Moving Day

So, Moving Day went off without a hitch.

BWAAHAHAHAHAHA! Did you believe me???

I awoke at 7:45. We had plans to get up at 8 to finish some last minute preparation before our help arrived at 10. As it turned out, Steven had been up until 3:45 am being Steven and so he slept in. At 8 something, our main helper, Trey, called to say his wife was in the ER and his buddy would bring the moving truck and Steven could pick it up at 10. Steven ended up sleeping til 9:50 and then (after I hurled some breakfast at him) raced out the door to bring back the truck. At 10, Reese, a faithful member of our church and all around fabulous guy (who’s in his 70s) arrived with his trailer to help begin the move. Reese and I managed to haul several loads down the SEVENTEEN steps and maneuver them into the trailer while we waited for Steven to arrive. We only lost one.*

Steven arrived with the truck.**

So we began loading the truck. Steven’s obscenely huge desk made its merry way down the steps and into the truck without incident.

Benny, yet another awesome church member, arrived with his van.

Couch, loveseat, bed and dressers to truck.

Gallons of water were consumed, rests were taken, pounds were sweated off.

The caravan commenced.

It’s about 40 minutes drive from the apartment to the house.

Caravan arrived at the house, my car was hastily unloaded and I left to procure nourishment in the form of delicious pizza.

When I returned, Troyce, Betty, Richard, Benny’s son Andrew and Andrew’s wife, Faith (all church folks) had arrived to continue the unloading.

It was awesome.

Faith and I may have ridden the lift on the truck like a carnival ride.

Pizza was devoured, water was drunk and huge sighs of relief were heaved.

Everybody but Benny, Andrew and Faith went home. Those of us remaining made one final trip to the apartment for one more tiny load and we were done.

And I broke the key off in the door.

What better way to say, “Poo on you, apartment” than breaking off the stinking key in the lock?

On the way back to the house, Trey called to say he was in our driveway (we have a driveway, guys!!!).

He left his finally stable, sleeping wife at the hospital*** to come and help us finish. These people are amazing!

Everyone left, we took showers, I threw a sheet over our bed and we collapsed (and were awoken at 4:45 am by a mystery noise, which turned out to be an alarm clock that somehow managed to get switched on in all the chaos).

We dragged ourselves out of bed in time for church (and woot! All the helpers were at church too, exhausted though we all surely were.)

I am still in love with this house. It has a lovely huge screened in patio. Like a Michigan room, I think. Also? A whirlpool tub. And so. Much. Space. Pictures will prove this once I find my camera. Two big, round gardens in the front yard and assorted trees (which someone will hopefully help me to identify). An added bonus? It’s on a dead end street. Dead end=no traffic.

As one of the helpers said last night, “Welcome to the country.”

*Reese was carefully guiding a load of boxes down with the dolly when he lost his grip and it went sailing down the steps. I was behind him (he wouldn’t let me walk in front, lest something like this happens, and praise God for it, otherwise I’d have been lying in a heap at the bottom of the steps, too) and reached out grabbing for him, thinking he was falling, too. Thankfully, all is well and it was nothing breakable.

** Trey is an appliance salesman/repair guy and has this fabulous truck with a nifty lift on the back and an awesome stairstepper dolly and all the bells and whistles. Which someone drove into a bridge. Apparently the driver misjudged the height of the bridge and plowed into it, shearing off a nice chunk of the roof. It may have looked funny, but it did the job.

***Prayer request for Trey’s wife, Tamera, who is recovering in the hospital.

Morning Drive

I guide Daisy along.
Next to me, Steven prays, preparing to preach.
Sweet sunrise, early morning mist on heron lake.
The sky on God's Day displays His artful expertise.

Daisy slows.
Country church.
Big-hearted, white-haired, quick to smile and easy to love.
Strong arms and soft shoulders.
Funny and wise.
We're home.

...and the angels sang...

