Treasure In An Attic

This week, on a rainy, raw Monday, I decided to begin a purging of our attic.  I was inspired by the days I spent helping my parents sort through fifty plus years of belongings before they moved into a smaller home this past summer.  Out of sight, out of mind is very true in this case.  When an unused toy, decoration, or treasure is squirreled away in a dark attic, there it stays until a moving day comes along and the dusty boxes require decisions to be made: keep it, give it away or throw it away. It's a huge job.  This burden of stuff.  But that will be for another discussion.

So Monday, in the spirit of traveling this life journey of mine with less baggage and for sharing the memories that might be hiding in my attic, I opened the attic door and took stock.  I saw boxes of Christmas decorations, a highchair and crib, Easter baskets, luggage and many boxes and bins holding toys and school memorabilia belonging to Jeremy and Maria.  I decided I would start with Jeremy's bins.  Since he and Mechelle have their own attic as homeowners, I would relinquish to them the keepers of his memories. 

Lugging bins downstairs, I found he had an elementary bin, a high school bin and a college bin. 

There was a box of trophies.

 

And a bin of greeting cards he received through the years.

 

  In this bin was where I lost myself a rainy Monday in November. As I sorted and read cards it became apparent to me that our son was the recipient of much love, prayers and nurture in the village that surrounded him through family, school, neighborhood and church.  I was overwhelmed with the blessing of this community.  Realization dawned that Kevin and I had so much support as Jeremy's (and Maria's) parents. The support we took for granted at the time, but now, with 20/20 vision looking in the rearview mirror and documented in the saved cards, it was undeniably influential in our lives as parents. 

I started sorting cards in piles.  The cards on top were the most recent and they included sweet ones from his then girlfriend, Mechelle--I didn't read them, well, not all of them...no surprises, just reminded me again what a treasure our daughter-in-love is to our son and to our family.  Sweet Love.

I found cards from Maria to her brother.  I was reminded of the special relationship they had growing up together.  They were a team.  They sometimes remind me that we brainwashed them.  We would tell them they have to work things out.... someday they won't have Dad and me but they'll have each other so, Be Kind!  And, with God working in their little hearts, they got it.  Now a team of three, they enjoy a love and friendship that runs deep in their souls.  Siblings are a treasure and our first opportunities to figure out how to live and love together.  Sibling love.

Another pile of cards grew quickly, those from the Grands.  The Grands are Jeremy's grandparents Horning and Martin.  He received cards on e.v.e.r.y holiday.  With cute pictures of bikes, deer, drums or fishing rods.

 

  Boy things.  But inside the cards, handwritten notes of love, pride in his choices, and encouragement for growing well. He had, and still has, such cheerleaders in the Grands.  These carefully chosen cards reflect the very active presence they had in Jeremy's life, his milestones and his accomplishments.  They attended concerts, sports activities, graduations, and blessed Kevin and I with countless hours of babysitting when the children were young. Jeremy is blessed as he still has their very active presence in his life.  So much unconditional love.

The next pile wasn't big but the weight of wisdom and love contained in the cards was pure gold.  This stack of cards was from the GreatGrands.  Jeremy was fortunate to know two great-grandfathers and four great-grandmothers.  He tells me his memory is sketchy and he doesn't know what he actually remembers of them and what is from pictures and stories.  But they knew and treasured his little life. My maternal grandmother, Grandma Good, wrote loving notes in her cards to Jeremy.  Words that reflected many years of faith in God and the joy in choosing to serve Him.

She faithfully prayed for my family and she and grandpa loved when we would drop "the children" off to play at their home while Kevin and I attended a Bible study or elder team meeting.  The wealth of collective life experience in the GreatGrands and their encouragement of our boy is a legacy cherished.  Ageless love.

The stack of cards from aunts, uncles and cousins grew. I recalled the countless hours Jeremy played with his Martin and Horning cousins.  He had a circle of playmates, rich in imagination and energy, to learn about give-and-take, sharing and negotiation.  All of it in the safe and secure boundaries of a grandparent's or aunt's and uncle's care.  Family love.

Their were greeting cards from next-door neighbors, coaches, his drum teacher and his schoolteachers.  Cards that expressed respect, encouragement and blessing.   Thoughtful notes of care were added to the pile from youth group leaders and Sunday School teachers. Then I noticed how many cards were added to the stack from his prayer partners from church.  Jeremy was privileged to have prayer support from two wise older men from New Life Fellowship, Luke Landis and Marty Longenecker.  Both men have since moved to heaven, but the notecards, the words of love and faith...I'm blinking back tears as I type.  These men would notice in the newspaper when Jeremy made honor roll and affirm him.  They encouraged his participation on our worship team at church as the drummer.  Jeremy knew they were praying over him daily.  Jeremy knew they cared about his life.  Community love.

