Some 20 years ago I found myself helping to coordinate a Sub-for-Santa project for our local youth group. I had 24 girls in my own class, ages 12-14, but was also working with 5 other classes. In total there were, if memory serves, at nearly 80 of us. We called to coordinate delivery times and the mother of one of the families, who happened to be Hispanic, asked me how many of us there would be. I told her, then, believing her to be worried about accommodating all of us (I mean, I certainly was), assured her we would just come to the door and leave her gifts and that we would not stay.

The night arrived and we crammed a good 80 some winter-wear-wrapped youth and leaders into various minivans and station wagons and headed out. We were dropping off gifts for two families. It was bitter cold. And time was short. As we stopped at the Hispanic family’s home the sweet and gracious mother opened her door wide and asked us to come in. All of us. We thanked her warmly and told her we needed to be on our way.

“But I made tamales for you,” she explained in her best ESL.

I, not even second in command, and clearly having NO idea how much work tamales are, deferred to the presiding leader.

“No. We cannot stay,” he firmly stated.

I (oblivious kind of insult we had just delivered along with our gifts) mustered the best apology/thank-you I could manage and reluctantly started herding the bunch of teenagers back into cars.

Later, as I was explaining what had happened to a friend of mine, a look of horror crossed her face. “Do you have any idea how much work tamales are to make?”

“No.”

“He (she was referring to the leader who had refused the proffered gift) should have known better. He’s lived among their people. He should have understood the culture. You should have stayed.”

***************

On a warm summer afternoon just a few years ago I noticed a petite older Hispanic woman making her way around the Macey’s grocery store parking lot, selling tamales for a dollar. My shame and regret over the faux pas from years before came flooding back. But I had no cash. And I was unsure of buying food from a stranger. So I smiled and shook my head. “Thank you, but not today.”

***************

Over the past few months I have seen the woman from the grocery store parking lot again. She sets up her makeshift cart less than a mile from my house and can usually be found somewhere along that busy East-West artery on Wednesdays and Thursday. Inflation runs deep; she has raised her prices from $1.00 to $1.25. I was still hesitant at first. But finally I bit. And it was good. The cheese tamales are my favorite. Now, I save my loose change. Along with anything I find under the sofa cushions and in the washer or dryer. And I buy a tamale now and then. Even when I can’t buy, I wave. And quickly tweet her location to my friends. I’ve begun to think of her as My Tamale Lady.

She’s teaching me Spanish, you know. “Uno. Queso. Tamale. Gracias.” Today I think she called me her little friend.

And as I pressed two crinkled one-dollar bills into her small hand I told her to keep the change.

Yesterday my MIL stopped by our house on her way home from her first round of chemo. She was in good spirits, and still felt good. All day today I wondered if it had hit her yet and how she felt today. She is taking this one day at a time. She is my hero.

Today was the last radiation treatment for my friend Dave. I meant to make another key lime pie for him (because that’s the only way I know how to fight cancer), but I ran out of gingersnaps. There will be pie tomorrow. He is my hero.

My lips, my thoughts, my heart are on auto repeat. “Please bless!” Not just for Barbara and Dave. There are more. Mothers and fathers. Family and friends. Theirs are not my stories to tell. But the thoughts and prayers repeat:

“Let the numbers that are supposed to stay down, be down.”

“Let the numbers that are supposed to be up, be up.”

“Let the tumor be benign.” (Of course you know how I really feel about the word “benign.”)

*******************

These are grown-up things. So much bigger than a mortgage and bills and what to make for dinner tonight.

Deeper.

Heavier.

Even at my age, I still feel unprepared.

*******************

I see my uncle’s face at the family memorial (of sorts) for my grandmother. Wrinkles line his smile and his eyes. They are laugh lines. He laughs again. And his eyes sparkle as he recounts the time he jumped flipped up to leave a footprint in my meticulous grandmother’s otherwise spotless kitchen ceiling.

Under the laugh lines must be remnants of grief at losing his first wife to the lake nearby his house. And then, years later, losing his second wife to the same lake. There’s good reason that kind of tragedy is unimaginable. Yet…

This is the uncle, ten years my senior, who now orders and eats dessert first.

*******************

My 16yo tells me, angrily, “You don’t act your age!”

How do I tell her I don’t know how? How is my age supposed to be written upon my heart?

My heart which is heavy.

My heart which is light.

*******************

I think about my grandmother before she died. The twinkle lingered in those piercing blue eyes. She teased and she giggled. Her face lit up when you walked in the room.

If almost 50 is so complicated, how does one wear 95?

Rest in peace, Grandma, dear. I love you.

Remember Sam? She’s coming to town. She’s never been on a plane before. Never been to the states. And I want to show her a great time.

I’m taking an entire week off work (that never happens!). What should be on our “Don’t Miss” list of things to do and places to see along the Wasatch front? Or back?

