For some reason I remember very little about my childhood whatsoever, but the following little snippet stands out. I was about 8 or 9 years old. All I know for sure is that I was in, I think, the fourth grade. A man who was at my school, put his hand on the top of my head one day in between classes, which was a little strange. I said something to him like “why are you doing that?” (I may have tried to move out from under his hand as well and he didn’t let me; I have never liked to be touched by strangers.) I don’t know who he is or was, I am pretty sure he was not directly one of my teachers. Obviously he worked at the school in some capacity.

And then came the money quote. Whoever he was, he grinned down at me and he said:
“I was just checking to see if you feel on the outside as smart as you are on the inside!”

And then he let me go and I scampered off.

According to my mother, the whole school had just taken tests (which I don’t remember at all) as part of a study into IQ levels. They told her at the time that I scored among the very highest in the whole county. A lot has happened since then in my life of course, and I am well aware that if I were to be tested today that my IQ would not be as high on the charts as it might have been then. (Head trauma will do that to you!)

But what I do know is that those few small words from that man seeped its way into my heart, and became part of my self- esteem. “I’m smart!” – partly as a result of what this man said- became part of my idea of who I am. Those few small words this man spoke to me (more than thirty years ago now!) changed my life. And he doubtless forgot completely that he had said that to me a few minutes after it was over. And I don’t even know who he was. But I was forever changed for the better as a result. He is part of the reason why I was able to think of myself as intelligent, which was a gift that helped get me through some traumatic times indeed.

The point, of course, is that we all have the power to do for children that we know or that we come across what that man did for me. We may never know when we have given someone a priceless gift like that man did for me, or when we have permanently changed someone’s life for the better.

But one thing is for sure. If we don’t make a point to speak kindly to children or their parents when we have the chance, we will not make such a difference. The thing is, it is worth the effort. I will forever be grateful to that man, whoever he was.

YUM!

I wanted to quickly share a meal that a lot of people may not have ever had, (particularly most Americans) which my British friends and family taught me about.

Sometimes, particularly in restaurants, this is served with sausage and tomato. It’s inexpensive and surprisingly good, filling, and with plenty of protein. See ingredients and the simple how-to on the flip.

You will need:

• Approximately 2-3 eggs per adult
• Large can of baked beans if you’re feeding two or more adults (whatever type you like, I think British beans really are better–they seem to have less sugar than the American type–but any kind will do.)
• About 4 pieces of bread per adult
• Butter or margarine (actually optional)
• Salt and pepper to taste (optional)
• Hot sauce if you’re into that kind of thing (optional)
• Other Herbs at your whim (optional)

In the picture attached to this post, It looks to me like the eggs have been scrambled, but you can do them fried and that’s the way it’s generally eaten at my house. We like the eggs over easy, so you can dip your toast in!

How to:

Heat up the beans

Make 1-2 pieces of toast for the base for each person. This can be buttered or not. I never butter mine (adds calories!) Put the toast on the plates. This is usually also served with toast on the side, which is usually buttered.

Once the beans are on the go, do up your eggs in a frying pan if you’re frying them. When they are nearing completion,  toast your bread you’re serving on the side.

Put beans on the toast on the plates. I put the eggs on top, or you can do them like the picture, and put them under the beans, particularly if they’re scrambled.

If serving with tomato and sausage, you may want to cut up the tomato before you start the eggs, and the sausage would go in before the eggs as well,  I would think.

This meal goes from the idea to actually eating in about fifteen minutes tops.  And it’s (at least) marginally healthful, particularly if served with tomato, I would think. It’s certainly inexpensive, and these days–most of us can use that!

I was a little dubious when this meal was first described to me, and it may not be the most appetizing looking thing in the world, but it’s worth a try and can also be a solution when for whatever reason there’s not much food in the house and you don’t feel like going out. (And/or for people like me who maybe are not the most gifted cooks in the world!)

Let me know what you think! How is (or is?) this a common dish in your neck of the woods? I know that it’s served frequently in the UK and I also know it’s eaten in Australia. Other places I’m not so sure.

Mother taught us:

To never go to sleep angry.
That things done right took no longer than things done wrong.
That all problems looked better after a good night’s sleep.
That every story had two sides.
That we had a reputation to uphold; a name to be proud of.
That time heals grief and then memories will bring comfort.
That we answered for our words as well as our actions and that words were
powerful enough to hurt and heal.
To give flowers to the living.
That all we give out comes back to us…the good and the bad.
That every person we meet would have a lesson to teach us if we could listen
with our heart.

Mother taught us:

That death was just as natural as birth and that when it was her time to leave us that God would supply all the strength, healing and love to go on.
And….that we should pass on all the good she and others have freely given to us.

