Tag Archives: family

Eat Drink Man Woman

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                                                                    HT: Sweetbriar Patch    

Eat Drink Man Woman directed by Ang Lee, the director of Sense and Sensibility, is a foreign film about family and food set in Taiwan.  The opening scenes are sumptious shots of food preparation.  

Mr. Chu, a senior chef, fixes an abundant feast each Sunday for his three grown daughters.  There is no connectedness between them and the weekly meal is a hodge-podge of clipped communication, random announcements, and dutiful picking at the food.  The daughters dread the “Sunday torture” as they call it and we all mourn the wasted opportunity, the wasted effort of Mr. Chu, the senseless charade.  The girls want to break away, seeking a romantic liason to provide their ticket out of the family.  

Even Mr. Chu realizes that life is adrift:  “Eat, drink, man, woman. Basic human desires. Can’t avoid them. All my
life, that’s all I’ve ever done. It pisses me off. Is that all there is
to life?”   As the family structure changes, we learn more about each one’s relationship to food and eating.  I anticipated the movie ending with a final feast of reconciled relationships.  It does end with a small feast, a poignant inversion of the opening scene.

I’m quite taken with foreign films, especially ones set in modern
times.  They offer slices of daily life in the local culture.  The
opening sequence begins with motorcycles roaring down a highway and
pans to the quiet serenity of the kitchen, with its small, satisfying sounds of a knife on wood.  The home is a quiet sanctuary from the bustling, urban milieu outside. An interesting twist in the culture of Taiwan is the role of Christianity in the life of the eldest daughter. She prays aloud before each feast while her family waits, tolerant, indifferent and silent.  

As I babbled on to Curt about this movie, he asked the best question (he excels at good questions):  What would this film be like if it were redeemed?   I pondered and experienced a brief moment of clarity: the food stuff was exquisite.  It inspired me to take more care with my meals, menus and presentations.  But it was not done for the glory of God.  The most delicious food, prepared with love, presented in glorious array is not enough.

It was strange to be processing my thoughts about this movie I watched on Saturday as we enjoyed a four-generation family feast at my son’s house on Sunday.  The smells of garlic and salmon wafted through the house as we talked, lingered, and then gathered around the table.  That there was no occasion to celebrate gave an even richer significance to the evening.   
   

What I’m Learning This Week

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Whenever, WHEN-EV-AH, my  brother and lovely sister-in-law come for a visit we learn something new. 

How to make sausage.
How to make upscale, gourmet homemade pizza.
How to make a killer green salad.
How to make bread dough in a food processor. (That was then; we don’t do that one anymore.)
How to make Esther Cunningham’s Orange Marmalade Cake.
How to make prime rib that sits in the fridge for three days unwrapped and forms a crust.
How to make healthy mushroom soup.
How to grill red peppers and skin them.

I used to think my brother was a genius.

Then he gave me a decade of Cook’s Illustrated yearbooks.  As I browsed through them, I recognized familiar recipes and procedures.  Ha!!  He’s just a good reader – always has been.  Naw, seriously, he’d make a great baker if he wasn’t busy earning a living singing.

But this year, my friend……this year he’s outdone himself.  Loaf after loaf after loaf.  Hungry sons scoop it up!

Elegant simplicity.
Outrageously easy. 
Incredible presentation. 
Melt in your mouth taste. 

No-Knead Bread

You need:
A cast-iron Dutch Oven
Flour
Salt
Water
SAF Instant Yeast
12-18 hours

You don’t need:
To knead

Recipe is here.

   

 

Millet in March, Glory Days

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Le Nourrisson or L’enfant Malade, 1858
Jean-François Millet

From the Art Renewal Center biography: “There [the village of Barbizon] he settled in a three-roomed cottage for the rest of his life of
twenty-seven years, in which he wrought out the perfect story of that
peasant life of which he alone has given a complete impression.

~     ~     ~     ~     ~     ~  

Dan and Val (bro and SIL) are here this week and we are doing the usual sharing of the best of the previous year.  Our favorite movies, favorite books, favorite recipes, favorite CDs, favorite quotes, favorite jokes, favorite home decorations. 

