so I do not fret about losing them.

The Lunch Tin

I found a small, retro-style lunch tin at TJ Maxx for five dollars. That noise you just heard was me shouting, "Wooo-hooo!" The tin (7.75" x 6" x 2.75") fits the LocknLock, a juice box and napkin and utensils. It is a snug fit, so things do not shift much. Things I love about it - Blueberry can open and close it herself, easily; it is very lightweight, washable and durable. It is not plastic. It also coordinates with her little pink backpack, and that kinda makes me happy.

The Collectibles
I have found a few Bento-related collectibles that make packing lunch - and eating it - extra fun. In our bento photos, you will see Maruki animal forks in a rainbow of colors, eggs in the shape of a fish or a car (created with Kotobuki egg molds), and food cut into shapes using a number of cookie cutters (yardsales, flea markets, gifts). I have found a lot of loot on Amazon.com (see my Lunch Wishlist).

Between you and me, when it comes to shopping, I really do not get out much. Blueberry Gal often refers to the delivery drivers as "the trucks that bring her presents." If you ever need a personal online shopper, I'm your girl.

The Giveaway
I want to share the love! Every kitchen should have a set of Kotobuki egg molds. It is one of life's simple pleasures to press a hard boiled egg into the shape of a car and drive it around on your plate before eating it. For a Kotobuki Fish and Car, just let me know (in the comments below or on the Little Creek facebook page) what you had for lunch!

Open through Thursday, Sept 8th, midnight EST.
Read the fine print on Contests if you haven't already.
10 prizes available, so don't be shy!

This is not a sponsored advertisement:

I really wish I could say that I am getting paid for this. I'm not.

These are just the things we use and like.
I'm super grateful for you!

xox, athalia jane

Annual Picnic at Grandfather Mountain

2011-09-01T21:52:00.001-04:00

Here's the deal: I share the pictures, you supply the captions. If you accept the terms, you may proceed and view this post. If you do not accept the conditions, you're going to miss out on some good laughs. No cheating.

Here we go!

Exhibit A

Exhibit B

Exhibit C

I can't wait from you!
xox,
athalia jane

Hello, Bento.

2011-09-01T12:59:00.000-04:00

Today's bento box!

In the Box:
Rolled deli meat (ham, turkey)
Grapes
Green bean chips
Grilled cheese (Udi's Millet Bread with Provolone)
Carrot medallions
Peanut butter cookie (GF)

Bento supplies:
Lock-n-Lock, 16 oz rectangle
Wilton silicon baking cups
Maruki animal forks

Verdict: She ate everything in the box!

Coming soon:
- Favorite Bento supplies and where to get them.
- Tips for packing a box.

I'm a big fan of Wendi Copley's site of inspirational boxes and packing tips!

Bento Lunch - My First (of Many).

2011-09-01T00:11:00.002-04:00

Obentos

It NEVER occurred to me that packing a lunch for school could be anything other than boxed raisins, sliced apples and a sandwich. Perhaps now it is obvious why stylized boxed lunches caught me by surprise. Packing lunch has never been so much fun! Ever. In fact, the fun of creating the boxed lunch takes most away the anxiety and disappointment that comes with an 'unadventurous' eater who may or may not eat what is served.

Object Lesson

The second day of packing bentos, she could hardly wait for lunch. I packed it as fast as I could, then begged her not to open it until I retrieved my camera. Ladies and Gents, I present to you my Blueberry Gal and her bento lunch:

The cheesy music: Sorry. I tried a bazillion different ways to make it go away. Well, maybe it was more like five attempts. Then I got over it. Yeah, since I'm obviously so over it. Stupid music.

(Highly Scientific)
Observations

"Oh, good! It worked!"
A box she can open: I {heart} Lock-and-Locks!
Macaroni with cheese (sans veggies).
Food in a cone.
Fun colors.
A napkin.

"Better luck next time."
Carrot "chips." An absolute thumbs down; she likes her carrots raw.
Sprinkles on peaches. It's plain messy: the sugar melts and the colors run. Gross.
Carrots and peas with macaroni. "Get them out, Mommy!"
Raisins. She always tries one, then moves on. I'm moving on, too.
Triscuit crackers. A little nibble and she's done.
Peaches. Tricky to pick up with a fork; too messy to eat by hand (for her).

Coming soon: Bento Supplies List!

9 Reasons Tomorrow Will Be Better.

2011-08-30T23:31:00.001-04:00

1. I set the table for breakfast.
When she wakes up in the morning and walks to the top of the stairs, her Puppy tucked under one arm and her hair a tangled mess, and calls expectantly through the stair railing, "Daddy? Where are you? You are eat'n breakfas'?" then I can say, "Baby, Daddy is not home this morning, but I have a special surprise for you downstairs. Want to go see?"

2. We will sip peach smoothies.
Nothing like an ice cold, frothy drink first thing in the morning, with vitamins and a straw. We're fresh out of little umbrellas, maybe next week.

3. I laid out clothing for my child to wear.
Even if I drop her off at Nana's in the morning wearing a dirty pajama top and yesterday's pants, toting a monkey suit over one shoulder, I will at least have the option of putting her in a clean tee and nice pants later on.

4. I will carry my camera.
If when I return to pick her up, she is wearing a lavender leotard and frilly tutu over her dirty pajama shirt, I will have a picture of it to cherish forever.

5. We will drive-thru on our way to the playground.
The Menu: Backyard Burgers, watermelon, veggie crudites and sesame seeds.
The Venue: Outside in the sun with swings, fancy slides and a clover filled lawn.

6. I will pack handy-wipes.
We kinda reached our weekly quota for germ exposure today.

7. I will laugh myself silly.
Tonight I broke through the compounding frustration that comes from hanging out with someone who oscillates between whining, being disagreeable, shouting "Mine!" and throwing things. At bedtime, I finally hit that level of insanity where everything becomes funny. Goodbye, Self-Pity. I'm leaving you for Snorts & Giggles.

8. I cleaned the kitchen.
There are no dirty dishes in the sink, no pots and pans on the countertops, and I will go unload the dishwasher now. Bam! I love waking up to a clean kitchen.

