Restored Beauty

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So I was re-reading tonight some bits of the bible that I had touched on a few days ago. For those of you who read the bible, you will understand the idea that you can read a passage and have it mean something to you that time and then read that same passage another time and it can speak to you in a completely different way. 

And that is where I am finding myself. 

This certain section of Isaiah meant nothing out of the ordinary to me 36 hours ago, but today, after the internal struggles I've been through, this passage is larger than life.

"O afflicted city, lashed by storms and not comforted,
I will build you with stones of turquoise,
your foundations with sapphires.
I will make your battlements of rubies,
your gates of sparkling jewels,
and all your walls of precious stones."
-Isaiah 54:11-12

What could this possibly do for me?  How could this archaic ramble be relevant in my day to day?

I have had some storms. Some big storms. Where I didn't feel comforted in the slightest. I felt completely alone. I felt I had no one to turn to. And when I did reach out for help, I was dismissed, pushed aside, not valued. I was afflicted. I was distressed with mental pain and greatly troubled. Damage was done. Deep.

But this... this tells me that He will rebuild ALL that was destroyed and make it beautiful. He will rebuild my self-esteem and make me feel majestic. He will fix the cracks in my heart and my love will be exquisite. Those harsh words I speak to myself because they were spoken to me, He will replace them with words that are loving and divine. The body that I have been given and wreaked havoc on, not respected, not loved, pushed aside... somehow, He will make it beautiful and precious.

And maybe God has already done some of these things in me. I believe He has started the work of rebuilding some of what was destroyed. I can see where he is bringing beauty from the ashes. But I think the bigger step for me is to stop looking at myself through the scars and start looking at myself through His eyes. Because He loves me. He sees me through the eyes of Jesus who IS love. I want to see what God sees. And maybe if I see what God sees, then maybe... just maybe, I will value the creation he calls Reena.

Maybe I will care about what I put in my body the same way I care about what my kids eat. Maybe I will care that I am active enough so that my body is working in a healthy way, the same way I care for my kids activity levels. Maybe I will speak encouraging words to my heart.

I want to see what God sees. Yeah, that's what I want. Because when He looks at me, he shakes his head, smiles and says "Man, I love that extraordinary woman." That's what I want to see.

On The Watch...

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I'm feeling the need to share a few things that God has been impressing on my heart.

I enjoy movies. Not to the point where I have to see them as soon as they come out, but I like things that take me out of my life and submerge me in another place. A place where I can feel what the characters are feeling, see what they are seeing, experience their emotions. And then there are those movies that have legendary quotes that will stick out and be repeated over and over in years to come.

"I'm your Huckleberry" - Tombstone

"Feeling lucky, Punk" - Dirty Harry

"I feel the need, the need for speed" - Top Gun

"You've got mail" - You've Got Mail

"Tomorrow is another day" - Gone With The Wind

One of my favorite movies is Little Women, if you are a guy stick with me. For me, this movie has many quotes that apply to my life today. But two quotes seem to keep rolling about in my head lately.The main character, Jo, is a young woman who is unsettled in the stage of life she is in. During a discussion with one of her sisters she's trying to figure out where she fits into the scheme of things within her family, her circle of friends, her community, and she says,

“I want to do something different. I don't know what it is yet, but I’m on the watch for it.” 

And at another point in the movie she is having a discussion with her mother regarding what she should do because she again feels unsettled.

"I love our home but I'm so fitful and I can't stand being here. I'm sorry, I want to change, but I can't and I feel like I'll never fit in anywhere." To which her mother responds “You have so many extraordinary gifts, how can you expect to lead an ordinary life.”  

She’s not at peace with herself, she feels like she is on the cusp of something big but she doesn't know what yet.

I feel so deeply within myself that this is where we are as a church. We are on the cusp of something big and we love our home and we feel unsettled at the same time and we want to move forward but at times we feel stalled. But while we are in God’s holding pattern, we should be “on the watch”  for anything and everything God shows us. I think we should show up on Sunday mornings and start each service saying “We don’t know what’s going to happen today, but we are going to open this place up to any miracles God wants to perform no matter how unsettled or fitful that makes us. We are going to move forward today with the expectation that the ordinary is not going to happen. We are giving God full permission to show us the extraordinary!”