I found cards from Kevin and me with handwritten words that barely captured the depth of love in our hearts for our beloved son.  We verbalized daily our love for him and were intentional in speaking out loud our pride and joy in his being.  Being our boy, our terrific teen, our son!  These colorful papers document our journey as his parents, celebrating the seasons in his life and our growing, deepening relationships  from dependent infant to independent adult.  More unconditional love.

More tears moistened my eyes when, at the bottom of the bin, I found the congratulatory cards sent to us on the birth of our bouncing baby boy.  I spied handwriting I recognized, handwriting I hadn't seen in awhile, from my Aunt Sherrill.  Aunt Sherrill had the gift for sending thoughtful notes and cards.  We had to say good-bye to her when Jesus took her home to heaven this past September, but her words speak to us still.  In the two page note to us, she quoted a blessing friends sent her on the birth of her son,

"May your precious gift from heaven always know the meaning of true happiness and laughter, companionship and love.  May you find that day by day your lives are richer too.  Because that precious little gift was sent by God to you."

Generations of love.

Jeremy learned about true happiness, laughter, companionship and love from all these people who so generously and kindly invested in his life.  And most assuredly Kevin and I have experienced the priceless joys of being Jeremy's parents, this precious gift from God.  But one thing is clear, each one of us had a choice as to how we would use our lives to invest in his.  We could choose to be present or absent, to speak words of life or words of death, to nurture or to destroy.  Sobering, this powerful influence we wield.

This bin full of memories reminded me of some very important things.  These cards represented to me ordinary people who chose to invest in an infant, then a child, then a teen, then a man (as well as his parents!). It reminded me that our words matter.  Our presence matters.  Our prayers matter.  The time we take to encourage and affirm, to mentor and to teach, to play, pray and listen matters.  When we invest a thread of our love in the tapestry that makes up an individual's life, we cooperate with God in His purposes for them.  I am overwhelmed with the wonder of it all. It is serious business, this loving one another.  I am reminded of the classic Christmas movie, "It's A Wonderful Life" and the discovery of the main character, George, that his life made a powerful difference in the outcome of other's lives.  We must leverage our influence in the lives of others for their good and God's glory.  People matter.  Stuff, not so much. 

"It's far easier to raise strong sons than heal broken men."  Frederick D.

Our son Jeremy is a good, kind, loving, giving, humble darling of a man!  I may be a bit biased (just a tad bit), but the investment into his life from the village around him is reaping huge dividends.  He loves Jesus, his wife and family with all of his heart.  He is a man of integrity.  He knows what the important things in life consist of...people and God Almighty.  Our roles as Jeremy's parents were easier because of those who invested in our son's life, supporting our parenting and speaking truth and grace over him.  I have a heart full of gratitude as I type these words. 

The Grands, Jeremy and Mechelle, Maria, and Kevin at the head of the table.

 

 



My attic is a little emptier.  But there is another bin of cards...our sweet Maria's bin of love, loaded with documentation of all those dear ones who invested in her life.....that will be for another rainy day. 

Seasoned With Love

About a year  ago I became aware of a title bestowed on me by one of Maria's friends.  I had occasionally baked cookies or bread or muffins and sent them home with Maria when she returned to her apartment, then in East Falls near Philadelphia. Apparently someone began to speak of "Momma Horning's oatmeal bread...or chocolate chip cookies....or pumpkin muffins."  And it stuck.  I like it so much better than the "Mrs. Horning" some of her friends used to call me.  Momma Horning captures the heart in which it was baked and shared.  I seasoned and shared it with love.  

I've been left a legacy from women who prepared food for their families and friends with love and gratitude.  Both of my grandmothers cooked from scratch, using fresh ingredients from their gardens.  They made all flavors of baked goods and stick-to-your-ribs meals.  My mother continued the legacy.  I married a man with a mother who rocks as a cook. 