9. I will practice counting.
One, Two, Three, Four, Five... Six, Seven, Eight, Nine....
An inside joke, as in, inside my head. See if you can find it. Hint: It's on the FB page.

Tomorrow? Cowgirl up!

Yesterday's Breakfast, Lunch and Dinner.

2011-08-29T23:11:00.000-04:00

Here's the thing, I was just going to post some pictures of a little lunch I packed for my Blueberry Gal last week, but instead I spent all evening rehashing the past. Maybe tomorrow I will return to life in the present and share a bit about my Bento craze. For now, though, slap on your hot-pink slap bracelet and put on your Keds, this is going to be blast from the past.

When it comes to food, my mother is exceptional at cooking large batches of well-balanced, nutritional meals. Throughout my childhood, dinner was always a family affair - and so was breakfast. For breakfast there was toast, cereal and milk, milk and cereal, and, from time to time, scrambled eggs and grits, oatmeal or cream-of-wheat, bacon or sausage and french toast or pancakes made from scratch. Dinner was not as predictable. In fact, no two meals were alike. Some were knock-your-socks off good and other times, well, we ate it anyway, no complaining. One evening, as we sat around the table, I remember we asked for seconds and then thirds, and raved about how good it was and begged her to please cook this again. Mother Dear began to giggle. First she stared at her plate with her mouth closed around her smile and tried to hold it in, but she couldn't. She looked up, laughed out loud and said, "Well, too bad! You can't have it again!" She laughed and laughed while five kids asked the same four questions, in cadence, until everyone finally understood: Her meals were one of a kind, and repeating it was simply not her reality. Repetition and cooking were mutually exclusive in her kitchen.

I inherited this sense of adventure and spontaneity from her. My pots and skillets are my canvas, my whisks and measuring spoons my brushes, and I paint with the many colors of vegetables, spices, grains and meats. She taught me that. Cooking always begins with a question, "What shall we eat for dinner tonight?" For me, though, the question sometimes goes one step further, "What would I like to learn to cook, starting with dinner tonight?" That is where we diverge. She has learned her way around the kitchen, while I am still working with a fresh canvas. I do not know how things were for her in the early days of cooking for us, her family, but for me, I learn by repetition and obsessive focus, with a recipe in hand, having read several other recipes for comparison, and a pencil nearby, ready to take notes that will guide my future attempts. When I master it, I write my tried and true recipe down by hand, but it is just for reference. By the time I record it, I have put the ingredients and technique to memory, just like I'm sure Mother Dear once did in her kitchen. We will be back to my kitchen another day. Right now, I'd like to spend a little more time in hers. I have lunch on my mind.

Summer lunches were often pimento cheese sandwiches packed in a cooler and eaten outside by the neighborhood pool. School lunches were different. At various points in my schooling career, I was home-schooled, and that meant another family meal together, often build-your-own-sandwich with chips and homemade dill pickles. For the years I left home for school, school lunch was on-your-own. Even in grade-school, lunch was my responsibility. If I wanted to eat, each morning before leaving for school, I could either, a) pack my own lunch, or b) remember to ask for lunch money. Occasionally Mother Dear would slap together a peanut-butter-jelly sandwich or turkey and lettuce with mayo and pack it in a plastic lunch box with a piece of fruit and a thermos. More commonly, Super Steve would make sure that I had money enough to buy a cafeteria lunch. I admire this part of my childhood. I never remember feeling overwhelmed by this small responsibility, and I never went hungry, and I was never worried about missing lunch. The days I forgot my money (usually left sitting on the breakfast table) afforded me the opportunity to learn about community and reliance on others. Having one of my seven-year-old friends spot my lunch or telling the teacher I had forgotten my lunch money helped keep me humble (in a good way). I think the kindness I experienced from others softened my heart. In turn, their kindness kept my eyes open to how I might help other in need.

As for packed lunches, I remember feeling unenthusiastic about eating a sandwich that had been made hours earlier. Usually my thermos squashed the peanut butter ones, the lettuce wilted on the turkey sandwiches and the cheese always looked weird on the ham ones. These were the days before cooler packs of multiple sizes and shapes; I'm guessing that a cold pack might have made a difference. In grade school, I usually felt sorry for the kids eating packed lunches. I mean, who wants a peanut butter sandwich when everyone else is eating pizza and corn or turkey and dressing? Tough break. The memories of shuffling through the lunch line, the feel of the metal stools and the melamine plates has resurrected another moment in time.

Dear Daniel,
If you are reading this now, I would like to say 'Thank You' for all the times you let me use your lunch ticket. And I am sorry you got in trouble on that Math test. I'm pretty sure Ms. Bemus would not have known you were using a calculator had I not been staring at you with eyes as big as saucers. Turns out we typically use calculators for addition and subtraction rather than figuring it up in our heads. You were just ahead of your time. I hope that everything turned out alright, and that life has been exceedingly generous to you.
Your friend,
Athalia

The End.

Eating - A Simple Endeavor

2011-08-29T00:40:00.000-04:00

My first Bento lunch.

I am on a quest to simplify our eating. Currently, our meals often contain an element of surprise, and grocery shopping is complicated. The only real repeat pattern is buying what's on sale and usually eating cereal and milk for breakfast, and occasionally lunch and dinner, by request. That is all about to change. The goal is to streamline the ingredients in the pantry, refrigerator and freezer and bring a systematic structure for a weekly menu. It sounds arduous. It feels extreme. It's a good time to do it. Here's why:

No. 1: I have a kid who thrives on routine. When it comes to what she wears, what she eats, where she goes and what she does, she likes everything the same. Okay, so that is not entirely true, but it feels like that to me sometimes. From my vantage point, it is bizarre that life would be so systematic. I'm pretty sure that no two days have ever been the same in my life - and I "plan" it that way. Funny thing is, my routine girl has led me to discover that I like routine. The discipline part of it is challenging, but deciphering the pieces and organizing them just so is delightful.

No. 2: I have a man who loves routine. He is not quite the clockwork being that my Blueberry Gal is (I can track her with my watch, which I bought soon after she was born, to do just that). Rather, his days follow a predictable sequence. You know, the timing of things shift while his go-with-the-flow personality lends itself to being flexible. Still, given a choice, he likes to make a plan, find his groove and stick with it. His response to my plans for a weekly menu (that repeats again and again and again) was something along the lines of, "I'm excited about that. It'll be kinda fun to know what's for dinner each night."