It was a cold, blustery night and the snow was beginning to come down. At 6:00 pm it was already dark. Daddy was not home yet but we had already eaten dinner. It was good to be inside where it was warm. I was about five years old. Things were quiet in our house. My sisters were doing homework and Mom was cleaning the kitchen. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. It was seldom that someone came to the house after dark. Mom turned on the porch light and there was a man and three little girls at the door. The man explained that he had no job and that his children were hungry. “Could you spare some money or some food?”, he asked. Mom brought them to the table and heated up leftover food from our dinner and added canned applesauce and lots of milk. I had never seen anyone be so hungry. I hung back in the shadows and watched. Mom offered seconds and thirds and still they ate with vigor. She packed food that she had canned and made sandwiches. She talked with them, hugged them and they returned to the dark night.

Before she cleaned the table, she lifted me onto her lap and started to rock me in her rocking chair. “Terri”, she said, “you must remember this, when people are hungry, feed them, make sure before they leave that the children are full. Sometimes people have alcohol problems and if you give them money they might buy liquor and the children will continue to be hungry. The Bible says that there are times we care for angels unaware. I think that is who knocked on our door tonight”.

I remember it like it was yesterday, my heart pounding with the loud knocking on the door, the strangers coming in to our home, the children so tiny with huge eyes filled with hunger and the how humble their Daddy was. I remember with pride my Mom stretching food and giving them plenty to take with them. She treated them like family, like there was nothing unusual about their requests.

About twenty-five years later I became a foster parent in West Virginia. Again I saw the faces of hungry children; kids who were eight and nine years old that had never been asked if they wanted seconds on milk or food. I had to learn as an adult that hunger still existed in this country and it was within a few miles of my home. I remembered my Mom’s words as I too treated these children as though their hunger was not unusual and tried to make them feel at home. My Mom planted the seeds in me to help the hungry when I was just a little girl. I hope I passed this compassion on to my girls. I hope someone, somewhere touched your heart in this way too.

Finally the day of departure arrived. Daddy worked long, twelve hour days but he got us all up bright and early and we took off in a car packed full of supplies and four sisters. Now, here is the clincher. We had been on the road a couple hours with me already asking “how much further is it?” and all the sisters complaining about being crowded and could my parents take me up front with them? Dad even offered me a nickel if I could be quiet for fifteen minutes (this may have scarred me for life!) and I complied to prove I could.

Suddenly Mom broke the silence, “Mark, I just realized that when I shut the electricity off for the house to save money that the chest freezer went off too. Every thing will thaw out and have to be thrown out in a week’s time!”

And here is the wisdom: as Daddy turned the car around he patted my Mom’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “God works in mysterious ways. Perhaps this was His way of slowing us down to protect us from harm. We will just trust in that and be grateful.” And so a five hour trip ended up taking about nine hours but we arrived safely. It was one of our best vacations and also one that we teased Mom about forever.

I have thought of that day many times through the years, as I took a wrong turn, forgot something and had to backtrack, etc. It was a good lesson to learn young, a unique way perhaps, to look at God’s love and timely interventio

He thought for a moment, and said:

“I think that all people have a place in them where words fail, and this is what we all have in common.”

He said that to me nearly twenty years ago now, but I will never forget. Any time I start to think that I don’t understand others, or that I have nothing in common with (fill in any “group” I don’t belong to here) … I remember what Dr. Lyle said, and I feel more “at home.”

Wherever Dr. Lyle is now, I thank him for the many contributions that he made to who I am today. The above quote was merely one of them – yet it was one of the most important ones.

How do you think about people that may seem “alien” or completely different to you?

Tumbled Dalmatian Jasper

For some reason, I’ve been a collector of stones since I was a little girl. I remember playing in my front yard and finding a glittery piece of what I now know was just quartz, but it seemed to me to be a huge treasure. I took it to show my dad and he said something like wow, what a treasure, and we made a secret treasure box out of a shoe box for me to keep my stones in. I probably had fifty stones in that thing before the end of the week, all of them not very remarkable. So I don’t know what it was that attracted me to rocks and stones from a very young age.

Anyway then I grew up and the fascination stayed. I learned about rocks in school and they just seemed so interesting to me. A boy in my class was a rock collector and he brought in his collection, I remember touching the tumbled stones from all over the world the way other people touch diamonds and gold, I guess.

Then a couple of years ago when I learned about meta physics and the theories that everything vibrates, I sort of understood more about why I have been so attracted to stones. They must resonate to my frequency! By stones I am referring to non-precious and even semi precious stones like peridot and amethyst, and even that quartz and granite. I love them all. You should see my house it looks like a rock garden but the stones are all so beautiful. Anyway in the last few years it has gotten harder and harder to find the nicer specimens that I most want to add to my collection at a decent price. People seem to be wanting to charge an arm and a leg for tiny chips which is not what I am looking for. If someone knows of a good place, even mine-direct where I can find some more unusual stones that are of a good size, not chips, I would like to hear about it. This is an interesting website. Thanks, Neena

The ringing phone interrupted my thoughts. A social worker was calling because they needed a home right away for two school age children. She said she realized we had said we would only take one child to begin our journey into foster care but this was a brother and sister and since they would be in school all day would I please take both? I asked how soon and she said they would be on their way within minutes and that they were hungry. I got busy fixing sandwiches and soon they arrived. Imagine my surprise when there were three children ages 8, 4 and 18 months with the social worker at my door. She shrugged and said she had only passed on the information that had been given to her, I didn’t mind, did I? I had a dozen thoughts and none of them were about how capable I was but I looked into those three faces and I could not say no.