My Mother-In-Love, Elaine

 

These women who modeled mothering for me showed me the gift that is family mealtime and that food wasn't just about quieting the growl in a stomach.  I remember waking to the smell of chocolate cake baking on a Saturday morning as my mom prepared this treat for our weekend dessert.  As I got old enough, one of my chores (which wasn't a chore at all) was to do the baking on Saturday for the week ahead (it is where I learned how good chocolate chip cookie dough tastes).  I remember the joy of winning a baking contest in my high school home economics class with a carrot cake topped with cream cheese frosting!  But the greater satisfaction came from the enthusiasm with which my friends devoured the leftover cake at the cafeteria lunch table.  I became aware that food meets more than our bodies needs for nutrients and energy.  Food communicates love, care, thoughtfulness and kindness.  When it's seasoned with love, served with creativity to family, friends and guests who gather around a table of "belonging", food sustains the soul and the body.

When baking during the years our children lived at home, I timed it so the cookies were coming out of the oven as they came in the front door from school, perfect for a snack with a glass of milk.

Monster Cookies!

 

  I prepared food for dinner as they did their homework at the kitchen table.  The aromas of chicken baking or bread rising held the promise of a cozy meal with our family who held each member dear.  The conversations around the table fed our souls.  And the prayer offered before we ate honored God in gratitude for His provision.

When I pull out my recipe box or plan a meal, I am thinking about what will appeal to the sight, smell, taste and touch.  The sounds come from the laughter, cherished voices and conversation around the table.  The time I spend preparing food is my gift to the ones who will eat it.  I want to create memories of being loved, cared for and remembered.  For those are memories I have from being gathered around my grandmother's table, my mother's table, and my mother-in-love's table.  I came across a quote by Judith B. Jones, a cookbook author, whose thought resonates with me. She says,
                          "Cooking demands attention, patience, and above all,
                            a respect for the gifts of the earth.  It is a form of
                            worship, a way of giving thanks."

Gratitude to God, prayers for my family or friends, and joy in my blessings are often in my thoughts as I stir, chop, knead, and mix.  Sometimes there are tears, frustrations or anxiety...but the focus on the job, the completed recipe and the comfort of the familiar routines of meal preparation often brings some peace.  I also prefer the right atmosphere for cooking and baking....music blaring and candles burning!  I occasionally take dancing breaks when a favorite foot-tapping song comes on....but only when cooking by myself.

 My gift and delight is in orchestrating tasty food, fragrant aromas and authentic conversation around a table that invites intimacy and a "knowing and being known".  But I can get so caught up in creating the perfect treat or meal that my striving for perfection squashes any potential of blessing others. I get tired  and frustrated as my list gets longer: clean the house, add this homemade dish, pick flowers for the centerpiece, make two cakes, try this new recipe, light the candles, pick the appropriate dinner music, oh, and when will I do my nails?! 

I am learning that simple and tasty food with a lived-in, relatively clean home provides the right atmosphere for a peaceful me to delight in delighting others with a meal around our table. What do I have to prove?  Nothing. I am okay.  My house is okay.  My food, usually okay.  Just the other day I tried a new chocolate cake recipe, baking the batter in cupcake tins.  They seriously flopped in the center, regular craters.  They looked pitiful.  Frosting hid the multitude of appearance difficulties.  Fortunately they tasted good.  I was fussing about this flop to our Maria and she reminded me that I was experiencing a "First World " problem.  Sigh.  What in the world am I complaining about.  A perspective shift happened quickly. 

Last week I read the true story in John's gospel, chapter 6, verses 1 to 14 about the time Jesus fed about five thousand men with five small barley loaves and two small fish donated by a boy.  I wondered if that child's mother knew he was going to the mountainside to listen to Jesus?  Or if she packed his little lunch for another purpose?  And who was the woman who baked the little barley loaves?  The boy's sister, mother or grandmother?  Did that woman season those little loaves with love?  She did a ordinary, routine chore that day.  She baked bread for her family.  Who would have guessed it would feed five thousand and more......after it was offered to Jesus and He gave thanks and distributed it.  I can only imagine her astonishment when her boy came home and told her what had happened to his lunch, her bread!  I wonder if they gave him one of the twelve baskets of leftovers to take home?

We do not know what our ordinary daily routines may accomplish when they are performed as worship to our sweet Jesus.  Whether we are caring for children, solving problems on city gas lines, overseeing businesses or nonprofits, studying for classes, looking for work, whatever we are doing, let us work at it with all our heart
 as working for the Lord, for it truly is Christ we are serving. (Colossians 3:23-24)

Now from my recipe box, Golden Potato Rolls, originally submitted by Noni Rueger, a cook from Salt Lake City, Utah to Taste of Home magazine and clipped by me.  I prepared these most recently for a Martin family excursion to Cardinal Hill, my parents' vacation home in Perry County.  I'll give you the directions with some pictures, then the recipe at the end.