So I'm very interested in "old-fashioned" recipes lately. A few weeks ago I overheard a fella talking about his grandmas "Burnt Caramel" cake and was instantly intrigued. A little research led me here, where Suzanne creates lovely recipes, including this one (and she loves church ladies, too!):

This, my dears, is sugar in a skillet. Such a simple thing and yet somehow yields a flavor so incredibly indescribably delicious that your taste buds will leap for joy.

It's melting...melting, oh, what a world...

Now the sugar's completely melted and dancing a jig in the skillet with the water. This is the really yummy part.

Flash forward a little and you get this:

and then you get a full belly and an empty plate, but those are things better left unseen.

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Suzanne McMinn's Burnt Sugar Cake
1 1/3 cup sugar
1 1/3 cup hot water
3 c flour
2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
3/4 c butter
1 1/2 c sugar
2 egg yolks
2 egg whites, beaten until fluffy (soft peaks)
1/2 c burnt sugar syrup
1 tsp vanilla
1 c water (minus 1 tsp)
3/4 c milk

Melt sugar over medium-low heat. Add hot water and stir. Set aside.

Preheat oven to 350. In a large bowl, combine flour, baking powder and salt. Set aside.

In another bowl, cream sugar and butter. Add egg yolks and stir. Add syrup, vanilla, water and milk and stir. Gently fold in egg whites.

Pour batter into 2 greased 9-inch round cake pans. Bake 25-30 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted near the center comes out clean. Cool in the pan 10 minutes and then turn out onto a cooling rack. Cool completely. Frost with burnt sugar icing:

16 oz powdered sugar
2/3 - 3/4 c burnt sugar syrup (whatever you've got left)
1/4 c butter
1 tsp vanilla

Combine all ingredients and stir until smooth.

Share completed cake at church potluck and watch all those lovely church ladies (and church fellas) instantly transported back to days of their grandmas...

I'm Sick

and I think I've been hallucinating, so I apologize in advance for the potential lack of lucidity in this post. Or in any post. Well, at least the ones I've written. I take no responsibility for what those other folks write.

It all started with a sore throat and now I have no idea what's going on.

Sunday morning on the way to church I saw a truck make a u-turn on the expressway and come barreling towards us going in the wrong direction. Thank God I wasn't driving or we might have been killed. Yeah, the truck didn't exist. I'm not taking any medications or anything, so I'm not sure what's going on in my brain. I taught Sunday School, which seemed to go just fine, I sat through the service without any weirdness, we visited a church member in the hospital*, nothing out of the ordinary.

That afternoon, Steve told me to get some rest while he went to the evening service. I very rarely miss church, so I must be dying or something. Lying in bed, the ceiling started to move like one of those little sliding tile puzzles I used to play with as a kid. I started getting nauseous, so I went to watch some tv to keep myself from falling asleep. (Nightmares, dontchaknow.) Schindler's List. Just the thing to keep bad thoughts at bay. That and Ghost Hunters. Currently available for free on Hulu.

Now my sickyness has settled into a sore/scratchy throat absurd amount of mucus fest. At least I got one day off work!
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* Please keep a man named Bill in your prayers. He's got Alzheimer's in a pretty advanced stage and doesn't really realize that anything is wrong with him. His wife, Rheta has been strong for him for the last few years but it's really wearing on her now. They've been married for over fifty years and lately he hasn't been recognizing her. Kind of puts my meager problems in perspective.

Once Upon a Time...

I was a hugger. Let's face it: if you go to church, you're probably hugged. A lot. You can avoid the hugs if you want, lurking near the back of the building, hiding in the bathroom, but if you're in any position of authority, you may as well give in to the hugs.

I am not a touchy-feely person. People have germs and I prefer to avoid germs. However, it is more important to me to convey love to a person by giving them a hug than to make myself comfortable by just waving to them from across the room.

This is why the good Lord invented hand sanitizer.

