Posts Categorized: Patience

What’s In *Your* Medicine Cabinet?

| Patience, Peace

Things are pretty muddy, out there in the yard.

I’ve been working in the yard quite a bit, trying to get things in shape before the blazing summer temperatures make it be uncomfortable to spend too much time outdoors. And I’ve had to work around the rain, which has been unusually heavy and constant.

I got a big, red, itchy bite in the crook of my elbow a week or so ago. It didn’t look like what a mosquito bite usually looks like on me. Some other sort of biting bug, I suppose. Then, a few days later, I got another, bigger, itchier bite behind my knee. Really bigger and insanely more itchy. Then I went to Target and bought a new can of insect repellent.

Prescriptions and over the counter medicines fill my medicine cabinet.

And, I looked for something in my arsenal of medications that would allay the itch.

I had some prescription creams (two of each) for previous bites of unknown insects. But they were antibiotic things and not itch-related. Nor itch-helpful.

I checked through the medicine cabinet, looking for drug store-type help.

Those three white lids, all in a row? All Cortizone-10, which worked. As an afterthought, I checked the expiration dates on them. June 2014, June, 2018, and April 2019.

I thought maybe I should look at everything else in there.

That small bottle of Tylenol, lying sideways on that little metal shelf? August, 2017.

The box of Mucinex? October, 2019. A few months left for me to catch a cold, or something similar.

The two boxes of Imodium? March and May 2019. And I’d just as soon NOT need it.

Ayr saline nasal mist? April, 2018.

Kleenex hand sanitizer? June 2014.

Artificial tears? December, 2019. There’ll be help if my eyes are dry between now and New Year’s Eve.

BUMP Family Friendly Nasal spray? The container says, “BB 8/17.”  I’m guessing that means “best by.” So, early 2019? Not so much.

The large Tylenol bottle? May, 2022!

Over-the-counter Iron pills? August 2020.

Nasal spray? March 2020.

Pepto Bismol tablets? I just don’t know. The only information actually on the box is “SE 20(L) 82774354K2” and “SE 20(L) 83024354KO.” I have no idea what that might mean.

And the most astonishing? ALCOHOL! Alcohol goes bad? Or, I guess, expires? REALLY. My alcohol’s expiration date? November 2013. Yes, my alcohol expired five-and-a-half years ago. And it was a great big bottle, too.

The website Needy Meds/be medwise gives information about disposing of outdated medications. I don’t have kitty litter or coffee grounds, but I do have dirt. And plastic zip-top bags. I want to be a good decision-maker and citizen.

 

Give your entire attention to what God is doing right now, and don’t get worked up about what may or may not happen tomorrow. God will help you deal with whatever hard things come up when the time comes.

Matthew 6:34 (The Message Translation)

 

Last week, while I was outside doing some yard work, I saw this at the front corner of the house. I was several feet away, and thought at first that it was some trash that had been blown around and gotten stuck on the brick. When I got closer, for a minute or so, I couldn’t figure out what it was. I stayed still and stared. It stayed still, too. It’s a lizard shedding it’s skin.

We have at least two anoles living here. I often see (one at a time, usually) one around the potting bench. Several weeks ago, Peter and I were outside, near this spot, when we saw two of them, peeking out of a vent at the bottom of the house. They were quiet and still. This lizard would have darted away from me, at any other time. But, while molting, they stay put until they’ve got their new skin.

He looks like he’s wrapped in tissue paper, with the gift of a new skin. The old skin, I suppose, has reached its expiration date.

 

April Showers Bring . . . Well, Some More Showers

| Faithfulness, Joy, Patience

We haven’t had standing water in the back yard in years. It takes a few days for the greatly sodden dirt to soak up the excess water. Then it rains, REALLY RAINS, again.

It’s been raining. Quite a bit. According to the weather information in the newspaper, our total rainfall this month has been 6.73 inches. And we’re not done with the month, yet. The weather forecast for the rest of the month says there might be a thunderstorm on Tuesday. The normal rainfall for April is 2.04 inches. The excess seems like a good idea, given what June, July, and August are sometimes like.

 

These days, when it rains, it does pour. I hope the rainfall abates enough to keep the mosquito population from becoming a problem. Meanwhile, the grass is looking great!

On Palm Sunday weekend, there was a big rainfall, lots of wind, and dropping temperatures on Saturday evening. Our Worship in the Park plan seemed to be in jeopardy (when we have our worship service in a park across the street, along with the church that is catty-cornered from us, on the other side of the park). The sun really did come out and the temperature rose, somewhat. Songs were sung, prayers were prayed, choirs sang, pastors preached, children handed out palm branches, which were waved in the air as we celebrated. Peter had come, and David returned him to Fort Worth that afternoon.