If Dan didn’t make a living singing, he could make a great living baking bread.  His “new favorite” recipe for bread requires no kneading!  This deserves, and will get, a post of its own.  Today I hope to be home when he puts it together and get my hands in the dough.  He insists it is the easiest thing.  And it tastes glorious!

~     ~     ~     ~     ~     ~ 

So tonight is a little taste of heaven.  Grandpa and Grandma are back from a trip, all the kids will be here and Dan and Val are here.  Twelve around the table!  We will be entertained by Gavin the Great.  Here’s a 5 second sample of his wacky humor.  He’s popping bubbles from bubble wrap and then making some inexplicable dramatic faces.  So it’s been a week of joy and sorrow, reunion and separation, putting together and taking apart.  

Financial Advice for Sons

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In a sentence: real estate trumps wheels. 

When we took car trips our teenaged boys used to scan the horizon looking for cool cars.  Their heads swiveled as they yelled, “Jaguar!” with whatever mysterious letters that are part of car models: XK, SE, GTS, CLK, MKS, MKZ, yadda, yadda, yadda. 

They saved their paper route and lawn care earnings and bought their first car or truck when they were 15 or 16.  Rule # 1 was that they had to pay cash for the vehicle (a rule we have followed ourselves).  Money is the number one struggle for many marriages. We wanted them to learn to wait, especially with an optional purchase, and to view voluntary debt with disgust.  No car payments allowed. 

Beyond that, I was attempting to change their view, persistently persuading them to think house instead of car.  If you drop all your available funds into a car, where will you find a down payment for a house?  I explained the tax law which is quite favorable to handyman-guys willing to build up some sweat equity. 

You can purchase a house, a junker; live in it for at least two years while you fix it up into a cute starter home; sell it, and reinvest your gain into another house.  The gain, if you reinvest, is tax free.  The sticking point is getting into the first house/trailer/shack.   It’s tough.  It takes long-term perspective.  But it can be done.  Our oldest son bought a home when he was nineteen with minimal assistance from us.   

Higher education plays a considerable part in the puzzle.   It is expensive.  I prayed that my  middle son would graduate from college debt-free, and the answer has been  “No.”  My intention is to do a better job researching avenues to ameliorate the load for our youngest.   Our assistance has been  minimal – part of me wishes it were more. The other part likes the independence and strength that develops when you put yourself through. 
 

A Father’s Blessing

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Curt’s words to Carson and Taryn:

A Father’s Blessing

May God bless you with faith,
for without faith it is impossible to please God.

May God bless you with repentance,
because every faithful man and every faithful woman remains a sinner.

May God bless you with courage,
to reject the foolishness of the world and to keep the law of God in all of life.

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.
Amen.

The Wind and The Wedding

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[I don’t have one picture from the wedding on our camera.  Hey bros or friends, if you have one, could you email it to me so I could insert it here?]

Condensed Version:   Last Thursday night a huge windstorm hit the Puget Sound region which left 1.5 million people without power.  One of the worst areas affected was the rural community near Taryn’s house and the site of the wedding.  Flights were canceled, our motel was without power, the restaurant providing food for the rehearsal dinner was without power, the winery (site of wedding) was without power.  The day before the wedding we were scrambling to find a place for the wedding.  Three hours before the rehearsal we were searching for a place to rehearse.  The Lord provided those places and the wedding on Sunday evening was exquisite.


Cedar (and rhody) uprooted in Taryn’s front yard

Details:  Jessie, my gifted florist daughter-in-law, and I traveled Thursday to Taryn’s house so Jessie could begin arranging flowers for the wedding.  The flowers were delivered safely just hours before the storm descended. We stayed in a motorhome that night as the tempest roared (the Advent winds begin to stir with sea-like sounds in our Scotch fir).  The wind groaned and shook the RV.  We woke early and surveyed the damage: a huge cedar down in the front yard and four trees down in the back pasture.  A different angle and the tree could have easily landed on the master bedroom and turned the weekend to tragedy. The horses were alive and hadn’t gotten out. There was no power; Taryn’s family had a gas stove that provided heat.

