“See those pins? Each one represents where I have danced with a beautiful woman.”
Source: New Milton Testimony
New Milton Testimony
I met Mr. Roache, a bachelor gentleman, a few years back when he agreed to help my son’s Science Olympiad team with some of their building events. The man was brilliant at everything he touched: artist and musician. He had been born and raised in the New Orleans area and his family had owned and operated a hobby shop. He could tinker with anything and make it go.
Mr. Roache got the kids started on their projects and then invited us parents into his music room that chilly January afternoon. His music room was cluttered ( as was the entire house and overgrown property); a roll top desk strewn with photos he had taken, sheets of music here and there. I saw a violin, trumpet, guitar and maybe one other handheld instrument, but the grand piano took my attention. He sat down at the piano and played a few measures. As he played, he directed our attention to a map of the world, that hung behind the paneled door. Pins were stuck in nearly every country and continent.
“See those pins?” he asked us. “Each pin represents where I have danced with a beautiful woman.” And he softly smiled.
We politely asked questions about his life and he politely answered. He told of his childhood, his mother and daddy, his sisters. Growing up in Nawlins. The hobby shop. He said nothing negative-started to about one sister, but stopped himself and changed the subject. We all went back out onto the porch and checked the kids’ progress.
An artist, Mr. Roache took beautiful serene portraits. They hung at his back door and the faces followed you throughout the house and wrap around porch. He found value in everything; some would say he was a hoarder. But he would turn everyday household trash into pieces of art. Upcycling is what he called his creations.
I walked out into his yard. Even in the dead of winter it needed to be mowed, but looking back at the house, I saw the bigger picture. I couldn’t see it while in the house or up on the porch. Things were grouped and had their own place. I bet he knew where each piece was and had it inventoried in his head.
His seemingly disordered life was like pieces of a mosaic. Up close we can’t make out the image. It’s not until we step back that we can truly see what’s there.
I have been in my own mosaic, if you will, these past few years. Really up close in the picture and too in it to see it. I have wanted to move the pieces around and figure out what my future is suppose to look like. But I am learning to let The Artist do His work in me. His imagination is far greater than my own. His creation in me more than I would have ever dreamed possible. Humbling. Blows me away.
Do I always like the way things are going in my life? No, but I have camped out at Jeremiah 29:11 for three years now. “For I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and to give you a hope and a future.” Again, God’s plans and wants for me are so much better, sweeter, greater, more purposeful than anything I could come up with.
SAMSUNG
SAMSUNG
SAMSUNG
Blessings from the Exile’s Kitchen.
Cake Mix Jam Bars
I haven’t written out a recipe lately, so here goes…
A boxed cake mix, your choice of yellow or white
2 cups quick oats
3/4 cup of melted butter
1 cup of your favorite jam
1 tablespoon of water
What to do:
Preheat oven to 375°. In the bowl of an electric mixer, combine cake mix, oats and butter. Press half of the cookie dough into a shallow baking dish that has been spritzed with vegetable spray.
Next in a small bowl, mix jam and water together, then spread over the pressed cookie dough. Sprinkle the remaining cookie mixture over the jam.
Bake till the top crust is slightly brown. Cool before cutting into squares.
Aunt Gayle’s Daylily
I dug it up from the front flower bed of the house I once shared with the man that I thought would always be there. Placed right by the front porch, I lovingly tended it year after year. My Aunt Gayle, Mama’s twin sister, loved daylilies. Many hot summer weekends, day trips ended with a trunk load of day lily risomes. Our eyes were often bigger than our flower beds, so more spots in the yards were created.
The one planted by the porch is very special, because my aunt had become ill and we could no longer go on our excursions. One of her daughters brought it to me- a lovely surprise ordered from a flower catalog.
“Mama says it’s suppose to be a true pink, Mandy. Let her know when it blooms or maybe take a picture of it.”
April of 2015 I went out to the house in Amite County to gather bridal wreath and roses (my bridal wreath and my roses) to decorate tables for a wedding shower. While there, I found the shovel and a bucket and dug up Aunt Gayle’s daylily.
There were others around the yard and vegetable garden, the pool deck. And I did think about digging my favorites up that afternoon. They were mine, after all.
But the then soon-to-be-ex showed up and I decided to let them have my flowers (and my fruit trees). I’d had a lot of fun finding and planting them once, Lord willing, I’d get another chance to start over.
The other flowers, had I taken them, would have reminded me of my past. I am over that. Aunt Gayle’s daylily reminds me of her: her smile, her kindness, her laughter. She was a beautiful lady.
I miss you, Aunt Gayle, but a part of you comes for a month long visit every May.
Blessings from the Exile’s Kitchen.
Flagging Trees
Psalm 16:5-6
“Lord, you alone are my portion and my cup; you make my lot secure.
The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance.”
My cousin found the perfect spot for me to start over. A small tract of sloping hills, filled with blooming magnolias, young red oaks and pig nut hickories. Tulip poplars, a few, and lots of water oaks. The one downfall to the property is that menace known as BAMBOO! BOO is right and a great big ‘hiss’, as well. Why anybody would willingly plant that scourge is beyond me, ’cause once it gets out of hand-oh, brother. And it is so out of hand.
I have been trying to get a bulldozer out to the property to take care of the bamboo and brush piles left by the previous owner. The weather has not been cooperating and the bulldozer guy is backed up with work. Which is okay, I guess. For now. It has given me time to really walk my land and flag the trees that I want to save.