 

The afternoon was warm, and I spent a hour or so picking up the small branches that had fallen from the pecan tree. Pecan tree limbs are, apparently, rather easily broken. But they often just break off and stay perched up on the uppermost branches, for what sometimes seem like years. Many of these got blown down. I spent an hour or so Sunday afternoon, picking them up and breaking them up. The large green bin was about half full. I put in enough of the pecan tree’s broken branches to almost fill the green bin to the top.

 

 

 

 The Lord will bring about justice and praise in every nation on earth, like flowers blooming in a garden.

Isaiah 61:11 (Contemporary English Version)

 

 

Lessons that My Mother Taught . . .

| Faithfulness, Love, Patience

 

but, sadly, that I had no desire to learn.

Like cooking. I did do some cooking, mostly baking, cookies and cakes. The first main dish I ever made was macaroni and cheese, and I could not believe that you had to cook the macaroni FIRST, and then make the cheese sauce and cook the whole thing AGAIN!! Wasn’t there a better way?

I think Mother got a little bit panicky, after I got engaged, thinking that I didn’t know how to cook. At all. So she began to find recipes (and gather ingredients) for me to cook for David when he came to town. And, seriously, I could read and I could think, and I had this great cookbook with recipes for 2 (with main dish, vegetable, salad, bread, and dessert suggestions). I prepared many, many of those, and doubled lots of the recipes to include all the members of our family of four, over the years.

I can hardly bear to look at this.

She tried the housework tasks. I remember vacuuming, occasionally. We had an Electrolux vacuum cleaner. It was a canister-type vacuum. There was a large, roundish thing on wheels, and a hose with a metal tube on the end. The vacuumer could attach a variety of nozzles on the tube. There was one for floors, and one for upholstered furniture and one for getting into crevices, and I very strongly disliked each and every one of them. I was constantly getting clobbered from behind by the canister. I desperately wanted one of the upright vacuums that I saw on television.

I’m sure Mother asked me to dust, too. I don’t recall, but I imagine I gave her grief, or at least some eye-rolls.

I remember, once, cleaning the bathtub. Maybe I did that more than once. Maybe. But I don’t think it was more than that.

She developed a strategy that she thought would work. She would pay us. A quarter, which doesn’t seem like very much, but I think it was significant back then. Not lots and lots of money, but enough for a couple of soft drinks or candy bars. I wasn’t interested. But you know who was? My little sister, JoAnne.

JoAnne might not have been money-hungry,  but even then, she knew how to make hard work more fun. She explained to me, much, much later, one of her takes on vacuuming.

You’ve seen the pages from early readers with Dick and Jane. I don’t really recall who were the stars when I started First Grade, but JoAnne remembers, quite well, who were the main characters of her readers. Tom and Betty. And their little sister Susan and their dog Flip. When Mother would ask JoAnne if she would like to be paid a quarter to do some vacuuming, JoAnne would gladly agree. She would go to the closet where the Electrolux, and all its parts, were stored. And as she got them out and assembled, she would say things like, “Good morning, Tom. Glad to see you, Betty. Oh, Susan, be careful!” And so on. And the vacuum cleaner parts would be her friends, as she went from room to room, cleaning up. (Tom was the canister, Betty was the metal tube, and Susan was the flexible tube.)

Who knows what shenanigans went on when they were all scrubbing the tub!

This brings me to the baseboards. A while back, a few years ago, I guess, JoAnne and her family were visiting. As I walked by the bathroom, she came out, holding a cleaning rag. She said, “Oh. I hope you don’t mind. I cleaned the baseboards.”

“Of course I don’t mind. Were they really dirty?” “Well, a little.”

I’m blaming it on being older and not too spry, and, apparently, not seeing much. Way down there. Behind the door.

 

Show yourself in all respects to be a model of good works, and in your teaching show integrity, dignity . . .

Titus 2:7 (English Standard Version)

We all have our areas of strength, and we all have our areas of not-so-strong. For me, I could not have come from a better family. I’m hoping that at least some of it shows.

 

 

Colon

| Patience, Peace

Colon–the sign (:) used to mark a major division in a sentence, to indicate that what follows is an elaboration, summation, implication, etc., of what precedes; or to separate groups of numbers referring to different things, as hours from minutes in 5:30; or the members of a ratio or proportion, as in 1 : 2 = 3 : 6. For example, “Both a comma and a colon were used and have been retained in this e-book.” From The Web of the Golden Spider, by Frederick Orin Bartlet.