Dissolve 1 package (1/4 ounce) active yeast in 1/2 cup of warm water (110-115 degrees) and set aside.

Combine 1 cup milk, 3/4 cup shortening or butter (I use butter), 1 and 1/4 cup leftover mashed potatoes, cook and stir over low heat just until shortening melted.

Remove from the heat and place in a large bowl with 1/2 cup sugar, 2 teaspoons salt, 2 cups all-purpose flour and the yeast mixture.  Add 2 beaten eggs and mix well.

Cover loosely and let stand for two hours.  The dough will look like this.

 

 

Stir in as much of 6 to 6 and 1/2 cups of flour as you can, then dump the sticky mess onto a floured surface (I use the clean countertop) and finish working in the flour by kneading for 6-8 minutes, until the dough is soft, smooth, elastic and not sticky. Do not cut your kneading short.  Kneading makes a wonderfully light, moist and delicious bread.  It is also perfect for working out frustrations and fears. I strip off my rings, make sure my hands are very clean and go at it the old-fashioned way, the way my grandmothers did, with my bare hands.  I put my rings in a cute little glass basket that my Aunt Mary gave me for a long ago birthday.

 

 

It is sitting next to the dearest little pumpkin created by the sweetest little hands of our Maria when she was in third grade.  I pull it out every autumn, much to her chagrin.  But I cherish her art and the memories it evokes of those  years when my peeps lived under my roof, nurtured in our care.  Back to the bread dough.

 

Now place this wonderful soft dough in a greased bowl, turn once to grease the top too, cover and let rise in a warm spot for about one hour.

  All these little breaks for the yeast to work its magic gives time to attend to other chores or errands.

 

"There is absolutely no reason

for being rushed along with the rush.

Everybody should be free to go slow."

Robert Frost

 

Perhaps make a phone call, read, write a note or tidy a room.

 

After about an hour, punch down the dough and divide it into thirds.

 

On your lightly floured counter, roll each third into approximately a 12 inch circle. Using a pizza cutter, cut into 12 pie-shaped wedges like so:



 

Starting at the wide end of a wedge, roll up to the point.  Place each roll, point side down, about two inches apart on a greased baking sheet.  I fit 18 rolls on a cookie sheet.





 

Cover again with a tea towel and let rise 30 minutes.  Then bake in an oven preheated to 400 degrees for 15 minutes and golden. 



Cover the delicious golden crescents while they cool.

Then for the best part.......savor the simple pleasure of a warm roll with the sweet topping of your choice.  Our Jeremy likes them best with butter, I like them plain or with my apple butter. 

 



 

They are so good I could eat three of them....but I don't....but they are that good.  And while we are thinking about cozy autumn tables of hospitality to gather round, have a peek at a few of my Autumn deocrations.

And my turkey platter, nabbed a long time ago when whiling away an afternoon at some antique store or yard sale or thrift store.  I don't remember the exact when but I remember being tickled with the find.

And now the recipe:

 

 Golden Potato Rolls

 

1 package (1/4 ounce) active dry yeast

1/2 cup warm water (110-115 degrees)

1 cup milk

3/4 cup shortening or butter

1-1/4 cup leftover mashed potatoes

1/2 cup sugar

2 teaspoons salt

8 to 8-1/2 cups all-purpose flour, divided

2 eggs, beaten

 

Dissolve yeast in water, set aside.  In a saucepan

combine milk, shortening, potatoes.  Cook and stir over low heat

just till butter melted.  Place milk mixture in large bowl and

add sugar, salt, 2 cups flour, yeast mixture and eggs.  Mix well.  Cover

with clean tea towel and let stand 2 hours.  Mixture will be spongy.

Stir in enough remaining flour to make a soft dough.  Knead 6-8 minutes on floured surface, working in the remaining flour till dough smooth and elastic.

Place in a greased bowl, turning once to grease both sides.  Cover and let

rise for one hour.  Punch down, divide into thirds.  On floured surface roll

each third into a 12 inch circle.  Cut circle into 12 pie-shaped wedges.

Starting at wide end, roll up each wedge.  Place roll, point side down, on greased baking sheet about 2 inches apart.  Cover and let rise 30 minutes. Bake in oven preheated to 400 degrees

for 15 minutes until golden.  Let cool.  Freezes well. 