Say what?! Fun and Predictable? An unlikely pair, and yet, there it is. Strangely, I feel the same. No, no, we're not getting old. We're just parents, parents of a small child. Everyday life is such an adventure that after a while, we just find ourselves striving for a little less excitement. Okay, so maybe we're getting old.

Where were we? Oh, yes... No. 3: If the future brings us another mountain baby, and If pregnancy repeats itself, I will be horizontal and someone else will be in the kitchen and grocery shopping. That leaves Mountain Man wearing the apron, and while he is quite capable of cooking up delicious pots of "Hmmm, let's see what's in the fridge," I know how long the days get when one wakes up, takes care of his wife, takes care of his kid, works all at a desk to come home for a short lunch break to take care of his wife and take care of his kid, returns to the office to work before coming home again to take care of his wife and take care of his kid. For a second time around, he will need all the simplicity I can offer.

That is why I have been sorting through entrees and ingredients in order to create a repertoire of foods and meals that can become our routine. It feels like there have been a lot more "misses" than "hits," but there has been progress. Three weeks into my "routine" quest, the grocery list decidedly includes grapes, broccoli, tilapia filets, ground turkey, mushrooms, greek yogurt, and marinara sauce. I have two dinners figured out and some "kid approved" ideas for breakfast and lunch that require some further testing this week. That means I will be back in the kitchen, experimenting, and I love that part.

I had some hesitations about taking this on. It was not a matter of creating a system. I love charts and boxes and planners and list. Love them. It's just that cooking has been a key outlet for creativity and learning for me. I love challenging myself with new recipes and new techniques, and I love making food "pretty." The art of presentation was something I learned in college when I discovered sushi. The thought of limiting my artistic expression to the same seven dinners and the exact same lunch and breakfast made me sad. It sounded lifeless and boring.

Then I discovered bento lunches. Through Wendy's photos and coaching, I began to see how a world of routine food could still be fun and creative. Oh, boy, has it been fun! I bought a few lunchbox supplies and have some favorites to share, but that will wait. I'm still sorting out what works and what doesn't. It would be premature to draw too many conclusions. Soon, though, and I can hardly wait! Cute food, neat and tidy boxes, an easy-peasy grocery list, uncluttered pantry, meals that my family loves... Oh, yes, this is going to be good.

Baking Karina's Chocolate Truffle Cake

2011-08-20T14:34:00.000-04:00

There is an amazing, flourless chocolate cake recipe to be found on Karina Alrich's site. You must check it out - and you will be glad you did. Aside from being an inspirational resource for gluten-free (and other hyper-allergenic) recipes, she has gorgeous food pictures and heart touching stories. That is my because-I-said-so recommendation; no one is paying for my opinions. (Please do not tell my alma mater, they might revoke my business degree.)

This is a very kid-friendly recipe. For one, there is chocolate, loved by kids of all ages. Secondly, it is simple: there are only a few ingredients and a few simple steps (if following the microwave version) and it whips up in a jiffy. Anyone with a my child underfoot will assure you that if it cannot be cooked in 15 minutes, well, it simply cannot be cooked.

Cooking notes:

It is best made the day before you plan to serve it. There is a long cooling and "setting" process involved.
LINE the pan with parchment paper, just like Karina says, or else you will have an Earthquake cake instead of the delicately dense Truffle Cake.
I skip the medium saucepan over low heat stuff and use a microwave safe bowl instead.
This recipe fits neatly into my spring foam pan, so I take my chances and forego the foil around the outside. Besides, isn't that what self-cleaning ovens are for?
Once this cake is "done," there is a two-step cooling process. First let'er cool on a wire rack to room temperature. Then put'er in the fridge and chill. This is just like a truffle recipe, so no surprise there. Once the cake has sufficiently chilled and carefully removed from the pan, I just leave it out on a cake plate. It never last long enough to consider putting it back in the fridge.

Recipe:

Ingredients:

7 eggs
1 cup brown sugar
2 Tbsp vanilla extract

1 cup heavy cream
2 1/2 cups chocolate chips
1 stick salted butter, sliced into pieces.

Directions:

In a mixing bowl, crack the eggs, add the sugar and whisk on low until foamy and doubled in size (3-4 min).
Heat the cream in microwave until hot but not boiling (2-3 min).
Stir in chocolate chips until melted, then butter.
Preheat oven to 350*F. Line springfoam pan with parchment.
With mixer on low, slowly add cooling chocolate and vanilla extract. Gently combine.
Pour batter into pan. Bake one hour until edges are cracked and center is just set.
Cool on a wire rack. Refrigerate overnight.
Remove carefully from pan. Dust with cocoa powder.
Brew a pot of coffee. Pour, slice and enjoy!

Triple Paste, Gatorade and Taro Gomi.

2011-08-18T19:03:00.004-04:00

"Have I got a trunk full of dirt."

There is something that I need to tell you. I am just not sure how to put it. Let me start here.... Some people who I know.... No, let me start again. I heard tell this story about a, uhm, a complete stranger who navigated a, hmmmmm, a rather delicate challenge. Yeah, that's it. Oh, and I heard they spent a lot of time inside their cabin or just outside the front door in the sun, since they never knew when an, uhm, inopportune moment might strike. Someone even said that even they stationed a little green potette nearby in the grass, real natural-like. I think I heard someone say that being outside helped relieve some of the, uhm, anxiety. Anyway, these folks, whom I have never met, of course, found a miracle cure that solved their two-week dilemma almost overnight. Anything that good must be worth sharing, right? So, anyway, this is what they said worked for them - or so I heard. Ah-hem.

What petroleum ointment and other baby-safe creams could not do, Triple Paste resolved overnight. Eight hours after applying Triple Paste, a certain sweet cherub was tear-free during what had become rather, uhm, sensitive moments. Ah-hem.

It seems these people received a lot of advice on fiber intake and all, but the problem was not dietary as much as it was, well, a lingering discomfort and a developed phobia. Those extra vitamin and fiber boosts, while healthy choices, were not as effective as slurping down a jug of gatorade.