Through a course I have taken on Spiritualities (a.k.a. Spiritual Gifts) the past couple months, I have learned that there’s more to me than what I do in the everyday. And if God took the time to give me these Spiritualities and mirrors of himself in me… how can I expect to lead an ordinary life. We were made for more than just the mundane. We were made to be extraordinary people. I can’t stand the idea of looking at myself and thinking… is this as good as it gets? Is this all I was brought in this world to do?

I am in that fitful spot, where I am unsettled and teetering on the cusp of something big, but I don't know what it all looks like yet. I have been given so many extraordinary gifts, to waste them on a life lived in an ordinary way would be such a disappointment. And so I am on the watch for God and looking to see how he might use me in ways that aren't ordinary. I will look for those extraordinary things during the day to day, be they little or big, and celebrate each one. 


I hope that this has encouraged you, or caused you to think or maybe see the church through a different lens.

Tree of Irritation

Pretend there's a tree in my front yard.

This tree has been here since before I owned the house. In fact, when I moved in, the previous owner told me that the tree had been there since he bought the house and that was a full 40 years. This tree has been around a good while. But there's a problem. It doesn't grow. It never gets any taller or thicker. It does not leaf out in the spring, it does not exchange carbon dioxide for oxygen and it does not produce any kind of fruit. It doesn't perform any of the tasks a tree is supposed to perform. And yet... it remains in my yard, highly visible for all to see.

Each day I leave my house, I see this tree that does not live up to its potential and I find myself starting the day irritated. There must be something this tree needs so that it can grow, thrive, flourish. I need this tree to see in itself what its possibilities are. So I decide to make a concerted effort to talk to the tree, invest time in it by pulling weeds, making sure the soil is just right, giving it living rain water instead of chemically treated water, researching exactly the right kind of food it needs to really take off. I have set aside my irritation with the idea that if I work with this tree, it will begin to function as a working part of my yard. I will give it the love and time it needs so that it will see that I value it and that it can be a part of a really great yard that others will want to visit and maybe grow in the same way.

Everything is lined up. I have crossed every "T" and dotted every "I" so this tree has the best chance of not only growing, leafing out, exchanging gases and producing fruit, but becoming beautiful as well. But as I spend time with the tree, giving it everything it needs I notice that it's still not growing, still not changing. It is still irritating me that the conditions are optimal for growth and it's not happening.

You see, the tree has existed all these years in the same state. It grew to a certain point and then stopped. It was content with being small. It had no reason to get bigger. It had no desire to entertain the new idea of leafing and producing fruit. It had no desire to learn how to take a gas that can suffocate and turn it into life giving air for those around it. In fact, the tree took more time and energy than it ever gave back.

There comes a time in life when it can become necessary to yank out this life-sucking, time-sucking, non-fruit-producing, irritating tree. Give it the freedom to find another yard to be stagnant and toxic in. My energy is better spent with the trees and plants that want to grow, that are open to new ways of growing and readily entertain the idea that how they've always been shown to grow may have worked in the past, but time brings new intelligence, new understanding and if my plants are open to me helping them, they have the ability to reach their full potential along with all the other plants.

I need to do some time investing and pruning and plucking and nourishing and talking and loving. I need to make sure that the things in my life, regardless of how long they've been there, are the things that will help me reach my full potential and hopefully I'll bring others who are willing along with me.

A Journey From Hate to Health - Part 2

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Drugs & Perspective


The only night I can remember spent in that much pain was the day I heard my dad had died. That kind of emotional pain can at times feel physical. But at least there is an ebb and flow, good memories are mixed in with the despair. And with childbirth, there is an ebb and flow as well, there is rest between contractions, and the knowing that it won't hurt forever gave me the wherewithal to plow through. But there was no respite this night.


