A Heartfelt Tribute to Coffee

In case you've missed it on your Facebook or Instagram feeds...today is an important holiday. 

 It's National Coffee Day.  

Throw a party, drink an extra cup, deliver some to a friend, but by all means...CELEBRATE.

God invented this precious bean as a demonstration of His mercy and grace to us.  He knew that after the fall we would be SO TIRED FROM EVERYTHING.  Our bodies were once made in perfection, but now we must suffer the consequences of our depravity.  This is our lot.  But God, in His great mercy, gave us redemption through Jesus.  He's so good to us that He didn't stop being kind there.  As the Giver of good and perfect gifts, He also gave us coffee.  This is a perfect moment to stop and give Him thanks if you never have.

So, I have a few words to say to this faithful companion of mine. 

Coffee, thank you for being a constant friend.  You have been with me through every season since I was a teenager.  I had to get used to you at first, as your personality came off a little too strong.  I paired you with chocolate and syrups and topped you with whipped cream to sort of pretend I liked you.  Still, I grew fond of you as I sat on couches in a little coffee shop with friends in high school.  You opened me up to a new world where good conversation was often had when you were around and I could feel older than I was.  I don't need you to help me feel older now, but thanks for the memories.

I apologize for my poor attempts at brewing you at first.  I would mix you with hot cocoa packets to redeem my efforts, but it was no use.  We both know how bad it was.  Thank you for not walking out on our friendship early on.  I grew in knowledge and quickly ditched my dorm room microwave espresso maker, hot cocoa packets, and trying to make Folgers taste edible.   I admit my folly and let's call a spade a spade...Folgers is a disgrace to your name.   

I also want to thank you for giving me employment for several years.  You truly bring all kinds of people together.  Townies, tourists, homeless folks, Israeli taxi drivers, celebrities, French Consulate workers,  grumpy business men, prep school kids, haggard moms, dads looking for pound cake and hot chocolate to feed their kids for breakfast, and people looking for their identity in a latte.  I remember, Bruce, and his "for here grande half-caf 180 degree latte with half of a raw sugar on the bottom half of a raw sugar on the top."  No more, no less.  I remember the way he initiated all new baristas by never approving of their efforts at first.  He was sure they screwed it up and made them start over or go get someone who knew what they were doing until they proved themselves. He was not even the most complicated person I served (God help us).  He was a different person after I got know him,though.  The cranky old lawyer thing was a bluff.  I could mess it up and he never said a word after a few months. 

Really, I learned about humility and serving others because of you.  I learned to be around people that I never would have chosen to spend time with outside of that common ground.  People can also be cranky, demanding, selfish, and mean over you.  I still had to do my job with the right attitude.  I had to figure out that it didn't matter if someone else treated me as if I were sub human because I was serving them coffee.  I still had to represent Christ and my company well.   I learned that people hope to find some comfort when they walked through the doors of those establishments and get their cup of joe.  They love when someone knows their order and has their drink waiting for them by the time they get to the front of the line.  It may be the one place where they feel known and cared about in their day.  You bring so much joy to the world.  You bring people together.  And people spend ridiculous amounts of money on you.  I will admit that I was happy to not see you so early in the morning after those years were over.  We were spending a little too much time together and I honestly got a little sick of you. 

Speaking of sick, I have to apologize for one more thing.  Sorry for how mean I was to you those three times in my life when another human was taking up residence in my body.  It was really all their fault.  They made me so sick for two months at a time.  It was hard on you and me...and Jeff.  Sorry I kicked you both outside when it was time to brew you every morning.  I'm happy to tell you that those days are over.  Don't ask how I know, just trust me.  That is glorious news for both of us. 

And finally, you have sustained me over the last 7 years of parenthood.  I don't know where I'd be without you...or where my kids would be.  I have some guesses but I'll keep those to myself.  When I couldn't tell the difference between night and day because babies needed to eat every three hours with no mercy for sleep deprivation, you comforted me.  You were decaffeinated, but still you made me feel better by your presence.   Now, when there is endless screaming and crying and talking and questions that threaten my sanity, you are there.  You distract me from murderous and suicidal thoughts.  You are quiet, you smell good, and you never disobey.  Please teach my children how to be more like you.  Disciple them.   

You are my nap in a mug.  You know how much that means in my life.  So, never leave me.  Be mine forever and ever.  You have been a friend that sticks closer than a brother. 

 With so much gratitude and with all my heart I say, Happy National Coffee Day. 

 

Do I Really Have To Love Her Parents?