After sipping 10-15 oz, within twenty minutes or so, we they would take a little break, if you know what I mean. Very effective. Please Note: This is not medical advice. Ask-your-doctor-disclaimer: There is such a thing as too much water, and it is dangerous. Ask someone who certifiably knows something about these things before trying them at home.

Oh, and one last thing, they recommended buying a book. Seems that reading about someone else's problems helps even little people feel better about their own.

Anyway, that is the story as I heard it, so if you happen to meet a complete stranger who is similarly disadvantaged, remember the miracle cure: Triple Paste, a deluge and helpful illustrations.

The End.
No pun intended.

"Wanting to Be Her"

2011-08-14T06:02:00.004-04:00

I had a strange revelation week before last.

I was talking with a new friend and listening as she explained how much our girls soak up things from us. I nodded in agreement but did not know exactly what she meant. Then she explained that body image - positive or negative - is something learned at home. Yes, a culture and marketing campaigns can influence, but a child's perception of herself, whether she is beautiful and valuable just as she is, is learned at home. I nodded, knowing this to be true, but wondered if this applied to me or my daughter.

I like my body. I love my daughter.

I like my height. I like my hair. I like my hands, my ears, my proportions, my grey eyes and my bushy eyebrows. I like my sharp, hooked nose, the same one I see in a photograph of my Great-grandmother Ray, who gave it to my grandmother who gave it to my father who gave it to me. I like my toes. Now granted, I had always assumed they were the result of improper shoes, but then I held my perfect baby, newly birthed and naked in my arms, and discovered that her tiny toes curled just like mine. Ambivalence changed to pride in the blink of an eye. I love those curled toes. On another note, I did spend most of my teens and twenties feeling self-conscious about my chest, not an uncommon thing in a society with a breast fetish, like ours. First they were too small; then we became pregnant and they were much too big; then I wrestled through the early woes of breast-feeding and months later found myself just plumb proud that I was capable of growing and sustaining life. I was in possession of a super-power, one that could turn a squishy six-pounder into a healthy, smart kid that runs and sings and talks. I like that very much.

I found myself thinking about our conversation, mostly wondering why it haunted me. Strange. Then three days later, or maybe it was a week - or maybe two, it hit me. I hate my pregnant body. Not like you think: I love the little round bump. I love that I can carry a child - No, it blows my mind that my body can carry a child, tucked inside, safe and protected. I like the pregnancy metamorphosis. It amazing and absolutely beautiful. I just hate losing my strength.

I am a strong woman. My arms are strong, my legs are strong, my back is strong, and my mind is strong. I have unloaded a truck of 100-pound seed bags one by one. I have hiked and paddled and biked up and over mountains upstream through muck. I have defended myself on the street in a mugging. I can swim lakes. I can walk for miles. I can pull myself up by the strength of one arm.

So when we learned that I was pregnant, I assumed life would go on, and it did for a while. I stepped out of line at team practice to dry heave on the sidelines before taking my turn at sprinting and catching in ultimate frisbee practice. I kept a stash of snacks on my nightstand to eat with shaky hands in the dark. Then something happened and instead of getting better, the nausea got worse. Much worse. Days became weeks became months, and instead of staying active and strong, I was sick, sicker than I had ever been before. And I hated it. I hated that I spent most of my days trying to steady the rocking boat of my mind, fighting the nausea so that I could slowly sip enough fluids to keep me out of the hospital and off of IVs. I hated my body for being so weak.

That was not who I was supposed to be. I was supposed to be healthy and glowing, not retching and helpless. Turns out, I do have issues about my body, ones that mar how I see myself and taint my capacity to love and be loved. I have started work on that: reading a few books, crying my heart out in after therapy (like I would ever cry in front of anyone, psfff) and praying to a God who listens with open arms.

And I am finding love.

While I am fumbling through the hurt places in my mind and heart and finding healing, it would be meaningful for me to know that others understand what we went through (and what we would most likely be facing again) in pregnancy. "Nine months of nausea is a mind-altering experience." To learn more about hyperemesis gravidarum, visit www.helpher.org.

For a copy of Michelle Graham's book Wanting to Be Her, Body Image Secrets Victoria Won't Tell You, just leave a note in the comments (or email me). I would love to send you one.

For Sale: 2005 Scion xA

2011-08-12T08:43:00.002-04:00

The time has come to part with my city car.

When we first met, it was love at first sight: great visibility, smooth clutch, super gas mileage, supportive seats, well-designed interior space for cargo and passengers, and a dreamy sunroof overhead. She and I have been places. Savannah, Atlanta, Birmingham, Hendersonville, Atlanta, Charleston, Atlanta. Then, we moved to the mountains.

She gets better gas mileage than ever before (38-40 mph), zips easily around our hairpin mountain turns, and is a dream for parallel parking in our little mountain town. However, she is no match for the snow drift that accumulates on our road during the snowy, windy days of winter. You know, that drift that accumulates just past the potato field. The one that can stretch thirty feet long and pile three feet high and take three grown women thirty minutes to shovel out.

"Oh, you mean that snow drift."

As such, we have decided that I ought to be driving a mountain car with all-wheel drive and a extra trunk space for my snow shovel. My front-wheel drive friend needs a new home.

In our experience, she is the optimum companion for the following:

Carpooling 4-5 folks short distances.
Running errands around town (zoom zoom zoom).
Going out with the family (two-kid optimum).
Heading off to college.
Commuting to work (under 55 mph).
Cruising the parkway.
Driving in less than three inches of snow.

Additional particulars:
My six-foot tall, long-legged Mountain Man fits in this car, but he says the seats are built with someone smaller in mind, and so he finds long-distance road trips uncomfortable. I find the seats to be positively therapeutic for my frame. On the flip side, he also picks this gal when we go anywhere local. It's easy to find a place to park, and her turning radius is impressive. The latch system snaps two forward-facing car seats very comfortably in the back. With the five-speed clutch, she can get-up-and-go on the interstate, but she performs best at neighborhood and highway speeds (for gas mileage, noise). Oh, and she can hold her on with rock walls and falling tree limbs, with the scuffs to prove it. The wall was not so lucky.