Colon–the part of the large intestine extending from the cecum to the rectum. For example, ” The bacteria in your colon thrive on nondigestible fiber, also known as prebiotics.” The Daily Burn (May 16, 2014), “How to Choose the Right Probiotic for You,”

Colon–a seaport in Panama at the Atlantic end of the Panama Canal. For example, “I found that the program for the day included a trip to Colon on the Isthmus railroad.” From The Pirate of Panama by William MacLeod Ra.

Colon–a colonial farmer or plantation owner, especially in Algeria. Apparently, people do not regularly write about this particular use of the word colon.

On Tuesday, I wish I could stay at home and write an essay, using lots of different kinds of punctuation, like commas, and periods, and colons, and exclamation marks!!

On Tuesday, it might be fun to visit the Panama Canal, and take a trip on the Isthmus railroad to visit Colon.

On Tuesday, if I owned a plantation in Algeria, I might choose to phone the Colon, and ask him or her how things are going, out there on the plantation.

However, on Tuesday, I’ll be on the “oscopy” part of my colon. I was supposed to do that a year and a half ago.

It had been ten years since my last one, and I was all scheduled up, that October, for the next one (because physicians like folks to get that done  every ten years). I’d made my pre-procedure appointment and got all the information, but I also brought up the jury summons that I also had, for that same week. There’s a giant, punitive fee if you don’t show up for your procedure. I said that I’d let them know as soon as I knew, but it might be at the last minute. And, sure enough, I had to show up in Federal Court on Tuesday, and my appointment was for Wednesday. I didn’t know if I would have to serve, or how long I would have to serve. I called on Monday and said I might indeed end up on a jury on Wednesday, so I needed to cancel. I called the next week to re-schedule, and they said they were all full up for November, and I should call in November to make a new appointment in December. I said, “Fine,” but then I thought, “Hmmm. December. There’s a lot going on, so I’ll call in December and make a January appointment.” And then, well, January was pretty busy, and then, well, February wasn’t too good, either. And, then I just kept putting it off. So, now here I am, almost a year and a half later, needing to get it done.

However, ten years from now, I don’t plan to do it again. This is my colonoscopy swan song. I hope.

And, of course, the procedure itself is quite easy. I’ll be sound asleep. It’s the “getting ready” part that’s so miserable. They like a colon to be completely empty. And that process is, well, miserable, and keeps the proceduree up for most of the night.

Anyway, I’m looking forward to Wednesday.

 

A tender, tranquil heart will make you healthy, but jealousy can make you sick.

Proverbs 14:30 (The Passion Translation)

 

I’m working on tranquility for the next few days. And on Monday, I’ll work hard to not be a little bit envious of the rest of you, who are eating and drinking foods that you like.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Too Many Doors

| Patience

Several years ago, I had gone to church early one Sunday morning, needing to get things ready before kids arrived for Sunday School. As I walked up the hallway, I met another church member, standing at the top of a staircase that lead down to the basement level Fellowship Hall. He looked a little pensive.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“I was on my way downstairs,” he said. “But, I can’t remember why I was going down there.”

“That happens to me, too,” I said. “Sometimes it helps me to go back to where I was when I decided to go get something. Where were you when you thought about going down there?”

“In the front foyer,” he said. And, somewhat skeptically, off he went. When I saw him later that morning, he said that, yes, going back had reminded him why he’d meant to go downstairs. Ta-Dah! Sometimes it’s that simple.

That strategy often works for me, too. If I’m standing in the kitchen with no idea why I went there, I try to remember where I was, when I’d decided to set off for the kitchen. I was in the bathroom. Why was I in the bathroom? I was taking the little plastic trash bag out of the trash basket. Ah-ha!! I needed to get a larger bag to empty out the rest of the trash cans at that end of the house! Sometimes that works. Sometimes I just have to go all the way back to the bathroom, where I will see that the bathroom trash basket is sitting on the toilet lid, all ready to be emptied out. Into the larger trash bag. Which I have not brought with me to the bathroom. So, I have to go back to the kitchen, while muttering to myself “Trash bag, trash bag, trash bag,” all the way to the kitchen, so I will not again forget or be distracted by, for example, remembering that I need to empty the dishwasher. Or get out something to thaw out for dinner. Or thirteen other more pressing issues. And three hours later, I’ll go into the bathroom and remember that I need to get another trash bag.