I want to talk about something.  Be warned that if you need someone to make you laugh right now, you should move along.  I'm not feeling funny.  Some other day.

Something is eating my lunch so I thought I would just spill my guts right here for all of you to read.  

Every single day, and I do mean every single day, Ella prays for two people by name.  She starts at least 90% of her meal time prayers with, "Dear God, thank you for _________ and __________." The names that would fill in those blanks happen to be our foster daughter's parents.  She loves L and she loves her parents.

I can be found sitting next to her thinking, "Oh, good grief.  Just thank God for our food and say amen.  Why do you need to pray for them at every meal?  Must we think about them while we eat our chicken casserole???" 

Welcome to my ugly inner thoughts.

The night before we picked L up from the hospital, we huddled up before bed time and prayed for her and her parents.  We asked God to help them overcome their struggles so they could be with their baby again.  We asked God to use us to help her feel loved and safe in our home. There was vigilance in the beginning when it came to loving all three of them and honoring her parents with our words.    We even took the kids with us to L's first visit with her mom.   We wanted them to know her as a real person, not competition.  To help ease the awkwardness and bridge the gap, we had them bring some flowers and a care package to give her when we met. It was hard and emotional but God opened hearts on every side as we extended love in that small tangible way.  She received it and our kids liked her.

How about that?  God answered our prayers.

As time goes on it's hard to keep that kind of fervor.  It's been a roller coaster for my heart.  I have loved her parents deeply along the way, but this case has been long and I have no idea when it will end.  We're not close, that's all I really know.  The ball is totally in her parent's court.  We are moving toward adoption but it guarantees nothing.  It could all change again.  Uncomfortable meetings happen every month and I can't lie, I'm nervous about November.  What is usually the most celebratory month in the entire year for our family, because of our anniversary and numerous birthdays, I face with some amount of dread this year.  We will turn the page of this story and meet her parents once again.  Except this time she has been with us for much longer than she was with them.  

She calls us mommy and daddy now. 

We know her likes and dislikes.  What know what makes her laugh and what makes her scared.  For 16 months we have fed her every meal, gave her every bath, changed every diaper, put her to bed every night, endured every screaming fit, taken a million pictures of her smile that lights up a room, cheered her on when she started to crawl, waited anxiously for her to take her first steps, heard her say her first words, held her in the middle of the night, spent hours at court dates, meetings, and doctor visits.  Not only us, but a whole village of people have loved her like their own.

We are her people.

A lot of time has gone by without them around.  I have worked through bonding issues (that I might talk about someday), I have struggled with whether or not I am really cut out for having so many kids (hahaha...too late!), I've been tired and at my end on more occasions than I can remember, and now find myself rounding a corner where I feel a deeper peace with our family dynamic than I have in a long time.  I get to enjoy it for about 6 weeks and then everything will change again.

When we started down this road I didn't think about all of this when we taught our kids to pray for her mom and dad.  And now every time they pray we get confronted with whether or not that is where our hearts really are anymore.

Do I wish we had never taught them to care about her parents?  Honestly, deep down the answer is NO.  An important truth we want our kids to know is that when they see someone making bad choices it doesn't make them our enemy.  Is there anything more natural, even from childhood, than to vilify people who sin in different ways than us, though?  Every time I walk away from venting sessions with other foster parents I never feel any better.  I gain nothing but conviction.  How can I be honest about my feelings without sinning against them?  I don't know.  I don't know how to love someone who is really selfish and/or has harmed a child.  A fresh reminder of this came last night when some of my friends came across a toddler being loosely supervised by middle schoolers in nothing but a dirty diaper and flea bites all over his body.  One of my friends had to remove a flea from his little head.  THIS IS NOT OKAY.  My justice seeking self wants to investigate the situation, while assuming the worst, and take him home with me on the spot.  It doesn't work that way, in case you're wondering.  This is also why I needed to marry someone like Jeff who would say, "Whoa. Hold the train for just a sec."  Caring about his parents is not my first instinct by a long shot.  Except for those rare moments when God moves in my heart and does what He does.

So, here is part of the rub in foster care.  Can we love a child well and not love their biological parent?  You guys, this is difficult terrain.  Some would argue that our job as foster parents is to love the kids in our care and that is good enough.  That alone can bring us to the the brink of emotional collapse in some cases.  I do not disagree that our main job is to love the kids in our care. 