On a dime.

Go!

Dear sugar cookies. I’m so over you.

You gotta love someone who really commits his- or herself to flavor. This molasses cookie recipe does not skimp on the cloves. No measly quarter or half teaspoonful, but a whopping TWO full teaspoons of cloves.

Tonya’s Amazing Molasses Cookies
2 eggs
1 1/2 c. shortening
2 c. sugar
1/2 c. molasses
{cream together the above}

4 c. flour
4 tsp. soda
2 tsp. ginger
2 tsp. cloves
2 tsp. cinnamon
1 tsp. salt
{sift and add to creamed mixture}

Roll into balls; roll in sugar; press. Bake large cookies (5″) at 350, smaller cookies at 325, for 10 min. Do not overbake. Frost with a smooth buttercream. Top with a candy corn (they come in all seasons now).
(note: Last year I refrigerated half the dough, rolled it and made heart cut-out cookies for Valentine’s Day. The dough is a very soft dough, but it can be done. They were delicious!)

These are even better the next day.

If they last that long.

Yum!

(Thanks Tonya for permission to share the recipe!)

Over the past couple of months my 16yo and I have been discovering

Aside from wishing it had a content filter (there are some raunchy pins on Pinterest, as well as underaged kids, and no apparent way to filter or report inappropriate material), I like it. But here are a few more things…

Nutella is best just straight from the jar. Or spread over crêpes. Or in pastry from Gloria’s Little Italy. But not as an ingredient in other foods.

Just say “No!” to big bows across bosoms.

When did we decide that leggings are in fact pants? I blame Pippa.

There is never good reason to upcycle anything that exists next to your toilet. Toilet paper rolls should go directly into your recycle bin and not hang on your Christmas tree or decorate your child’s room.

If the recipe isn’t worth a photo of the actual result and not a stolen photograph of something else, it probably isn’t worth trying. For example, you cannot make grilled chicken in your crockpot.

I liked salted caramel before it was a thing.

Nothing makes your hair grow faster. Nothing. Except possible pre-natal vitamins. Pin that!

There is WAY too much cheesecake. Cheesecake used to be special. Pinterest made it ordinary.

Ryan Gosling is never going to “Hey girl,” you.

I’m not a fan of making things–Christmas trees, lamp shades, planters, etc.–out of books. Seems like a waste of a perfectly good book to me. And if it wasn’t a good book I wouldn’t want to display it in my living room anyway.

On the up side, who knew all the things you can do with pallets?

*to date Pinterest is responsible for the 16yo having cooked something new for dinner, and also the ruin of that dining room table I refinished myself a couple of years ago by same 16yo (that nail polish water marbling thing? It doesn’t work so much).

Meet my December over at Segullah today. When you get it all figured out. Let me know, k?

It’s nearly mid-December and I’m simply not feeling it. My life is full of goodness (see my last two posts) and I am not unhappy by any means. But this Christmas thing…my heart just isn’t in it. The lights seem tinny. The lists too long and desperate. The grass too green. Yet it’s not just the fresh silent blanket of snow that’s missing. I’ve been feeling a bit like this stanza of one of my favorite Christmas songs (only, again without the snow):

In the bleak mid-winter
Frosty wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron,
Water like a stone;
Snow had fallen, snow on snow,
Snow on snow,
In the bleak mid-winter
Long ago.

But today, just for a moment, the stone lifted. The true spirit of Christmas whispered to me a service I needed to render for one of my dearest friends. Something for her children, who are like family to me. I leaned over to her and made my offering. The love with which it was given and accepted softened and warmed my heart. The divineness of its source warms me still.

What can I give Him,
Poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd
I would bring a lamb,
If I were a wise man
I would do my part,
Yet what I can I give Him,
Give my heart.

I got to play tourist today. I wasn’t chaperoning anyone. I didn’t have anyone else to please. My brother cleared his schedule and asked me what I wanted to do. And we did it. Here’s a recap:

It wasn’t until this morning when I realized that Portland has Trader Joe’s.

And it’s the holidays. The only thing better than Trader Joe’s is Trader Joe’s during the holidays!

Note: Objects in this photo reflect just a portion of the goodies I found at Trader Joe’s. I may have to borrow and check in a bag just to get it all home.

Next we went to an independent spice and herb shop. Words cannot describe it, but if you could smell my luggage you would know that, among other savories, I purchased not one but two kinds of chili powder. Rather potent Chili powder. In fact, it’s very possible I will be serving up Chili Candy Cane Joe-Joe’s on Christmas Day.

(Photo pending)

On the way downtown we stopped in the Selwood District, where my brother gave me a fabulous free haircut in his Salon, Capello Zona. It’s closed on Mondays, so I got a private cut and style, complete with shampoo and scalp massage.

On the way out I caught this nice little shot.