There are some studies that suggest that the physical act of walking through a doorway can cause our brain to, well, not actually forget, but to file away information, so that, when we enter a different room, our brain seems to think “Okay, we’re done with the trash-related issue, let’s plow on to something new, and, maybe at least a little bit more interesting than trash.” A Scientific American article  refers to it as the “doorway effect.”  Some of their research showed that memory was worse after passing through a doorway than after walking the same distance within a single room.

So, if I’ve noticed that the tissue holder on the kitchen bar (and I’d need to be on the dining room side of the bar) is empty, I could walk around the dining room, with empty tissue boxes on my mind, and be all right, until I walked through the doorway into the hall, and possibly forget about the tissues. Even though the door to the closet where I keep the tissues is THREE INCHES away from the door!. Let’s pretend, shall we, that that has never happened.

Another article refers to doors as an “event boundary,” meaning that walking through the door is the boundary that prevents me from remembering that THERE AREN’T ANY TISSUES ON THE BAR BETWEEN THE KITCHEN AND DINING ROOM, and enables me to walk right by that closet door, and walk through another door or two, and be fortunate if I can remember what my name is. But at least there might be tissues in those spaces.

 

This is my very favorite biblical “door” story. Peter has been in jail and been released by an angel in the middle of the night. He goes to a house where other believers are praying for his safety.

 

When he knocked at the door of the gate, a servant-girl named Rhoda came to answer. When she recognized Peter’s voice, because of her joy she did not open the gate, but ran in and announced that Peter was standing in front of the gate. They said to her, “You are out of your mind!” But she kept insisting that it was so. They kept saying, “It is his angel.” But Peter continued knocking; and when they had opened the door, they saw him and were amazed.

Acts 12:13-16 (New American Standard Bible)

 

 

I like all the descriptions of how those believers felt.

New International Version says: they were astonished.

Contemporary English Version says: They . . . were completely amazed.

The Living Bible says: their surprise knew no bounds.

God’s Word Translation says: they were shocked to see him.

The Message says: they… saw him—and went wild!

New Life Version says: they were surprised and wondered about it.

The Voice Version says: the disciples were stunned.

Worldwide English Version says: they were very much surprised

My favorite–Hawai’i Pidgin says: dea jaws wen drop. (Their jaws dropped.)

 

 

 

Membership Perks

| Joy, Kindness, Love, Patience

A couple of weeks ago, I had to wait for a prescription at Target to be filled. I spent the time wandering around the book department, where I shamelessly used my phone to take photos of book covers that I thought looked interesting and hoped that the library would have copies that I could check out, for free, to read.

 

 

I was startled, in a really good way, to see this book. A few years ago, I read Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children. It’s a YA novel (Young Adult) with a really quirky plot, and I enjoyed it. Then, I found, at the library, of course, Book 2 (Hollow City) and Book 3 (Library of Souls) and read them, too. I thought that was the end, but, ta-dah, there, at Target, was Book 4 (A Map of Days). I’m about halfway into it. Just as quirky, just as interesting, and the only problem is that I’ve forgotten some of the characters and plot specifics, which the author is helping me with by subtle references, that are making me go. “Oh, yeah. Those guys.” Or, “Hmmmm. Was he invisible? Was she really tall?”

 

 

Anyway, the previous reader left her bookmark in the book, and I’m using it, too. Doesn’t it seem like the perfect, quirky sort of bookmark for a quirky book? I’m pretty sure that the most recent borrower of the book is female, because she also left her checkout receipt in the book, too. (Sometimes they make nice, disposable bookmarks, also.)

 

 

Here’s her checkout slip. I don’t ever keep mine, because I don’t use them to keep track of my due dates, as I use my information on the library website, to keep track of what I have on hold, what’s ready to be picked up, and what can be renewed, or must be returned. Or, in too many instances, what has accrued a fine. And, there’s a self checkout area where I can scan and check out books myself, and the computer asks if I want a receipt, and I always decline, because that’s just another piece of paper floating around. The only time I have a receipt is when I get a DVD, which the librarians are required to check out, because the DVD cases are locked and the librarians unlock them (a thievery prevention system). Because I rarely get these slips, I’ve not noticed the information at the bottom. (Above the “Thank You” part)

Here’s my most recent slip. (Yes, I’m looking forward to watching Mr. Rogers. Soon.) I’ve never before noticed that financial information. I’m apparently getting close to saving $8000.00 by borrowing items from the library, instead of purchasing them. And, seriously, that’s nowhere NEAR the amount of money I’ve saved since I “began using the library.” I’ve been using the library since I was, I think, 7. That’s bound to be hundreds of thousands of dollars. This most recent total is just the $7,857.82 I’ve saved since they started keeping track. I need to ask them when they started doing that.