 

I hope this recipe becomes one of your family favorites.  And when you make it, don't forget to add lots of love!  With love and a Hug,

 

Momma Horning

 

 





Feeling Insecure

 Beginnings.  Firsts.  Starting.  The white page of the compose screen of  this blog looks so blank.  And I wonder "Who am I kidding?" and "What am I thinking?" to try this thing called "writing a blog"?  Deep breath.  I've been here before.  The first day of a new job, the first day at home alone with a newborn baby, the first week of a 20 week marathon training schedule ( What WAS I thinking?!), the first days with a 12 week old yellow lab (Why must this puppy lick my legs?  No one told me I would be wearing dog spit! And dog hair.)!  I used to be an enthusiastic beginner when I look back on myself as a child.  I was curious.  I asked questions.  I tried new things.  Somewhere along my journey, it became more important to succeed and succeed effortlessly.  I preferred only the safe, low-risk challenges that were not too hard.  And I liked the affirmation I received when I did well. 

My man and I enjoyed a restorative eight week sabbatical from ministry this summer.  We spent two weeks at The Potters Inn, located in Divide, Colorado.  This is the lodge where we met for our spiritual direction.

Basically we spent 5 days cocooned in our cozy cabin, met with our spiritual directors, read, listened for God whispers and penned our thoughts in journals.  God helped me uncover this performance-oriented, get-it-right-or-else self that was wearing me out.  And He invited me to live from my true self, who He made me to be. A book by Henri J. M. Nouwen, Life of the Beloved, helped me put words around this concept of being chosen by God and called beloved.  Nouwen says,

 "Our preciousness, uniqueness, and individuality are not given to us by those who meet us in clock-time, our brief chronological existence, but by the One who has chosen us with an everlasting love, a love that has existed from all eternity and will last through all eternity." 

 Noewen also states,

 "When you lose touch with your chosenness, you expose yourself to the temptation of self-rejection." 

 And do I get that concept.  When I start performing for the audience in clock-time, I can't do enough or be enough and I start rejecting who I am.  Wrong thinking here girl.  But when I am secure in being a chosen daughter of God, the One who delights in me and planned for me before my parents even conceived me then I am free to enjoy me and to love who I am. 


With these thoughts simmering in my soul, sitting on a bench like this,

 I sensed bubbling in my spirit thoughts like these, "Why don't you try?" and "Go explore." and "Discover who I am making you." and "Listen for what makes your soul sing."  I felt as if the Holy Spirit in me was being my personal cheerleader, "Sure you can.  Why not?  Don't be afraid."  I wondered if I remembered how to explore without playing it safe.  It has been a long time since I went out on a limb, exposing myself and my longings. Risking failure or mediocrity.  But wasn't that what I was experiencing by not being true to who God purposed me to be?   The gift of my unique self, my well-being, my quiet soul will truly be a gift to others and honor God so much better than this striving, stressed-out, self-rejecting woman.  And this leads me to where I began this post, new starts.

I remind myself of how it felt to be slow but... I kept running, to be inexperienced but humbly ask for help, to be afraid and exhausted but doing it anyway.  Not always doing it great, sometimes feeling like swearing, or being grumpy, or wanting to give up...but not.  I believe if fear, hard work, feeling clumsy or stupid are the only things keeping me from trying something I'm curious about or longing to experience then those are not good enough reasons.   And not giving up resulted in these beautiful children blessing my life over and over.  Meet (left to right) Mechelle (daughter-in-love), Jeremy and Maria.

And not giving up on training this dog, Taffy, gifted our family her unconditional, tail-wagging love.   

When I said a crazy "Yes" to a marathon in 2011 and fought through doubts and fears and sore muscles and unhappy toenails, this is what "I finished!" looks like:

And not settling for anything less than God's best in my marriage looks like this, thirty-two years later:

Happy.  Loved. Forever.

 



Letting my curiosity and wonder lead me to expression in the written, very public realm of blogging I will persevere when it is clumsy, hard or scary, ask for help from my niece (you can check her blog out here), and realize this:  If I don't try now, a year from now nothing will have changed.  If I try, a year from now it will be easier, I will be a better writer and I may encourage someone else to be, to dream and to stretch their wings.

Maybe writing will be in my future.  No matter, I will enjoy the journey and trust God delights in my efforts to be authentically ME!  So I have begun!