To Crumple In A Heap or Sing Precious Memories?

I glanced casually at the clock and stopped short. Is it really almost eleven? Frantic glance at the microwave, "No, it's ten till ten. Wait. What is going on here?" Snatch at my phone... "The microwave clock is set one hour behind?? You've got to be kidding!"

That wasn't the beginning of the story. The beginning of the story started four days earlier when the electricity went off for seven hours the day my husband was planning to leave for a week. I'll not bother you with the rest of the week, except to say there's been a lot of snowy roads and a lot of plans that have not panned out.

The story I came here to talk about is Thursday.

With rain on Wednesday and a temperature drop and possible snow forecast for during the night, I had Isaac park the van at the bottom of our treacherous lane before going to bed. True to the way my week had been going, we woke up to snow falling and a covered road. I used to refuse to even try driving in snow, so I am getting braver. But oh, how I hate it.

Off we went, on a road that no snowplow had yet touched. I should have known what was coming when I passed the first high water spot but on we went. I was gritting my teeth, anticipating the first bad hill, when we rounded the corner to see a truck parked on the road and beyond him, water. Our road floods easily and this isn't the first time our morning trek has turned into a debate about whether or not to drive through. With the truck sitting there though, I didn't even bother to try. I put the van in reverse and struggled my way back to the road I'd just passed.

One good thing about where we live, there are multiple ways you can travel to reach the same destination. We turned around and wound our way back the way we had come; past The House On The Hill, on out to the interstate and around the world to school by SR 513. I confess, my drive home included tears and a good bit of verbal frustration and self pity. I felt lonely and forsaken and in desperate need of some Jesus in skin.

I got home and set to work on hot lunch prep, busily texting my husband as I worked. His week that was to be spent helping his buddy with a countertop job in AR was turning out to be even more frustrating than mine, with cabinets not arriving and walls not being painted, to name just a few of the complications. After describing the latest disaster, his next text made me throw up my hands and laugh. "Preeeeeeecious memories........" he typed, complete with musical notes on each side. Typical, typical Christopher!

"Perspective, Bethany," I muttered. "Perspective."

That was right before I glanced casually at the clock and realized my time was running out....

After some frantic scrambling, 

 I grabbed the shovel

and scraped the snow so I'd be able

to drive up when I returned. 

And I trucked all my stuff 

down the hill to the van

with some precarious moments

along the way

(You try opening a van door while

standing on slippery snow

And holding two hot pans of brownies.)

 And. I went to school and discovered that I probably wasn't Job being attacked by Satan after all. One of the ladies helping with lunch had fallen the day before and broke her arm and the other lady discovered her casseroles were still cold when it was nearly time to serve lunch.

I didn't break out singing "Precious memories" but I did decide that that was a better option than my earlier urge to crumple in a heap.

The End.

Even so come the end of this week.

Amen.

Sourdough Bread

I've never been a bread maker. My mom used to bake yummy, homemade bread. It was eaten more as a treat though, we used boughten bread for most occasions. I married a man who isn't crazy about bread, so it never became a priority to learn the art. My children, on the other hand, looove homemade bread. I've tried my hand at it a few times over the years but mostly have learned to make dinner rolls, not loaves of bread.

Enter a daughter who likes to try things - particularly unusual and healthy things; things that require research and extra effort.

I confess I rolled my eyes when Jasmine got it in her head to try to make her own sourdough starter. It sounded way too complicated and time consuming for me. I made it perfectly clear that this was her project, not mine.

Well, Jasmine being Jasmine, she read and she researched and she tried recipes. There were some flops and some interesting baked goods but she finally got a starter strong enough to make a delicious loaf of bread!

First loaf

And guess who was hooked? Yeah. The skeptical mother.

If you're looking for sourdough info and recipes, Home Joys is a great place to check out. Her bread recipe is the only one we use and when there's none available for my morning toast, it's me who says "Get your starter out Jasmine!" It's me who makes sure it gets fed and it's me (usually) who mixes and stretches and bakes the bread and me who eats it every morning... along with several others...

My normal breakfast -- 

Hot drink, yogurt with granola and maybe fruit, and sourdough toast. 

Right now really all I'm looking at is the green in that picture though.........

Here is the recipe:

2 C active starter
1 C milk
1/2 C water
1/4 C oil or melted butter
1/4 C honey
2 1/2 C whole wheat flour
3 C white flour
3 tsp salt

Mix all ingredients except salt for 2-3 minutes.  Allow dough to rest for about 20 minutes.

 Add salt and knead for about 5 minutes.