And, seriously, I can’t be buying any more books! Where would I put them?

It’s so hard to think of getting rid of books. Thank goodness there’s a library.

 

 

I use stories when I speak to them because when they look, they cannot see, and when they listen, they cannot hear or understand.

Matthew 13:13 (Contemporary English Version)

 

Miss Peregrine’s lot of Peculiar Children are a crew of, well, misfits of a sort. They behave as bravely as they can, they support their friends, they work together, in general, and they make a difference in their imaginary world. They rather remind me of some folks who cobbled together a group with different skill sets who worked together, in general, to make a difference in their very real world.

Meanwhile, I got an e-mail from the library informing me that my “membership in the library” was expiring, and that I needed to come in and renew it. The guy at the desk at the library was appropriately embarrassed at the term, but did explain that they were trying to update things so that someone who had moved out of town 20 years ago could be safely removed from the system. I do sort of understand, but it also seems like, if I’ve accrued, in the recent few months, nearly $8000.00 in library materials used, that mine would be a name that could safely be checked off as “active.”

 

 

Remember When You Had to BUY Film?

| Goodness, Love, Patience

Several months ago, I was helping our church Children’s Minister clean up and straighten out our Resource Room. Over weeks and months, the place can move from highly-well organized to disastrously disorganized. One problem is that folks, well-meaning folks, clean out their storage spaces and think to themselves, “I don’t want this junk any more. Maybe people could use it in Bible School (or some other event that might be ‘crafty’.”) Very often, we could not use those donations. But, I must admit, once a family that was cleaning out before moving out of state, brought a box of rolls of wide, colored and patterned packing tape. It was great! I sorry when the last roll got used up. Some of the stuff is usable. Some is not. But most of it gets left in the Resource Room and/or put on the storage shelves in there. And it sits there, waiting to be used, sometimes for years.

And some stuff gets stored on the topmost shelves, where it gets forgotten about, and never used. For example, there was, on a topmost shelf, a large plastic box (the kind that is usually used for underbed storage) filled with film canisters. Mostly black plastic ones, with snap-on lids. And, truly, a few metal ones, with the screw-top lids. Years ago, there were activities and suggestions in the Sunday School and Vacation Bible School curriculum books for using film canisters. Musical shakers, dippers for water play, making paint prints, even putting substances with strong scents (like peanut butter and lemon juice and vanilla) for preschoolers to identify. As use of film as waned, those sorts of activity suggestions has greatly demenished. We kept a couple dozen of them, just in case. And we put the rest of them in the recycle bin.

I did keep one of the metal canisters, remembering when my dad got his first 35mm SLR camera, and those metal film canisters. And, I remember when he upgraded and handed down his other camera to me. By then, I was purchasing film in those black plastic containers. A bit of nostalgia. A few years later, I got a digital camera. Then, I got a phone.

I love being able to take photos with my phone. It’s easy. It’s almost always with me. It is, usually, charged up enough to take photos. And videos! And occasionally, I send photos to Walgreen’s to make prints. But I’m most grateful that I can take forty photos of an event, look through them all, choose the two or three I want to keep, and delete the rest. And maybe make one or two into prints. It just seems so much more efficient.

I can take photos of all sorts of things–silly, interesting, useless, remarkable, and meaningful (maybe, depends on who’s doing the viewing).

 

 

Every time I think of you, I thank my God. And whenever I mention you in my prayers, it makes me happy.

Philippians 1:3,4 (Contemporary English Version)

 

And it’s quite special, if I have a photo, too.

NOW What?!?!

| Patience, Self-Control

When Bette Davis said “Old age ain’t no place for sissies,” she was not fooling around.

Pretty much nothing in my entire body works well, and each trip around the sun seems to bring additional issues which really can’t be resolved. Last Monday, I had my annual visit to my primary care physician (who is just one of a cadre of folks who poke, prod, and prescribe on my behalf). I had a couple of things to bring up, in addition to all the things she brought up.

“My finger hurts,” I said. Over the past few years, my hands have become old-lady hands.