It is my parting wish that someone else will enjoy her as much as we have.

Specifications:
2005 Scion xA, a Toyota division.
5-speed white hatchback with sunroof and spoiler.
70K miles
Cargo cover and mat.
Pioneer stereo system w XM radio capacity.
Cruise. Power accessories.
Red-handled, needle-nosed pliers included.

Coconut Flour - My very favorite.

2011-08-02T10:00:00.001-04:00

I woke up this morning needing pancakes for breakfast. Pancakes and bacon. The vision of soft, fluffy cakes stacked two high and drizzled with maple syrup with a slice of crispy bacon on the side was as real as if I had actually eaten them. Instead, I had a bowl of cereal and moved on.

If I had cooked pancakes, I would have used coconut flour to boost the rice flour base. The soft yellow flour adds a softness and a spongy depth of texture to the batter that one usually does not find in gluten-free baked goods.

Yes, I am baking with weird stuff again. The switch from wheat to rice and quinoa and tapioca and xanthum has been much easier this time, mostly because I did not try to use them straightaway. This time, our household made an easy switch to menus based on the foods we love (that are naturally gluten free). When enough time had passed, I began experimenting here and there with substituting GF alternatives (pasta, a flourless cake, quinoa flake cookie chews, squash casserole with gluten-free bread crumbs, etc).

I know that this begs the question, "So what's your deal? Why no gluten?" Good question. I don't know. We're working on that. Any more questions? No? Okay, good.

Texture. That is what is lacking in a gluten-free world. Cinnamon rolls, pasta, toast with homemade concord jam - There are gluten-free options available for the things. The wealth of choices should have me in silent awe. It does, to a degree, but there is a touch of ingratitude and the lingering memory of gluten that warps my tastebuds and taints my attitude. The problem with substituting gluten-free ingredients for gluten-enhanced ones is that the gluten is missing. I miss the texture, and I find myself sometimes resenting the dry, gritty crumb that takes the place of a soft, stretchy glutinous mouthful.

That is why I find Coconut flour and the recipe for Bob's pancake batter to be such a diamond in the rough, or rather, a very soft, fluffy cake amongst the rough and tough.

I mixed the coconut-enhanced batter following the package instructions on Bob's Coconut Flour. No, I lie. Let me be frank, I have mixed up the package instructions numerous times and still had edible results. Namely, I have substituted corn starch for potato and a splash of white vinegar in milk for the buttermilk. I added soda once when the recipe only calls for powder, and I have flat-out forgotten the sugar more than once. They still turn out lovely enough to put a smile on my gluten-free lips. Come to think of it, that is another reason to love coconut flour. It is forgiving. I have learned the (rock) hard way that gluten-free baking is a very particular science. The fact that an imperfectly baked gluten-free recipe yields an edible food is a marvel.

Not just for breakfast - I have also used this batter poured over sugared peaches and blackberries with delicious cobbler results. Okay, I admit it. I ate the cobbler for breakfast. With yogurt, of course.

Together across space and time.

2011-08-01T15:02:00.001-04:00

by Beth Thompson

This guest-writer post is part of a series featuring local families navigating life in the mountains punctuated by travel across the globe. Read on, be blessed! -athalia

As I sit down to write this, I anticipate my husband's return. He has been on the road for two weeks now, and I cannot wait to see him. Reality is, not long after he returns, I will head out on a trip myself. We both have jobs that entail international and domestic travel, so coordinating schedules can get a bit crazy at times.  As much as we try to travel at the same time, so that we can be home at the same time, the truth is, we do not have the luxury to determine when all our trips will take place.

I remember a few months back, I was returning from Kurdistan while my husband was leaving for Kiev. We happened to both transition at the Dulles airport and got to see each other for a brief thirty minutes before my husband took off to Eastern Europe and I finished the final leg of my journey home. It was a pretty surreal moment, and I have to admit, I felt a little like I was in a movie - seeing the love of my life just long enough to kiss him goodbye.

No doubt, there has been more than a few times when I ponder why we do this to ourselves. But at the end of day, it always seems to come down to this: We both have a deep rooted desire to make the Gospel known in areas of the world where Christ is not yet known. In some small way, our jobs allow us to be a part of what God is doing globally. God has given us amazing opportunities to serve hurting people around the world and provide them with the opportunity to know Christ. There are not many reasons that would keep me away from my husband for over a hundred days a year, but I can honestly say, THIS is worth every night spent apart.

Though opinions may differ, I think there are a few advantages for couples who both have jobs that require travel. Since both of us travel, neither one of us feels left behind. We both know the pain and joy that travel brings. Our experiences on the road actually serve to bind us closer together. We love discussing the people we meet along the way, the places we see, and strategizing how to make a greater impact in the countries where we work. In essence, these shared experiences draw us closer to one another and help us cherish the moments we have together. 

Travel can take its toll on any marriage, so it has become essential for us to think through ways to invest in our relationship while on the road. Here are a few things that have worked for us and have helped keep our marriage strong, despite the time zones that often separate us.

Date Nights
Every time either my husband or I leave for a trip, we try to make sure to go on a special date beforehand. Allocating special time together before a trip helps ease the pain of being apart for so many days and nights.

Shorter Trips
I think it's important to discuss with your spouse "How long is too long" on the road. Everyone has a different situation and a different threshold in this regard. Communication in this area has been key for us. I would rather have my husband take more frequent trips, but not as long. We try, as much as possible to limit our trips to 10-14 days. Though this is not always possible, it is a goal we aim for.

Plan a Getaway
Plan a special time, something to look forward to together. We set aside a certain amount of money for each day that one of us is on the road. If we are both on the road at the same time, we put double money in the pot. Then we use that money to plan a fun trip, some sort of adventure that we both look forward to. These times away really rejuvenate our relationship.

Stay in Touch
Notes, letters, emails, skype and cell phones. It is not uncommon my husband to be gone for a trip, and to leave me a stack of cards. He has them labeled for each day I am supposed to read them while he is gone. I have to say, I love these little notes. They make me feel loved and close to him even when he is away. We became avid skypers back in our dating days when I lived Mongolia and my husband lived no less than twelve time zones away in the USA. Communication is key to every relationship, and for us, talking is essential. We try to make it a priority to talk every day we are on the road. If the internet is not available, a quick call on the phone is worth every penny. 