We shouldn't gloss over poor choices, neglect consequences, or tiptoe around sin, especially when it affects the vulnerable.  The problem I am having is that Jesus is super bossy and doesn't bend His words to fit my circumstances.  I can't get around His words to me when it comes to the posture of my heart, even in the face of cruelty and selfishness.  I hear Him tell me to act on behalf of the widow and orphan bravely in a spirit of humility and grace.  Some choices have grave consequences, and they should, but the second we forget the depth of our own need for grace we are in the weeds.  We need grace as much as the next person, even on our best day.  Sometimes, we also need firm consequences and accountability.  Myself included.

Foster care can be a hard place to remember grace, though.  

It's really easy to elevate our own morality.  When I hold myself up to the drug addict, physically abusive, or negligent parent I always seem to come out on top.  I forget where the verse is that says we should find our righteousness by comparing ourselves to someone whose sin is "worse."  Help me out, someone.  {It's non-existent in case you didn't catch my sarcasm.}

Our kids don't know all of the details, so maybe it's easier for them to love.  Jeff and I have joked in moments when we feel convicted by their prayers, "WHATEVER.  They don't know what we know." 

But what we actually know is that God is using them to remind us of the truth.  Kids are just better at forgiveness and loving without caveats, if we're really honest with ourselves.  They forgive me without hesitation when I ask them for it.  If parenting has taught me anything, it's how much I need forgiveness and grace.  Oh my word, I need it.

Sometimes the student becomes the teacher.

On days when her parents haven't even crossed my mind, or I'd rather not try anymore, one of the kids will pray for their good.    Here are some of the prayers that I hear on any given night.

Dear God, please help _________ and __________ to make gooder choices.
Dear God, thank you for ________ and __________. 
Dear God, please teach _________ and ___________ to love you.
Dear God, please help __________ and ___________ to get out of _____ soon so they can see L.
Dear God, I hope __________ and ___________ have a good weekend.
Dear God, please let __________ and ___________ get out of _____ because it will be weally important. 
Dear God, please let ___________ and ___________ get more pictures of L. (I crack one eye open to see if Avery is staring at me while she prays that and think, "Gee, I wonder how will God answer that prayer?)

I cannot get away from it.  God wants me to love her mom and dad.  I don’t know exactly how to do that when it seems that they are not dealing in reality.  I want to throw my hands up when they won't be honest about their choices or take responsibility for them.  We disagree about the permanency plan for L.  HOW DO WE DO THIS?

I see the face of a 15 year old girl in my mind.  I see her sitting next to me on her bed with tears in her eyes.  She struggles with finding redemption in her story.  She feels the animosity we have toward her biological parents that she doesn't even remember.  She wonders how we could love her when we hate where she came from.  Her worth depletes in her heart every time they come up in conversation.  She cannot separate herself from that part of who she is.  She thinks she must be like them in some ways.  Is she not worth loving?

I weep at this thought, and I need to think about it.

Someway, somehow, I have to find my way to a posture of humility before God that acknowledges how holy and beautiful and perfect He is...and that I am nothing without him.  I am bankrupt.  I have nothing in my pockets to offer as even a down payment for the grace I need.  I have as much to offer Him as a broken drug addict.  We all need the same grace.  He levels the playing field.  I want to love her parents and want their good, while also wanting L's good.  These things do not always look like the same thing.  I want to see with God's eyes and love them with His love, always.  I want to see the good, or even the hints of potential that I can tell her about years down the road.  The fiery spirit that may be disastrous in her mom can be such an amazing quality in her life under the leadership of the Holy Spirit.

Would you pray for Jeff and I?  At the end of the day, what we really need is to be filled and led by the Spirit of the One who made us and called us to be His own.  Only He can do in us what He wants to do through us.  It is a wonderful and painful gift to be put in such an obvious place of dependence.  I know that only HE can do what He is asking of us...but HE CAN DO IT.    He is more than able. 

Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.  Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you.

And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.  Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace. And be thankful.  Colossians 3:12-15

Family Secret...Recipes

A while back I wrote a post about my grandma's tortillas.  It was really about her wisdom and influence on my life, but someone asked me about the tortilla recipe.  That would have made sense to include, yes?  I promised to share it and I have been thinking about some other recipes that I would want you to have because I want your life to be more meaningful, happy, and rich with things that matter.  Speaking of rich, mom thinks some desserts are too rich but I cannot comprehend that statement.  I will eat my roasted chicken and broccoli like a good girl...and then I'm going to ask you to pass me the richest dessert on the table.  I am so excited to share some of my favorites with you.  I will have to dedicate more than one post to this because I cannot narrow it down to only a few.  I'll just shoot you straight, there are more desserts than main dishes running through my mind.  Jeff and I both come from a long line of dessert lovers.  We are an American family (Tell me someone read that in Tom Hanks' voice and thought of  You've Got Mail.  If you did, we are meant to be friends forever and ever.)  Generational sin or family traditions...you can call it how you see it.  Either way, I won't waste your time on tasteless recipes when I share one with you.  Pinkie promise.