Those fingers on the right-hand side are indeed my right-hand fingers. The center finger went off-grid years ago, with a much-enlarged knuckle joint, and that right-leaning twist. It’s a little painful and I cannot make a good fist with that hand, as that center finger refuses to participate in fist-making. Thank goodness I don’t get into fistfights. The other knuckles are rather enlarged, too, but they don’t hurt.

Those fingers on the left-hand side are, as you might have guessed, my left-hand fingers. That index finger turned inward at the upper knuckle a while back. When I hold my fingers close together, the index finger looks like it’s hiding behind the center finger, as though I might be thinking of asking it to participate in some pointing activity that it would rather not be a part of. The center finger’s pretty straight, still, but the problem child is the ring finger. It’s the one that hurts.

I noticed the discomfort a couple of weeks ago, when I was knitting. That finger’s not really an active part of the knitting process, but as I worked and that finger curled and straightened in the whole-hand engagement of knitting, it was painful. The doctor looked at it and was rather alarmed.

She was focusing on the fact that the center joint is quite enlarged, and, in fact, the whole finger is pretty swollen. She moved on down to my rings. “You’re going to have to have those cut off,” she said.

I very rarely take them off, and I don’t suppose I have in quite a while. Weeks maybe. Months maybe. My finger doesn’t hurt down there at the base of it. But, on paying attention to the situation, I could certainly see that those rings were not going to slip easily off my finger.

I guess she noticed how perplexed I was. She said, “Jewelers can cut rings off fingers.”

A couple of years ago, the setting for the engagement ring’s diamond was rough, and I took it to a jeweler for repair. They fixed it, and, as I was rather getting old-lady hands at that time, they resized both rings so that they could more easily slip over the knuckle. (Maybe they could tell it was just a matter of time.)

Wednesday, when I was out running errands, I stopped by the jeweler’s again. I showed them my awfully enlarged knuckle, and, actually, the whole finger is swollen. “My doctor says you can cut this off,” I said.

“Yes,” said the jeweler, but with a furrowed brow and concern in her eyes. She called another employee over. They looked at my finger, and both seemed to agree that it needed to come off right then and there!

I don’t know what I thought that the instrument might look like, but I was imagining some sort of tiny electric saw that would zip right through, all quickly and efficiently.

No. The thing actually looked a great deal like my garden snips, with curved blades, only much tinier. The process is that she put one blade of the little snips between my flesh and the underside of the ring. Then she put the other blade against the top of the ring and held the handles together. She took a deep breath and said, “If I hurt you, I’m very sorry.” (She said that several times.) I said that I knew it was an important process. Then, she began to turn that large handle thing at the top edge of the snips. She cranked and cranked and cranked and cranked. It took a few minutes. It was really painful. She didn’t draw any blood; there was just a lot of pressure on my sensitive, swollen finger.

After she’d finally snipped all the way through the ring, she had to put those plier things inside the ring to pry the edges apart so that she could get the ring off my finger. Also pretty uncomfortable. AND THAT WAS JUST THE FIRST RING!! I didn’t yell, or weep, but it’s just as well that there aren’t any photographs of my face.

Actually, getting second ring off was a little easier. Not lots easier, but a little easier, because it was at the bottom of my finger, where the swelling wasn’t as bad. But, there was still cranking and cranking and stretching and stretching. Now, I have two ring pieces.

“What’s next?” I asked. They said I should wait at least two months to give the swelling time to go down. And then they will put the rings back together and size them to fit. I might have to wear a ring guard. For the rest of my life.

I remember one of my mother’s sisters having a ring guard. Her knuckles were so large that any ring that could pass over a knuckle would have hung loosely at the bottom of her finger. With the ring guard, she would put the ring on, then attach the guard, which would keep the ring snugly in place. We’ll see.

 

Old age with wisdom will crown you with dignity and honor, for it takes a lifetime of righteousness to acquire it.

Proverbs 16:31 (The Passion Translation)

I’m still waiting for that wisdom part to kick in. If I’d been wiser, I’d have noticed, way earlier, that something was amiss, and maybe I could have gotten the rings off with just lots of soap.

The Great American Baker

| Joy, Love, Patience

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about Peter’s idea for the cake we should bake, in the manner of the Great British Baking Show, which he finds so very compelling. He was here again, for a few days, and had an additional idea for a “Bread Week” challenge (for our imaginary bakers). Chocolate Bread. It seemed like the very most perfect way for us to spend our Sunday afternoon. He thought I would be able to locate a recipe for chocolate bread, and, of course, in another time it might have been difficult. These days, “Chocolate Bread” in the search bar brings up all sorts of ideas. I chose one and checked my supplies and made a list of what else we’d need, which we purchased on Friday. Sunday, after church and after lunch, we got to work.