Place in oiled bowl and allow to rise 3-4 hours. (Optional: every hour stretch your dough and return to bowl. I've done this the last several times and I think it makes a nicer rise but it may have been coincidence.)

Divide dough into 2 pieces; shape into loaves and place in greased pans. Spray with oil and cover with plastic to keep from drying out. Allow to rise 2-3 hours.

When dough has risen, slash top of the loaf (Optional. I don't usually slash it for fear of making it fall.)

Bake at 400 degrees 25-30 minutes.

Enjoy! My favorite way to eat it is toasted and spread with butter or used for a grilled cheese sandwich -- sprinkle the buttered side with italian seasoning and garlic salt before grilling for the best grilled cheese ever.

    * * * * * * * * *

You know my writing motivation is still at a dangerous low when I start posting recipes..... just saying......

This Is Us

Wow y'all. Aside from feeling a little guilty that I might have been taken as begging for comments, your responses just made my day(s)!! Thank you. Thank you so much. I loved it.

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With the start of a new year, I thought perhaps an introductory post might be in order. I don't think I've ever actually written an introduction to my family, as such, although if you've read here for any length of time, I would guess you've gotten to know us quite well along the way. Off the top of my head, I can think of several posts that would give you a little background, such as the series of posts on how my husband and I met, and my introductory posts to the Treasure In Heaven series here and here.

But without further ado, let me tell you a little about us.

Soon after we got married, a friend inspired me to try to get a family picture every year over the time of our

anniversary -- it doesn't have to be anything

great, just a simple snapshot will do. Well,

I have a picture from every year, but we'll just say

that "over the time of our anniversary" has

become a very broad term. This year's photo

was taken on the very last day of 2018. 

Starting with the oldest child... 

Isaac Christopher was born to us a little less than one month before our first wedding anniversary. We basically know very little about marriage without him in the equation. Isaac is 16 years old, has his driver's license, and is set to graduate this year, completing 12 grades in 11 years. With his blonde hair and blue eyes, most people assume he takes after his father. The truth is, in personality Isaac is the most like his mother... albeit with a healthy dose of his father's upbringing, which is not a bad thing at all. Isaac has a tender heart, loves any kind of game and would like to teach school some day. 

Jasmine Annette is our second born. Arriving one year and nine months after her brother, the two of them have always been close.  If Isaac is the most like his mother, than Jasmine is even more her father's daughter. I am continually amazed at the way the two of them think alike. Jasmine will be 15 next month and does everything she puts her hand to with all of her heart. She loves painting and drawing and about every other creative outlet you can imagine. She's fulfilled my girlhood dream of learning to play the piano and enjoys cooking and teaching her younger sisters much more than I do. In spite of us joking that we never like the same things, the two of us are best of friends.

Jennifer Lynn is our rainbow baby. Joining our family 4 years after her older sister, Jennifer was a much longed and prayed for baby. I don't think I've ever talked here about my miscarriage between Jasmine and Jennifer but those years had their share of tears in them for me. Jennifer is 10 years old and has held the drama card in our family for every one of those years. You will never be left in doubt as to what this child is thinking. On the other hand, you will probably never fail to be charmed either nor fail to be astonished by her creativity and imagination. I have never seen a child who possesses quite Jennifer's ability to create vivid, enthralling play out of whatever materials are available for use. While I struggle often to identify with her completely different personality, I love to watch her vibrant creativity and her passion for reading. 

Lillian Bethany came to our family 17 months after her longed for sister. I will never forget calling my midwife (who knew all about my tears before Jennifer) and confessing that I was crying again but for an entirely different reason. She laughed and told me that God certainly has a sense of humor. She could imagine Him saying, "Make up your mind, honey!" Lillian was born into probably the hardest years of our marriage. But this is about her. Lillian is 9 years old, loves making lists and hates washing dishes. She is our only child who is shy and quiet like my family, although she can easily hold her own when no strangers are around. Lillian is a protective little mother hen and does great with young children. She does not like to be pushed but she does love to be hugged and held and cuddled. Lillian has a hilarious sense of humor and writes the best funny stories. 

And then, there is Charles Elmer, the little tag along who came 3 and a half years behind Lillian. I still feel bad sometimes that we didn't have the second part to his duo like we did the rest of his siblings but life happens and that's just how the years played out. Charles is small for his age and definitely treated as the baby of the family, poor thing. He is the most touchy - feely child I've had and still comes around often  to spontaneously give a hug and kiss and to say "I like you!" Charles loves stories. And every story that he hears then gets translated into his play and acted out with his Fisher Price people and cars and trucks. He has the Eicher gene for memorizing and can rattle off countless snippets -- from Bible stories to Adventures in Odyssey to Hank The Cowdog -- all with impeccable precision in wording and voice inflection. I love nothing more than to listen to Charles and Isaac doing the voices in a story and Charles setting his older brother straight on some minor mispronunciation. 