I was up early out of bed, showered and ready to make an appointment with my general practitioner. I needed something to make the pain go away. Just give me drugs. Make it stop hurting. When they heard I had been in an accident, they agreed to see me right away. After a brief discussion of what happened, he wrote me a script and I was on my way to being pain free. I may have even cracked a smile feeling the anticipation of being normal again. Only, I didn't feel normal. The drugs didn't really take away the pain, they just made me stupid. I was numb all over. The pain was there, but I didn't care. That was about the extent of it... the meds took away my ability to care... Oh yeah, and to speak in complete sentences. My staff... the people I managed at work, laughed at me for two days straight before they said enough was enough. Not only should I not be working, but I shouldn't be driving while taking the drugs either. I went home early that night and went straight to bed.


The following morning I attended a weekly bible study where we broke up into small groups and shared our answers to questions that we had worked on the previous week. The group leader asked me to answer a question. I began with an apology and a chuckle that explained the events of the week and that my answers probably wouldn't make much sense due to my drug induced state. After our group time, one of the ladies came up to me and asked if I had ever considered chiropractic care. She felt that her husband would be able to help me and offered to make the appointment right then. Within minutes I had an appointment scheduled right after our study time. To be honest, the only things I had ever heard about chiropractors were they were quacks and that whatever they did, you had to keep coming back to have it done. It was a never ending cycle. You see that's how they make their money, or so I had been told.


I made my way to the office, handled paperwork, answered questions and waited. Not for long though, apparently I had an "in" and I was ushered to the back part of the office where they did a scan on my spine, x-rays and I answered more questions. I finally met the doctor and he asked me more questions. My GP never asked me any of this stuff. I had never met a doctor like this. He didn't speak. He thought. He contemplated. He mulled. He processed. After what seemed an amazing amount of silence, I was about ready to ask him if HE was alright when he finally spoke. As the appointment progressed, he started to educate me on why the medicine wasn't helping me improve. The medicine wasn't designed to fix what was wrong, it was designed to target the pain and make what hurt, seem like it didn't hurt. It was like taking a massive ibuprofen for a pulled muscle. The muscle is still injured, the ibuprofen just makes the brain think it doesn't hurt so you can keep doing what you want to do without much interference (in a nutshell & in my verbiage). The injury is still there, you just don't think about it as much. He had described my experience exactly. He also explained that if any part of your spine is not in perfect alignment, it  can block the nervous system from functioning properly and that can have adverse effects on any number of things depending on where you are out of alignment. That explained a lot of other weirdness I was experiencing besides the drug induced stupidity.


He conveyed his plan to me on how he was going to proceed with treatment. At that point, I didn't much care what he did as long as "pain free" was in my near future. I can't remember everything he did that day, but I did leave his office with a new perspective on how the body worked and that meds really weren't the answer for anything I was going through. I quit taking the medicine (I threw it away actually) and followed his orders on how to manage my pain. I remember laying in bed a few days later in just as much agony as I had the night of the accident. I picked up the phone to see if I could get an appointment before their office closed. But when they answered all I could get out was my name and I just started crying. They had told me not to worry about a thing. The doctor was getting ready to leave for the day and would stop by my house in a few minutes. WHAT?! I almost laughed. A house call in 2002. Did they still do that? You betcha.

This was the kind of care I was given on a consistent basis. But with him, it was never just about fixing what was wrong or out of alignment, he wanted me to understand and learn through this process. I just couldn't believe I had never questioned the whole "health care" thing before. What he was teaching me made so much sense and what I had been doing most of my adult life didn't. Take care of the root of the problem, don't just treat the symptoms. It's so simple. It is a shift in perspective. It is a whole different thought process that in American society does not come naturally. This is not second nature to our generation.


It took a while for me to heal. I did physical therapy to strengthen and build my muscles back up. When I was done with my appointments, I remember hugging my doctor. For those of you who know me well, I'm not a hugger. Not. But this was a time of celebration, and gratefulness. I left with a new hope and new purpose. I wanted to change the way I looked at our health. I wasn't going to blindly take what was given to me anymore. I was going to make the choices that were best for our family.


A friend of mine, Rob Hill, posted this the other day...

"Don't let unforgiveness keep you from the healing and restoration God has for you. Besides forgiving others and yourself, check to see if you need to remove any hurt, blame, anger or hardness of heart you feel towards God. If you are mad at God confess it to Him and release it."