Plans are being made for a fruit orchard and big vegetable garden. This exile loves cooking with fresh ingredients. I praise God for His blessings.
Nashville Rescue Mission
But for the grace of God go I…
I have recently returned from a mission trip, where I had an eye opening experience working in a homeless shelter. The Nashville Rescue Mission is a bright light in a mass of unseen people. Country music stars are the focus in Music City, but there is a forgotten or ignored group of humanity that makes its way to 639 Lafayette Street in Nashville, Tennessee every day.
The Nashville Rescue Mission serves three hot meals a day and with those meals come hope. There is a program to get the homeless off the streets, teach them a trade and get them jobs. They give people a chance to get free of addiction, free of their past and become free to go boldly into their futures.
We met a man named John who was a graduate of the program. Addicted to meth, he started in October of last year and is now working at the mission. He is keeper of the keys to the building- a former three story Sears building. Through tears and halted speech, John told us his story. He had been in and out of many other programs. The difference is that the Nashville Rescue Mission has Jesus as the central focus of rehabilitation. Strength from God, not from oneself to get clean and sober.
The Monday evening my group worked in the kitchen, I volunteered to peel sweet potatoes. The vegetable peelers we were given to use -well, let’s just say they weren’t that great. A box of new Farber ware vegetable peelers will be mailed this week.
After we finished kp duty, we made our way to the chapel and had church with the men. I was struck with an image that has not left my mind a week later. You see, not everyone who ate a meal that evening was going through the program, where they would have a clean bed to sleep in and be able to shower everyday and to have three hot meals a day and get an opportunity for a better future.
Some men, for whatever reason, choose to not go through the program.
As the men trickled into the chapel, it became apparent which ones would be staying at the shelter and which ones would be going back to sleep on the streets. Their plastic bags were set at their feet, as they listened to the scripture readings and testimony, the hymns, the prayers. Inside those plastic bags were a clean blanket and set of clothes.
My prayer is that one night in chapel those men will hear God’s whisper and instead of settling for the plastic bag and the night air that they would want a right and noble thing. A true relationship with Jesus, a hope and a future.
May God continue to bless the Nashville Rescue Mission. They are run completely on private donations. If you would like to donate their address is: 639 Lafayette Street, Nashville, TN 37203 or nashvillerescuemission.org.
Blessings from the Exile’s Kitchen.
Second Chances Update
Just a quick update on the cake auction. Twenty-five cakes, made by students, mothers, grandma’s and aunts were delivered to the highest bidders.
The auction is a much anticipated event each year and all proceeds go to the youth to send them to camp.
Blessings.
Second Tries
Chocolate on Chocolate Pecan Avalanche Cake: I am making this three layer dream for a young fellow in the youth group. He needed someone to bake a cake for him for the annual cake auction tomorrow night, so I volunteered. Three layers of dark chocolate cake, hiding in a blanket of chocolate butter cream icing and a tumble of honey pralines cascading over the top. Well, it should have pralines…
My first attempt at dropping a batch of honey pralines turned out wrong tonight. Can’t really tell you what I didn’t do right. I don’t know, maybe I didn’t cook the concoction long enough or my pecans weren’t cold. Cold pecans is a trick of mine; it cuts down on how long you have to beat the candy before dropping the pralines.
Thank goodness I had more evaporated milk, sugar and pecans. Ten dollars worth of pecans in that first botched batch of pralines. Ugh! I cleaned up my three quart pot and started over. Second try was perfect- creamy, glistening mounds of pecan laden sugar. Divine!
Okay, here’s your life lesson (I know you were expecting one): we’re all given a chance to be redeemed. No matter how much of a wasted, sticky mess we can make of things, there’s a way out. First we have to admit that we’ve screwed up. Next we need to clean up-do some apologizing and making amends. Last step is to start over and try again, learning from our mistake, so as not to repeat it. Second tries can be really sweet, with lessons learned.
Blessings from the Exile’s Kitchen and happy second tries.
Good-bye Ringlets
College man came home last night and a miracle happened. He asked for a hair cut. Praise the Lord! He went to a private academy kindergarten through 12th grade and had to be neat and uniformed the whole thirteen years. So he was expressing his freedom this year, trying a different look with his hair and clothes. When he was leaving to go back to school last weekend, after Easter break, he put his favorite hat on – or he tried to. The little newsboy cap just would not sit securely over his brown ringlets. College man checked his reflection in his truck window and laughed as he flipped his curls around.
“Maybe next week you could give me a haircut,” he said.
Now, I have suggested he get a haircut or at least a trim many times over the last year, but he would just smile and brush off my coaxing. I quit asking and really didn’t think he was serious. So, I was surprised when he got up this morning and pointed to his fluffy head and said, ” You ready? You got time to cut my hair?”
“Now, you remember, I only know how to do one kind of haircut,” I answered.
“Yeah,” he replied with a smile and nod. “Buzz it.”
Okie dokie, off to the kitchen we went. Chair in the middle of the floor, clippers primed and ready.
Side note:
Do you see the pictures on the refrigerator? Family members have given my mother pictures of their kids and grandkids for decades. A family album on the frig front. Grandkids and great-grands have gifted her with artwork, too. Evidence that the kitchen is the heart of the home.
Blessings from the Exile’s Kitchen.
National Peeps Day
Twin Peeps floating in my afternoon cup of coffee.
Source: National Peeps Day
theexileskitchen 