Next we stopped at Penzey’s. I’ve been buying herbs and spices online from Penzey’s for years, but I had never stepped into an actual brick and mortar Penzey’s.

Until today…

After that we headed to heaven.

I mean Powell’s. And entire city block of independent book store. I could have spend an entire week and several paychecks in that store. But I didn’t. It was still heaven. Neither words nor photos do it justice.

But I tried.

For lunch we headed down to the food pods on 10th and Alder. Oh. My. Gosh. To quote Bek: “Portland is pretty awesome. They have the BEST food cart culture.” Indeed!

This was to my left.

We went right. Right past Thai Me Up (go ahead!).

Right to The Frying Scotsman.

Where, in honor of my two boys, I ordered Fish and Chips.

And ate my first ever Mushy Peas (with malt vinegar).

James (of course his name is James!), is a real Scot. He’s been here about four years. He makes amazing food. We had a nice chat. And if he’d have been wearing a kilt I would have tipped him even more.

We then spent most of the afternoon Goodwill hunting. We hit thrift stores, DIs and even my first Salvation Army. Pickings were slim. Simply put, I stink at thrift store shopping. But I picked up a few things. I enjoyed my time with my brother. And also got a little kick out of this blast to the past.

We sang this song in elementary school. Of course we did. It was the 60s.

After a little down time at home we had Family Home Evening with my brother and SIL and then headed out to dinner. At Mezza.

My first Lebanese food.

You gotta love a place where you can watch the Mom cooking in the kitchen while the Dad is taking orders and serving and the daughter is doing her homework at one of the empty tables.

I had the Pumpkin Kibbeh.

It was amazing.

Back home for game night. Then my brother split a Pumpkin Oreo shake from Mike’s with me. I am on sensory overload. And I enjoyed every minute of it!

I love these people. And I love this town.

Can’t wait to come back!

Last night I gathered with three of my younger brothers in a beautiful church building in Portland–the first LDS church built in the state of Oregon. We were there to celebrate the baptism of my nephew, Gavin. There were several occasions throughout the evening, both at the church and then later as we overtook a local Mexican restaurant for dinner during which my thoughts turned to my father, who passed away almost 30 years ago. I felt he was aware of our gathering, of our love for him and for each other and for our families, as well as of our efforts to live lives reflective of the eternal truths and principles he and my mother taught us. I had the impression that his witnessing our gathering gave him joy.

Today I am getting ready to attend church with my brother and his family. A friend of mine–someone I haven’t seen since we reunited briefly in Brussels in 1987–is driving up from the area in which we grew up to join us. Her family lived just up the street from us (in a place where “up the street” could be over a quarter of a mile away). My father was her family’s home teacher. He loved that wonderful family deeply. We knew that and they knew that. I know this family was blessed by my father’s love and service to them. Our families were blessed for knowing each other. And our family was blessed to have witnessed the effects of our father’s love and service on that dear family. I feel our meeting up today will also give my father joy.

I mentioned to my husband via text this morning that I was sorry to miss our stake conference (and I truly meant it). He replied, “You are where you are supposed to be.”

He is right. I believe the events of this weekend and my presence here was brought about by a Father in Heaven who loves us and wants us to know the joy and eternal nature of love–both of families and friends.

My heart is full…

It’s not like tomorrow is allofasudden Christmas Day, but I am feeling a bit rushed by time and I find myself completely unready for it to be December. Or Christmas. Or 2012.

Yet so it is.

Here are a few incidentals:

So you know that REAL Cadbury’s I was excited about?

Somebody found it in the secret hiding place where I was keeping safe the sweets to ration.

And it is gone.

Sad face.

Remember that little giveaway I did earlier?

Christy won.

Big surprise, right? But I want to thank Ash again for the great idea and make sure those of you who commented know how much I loved every single one of your entries. THIS MUCH! I have the best readers, I truly do.

Happy face!

And you know how I’m getting up my nerve to put myself on a plane in a couple of days to see my (most generous) brother? I just found out I will actually get to see three of my brothers! These are probably the siblings I see the least, so I am looking forward to spending some time with them and their respective families. In addition to my nephew’s baptism (at which I have been invited to speak), the four of us will later attend my brother’s Christmas party. That should be fun, right? Finally, on Monday night those of us who are still around will be privileged to dine at my nephew’s favorite Mediterranean restaurant.

They have good eats in Portland.

And you have to love an 8-year-old who already has a favorite Mediterranean restaurant.

Happy face!

Finally, because…

1. I am just a tiny bit proud of myself for finishing something,

2. I have much enjoyed the encouraging and thoughtful and amusing comments you have shared with me,

3. But mostly because I truly do have the best readers…

I’m giving away more soap.

Two lucky readers will receive one bar of their choice: Applejack Peel or Green Tea Lemongrass.

Just leave a comment on this post by midnight Sunday, December 4 to enter. Please make sure I have a link or an email address so I can contact you if you win.

Best–