I don't hate that young man anymore. In fact, I hope that he didn't have problems because of the accident. I'm not mad at God either for allowing me to get hurt. It is evident to me that God has a plan for my life. If I had never had that accident I believe I would have blindly moved forward and that our family would be among the masses of Americans that are on the road to poor health. My perspective would never have changed.


I still wake up each morning in pain. There are some days that my shoulder muscles never release. There are days I wake up and can tell that at some point in my day I will have a migraine because that one specific vertebrae is out of alignment again. And most times if I just keep moving, at some point the muscles may relax on their own and I'll have a good day. Other days, not so much. And so each morning I have to put myself into a state of gratefulness that I am where I am on this journey. It doesn't always feel good, but it sure is a whole lot better than where I was.


And so the next few blogs will be me sharing briefly what I have learned along the way these past eight years. I'll share why we do what we do as a family with the resources so you can search it out on your own if you're interested.


Please know this... this is a path we have chosen for our family. We don't always get it right. We don't expect what we choose as a family to be what is best for everyone. We don't judge others for making different choices and we don't offer our opinions or share what we've learned unless someone asks. If you are reading this, consider yourself asking :) This is what's best for us right now. And what's best for us right now may change in the future based on further education.


It's a journey and I welcome you to join me as I learn and grow in my understanding.

A Journey From Hate to Health - Part 1

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The Accident


It was 2002, I was a mother of a 4 year old and a 2 year old. I was a stay at home mom during the day and worked at a family business in the evenings. Life was good and easy. It worked for us. We were happy. 


A typical afternoon found me driving north on I-77 to work when I spotted flashing blue & red lights ahead on the right. Traffic was congested, but not horrible. I moved into the left lane figuring it was an accident or someone caught speeding. Traffic had slowed considerably as people looked to see what going on. In my mind I kept hearing my dad repeat over and over "assured clear distance". I had a good 30 yards between myself and the car in front of me when I passed the police car that was sitting on the side of the expressway all by itself. A quick glance told me that whatever had happened was over and he was merely finishing his report. Traffic came to a stop. I still had 30 yards between my van and the car in front of me, that is until the guy behind me plowed into me and pushed my stopped vehicle into the car in front of me.


I was thrown forward and then flew back with such force that it laid my seat back. The entire back of my van was crushed to the rear tires, the front was damaged to the point that my electrical system was disabled. Stunned, I unbuckled my seat belt, stumbled from my van into the median strip and sat down in the grass. The guy from in front of me came over to see if I was alright. His first question was "How in the world did you hit me? You were so far away!" The guy that obliterated my van came over and said "It was my fault, I was looking at the cop car and didn't know traffic had stopped. When I looked back it was to late to stop. My foot never hit the brake. I don't think I hit you that hard though, I was only going 25 mph."


The other driver and I looked at each other with a "yeah right" glance and then we noticed a very irritated Highway Patrolman walking toward us. There was no disputing what had happened. By this time the young man's dad had shown up... and he was an insurance salesman. Enough said. He proceeded to try and convince me that this was nothing compared to other accidents he had seen and that surely my vehicle was drivable. "He knocked out the electrical, it won't even start. Not to mention that my rear bumper is making my tire look like a balloon. Are you serious? You consider this drivable?"


The police officer stated that due to the fact there was so much room between myself and the car in front of me that I would not be cited for his damage. Everything fell on the young guy. I assured the officer that I did not need an ambulance, that I was shaken up and had a headache & very minor neck pain, but nothing that warranted a visit to the hospital. My husband showed up, the van was towed (later it was deemed "totaled") and I went home.


That evening when I went to bed I was moaning and rocking in pain. My neck hurt so bad. I am not a wimp. I delivered two children, both natural, with NO DRUGS! I have a very high pain tolerance. This pain was unbearable. 


As I laid in bed, I hated that kid. I hated him for not paying attention, I hated him for gawking, I hated him for lying about his speed, I hated him because he was the reason I was in so much pain, I hated him because I couldn't sleep, I hated him because I couldn't make the pain stop, I hated his dad for treating me the way he did, I hated the fact that daddy showed up to bail him out. It was obvious that he was the kind of kid that got rescued from his mistakes and daddy made it all go away. I bet he got a new SUV out of it, because unlike mine, his vehicle was not drivable. Stupid insurance salesman.