I was going to kick this off with tortillas but my mom and I decided that you will need a video tutorial to really feel prepared to tackle it.  The ingredient list is short but there is an art form to rolling them out and frying them off.  So, stay tuned for a guest appearance by my mom or grandma.  I'm so excited!

Instead, this recipe post will be brought to you by the letter C.  As Ella and I work our way through the alphabet this year I try to find a recipe to make that begins with each letter. Last week we were on "C" so we had an excuse, as if we needed one, to make Chocolate Chip Cookies (triple C baby) and my family's legendary Caramel Sauce.  Both of these will instantly improve your mood and quality of life.

Caramel Sauce
1 1/4 c. brown sugar
16 large marshmallows
1 c. heavy whipping cream
1/4 c. butter
1 tsp. vanilla
A pinch of salt

Directions: Mix brown sugar, marshmallows, whipping cream, and salt in a medium sized sauce pan.  Bring to a boil stirring frequently.  Boil for 6 minutes and remove from heat.  Add the butter and vanilla.  Store in the refrigerator after it has cooled.

Note: It will become very thick once it has cooled in the fridge.  Warm for a few seconds in the microwave before serving on ice cream, cheesecake, brownies, coffee, a spoon...you get the idea.  It takes whatever you're putting it on from good to great.

This is what I fix myself when I'm having a hard day.  I have a lot of hard days.  I can't figure out why I'm not losing weight right now. 

Ella's Favorite Chocolate Chip Cookies  (Recipe credit: America's Test Kitchen)
1 3/4 cups unbleached all-purpose flour (8 3/4 ounces)
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
14 tablespoons unsalted butter (1 3/4 sticks)
1/2 cup granulated sugar (3 1/2 ounces)
3/4 cups packed dark brown sugar (5 1/4 ounces) (see note)
1 teaspoon table salt
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1 large egg
1 large egg yolk
1 1/4 cups semisweet chocolate chips or chunks

Directions:

1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Whisk flour and baking soda together in medium bowl; set aside.
2. Heat 10 tablespoons butter in 10-inch skillet over medium-high heat until melted, about 2 minutes.
 Continue cooking, swirling pan constantly until butter is dark golden brown and has nutty aroma, 1 to 3 minutes. Remove skillet from heat and, using heatproof spatula, transfer browned butter to large heatproof bowl. Stir remaining 4 tablespoons butter into hot butter until completely melted.
3. Add both sugars, salt, and vanilla to bowl with butter and whisk until fully incorporated. Add egg and yolk and whisk until mixture is smooth with no sugar lumps remaining, about 30 seconds. Let mixture stand 3 minutes, then whisk for 30 seconds. Repeat process of resting and whisking 2 more times until mixture is thick, smooth, and shiny. Using rubber spatula or wooden spoon, stir in flour mixture until just combined, about 1 minute. Stir in chocolate chips, giving dough final stir to ensure no flour pockets remain.
4. Divide dough into 16 portions, each about 3 tablespoons. Arrange 2 inches apart on prepared baking sheets, 8 dough balls per sheet.
5. Bake cookies 1 tray at a time until cookies are golden brown and still puffy, and edges have begun to set but centers are still soft, 10 to 14 minutes, rotating baking sheet halfway through baking. Transfer baking sheet to wire rack; cool cookies completely before serving (if you have any self control).

I had a video of Ella making these cookies that Blogger is not letting me upload. Sad face.  It was so cute.  I will upload it to Facebook after I post this.  The magic of these cookies is browning the butter.  DO NOT SKIP.  The depth of flavor this adds is what sets them apart. I also love that you end up with a large coffee shop style cookie that is evenly baked.  I'm am admittedly a cookie snob.  I really do not like any cookie 24 hours after being baked.  I have started wrapping them individually after they cool and putting them in the freezer.  I can pull them out and throw them in lunches for school or work.  They still taste amazing once they thaw out.  If you try either one of these recipes, let me know how it turns out!