We had many experiences over the next few months with these children and I want to share a couple with you as we think of fall beginning and remember our own long ago school days.

These young children were so hungry (they gulped their milk and couldn’t believe they were offered seconds); they were so dirty, they had never had a tub bath and they were scared to be away from home.

The oldest girl explained to me that their mother had always thrown them a wet rag and told them to just wash off. They had dirt ingrained into their skin. They screamed when they heard the bathtub water running because they had never heard such a sound. It took a couple months of daily baths to get them to delight in the water and to finally be “clean”.

The memory that tugs at my heart the most though would be Norma Jean. She was the oldest, the eight year old daughter. She was named after Marilyn Monroe’s birth name. She had blonde, bouncy curls and knew how to work with the children and the house way beyond her young years. She helped me soothe the children, quiet them during the screams at bath time and rock them when they cried their deepest soul’s cries wanting to go home (yes, they were homesick even for poverty and pain). When it came time for her to return to school in the fall the state issued me a check for fifty dollars to buy shoes and clothing and anything she might need for school. God touched that money and multiplied it many times over. She was thrilled with the brand new outfits (no hand-me-downs from neighbors), new shoes and new hair bows, paper, pencils and book bag. She hugged me so tight that first morning as she got ready to walk to her first day at a new school and she whispered in my ear, “I love you, no one will make fun of me at school this year!”

Do you remember how cruel kids can be to one another? Do you know a child that doesn’t need to know someone cares about them? Of course you don’t, because rich or poor every child (and every adult) needs that love. Don’t we?

I had a couple of garage sales, usually one in the fall and another in the spring. I thought nothing of it. It was a way to get rid of stuff the kids had outgrown and have money to shop for them again.

After we had lived there about a year I held a meditation seminar downtown in the Arts Theater. A lot of people attended and one woman came up to me afterwards to introduce herself. She was fumbling for words. She explained to me that she my neighbor and she would like to come to me for private sessions. She said she and several other neighbors had misjudged me thinking that I was “beneath them since I had garage sales”. She apologized.

I had never thought that a garage sale was “wrong” or “embarrassing” to anyone in a neighborhood. When she came to my home for sessions she kept explaining her feelings about it until I was embarrassed. She was ashamed of her biases. She wanted to be my friend. That was eighteen years ago and we remain close friends today. She awakened the part of me that at first was crushed by her prejudices. I had to look closely inside me. At times I, too, had miscalculated a person’s value because they lived in a house that was “too large” or wore clothes that were “too expensive“, etc. Reverse prejudice is just as narrow minded as any prejudice. I was missing out on relationships by thinking I was “less than” these folks.

I suppose the lesson is that we are all just human beings with strengths and weaknesses trying to make our way home. We are God’s children and when we look past our differences we learn we have so very much to offer each other. This year let’s all look at whatever illusion holds us back, become more open-minded, and open our hearts to new friends.

Rancho de Chimayo

Many years ago (1973 to be exact) I was temporarily living in the US with my parents while my father was working over here. I was 18 and we had the opportunity that summer to travel around a little. We were living in Oklahoma City at the time so our trip basically included exploring Texas and New Mexico. Although I enjoyed Texas it was New Mexico that really stuck in my mind as I think it did with all of us.

On one of those days around lunchtime we happened to chance upon a restaurant in what seemed like the middle of nowhere. We’d been taking back roads as they’re always more interesting than highways. We decided to stop for lunch. The name of the restaurant was the Rancho de Chimayo. The food was excellent and after lunch we went on our way.

I didn’t realize st the time that this would be the last family trip I would ever take with my father as I left home and married not much later and he died at the age of 50 not long after my first son was born.

I am now married to an American girl and living in the US. The year before last we decided on a trip to Chimayo after I explained how strong my memories were of the place. The restaurant has expanded and is now much better known than it was when I first went and deservedly so. The food is awesome. For all of you who think you know what Mexican cuisine is like having visited any of the many big franchises spread across the US think again. There really is no comparison. It’s like comparing MickeyD with a 5 star restaurant.

The Rancho now has limited accomodation across the road from the reastaurant and so we stayed there as the center of the trip. We explored many of the places that I had originally been to in 1973 and the feeling was really weird. The last time I had stood in that spot my father had stood alongside me. Happy and sad memories all at the same time.

It’s a fact of life, I guess, that when our parents are alive and we’re still growing into adulthood that we never think of them “not being there.” But of course sometimes they do pass on and unexpectedly so. Standing in those same places from the past made me think of all the things I should have said to him and didn’t. My father knew I loved him as I knew he loved me. But did I ever tell him that as much as I should have? No. Almost certainly not.

As the words of the song say… “You don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone.”

Never pass by the opportunity to tell someone you love them.