I was not in a good place and I had no intention of stopping my thought process. Somehow, he needed to feel as bad as I did to pay for what he had done. And if my thoughts could will it... well then, so be it. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.


To be continued...

Kindle me this, Kindle me that

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I believe I may be a purist. There seems to be something amiss with this whole digital book thing. I get that it saves trees, that it's thinner than any book worth reading, that you have a virtual library at your fingertips 24 hours a day and that it has the potential to be less expensive than purchasing paper copies. But... there is something so completely wonderful about holding a book in my hands.

My love of books started at an early age. I remember spending hours pouring over pictures and taking myself into their world. Whether a family was on a picnic with sandwiches cut into perfect triangles, a monster came over to swing and I was the one sitting in his lap or a cat was being shooed away from a pie on a windowsill, I would go on wonderful adventures inside my books. As I grew, the books changed and I put myself into stories where there were no pictures. I could walk along the road with the children who were abandoned by their crazy mother, I could feel the heat on their shoulders as I anxiously turned page after page. I could see that if I kept on reading at that feverish pace, I could finish the book before midnight. I can remember my first year of marriage where we lived only a few blocks from the local library. I would check out book after book and sometimes stay up all night, reading straight through until morning. When I heard my husband get up for work, I would pretend to  have fallen asleep reading because I knew he didn't understand how a book could be so good that you would give up sleep for it. Just one more chapter, just one more chapter until I could see dawn coming through the front window in all it's pink hues and wonder where the time went.

I developed a love of Jane Austen novels and the language she used. If I were to live in an era other than this, that is where I would choose to time travel. And I can sit in my living room and look at the bookcases that flank our big, glowing television screen and see the spines of my beloved novels and remember certain scenes that took my breath away or made may laugh. They are like old friends that I sat up and conversed with late into the night. They didn't mind my tears, they didn't glance at me sideways when I read the same paragraph over and over because I had lost myself in my imagination. They even let me use my lame English accent when it's needed without judgment or snickering. I read my books as if I'm a narrator, with all the inflection and passion you would expect to hear from a movie trailer. And with each turning page the excitement builds.

I have passed down my love of books to my children. Even now at 10 & 12 years of age, I still read books to them with all the voices and I can feel their fear and listen to them laugh. They hear their favorite stories in new ways and have become fearless in putting their own ideas into action when they read a new book to me. They love when I pull out my old storybooks from when I was little and share them. I even have a few of my mothers storybooks from when she was a child. I have saved my kids books from when they were toddlers. One day when they have kids of their own, I'll pull them out and read their favorite stories to my grandchildren. We have books for each season as well, that get packed away with the decorations and then brought back out again the next year. Their favorite part of decorating is finding the books at the bottom of the bins. All decorating stops when the books surface and we'll sit and read and look through the pictures. I've already bought two new Christmas books and it's not yet Thanksgiving.

I just don't see how a handheld screen could bring these joys. I look at a screen all day at work. I want to look at my books and remember the times I had with them. I have no interest in passing down a kindle. I have the distinct privilege to pass down a legacy of being a great reader who enjoys bright colors and vivid imaginations with the sound of the pages turning almost like rustling leaves. It is a beautiful thing.

Squash Quesadilla's

One of the more fun foods we have on occasion at our house is quesadilla's. You can put all sorts of things between two flour tortilla's and make a meal... or dessert (thin sliced apples, crushed nuts, honey). But on this particular day, my daughter was having her best friend spend the night and they had all sorts of fall activities planned. When I saw the idea of a squash quesadilla, I thought it was pretty cool. However, pureed squash and cheese just didn't give me the festive dinner I was looking for. So I improvised and what followed was a really delicious, fun meal that my family and our little guest requested I make again, very soon.

What you'll need: butternut squash, onion, olive oil, cilantro, chili powder, a 1/4 cup liquid (butter, heavy cream, chicken stock, veggie stock, etc.), cheese, flour tortilla's

Wash the outside of you squash, cut the top off, cut it in half and scoop out the seeds. Rub a little olive oil on the orange flesh and then place them flat side down on a cookie sheet covered in aluminum foil that has been rubbed with olive oil. Roast them in the oven for about 40 minutes at 375-400 degrees. You should be able to insert a knife through the rind easily when the squash is done cooking.