As Friday unfolded, the extent of the storm became manifest.  It soon became evident that we would need to start developing a Plan B.  The cell phones were constantly in use as we worked through endless details in succession, one after another. [I humbly recant my rant about loathing cell phones.] We found a Costco that had power where we could at least purchase food to feed the group assembling at the house.  This Costco had gas for sale and there was a line a mile long in both directions.  Welcome to Soviet Russia!   The off-ramp from the highway moved at a snail’s pace, at the rate it takes to fill a car tank with gas.  Back at Taryn’s house we grilled burgers, lit candles, and ended up sleeping on the dining room floor in borrowed blankets and sleeping bags. 

The Saturday morning dawn was quiet and dark.  Sea-Tac had reopened and my siblings were arriving.  We trekked down to pick them up, in yuckky, non-showered bodies.  A 1907 hotel in downtown Seattle had rooms and power so we dropped people off and worked our way back to homebase.  Don’t even get me started on Seattle traffic.

A friend with bridal connections suggested a facility for the wedding that was available Sunday evening, but not available for a rehearsal Saturday night.  Cell phones roamed and the search for a rehearsal continued.  A church graciously allowed us to use their sanctuary and all the participants in the rehearsal were notified of the change.  We started making phone calls to the 200 guests to inform them of the new venue. 

On Sunday afternoon Jessie did the most spectacular job making the new room perfect for the wedding.  She harvested greens from the downed cedar and firs and arranged them with magnificent skill.  The wood paneled walls were decorated with swags; the fireplace and mantel provided a focal point; bouquets of red and white roses, calla lilies, white daisies and deep red roses in tall, slender vases were on every table.  The soft light of  votive candles, dozens and dozens of them, made the room twinkle and glow. 

The sweet, clear tones from a harp and violin played Christmas carols as the prelude.  There was a hush as the mothers were ushered in to the tender notes of Silent Night.  Taryn was radiant on her father’s arm as they proceeded down the aisle to the music of O Holy Night.  Both fathers spoke words of blessing to the couple. Our pastor, Bonnie’s husband, gave one of the best wedding sermons I’ve ever heard.  My brother Dan sang, lovely as usual. Vows were made, rings exchanged, communion received, pronouncement made, the kiss, and then the smiles…… Carson and Taryn were incapable of straight faces.  Smiles and laughter and good cheer and celebration and  Joy to the world.

~   ~   ~  slices of joy ~   ~   ~

•  the moment before I took Collin’s arm to walk the aisle, Taryn’s mom leaned over and whispered, “You know what this means?  We’re relatives now.”

•  singing Be Thou My Vision with wobbly voice thick with tears of joy

•  watching all the groomsmen sing the first verse of Be Thou My Vision from memory.  There is something about men singing which melts me.  These young men were handsome, manly, and quite comfortable singing a hymn. 

•  dancing with my husband, eyes full of wordless wonder

•  standing with Taryn’s mom, arms around each other, watching our kids dance, soaking in the moment

•  the body of Christ ministering in countless ways.  People pitched in to help and friends far away prayed. It’s so good to be part of community where burdens and joys are gladly shared.

•  memorized scripture which came to my frazzled mind and comforted me:

The Lord gives and the Lord takes away, blessed be the name of the Lord. 

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not unto thine own understanding. 
In all thy ways acknowledge Him and He shall direct thy paths.

He gives us beauty for ashes,
the oil of joy for mourning,
a garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness,
that we might be trees of righteousness,
the planting of the Lord,
that He might be glorified.


•  sharing the experience with all but one of my siblings.  Deep belly laughs punctuated our time together.  Here is a random family picture of us at the hotel together. I’m in the middle, my brother Dan is by the window trying to get wireless connection to find a motel closer to the wedding.

 

How I Feel

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We just arrived home from one unforgettable weekend in Seattle.  Carson and Taryn are married – but all the plans were changed because of windstorms which took out the power.  Tomorrow I’ll post the story….and maybe some pictures.  Thanks for your thoughts and prayers.  God is good. 

The Shape of Grief

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It is a singular truth that the shape of grief is more circular than linear.

After sorrow has settled into your soul, it loops off for a while until it reconnects itself for reasons both random and predictable.  Predictably, there are times when the calendar is not a friend.  Significant days are given over to grieving until, one year, you find yourself sighing instead of crying.

Random outbursts of grief can accompany a smell, a song, a smile, a photo, a familiar gesture, or some momento that revives a dormant memory.  The most perplexing experience is when sorrows, like sea-billows, roll right over you for no reason at all.  