We mixed the dry ingredients together in a big container. Then, we combined warm water and yeast with the dough hook in the mixer, added the dry ingredients, and used the dough hook for the first mixing. After that,  we added enough more flour so that the bread dough was sturdy enough for kneading. Kneading is pretty messy work, at least until all the extra flour is getting kneaded in.

 

The next step is rising. Our bread didn’t rise very well, maybe due to a too cool temperature in the kitchen. The dishwasher was running while we were working, and, when I opened the dishwasher to take out the clean dishes, we felt how very nice and warm the dishwasher was, so . . .

 

 

 

 

 

we put the covered pan of bread dough inside the nice, warm dishwasher (with the door open a bit), and the dough rose quite nicely in there.

Then, we made four round loaves, and let them rise. (One of those loaves rather collapsed, so we tossed it out.) The remaining three loaves, after having slashes made across their tops, were baked.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The chocolate bread turned out pretty tasty. A perfect accompaniment for breakfast cereal. There was a loaf for Peter to share with the boy next door, who came to play with Peter on Saturday afternoon and loaned Peter a few of his own toys to use for the rest of the weekend. And, Peter and Kevin took home a loaf to share with April.

 

And, because I’m so sure that everybody is going to want to know how to make real Chocolate Bread, here’s the recipe:

 

 

 

 

 

Chocolate Bread

Ingredients

7 cups of bread flour (scoop and level off)

3/4 cup packed light brown sugar
1 cup natural cocoa powder
1 3/4 cups chopped bittersweet or semisweet chocolate (we used a bag of dark chocolate chips)
2 teaspoons salt
2 1/4 teaspoons active dry yeast (1 packet)
3 1/4 cups water

Directions
Combine the flour, brown sugar, cocoa powder, chocolate chips, and salt in a mixing bowl. Mix well, breaking up the lumps of brown sugar as needed.
Combine the yeast and water in the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with a dough hook; beat on low speed. When the yeast has dissolved, add the flour-chocolate mix and knead with the dough hook attachment. At first it will look as though you have just wasted great chocolate, but soon the dough will pull together. After about 4 minutes, turn off the mixer and use your finger to poke at the dough. If it seems too soft and sticky, knead in more flour a tablespoon at a time.
Lightly flour a work surface. Transfer the dough to the surface and knead by hand for 4 or 5 minutes.
Use a little neutrally flavored oil to grease the inside of a large bowl. Shape the dough into a ball, place it in the bowl and cover with a damp dishcloth. Let it rise for 90 minutes to 2 hours
or until it has doubled in size. (The temperature of the area should not be so warm that the chocolate starts to melt.)
Line a large baking sheet with parchment paper.(I don’t know what kind of baking sheet and oven this writer has, but we needed two baking sheets to hold the four loaves and only two at a time fit in my oven.)
Gently knock down the dough (in the bowl), then divide it into 4 equal portions. Knead each one into a ball and place on the parchment paper with enough space in between to keep the risen loaves from touching; cover with a damp cloth. When dough has almost doubled in size (about 90 minutes), it is ready to freeze or bake.

 

TO BAKE: Place a cast-iron skillet or small, shallow baking pan on an oven rack positioned on the next level below the middle rack. Preheat the oven to 375 degrees.
Use a very sharp knife to make 5 shallow slashes, cut parallel on the diagonal, on the tops of the loaves. As the dough rises in the oven, these slashes will expand, giving the finished loaf a fat football shape. Place the loaves in the oven (still on the cooking parchment) and toss about 1/2 cup of water into the hot skillet or pan below the bread. Close the oven immediately. Bake for 20 to 25 minutes, until the bread has reached an internal temperature of 198 to 205 degrees.
Transfer the loaves to a wire rack and allow them to cool to room temperature.

TO FREEZE: Place the risen, unbaked loaves in the freezer (on the parchment-paper-lined baking sheet). After they have frozen solid, wrap the loaves individually (including the parchment under them) in plastic wrap, then wrap again in resealable plastic food storage bags. The unbaked loaves can be frozen for 2 or 3 months.
To defrost, remove the wrapped loaves from their plastic bags and set them on a flat surface in the refrigerator (still wrapped in plastic) to defrost overnight. When the loaves have completely defrosted, carefully remove the plastic wrap. Then wake up the yeast in the bread dough with a warm, moist sauna by boiling 1/2 cup of water in the microwave on HIGH; carefully move the boiled water to one corner of the microwave, then place the unwrapped, unbaked loaf in the center of the microwave and close the door. Let it sit for 1 hour.
After the sauna, slash and bake as directed above.