While your squash is roasting in the oven, dice an onion and put it in a large skillet with a drizzle of olive oil. Saute the onions on medium until they are translucent and slightly caramelized.

While the onions are caramelizing, chop up about 1 ounce or 1 bunch of cilantro. When the squash is done roasting, scoop it out and put it in the pan with the onions. Add 1 tsp of chili powder and 1/4 cup of liquid. If there isn't any liquid, it gets really thick.  Choose whichever liquid you like according to taste and diet. Also remember that all of these items so far have no seasoning, so salt and pepper would be appropriate at this time.

Stir it all up so it's nice and hot. Even with the 1/4 cup liquid, it's still going to be a little thick. That's a good thing because you don't want the mixture oozing out from between the tortilla's.

Take a large spoonful and spread it around on the tortilla leaving a 1 inch margin. This will allow for melting items to not escape as easily when they are pressed and heated.

Sprinkle with shredded cheese. Just a word to the wise, shred your own cheese. The cheese that you buy pre-shredded in a bag is packed with sawdust. Yep... I said sawdust. It probably reads on the bag as cellulose or something like that. They use the sawdust to keep the cheese from sticking in a big glob in the bag. So, unless you are seriously lacking in fiber, say no to the bag.

We were lucky enough to find a sweet little quesadilla press at a local store for a great price. If you don't have one of these beauties, a skillet on your stove top will work just fine. Put the tortilla with the squash mixture and the cheese on the bottom plate.

Top with another flour tortilla and close the press.

After 3 minutes, lift the lid and using a spatula transfer the quesadilla to a dinner plate.

Using a pizza wheel, cut the quesadilla on the pressed lines. You can serve them with sour cream, salsa or whatever you like best. When we make these again, we'll probably add some cayenne pepper for heat and a little garlic. Hope you enjoy them!

Pretzel Cabin

I saw this craft idea years ago in a Martha Stewart Magazine and decided I couldn't wait for President's Day to make it. It's really simple and my daughter and her best friend had a great time with this project.

What you need: 1/2 pint dairy container, peanut butter, thin wheat crackers, pretzel sticks, pretzel squares, graham crackers

Empty the carton of the cream and rinse thoroughly with hot water. Tape closed the top where you opened the container.

Spread a thick layer of inexpensive peanut butter all over the outside of the carton.

Be sure to fill the open triangle with peanut butter because it will show if you don't cover it with pretzel sticks.

Put all of your pieces in a dish so they're easy to grab quickly. It's also a good idea to use scissors to cut your pretzel rods to shape over this dish so the pretzel crumbs stay somewhat contained.

Use the checkerboard pretzels for windows, the thin wheat crackers for the roof shingles and the pretzel sticks for the logs. The graham cracker makes a great front door. My daughters best friend got a little creative and used a spare piece of pretzel for a small door knob.

You could even decorate this with holiday candy to make it for a festive occasion. If you make it without the candy, you can put it out for the birds and squirrels. Have fun, I know we did!

Butternut Squash

Have you ever looked at these in the grocery store and thought they were fall decorations that go next to the bumpy little gourds by the indian corn? I did for a really long time. Aside from their odd shape, they really aren't much to look at. Their drab color doesn't do much for them either. But once you get to know this gourd, you might find that it holds a lot of interest. It's mighty nutritious. Go here for more information on that, you won't be sorry. There are many ways to cook and serve it. My biggest goal in this particular blog, is to dispel the mystery on how to use it. My family likes it roasted, so that's what we're going to do.

Before you start, make sure you place a damp paper towel under your cutting board. This will keep your board from sliding as you maneuver this odd shaped vegetable.

There are two ways to peel it. You can use a pairing knife or a peeler. When using a knife, number one... use extreme caution. The outside layer is slick and hard. Peel around the top first.

Then run your knife down the side to the place where the squash bumps out.

Once you have peeled the top portion, cut it off so that the bottom is easier to handle.