I have learned that grief relative to my mom’s death touches down during major life transitions.  (She died almost 40 years ago when I was 10.)  The life transition taking place is the impending  marriage of my second son.  Recently I awoke in tears, disoriented and disheveled.   I lay in bed and wondered why I felt so sad. The reason was simple: I missed  my mom. 

I yearn for one moment with my mom on the glorious day of my son’s wedding.  I long to stand shoulder to shoulder with her, my arm linked with hers, our hands clasped together, as we watch “our boy” make his marriage vows.

A Jewish proverb says
that you are training your grandchildren
when you are training your children.

In that sense, my mom had a part in raising this child of mine, this son whom I thought of as my “sandpaper” child. Of course, I was his “sandpaper” mom.  Friction racked up frequent flyer miles in the flights of words that traveled between us.  At one point it took faith to look forward to a future relationship between us which would be characterized by friendship.

At some undefined period, four or five years ago, the Spirit of God leaned down and blew off the grit, the grime, the crumbs — all the residue from years of sandpaper rubbing.  He licked His finger, as it were, and polished the surfaces.  He gave us repentance, for we both needed it.  To our surprise there was a smoothness of affection, an ease between us, a fellowship that grew as he became more independent.

On Carson’s wedding day we will rejoice in the love between husband and wife; we will give thanks to the Giver of all good gifts; we will praise God for a son and a (new) daughter who both love the Lord.  At some point I will whisper a personal prayer of thanksgiving for this son of mine, for the reconciliation between us, for the growing love and friendship we share.

My new daughter-in-law has thought of a wonderful way to give thanks for the heritage they have received.  She is setting up a table at the reception with six framed photos: pictures of the parents of the bride and groom on their wedding day, and wedding photos of all four sets of grandparents.  In an age of rugged individuality, it is refreshing to see the respect and honor given to parents and grandparents.

The Apostle’s Creed says:  I believe in the resurrection of the body; and the life everlasting.

I do believe there will be a day, one fine day, when my mom, my son and I will embrace, squeeze each other and throw our heads back and laugh the kind of laughter that begins down deep and emerges in a glorious melody. Sorrow won’t exist, even as a distant memory.  We will beckon others to join us: the beautiful grandma my son has grown up with, the wife of his youth, my husband, the grandfather I never knew, my son’s grandchildren, and their children’s children.  Together we will dance and sing and celebrate the greatness of God.

O give thanks unto the Lord, for He is good,
and His covenant faithfulness endures forever.

     

Indulge Me For A Moment

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I try not to overdo the grandma thing: I have not yet approached a stranger and offered to show family pictures.  [thought strikes me]  But that’s what I’m doing now isn’t it?  Horrors!  I’ve become the woman people hide from!

This is my oldest son with his son.  They are some of the greatest delights of my life.  Dependability and responsibility have been hallmarks of this young man’s life.  I snuck a peek during prayer group this week and I saw him holding his beloved son on his lap and demonstrating folded hands and a quiet posture.  The toddler mimicked his daddy.  No greater joy, folks, no greater joy.

Fine Art Friday – Vermeer

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                                       View of Delft                  Jan Vermeer  c. 1660

Hey! Did you know that Vermeer was friends with Antoni van Leeuwenhoek, the inventor of the miscroscope? You can learn about Leeuwenhoek in the book Microbe Hunters.  Click on Search Inside and you can read most of Leeuwenhoek’s story.

We all owe a huge debt of gratitude to Antoni van Leeuwenhoek, who opened up a world previously unseen.  With his microscope microbes were discovered, which brought great advances in science, health and hygiene.

We all owe a huge debt of gratitude to Jan Vermeer, who preserved on canvas the world seen in this lush landscape.  I’m glad he included the dark clouds.  Vermeer and Leeuwenhoek: oh! to be a mouse in their pockets and hear their conversations!

[Note:  Thank you for your prayers yesterday. My father in-law was flown to a metropolitan area because of heart problems.  He didn’t have a heart attack, but had serious symptoms and a stress test concerned his local physician.  He’s young (70), active and in great physical shape; this came as a great shock.  No procedures are necessary and he’s on his way home.]