Sometimes Love is a Bouquet of Weeds

I came across this picture that I took a few months ago.  I remember the kids had been playing outside and a few minutes later Avery came running inside with a scrawny little bouquet of weeds.  "I picked these for you, Mom!"

We don't have beautiful flower beds or fields of wild flowers for her to frolic through and gather beautiful bouquets of flowers for me.  She was just playing outside in our sad little yard that Jeff has labored in for hours and hours, not once but twice, just begging it to grow grass.  Similarly, my attempt at flowers by our mailbox always starts out very hopeful and ends with me saying, "well, better luck next year."  And don't get me started on the trees that drop walnuts and acorns, pelting the poor struggling grass below every year.  AND THE MOLES.  A reminder of the fall of man.  I have a lot of feelings about this cursed little animal that wreaks havoc to spite us (it's personal) and our efforts to just grow some stinking grass.  It laughs hysterically at us when we walk in the house.  It mocks us while it pushes up the grass and leaves mounds of dirt everywhere.  To make matters worse, Jeff will set a mole trap in the yard where they leave a fresh run and cover it with a gallon ice cream bucket, weighing it down with a brick on top.  Ahhhh...yes.  That adds to the beauty of our yard.  He would argue that it's worth doing since he has caught ONE over the course of three years.  I wish I could use so many emojis to help you understand my emotional state about this.  We want grass in our yard.  Is this too much to ask???  We just want grass instead of dirt.  Excuse my big feelings about the moles..and our yard.  We should just stop talking about it.

Anyway...

Sometimes we don't get beautiful yards or fields of flowers.  We just have our shabby grass and fields of weeds.  It's where we are and what we have.  You know what I love about kids?  They don't notice.  Avery was so proud of her handful of freshly picked weeds flowers.  I told her how beautiful they were.   It was true.  Whenever the kids hand me something they have made I don't care about how well they stayed in the lines or that their stick figure rendition of me has an oddly large head.  It will never make it into an art gallery but I will hang it proudly on my fridge.  I didn't care that this bouquet was already wilting by the time it made it to my hands.  The love that came with those wilted flowers is extraordinarily beautiful.  She wanted to give me something because she thought I would like it, because she wanted to express her love for me.  For the first time, I appreciated the weeds and I saw their beauty.

I feel like I pick a lot of bouquets of weeds. 

Sometimes I want to encourage a friend going through a hard time or give a gift to someone I love and it just feels like I missed the mark.  I said too much.  I said too little.  I gave the wrong gift at the wrong time.  I added to their pain instead of bringing comfort through my words.  I meant to give them roses but I gave them weeds instead.  I am usually one who is not afraid to engage the hard places but sometimes when I get it wrong I think it's not worth it.  Being vulnerable with each other and reaching out when we see someone hurting brings some risk of rejection or unintentionally hurting them.

So, should we just toss our bouquet of weeds in the trash and never let them know we care?

I come across articles that give the "top ten things to never say to a person going through X, Y, or Z."  They are often written from a disgruntled perspective that expects everyone to understand what they are going through and be sensitive to things they know nothing about. Who does that help, really?  Will shaming people make them more sympathetic?  Will it make them want to reach out or help more?  I feel this way about some foster care articles I read.  Can people say things and ask questions that they shouldn't?  You bet. Can people be nosy?  Sure.  You know what I think most of the time?  People are just trying to care.  They don't know what to ask or how to ask it the right way.  Let's give each other a break.  Let's give the benefit of the doubt and just help people understand where we are.

We could use less "never do this or say that," and more "here are ways that you can show you care."  Sometimes people just need a little more perspective.  They need to know that it's okay to reach out.  They need a little encouragement to do SOMETHING instead of playing it safe and doing nothing.  Let's also give some reassurance that they don't have to say it, whatever "it" is, perfectly.  Let's give grace to each other and receive those bouquets of weeds with grateful hearts.  Someone loved us enough to give the best they have.

And when we look around because we want to pick the best flowers we can find for a friend and all we see are weeds, let's give them the best ones we can find.  Let's stop letting the enemy rob us of giving the gifts that we have at our disposal.  You know what it communicates to the one who receives them?  We care.  We see them.  We love them enough to give our best.  Let's pick the best bouquet we can find and give it to them with a smile, or a hug, or note, or even eyes full of tears.  Let's get over our fears of it not being good enough, or the right time, or the right words, and let's start loving each other with a little more abandon.

Now that you have purified yourselves by obeying the truth so that you have sincere love for each other, love one another deeply, from the heart.  -1Peter 1:22