Then use your knife to peel around the bottom. Again using extreme caution.

Now I don't know how many of you have this kind of peeler, but I am still questioning myself as to why I waited so long to get one. Maybe because it's not what I grew up using in my mom's house. But I broke down and bought one so I could see if it would make the job of peeling this monster easier. DON'T WAIT!!! Go buy yourself one right now! I will never be without this kind of peeler again.

It made ridiculously quick work of this squash. I almost had tears in my eyes it went so fast. Again... GO BUY ONE NOW!!!

I can't believe how struggle free it was. All done peeling in a matter of minutes and way safer. However, a side note would be that when I have used this peeler on smaller items like apples, I took a nice chunk out of my finger. So use a little more caution with the smaller produce.

Take the top portion of the squash and cut it in 1/2 inch slices.

Then cut those in 1/2 inch slices

Then 1/2 inch chunks.

Next cut open the bottom half. This will look like the inside of a pumpkin since they are both squashes.

Use a spoon to scoop out the insides and discard. I suppose you could clean them off and roast them or dehydrate them like pumpkin seeds, but I've never tried it.

Cut the little bottom buttons off.

Then slice the bottom half into 1/2 inch slices.

Turn them on their sides for safety and cut these, one by one, into 1/2 inch pieces.

Throw them in a bowl, toss with some olive oil, sea salt and fresh cracked pepper.

Layer on a baking sheet and roast at 400 degrees for 45 minutes to an hour.

This is what not to do! I put too many on this sheet and when they were done roasting, some were burned and some were just soft. None of them caramelized and got yummy and sweet. Look back at the oven shot and see how they were sitting on top of each other. Now look at the picture below.

These are all in a single layer. They are crowded, but most importantly, they are in a single layer.

If you look at this, the only ones that burned were some small ones on the outside edge (that's normal). The other ones shrunk beautifully and caramelized like a champ. I serve these just as they are as a side to some sort of protein. If they aren't quite sweet enough for your young ones, you can drizzle a small amount of local maple syrup or some raw honey on top. We seem to do just fine without that though.

I really hope you try this if you've never liked this squash before (pureed, uck!) And if you've never tried it, I hope you will give it a go.

The Wisdom of Marilla

Anne of Green Gables has been a movie I have cherished since High School. It's a story of a young orphan girl that is adopted by an elderly brother and sister. Through a series of verbal exchanges though, the information was skewed and instead of them getting a boy to help on the farm like they had requested, they got Anne. Upon finding out that Marilla planned on sending her back because she wasn't a boy, Anne replies "I'm in the depths of despair." to which Marilla's responds, "To despair is to turn your back on God." The meaning didn't stick with me so much as the memory of the exchange between them.

Yesterday, I found myself in a state of despair. I found myself in a situation very similar to Anne where I had been anticipating an event for months with every fiber of my body. I could not wait for it to happen. I had made all the necessary preparations to be there at the exact time, with the proper materials, I was eager. I waited... for almost an hour. And as I resigned myself to the fact that no one was coming I trudged slowly out to the parking lot. My heart was heavy and disappointed. And the tears began to roll. I wasn't actually crying, but my body was weeping. Big, fat, hot tears slid down my cheeks as I closed myself in my vehicle. The silence was deafening. And I thought, "I'm in the depths of despair." However, I am highly realistic and reminded myself that this was nothing that warranted that description. Maybe I wasn't in the depths of despair, but I was despairing. And being a realistic person, I realized the first thing I needed to do was get myself out of the dark parking lot in a not so good part of town and go somewhere where I could process what just happened.

As I drove I ended up turning my focus away from my despair on to what Marilla had said, "To despair is to turn your back on God." What did she mean by that?! If I let myself get into such a state that I'm despairing, I have centered myself more on my issue than where God is in my situation. I am in essence telling God that he can't pull me out of that place. He's not able.  This is more than contrary to what the Bible teaches and what I believe. And so I decided to do the grown up thing and not despair... I sulked.

After doing some searching on my computer I found an email I had neglected to read that informed me that the class I was so eager to attend had been postponed until February 2011. I am no longer sulking, but eagerly looking forward to February.

Lesson learned: read my email. They are important.