Friends
A good community has been essential with a traveling spouse. I look forward to spending time with my girlfriends when my husband is on the road. When I am out of town, I know my husband looks forward to spending time with the guys. My girlfriends have been a constant source of support. Many of them have spouses who also travel, so there is a genuine understanding between us.

photo by Matt Coleman

Beth Thompson graces ours mountains and the people she meets across the world with her gentle smile and easy laugh. With a heart for the gospel, she applies her medical training at the Children's Heart Project.

Watch the documentary and learn more: www.childrensheart.tv.

Did you miss the series? There are a handful of stories from folks around here who are navigating married and family life that stretches across the globe. Read more here.

Disclaimer: These are the personal thoughts of individual contributors and do not necessarily reflect the views of Samaritan's Purse. Little Creek Life is not an employee, agent or contractor of Samaritan's Purse. Thanks for reading along! -athalia

Scripture, Skype and Socks.

2011-07-28T09:00:00.000-04:00

by Teesa Klear

This is the fourth in a five part series featuring local guest writers navigating international travel. Read on! -athalia

I am a part of a special group of women around the world. We share one common thing – it unites us through weakness, it makes us cry, it even brings us closer to the Lord. It is intermittent solo parenting.

In my case, my husband travels for two week stretches at a time every other month or so. It means I rely on my friends and my church for help. I am not afraid to make a phone call to get help. Whether it is because I locked myself out of the house (I can still see my pastor’s feet going through my kitchen window) or because I need a break, I make a call as soon as I need someone.

How do I make it through these times? Well, it is not easy, and it certainly is not pretty. Really, the only way I keep my head above water is through my faith in Christ. I lean on Scripture every day to carry me through difficult times.

In my case, I have a few “extra” issues – I have three children, one of whom has a life-threatening heart condition, one who struggles with attachment issues, and one who is under a year old. Honestly, I love every minute of it, and at the end of the day, if everyone is alive, I consider myself a success.

Every family is different, so what I am going to share about how my family “makes it” may not work for someone else. But if you see something you like, take it – it is yours. Make it work for you. I know most of what I do comes from other moms in my situation, or even my own mother.

I grew up with a father who traveled a lot, too. He was always taking long trip to Japan, leaving my mother with twins and an older boy to raise on her own while she was at least twenty-two hours by car from her nearest relative. They made it work, and they made it work well. In fact, a lot of their ideas and what they did to keep us kids connected have been adapted in this modern day of technology for my own family.

One thing we always have hanging up is a calendar. We color it in and paste pictures of Daddy with the kiddos. When the time comes, we mark off the days Daddy is going to be gone. I only start preparing the kids about two days ahead of time, so we do not mark the calendar very far in advance. I find that my children have more anxiety if they know Daddy will not be around, so it is important that I do not give them much notice. Every night one of the children places an X on the day we just spent without Daddy. It is a great privilege, and they even fight over whose turn it is.

Before Daddy leaves, we usually have a big breakfast with him. We also purchase or make meals according to the country he is visiting (so, lots of Chinese for China, Indian for India, etc). Prior to his recent trip, the children and I spent a morning drawing and making notes on tiny pieces of construction paper that I then hid throughout his suitcase. As the children grow older, we will do more of this. I will probably also start a journal where they can write notes for him that he can read every single day on his journey.

Another thing we do to stay connected is that Daddy takes a favorite book with him when he travels. We try to Skype every day, though sometimes it is every other day... and sometimes it is much less. If the internet connection works, we Skype right before bedtime (his morning). He will call us and read their book and pray with them as part of their bedtime ritual. They love to be surprised by which book Daddy picked (he always keeps it a secret until he gets to his destination).

We talk about Daddy a lot while he is gone, especially while looking at pictures of him. We also keep our daily routine as normal as possible. That does not mean not leaving the house or traveling, but what it DOES mean is that every morning the first thing we do is have breakfast then brush our teeth. Every evening we eat dinner, have a bath, read the Bible, a book (Skype with Daddy, if possible), say our prayers and go to bed. Every day is the same in that regard – I thrive on that routine and I know they do as well. Adding the wee one to the mix took a little ingenuity, but he has adapted well to our lifestyle and even enjoys reading books with all of us.

Sometimes I will take the kids on a big, fun trip – like to the beach or to visit friends and family. It takes a lot of effort to pull off a solo road trip, so I make sure there will be plenty of support at the destination.

SOMEtimes, we have problems.

Currently, we are dealing with a child who might have a few accidents the first few days Daddy is gone. Big accidents. Horrible ones. Accidents that incite me to anger. Accidents that take a lot to clean up. But, God gets me through those times – and a lot of Scripture memory too.

On a recent trip, another child took me off-guard by waking up screaming at two in the morning. When I asked what was wrong, he responded that he missed his Daddy so much he was just plain sad. He had a dream about Daddy, and I guess it did not end well. I picked up the phone and called Daddy – yes, at two in the morning – and he gently lulled my boy back to sleep. No matter the cost or the inconvenience, keeping our family connected is priceless. Not just for the kids, but I will also call him if I am having a hard time, and he always tenderly talks me off my ledge. It’s important that he knows when I am struggling, even if it causes him to struggle a bit, too. We are still a team, despite the distance, and he wants to be connected as much as I want him to be connected.

I can remember my brothers and I gathering around a tape recorder at night after we had already bathed and were ready for sleep. We would listen to the sounds of my father’s deep beautiful voice telling us our favorite stories. Those memories are very real, and they are a part of why I love my father so much. Just to know the effort he took to sit down and outline a story, then tell it into a tape recorder for us to listen to while he was gone – it really showed me how much he loved us and missed us. I need to be able to re-create that for my own children. It is not that my husband is an absentee parent, by no means, but instead, he does spend significant time away from his children. And when he is away, he hurts for us just like we hurt for him. My children need to know that, and it is my job to convey it to them.

Something special Daddy always does for his oldest boy is to send postcards back from wherever he travels. Sometimes the postcards come weeks after he is home, but it is still fun to see the stamps and the foreign languages written all over them.