And then, of course, there are the parents. We are definitely an 'opposites attract' couple, although I would say 17 and a half years of marriage have certainly made us rub off on each other a good bit. 

Chris manages his brother's tire shop and is a handy man to have around with his previous years of experience in carpentry, cabinets and countertops. He built the house we live in almost single handedly. Oh, he had some help, of course, but he hired out very little of the work. Chris loves nothing more than to pull off a good surprise and his favorite thing is to keep his family wondering what idea he'll come up with next. While his opinionated nature often portrays a false harshness, Chris has the biggest, most unbiased heart you will ever find. 

And.... I'm the mom of the bunch. I cook and clean and do laundry (Do I ever do laundry!). I'm quiet and a home body and a loner. I like using my creativity and making something from nothing puts a sparkle in my eye. Give me a good book and I won't be worth a thing for the rest of the day; ask me to play some strategy game like Chess and I will soundly refuse. If you want to know any other bits about me, I shared 39 of them once. 

This is us. We have strengths and we have weaknesses; we mess up and sometimes we get it right. All in all, I like us a lot. 

The Little Blog

Once upon a time there was a tiny, Little Blog. With it's mini, 22 line posts, the Little Blog was a virtual nobody in the vast world wide web filled with hundreds of voices. Still, the Little Blog felt important in it's obscure corner and delighted in any and all visitors who happened upon it's small space. The Little Blog's best-est thing of all, were the few and far between comments that some sweet visitors would leave. Every time those 22 line posts would go out, the Little Blog would wait breathlessly, hoping against hope that someone would take the time to enter their thoughts in the comment box.

Days and weeks and months went by. The Little Blog faithfully trotted out it's tiny posts and relished it's trickle of visitors. As time went by, the Little Blog settled comfortably into it's position, slowly but surely accumulating friends and acquaintances along the way.

Years passed, and the Little Blog grew up bit by bit. Gradually things changed for the tiny Little Blog.  Where there had once been 22 lines, there were now pictures and lengthy posts. Where once there was only stark simplicity, there were now blog headers and sidebars and subscribe buttons. In place of a trickle of visitors, there was now a nice little crowd. In the comments the Little Blog began to recognize the regulars, those that faithfully followed along who encouraged and strengthened the Little Blog.

Over time, the Little Blog gathered courage and expanded it's voice. Sometimes it provided space for a series of posts and there would be lengthy discussions and questions in the comment section. Other times the Little Blog became a place to promote someone's book with a review and a giveaway involved. These times were perhaps the Little Blog's favorite, when the visitors would drop by in a flood and the comments would stack up in an impressive pile. The Little Blog sometimes puzzled over this phenomenon. It would almost have appeared that the visitors only left comments in order to receive a prize, but the Little Blog didn't want to be so judgemental as to assume that.

The Little Blog took great pride in the faithfulness of it's work. Sometimes the words would slow and there were even a few spells of silence but always the steady stream of posts would reappear and the faithful little crowd of visitors along with them.

Then, one day the Little Blog was startled to realize that the words had slowed considerably. In fact, when the Little Blog took the time to take careful stock, it became apparent that the flow of blog posts in it's corner seemed to have stopped completely. What could have happened, the Little Blog wondered? Day after day, the Little Blog missed it's visitors more intensely. Some days there would be stirrings and the Little Blog would perk up expectantly, only to see the words that had been typed disappear abruptly with one flick of a button marked 'delete'. Other times there would be rows upon rows of words relegated to the position of 'draft', and there they would sit to waste their days away; the Little Blog really could not understand it at all.

Months passed and the Little Blog had all but resigned itself to it's fate. After all these years and all the growing it had done -- the friends it had made and the niche it had carved; it seemed a shame to the Little Blog, a real, crying shame.

And then, lo! One day out of the silence a post appeared. The Little Blog waited quietly, hardly daring to hope that these words would escape 'delete' and 'draft'. But patience prevailed and the words were sent out and the Little Blog breathed a long sigh of relief. The sight of the subject caused the Little Blog some bewilderment. Why anyone would choose to wax eloquent about a little old blog seemed a strange twist of reason to the simple Little Blog. Then again, if that was what it took to open the wells and restart the steady stream, the Little Blog would hardly take it upon itself to stand in the way. And with that, the Little Blog sat back expectantly to await the return of it's visitors and to relish the anticipation of at least a few comments.