 

Go, eat your bread with pleasure, and drink your wine with a cheerful heart, for God has already accepted your works.

Ecclesiastes 9:7

Today, 70% of the world’s cocoa beans come from four West African countries: Ivory Coast, Ghana, Nigeria and Cameroon. Originally, it grew in Central and South America. And I guess that, if I didn’t know about chocolate, then I wouldn’t be able to feel unhappy about not having it.

 

 

Sometimes It’s Hard to Know Who’s Helping and Teaching Whom

| Love, Patience

A few weeks ago, I mentioned Reading Club, where I, along with other folks from my church, go to a nearby elementary school and read with kids, once a week, during their lunch time. I wrote about their reading skills, which are significantly behind what might be expected at their grade level. I moaned to Kevin about how much needs to be done and how little time there is to make significant progress. He suggested a word-building skill, which I really did prepare, but then I remembered that Wednesday before last was the first time I was going to be with them since Christmas, and how they might want to (and they did want to) talk about their holiday and gifts.

This is the *author* of the books they like, but it’s not the characters they’re fond of. But it was all I could find at the nearest library.

This is the one and only book I could find at the library close to the school (the book with the characters they particularly enjoy reading about).

I had had a stack of books that they enjoyed reading, but I had taken them back to the library over the holidays. That first Monday (before my first Tuesday with them), I had visited the library closest to me to search for books in the series they like. I couldn’t find any. There was one book by the same author, and I got that one, but it wasn’t about the characters that they have enjoyed reading about. On Tuesday, before I went to the school, I stopped in at the library near the school, went in to look, and TA-DAH, there was one book!

The gray elephant’s name is Gerald, and the pink pig’s name is Piggy. The vocabulary’s relatively easy (depending on which kid is reading), and there are only a few words per page. But, seriously, there’s a plot, and sometimes an unexpected ending.

And, I did bring along one of the word skill games, with sets of letters and a list of words for them to create, just in case we got through the holiday conversations.

 

I got our table ready, wiping down the tabletop, and being sure everything I needed was at hand. The first of the three kids walked onto the stage, where we meet. He came and sat down, and, before I could say, “How was your holiday time?” he asked, soberly, “Did you bring Gerald?”

“Yes, I did,” I said. The two girls arrived, we chatted, and then we read several pages about Gerald and Piggy, before they had to leave with their classes.

These are the books I got at the other library. We actually read half of *I’m a Frog!* this past week, mainly because there were pages which only had “Ribbit, Ribbit, Ribbit” on them, which the poorest reader could, indeed, “read,” as she kept seeing it over and over and over again. If I show her the word, alone, on a card next week, I’m not sure she’ll recognize it, unless I draw a little frog beside it.

Here’s the book Kevin sent, and the kids’ envelopes with letter cards, and my list of words to make. We just got through the three-letter words last week. Hoping to move on a bit more each week.

That evening, when the knitting/crochet group met at an even different library, I went and got three more Gerald and Piggys, prepared for several weeks to come (books are checked out for three weeks and, if no one else requests them, they can be renewed twice! Possibly nine weeks to keep the books. In general, we read half of a book each week, so I’m good for a while.

And here’s the new routine, which worked pretty well last Tuesday: The instant they’re all there, they start eating and I open the book and let each child read one or two two-page spreads, while the other two chew and swallow a couple of bites. Then, I turn the page and move the book to the next kid, who reads one or two two-page spreads. We keep on doing that until we’ve read either to the middle of the book, or, from the middle to the end.

By then, they’ve finished eating. We dump their trays, I wipe off the table, and I hand them their envelopes with the letters, and we make words. That’s my plan for the next seven weeks, which takes us to Spring Break. Then, I can think about what we might do differently in the weeks from Spring Break until the end of school in May.

 

 

 

 

Each of you has been blessed with one of God’s many wonderful gifts to be used in the service of others. So use your gift well.

1 Peter 4:10 (Contemporary English Version)

While they may seem like a lot of silliness, the Gerald and Piggy books portray Gerald and Piggy as dear friends who care a great deal about each other. They are kind to each other. They help each other. They surprise each other. They love each other. Amid the jokes and laughs are the valid ideas about friendship. I’m so enjoying being along for the ride with them (the kids, not just the elephant and the pig)