And, of course, Daddy brings back gifts. He brings back the same gifts my own father brought me – socks. Socks are such a fun gift. I can remember my father bringing me back socks in so many different varieties. I had Hello Kitty! socks before anybody even knew who Hello Kitty! was in America! So, I requested that, among other gifts he brings home (which vary from place to place) that he always bring the kids socks. My children proudly wear their China socks, Malay socks, and India socks. Oh, and their friends think it is cool.

Yes, it is difficult to solo parent while my husband is gone, but we can make it fun, and we can continue to stay close via focused intentionality

And prayer. Lots and lots of prayer.

Teesa blogs her family's stories of adoption, Brugada Syndrome and a heart for China at The Klear Life.

Want to use Teesa's idea and make your own calendar? Me, too. Here's the link. -awc

The Traveling Spouse

2011-07-20T06:26:00.004-04:00

by Sheri Warren.

This is the third post in our new series Holding Down the Fort. -awc

Airport pick-ups and drop-offs was a regular part of the rhythm of our lives for nearly five years – from dating and into marriage. When we joined Samaritan’s Purse the frequency and duration grew exponentially due to the responsibilities (and opportunities) of the job.

As a young girl, I dreamed of adventure and hoped to visit faraway places. I had never heard of the kind of career I found myself doing. I had started as a volunteer with other international organizations. Earned an education and prepared myself for such a role. It was my dream job. My husband knew this. He supported the cause and uprooted his life in the only city he’d ever known as “home” so I could follow my dream. The work was rewarding. It was adrenaline-pumping-warm-your-heart-put-a-smile-on-your-face-bring-a-tear-to-your-eye kind of work. The team of people I worked with domestically and internationally was more than just colleagues – we were comrades. But, it wasn’t a fairytale.

As a single person I was immersed in where I was and what I was doing – fully present. After marriage, I became torn. Wanting to go, but wanting to stay. Having my heart engaged in the work, but a piece of my heart left on the other side of the world with my husband. However, even when I was with him, the work often consumed my thoughts, intruded on our limited time. Even when attempting to put it away, the buzzing Blackberry was a constant reminder that time and attention are limited commodities. Giving to one thing means neglecting another. I’d like to say I became adept at this balancing act, but that would not be truthful.

My grand adventures (or not so grand adventures) weren’t often shared with my spouse. He got to accompany me on some trips, but I usually selected the ones that were less grueling or rustic. I’d select the location with a decent hotel, edible meals, and amenities like a shower. I didn’t always have such luxuries. I would go where the work was – sometimes that meant sleeping in a tent in the bush, or at a guest house with no running water or air conditioning and the only way to refresh one-self was with a bucket bath of brown water. Travel in country often meant long walks or rides on bumpy, unpaved roads. He didn’t see these things first-hand. When cell reception worked and I would call at the end of a 12 to 16 hour day and he would ask, “Have you checked in to your hotel?” I didn’t have the energy to explain the conditions of my sleeping arrangements, I would simply say, “I am in my room.” I didn’t want him to worry. I feared he would ask me to stop taking the risks or doing the work that I felt called to.

At the end of the trip, it was hard to put in to words what I had seen, experienced or felt. It’s not that I didn’t want to share. In fact, I didn’t like that these were not shared memories, but was uncertain how to bring him in. Does talking it up make him feel worse for being left behind? Does sharing the challenges or disappointments diminish the sacrifice he is making?

Being a woman and doing the work posed added challenges. Security is an obvious one. But, the other not so obvious challenge is in it being an unconventional arrangement. My husband was left without a support network, as I wouldn’t want him crying on the shoulder of another woman. I was left with few friendships due to frequent absences and unpredictable schedules. It’s a little difficult to build friendships when the entire relationship has to revolve around my travel schedule – it felt entirely selfish to ask someone to cater to me in that way. So, I didn’t ask. There was one woman who amazed me with her kindness. She would write my travel schedule in her calendar and pray for me while I was away. When I was back she would initiate lunch dates or time to chat. She knew I often worked through lunch and would sometimes, without request or warning, drop-off some home-cooked meal. The kindness offered by the Georgia Peach who writes this blog, made the insanity of my life a little more sane.

If you were to ask what it means to be supported back home while on the road, I would say this:

1. Pray.
To know your spouse (or girlfriends) is praying for you is a wonderful gift. As the traveler it helps to feel connected to what is going on back home – especially if the prayer is written in an email. Even when it is not written, I can tell you there were times of difficulty in the field that I literally felt the strength of prayer. I don’t understand it, but I am witness to it.

2. Make a memory.
When you are home together, plan special or memorable events that can be shared together. These events don’t have to be elaborate, a simple lunch in the park or play time is invaluable – I believe life is made up of memories and the shared memories are the most precious.

3. Connect.
If you want to feel more a part of the work that pulls the traveler away, just ask. Perhaps seeing pictures, knowing names of people, descriptions of the places, or specific goals for the trip. What would help you feel more connected? Whatever that is - ask for it.

4. Create boundaries.
Assist in setting boundaries between work and home life. My husband was especially good at this. Even when it was inconvenient, I did appreciate it. There were rules for Blackberry use and number of hours spent at the office when back home. It helped me to draw a healthy line of separation. The work demands will never end, but when it is intruding on home life, a boundary must be set. Having an outside party establish parameters for accountability is a good thing.

5. Forgive.
Like with any relationship, please forgive our shortcomings. Traveling spouses will error in the balancing act.

Sheri Warren travels worldwide, propelled by the proverb, "Whoever helps the needy honors God." She logs her travels and stays connected to her family and friends all over the world through her personal blog Just Sheri.

I am the World's Slowest Writer.

2011-07-19T07:54:00.001-04:00

It has recently come to my attention that I write at a snail's pace. While I enjoy the process of putting my thoughts into words, my writing, in a word, is slowing me down.

I have personal dreams and professional goals that hinge on my capacity to master the written word. Not only that, I regularly find myself wishing I could capture more of our family moments and share them before they become distant memories. BUT - It takes ions for me to pen these merriments. While I am sit in front of a white screen, clicking and typing and backspacing and copying and pasting, life passes me by. Precious time that could have been spent making more sweet memories. Memories that I will soon forget because I did not write them down. I do not want to forget them, so I pause to write them down and that means missing out on making more memories.