Anyway, once a long, long time ago I was making the hugging rounds at church when I was stopped. A man refused to touch me stating that "men do not hug women." It turned into a long explanation of how there are right and wrong ways to hug women.

I'm scarred for life.

Basically, if your breasts touch a man who isn't your husband, it's BAD. This I did not know. I must admit, sometimes my breasts do things that I'm not aware of.

Therefore, I don't hug men. Unless they hug me first. The only one who doesn't have a choice is Mr. Jim. If he comes around, he's getting a hug, like it or not. Mutant boobies or not.

Yes, I'm a preacher's wife and I said "boobies."

Picture stolen from here.

I'm Thinking...

...it's a good thing I'm not omnipotent. Folks have been taking advantage of our church's benevolence. We've been robbed, had a car in our parking lot broken into during a church service and had liars come among us pretending to be in need in search of money. Don't get me wrong, if there is a genuine need, we are more than happy to assist.

Last night a girl came to the church saying that she needed money for gas. Steven, being the realist that he is, told her he would not give her cash, but he'd go to the gas station with her and purchase the gas for her. She agreed, saying she'd meet us there. We proceeded to drive, about 20 minutes out of our way, to have her never show up. We learned that her husband is a drug addict and she's swindled folks from our church before.

Part of me wants to call down curses on her and her kind. Part of me is saddened to know that there are people for whom nothing is sacred. Not the caring spirit of a group of people who want to help. Not the words of our God who tells us as Christians that we're to help those in need. How dare people take advantage of that?

Right now the cursing side of me is winning out. God grant me the ability to forgive those that do us wrong.

Wise Men Still Seek Him

So the church is putting on a Christmas play, right? And we were a little short on adults to play some of the parts (like the Wise Men who brought gifts to little Jesus). So sort of jokingly, one of the play workers picked three random men from the congregation and signed them up for the parts.

We had our first run-through yesterday and, lo and behold, they all showed up! I knew two would be agreeable, but the third (we'll call him Mickey, and thank God no one from church knows about this blog, cause Mickey might take offense at being called Mickey) I had just about written off as a lost cause. He is the manliest man I believe I've met! Retired Air Force, this dude has a plane in his garage! He's got a great heart, though, and he sure was a trooper yesterday. I'm just hoping he'll still be gung ho when he sees the costume we've got picked out for him :)

We'll Leave the Light On

I just love my parents.

We had a guest preacher at church this morning. He talked about the parable of the Prodigal Son (Luke 15:11-32). Whenever I hear this story, I am always reminded of my parents and the porch light.

Whenever one of their kids were out and about, they would leave the porch light on so they can see easily enough to get in the front door. No matter how late I came home, (I didn't have a curfew) even if it was 3 AM, the light would be on, welcoming me home.

Now I live far away, but once upon a time, I drove up for a surprise visit, and lo and behold, the light was on! Now, I'm sure it was a mistake, that someone had just forgotten to turn it off before bed, but I like to believe that they were still waiting for me. Knowing I wasn't home where I belong and waiting for me to come home.

The same is true of God. No matter how far away we roam, no matter what heinous or sinful acts we commit, He is always waiting, seeing us coming from far away, running to us and crying with joy to have us back where we belong and instantly forgiving us of all wrong.

The father in the story always reminds me of my parents, so glad to have me back again.

Regarding VBS...

We ended the week with a total of 30(!) kids enrolled, 1 profession of faith, lots of great memories and many new prospects. We were able to get to know our community a little better and we're really looking forward to what's coming next. Thanks for the prayers.

God is great!

VBS in progress...

Things are going well so far...12 kids are enrolled (which is fabulous for our little, teeny rural area. No one has lost any limbs or broken any bones yet, which is great. The kids (and teachers) seem to be having a great time and (dare I say it?) learning at the same time?!?! *gasp*

Now if only I could get the theme music out of my head before the patients here think I'm nuts.

Please continue to keep us in prayer!

Back eventually with pictures...