I am caught between ~~a rock~~ memory loss and a ~~hard place~~ snail's pace.

So, I am on a quest. I want to write more efficiently and at a faster pace. What can I do to create story lines more quickly? What can I do to teach my mind and fingers to pull sentences together faster?

What do you think? Any tips for a slow-poke pencil pusher?

Six Things I've Learned through his travels.

2011-07-18T06:53:00.001-04:00

Mountain Man is a world traveler. He is not a wanderlust or a traveling salesman nor a gypsy, unlike some people I know, who daydream about hitting the open road in a winnebago and sleeping out under the stars or waking up in a new town... but enough about me. Mountain Man hits the road as a part of a worldwide gift-giving program. Most people know this project as "the shoebox thing." He is a natural networker. He is a project-flow thinker. He is an inventor at heart. This work is his calling. It is a perfect fit, and I love what he does. When he heads out, to another time zone, to work sun-up to sun-down, jet-lagged, he goes knowing that we are cheering him on. That does not make his travels easy for us, his family, but it does put things into perspective.

He just returned from one of these trips. Boy, did we miss him, but in a good way. For once, our melancholy days without him went smoothly. The quiet and calm meant that I actually had time and energy for reflection - on what has and has not worked while he is away on travel. Here is what I am learning, through trial and error, and I do mean trials and error:

1. Recognize that "Things Ain't Right."
All the distraction techniques and doses of denial do not change the fact that someone very important is missing. We find that saying the words, "I miss Daddy" lifts a load from our shoulders, brings us together and helps us move forward.

2. No News is sometimes easier.
The experts all agree: good communication is key to good relationships. However, communication - good or bad - is difficult across time zones and jet leg and tight travel schedules. Throw in an impossibly slow (or nonexistent) internet connection and one bar of cell service (or none) and communication becomes an exercise in futility. For us, successful communication during a trip has come to mean short emails or texts throughout the day and a 2-5 minute phone call every other day. With texts or emails, neither of us is bound by the other's time zones or sleeping hours or meetings or errands, so in a word, the communication flows freely. The sporadic phone call is important to Blueberry Gal: hearing his voice for a few minutes puts her mind at ease.

3. Plan ahead.
In the old days, "planning ahead" meant having supplies ready to tackle big projects at home or leaving town on a road trip myself. Times have changed. I now make big plans to get nothing done and never leave the house. In the weeks prior, I stock the freezer, the pantry and the refrigerator. I get projects done and errands run - or consider them postponed until Mountain Man returns. These days, I minimize my workload (down to nil) as much as possible so that I have time, space and energy to help my Blueberry Gal handle the days without him.

4. Keep it familiar.
I have found that we have the most success when the only change is Mountain Man's absence. We keep the same daily schedule in the same house with the same activities with the same friends and the same errands to the same places. Better yet, we stay home and wear the same pajamas and watch the same movie, snuggled under the same blanket, and take intermission to eat the same cocoa rice crispies three meals a day.
Sleep. Repeat.

5. Sing a song.
There is something about singing that lifts the spirits. In our experience, it really does not matter whether one sings on-pitch or remembers the words. The end result is the same, and it is good. Our favorites: The Itsy Bitsy Spider (with hand motions), Old MacDonald, Jesus Loves Me, Peace Like a River, Twinkle Star, Swing Low, Outside at Night, God is With Me, and so on and so forth.

6. Spend time with loved ones.
Spending time with a best friend or family is a concrete reminder of how full our life is. There is love. There is happiness. There is restfulness, too, because when you are with the ones who love you the best, there is no need to explain. They know.

This is part of a new series, Holding Down the Fort, featuring local families navigating life in the mountains. There's more to come, so stay tuned. -awc

The Real Housewives of Samaritan’s Purse

2011-07-16T09:30:00.000-04:00

by Amanda Cottrell

This is part of a new series, Holding Down the Fort, featuring local families navigating life in the mountains. Enjoy! -awc

Growing up in a small town, I used to think the travelin’ life would be so glamorous.

How much fun would it be to fly around the world and see all the sights it had to offer? I have been blessed to travel a few places in my life, but my husband has seen and done far more than I. Being the wife of a traveling man comes with many challenges. The list can be long and unique to each wife’s situation, but God has given us something special. We thank Him for the little family we find amongst his co-workers and their families. I know that his bosses are there if I need something while he’s out of the country. I know I can call on my fellow wife friends if I am lonely, and they can call on me if they need help with their kids. A simple phone call, a shared coffee, or help with something at home can make all the difference.

I know my fellow sisters in this “wife club” know exactly how I feel when he is gone. I know that my dear friend sheds the same tears I do when he drives away. They understand when I am frustrated by the five-minute phone call with a poor connection. We all know what it means to spend two weeks post-trip sporadically sharing all that happened in the fifteen days he was gone. We also all understand that there is a reason for these sacrifices. There is a Greater Purpose. We are partners in ministry with our husbands. We are partners in prayer, and we are partners in bringing the Gospel to children throughout this hurting world.

Partnering with my husband led me to became a year-round volunteer with Operation Christmas Child. As the local Area Team’s Prayer Mobilization Coordinator, I am able to bring first-hand prayer requests and updates about my husband’s region and the rest of the world. In turn, he travels locally with me to share with our community about the impact that this amazing ministry is having across the world, and I am blessed to be able to travel once a year with him to see where he works and how he is building and training international teams of volunteers to share the Gospel with children through shoebox gifts.

So we press on, dear sisters, we must press on. We rely on each other and remember that we are a family and the body of Christ. I am thankful to friends who encourage me and thank God for their obedient and open hearts as we partner to share the Message of hope with the world.

Amanda loves to sing, socialize and save money. She writes about this and more on her personal blog Milk Without Money.

Read this: These are the personal thoughts of individual contributors and do not necessarily reflect the views of Samaritan's Purse. Little Creek Life is not an employee, agent or contractor of Samaritan's Purse. Thanks for reading along! -athalia

Learn more about year-round volunteer teams and Samaritan's Purse on their website, www.samaritanspurse.org.