When 2012 dawned, I was full of grand ideas and expectations. I decided that this was THE YEAR I would start fulfilling my potential and figure out what I’m supposed to be. But after about eight short weeks, I’ve realized I don’t actually have a clue what I’m doing. I thought that once I threw my arms wide to the world and said “Okay God, I’m ready! Let’s see what you have for me!”, magical things would start happening immediately. Instead, I got overwhelmed and nothing happened. I tried and failed. I still haven’t found what I’m looking for.

Last week I thought too much about this and started to feel foolish. Like a poser. I don’t want to be one of those people who makes big declarations, and friends just nod and smile because they know that nothing is going to change. But after “writing myself out” on the topic, I concluded that that feeling is nothing but pride. It’s just me wanting my own kingdom, my own idea of success on my own timetable. But I’m not in charge, God is. He didn’t need my permission to start the ball rolling on whatever He has planned for me. It’s already in motion. Everything will happen in His timing, not mine, which probably means waiting and floundering for a lot longer than I’d like. But His goal isn’t for me to look good. It’s to make me more like His Son.

So I gave myself two freeing pieces of advice: 1. Get over yourself. 2. Pick yourself up and try again. It’s that simple, but I have to re-learn it in new ways all the time. Maybe you do too.

(PS – Sorry for the lack of posts. I’ll try to get back to more frequent, better-rounded content this week. Last week was a little crazy.)

3 Comments + Posted in: reflections

Although I grew up in church, I wasn’t really aware of Lent until I lived with my friend Kathy in college. Kathy was the first Catholic I ever knew in a day-to-day way, and she taught me about the church calendar, including the concept of giving something up for forty days. For our first Lent of roommatehood, Kathy decided to give up Cheez-Its (she was addicted enough to make it a valid sacrifice). At 11:59 on Mardi Gras, she stood cramming handfuls of Cheez-Its into her mouth while another friend stood by counting down the seconds to midnight, and I sat in the corner with our other best friend, Emily, raising a glass to Protestantism. (Years later, Emily joyfully became a Catholic, so now I’d be toasting by myself.)

I learned soon after that a lot of Protestants also participate in Lent, and from that point on, it became an uncomfortable issue for me. I didn’t like the feeling of trying to earn God’s approval, or setting myself up for failure and guilt, by giving something up. I didn’t like giving something up, period. I felt like it was a compromise of justification by faith alone, even as that seemed like a too-convenient excuse. Most of all, it really bothered me when people (all Protestants, interestingly) judged the difficulty of each others’ sacrifices like it was some kind of holiness contest. I didn’t want any part of that.

But slowly, I came to feel more positive about Lent. I now believe that, like most faith-related things, Lent is ultimately very personal. It’s a chance to participate in Jesus’ suffering in a tiny way, to remind ourselves of our dependence on Him, to really prepare our hearts for Easter. What cemented it for me this year was a statement I recently heard at church: “There’s no resurrection unless something dies first.”

I’ve learned not to think about what everyone else is doing for Lent and how wimpy my efforts are in comparison. Some years I don’t give up anything, but add a prayer time or study a book instead. I think about what needs to change in my life or in my walk with God, and then I do something that will help with that heart work – without making me totally resentful and miserable, which I think is counterproductive. (If I had to give up caffeine, or all beverages but water, or all sweets, you might as well shoot me on Ash Wednesday.) Lent has become a time to reflect on, and try to participate in, what God wants to do in me.

I spent all of Tuesday morning scrambling for some sort of Lenten idea. I decided it would be better to do nothing than to pick some random thing and do it with the wrong spirit. But finally, I settled on giving up chocolate. I’ve never given up a food item before, because anything that looks like a diet puts me in diet mode. But the fact is, I eat a LOT of chocolate. My afternoon snack always consists of a chocolate-based Fiber One bar, or a few Hershey Minis, or sometimes both. I pop Hershey Kisses here and there to quell sudden sugar cravings. Not to mention the chocolate cereals and chocolate ice cream and chocolate Jello Temptations. I had no idea how extensively chocolate had quietly worked its way into my daily life. Then I realized that sin often works the same way. BINGO. Obviously chocolate is not sin and I’ll happily reunite with it on Easter, but I think the constant reminders of its absence will do me good. It’ll also force me to find healthier 100-calorie-or-less afternoon snacks. (Suggestions?)

Just some of my thoughts. Take or leave. I realize I should have posted this yesterday, but it’s been a crazy week. PS: My friend Becca has another take on Lent that I thought was great and thought-provoking!

2 Comments + Posted in: faith, friends

Last weekend, my parents and I went to Indiana to visit my brother! I hadn’t been to Evansville since we helped Kevin move last summer. His birthday is on Lincoln’s birthday, and my mom’s birthday is on Washington’s birthday, so Presidents’ Day weekend was the perfect time for a family gathering.

On the drive up on Friday, we stopped in Paducah, Kentucky. Paducah was prettier and less sleepy than I expected. We had lunch at the very historic Kirchhoff’s Deli and Bakery (it opened in 1873). Then my mom and I visited the National Quilt Museum while my dad napped in the car. :) Again, I expected to see a few impressive but generally grandma-type quilts. Instead, I was blown away by the craftsmanship and creativity of the quilts. Many were like paintings made of cloth. Sadly, pictures were prohibited, but I encourage everyone to go see the quilts for yourselves. They were amazing. I’d love to visit again and spend more time there. I was inspired!

We had an enjoyable, but low-key, visit in Evansville. Debra came up from Nashville to join us for part of the weekend. Our days pretty much revolved around eating, thanks to the cold, dreary weather and abundance of good restaurants.

I haven’t had much experience with German food, but Gerst Haus was great!

One afternoon we drove over to Newburgh to show Debra the cute “downtown” and the Ohio River.

Proof that I was not on this trip by myself

We also took in an Icemen game downtown at the new Ford Center. I hadn’t been to a hockey game in many years, but I had fun! Everything is so easy to get to in Evansville. Nothing in the city is more than about ten minutes from Kevin’s apartment. Also, all downtown parking is free. Mind: boggled.

Oh, and I met fellow blogger Amanda! She goes to Kevin’s church. :)

We had a nice visit, but I was glad we got home fairly early yesterday. The weather in Memphis was nice and I was able to go for a jog in the sunshine (with new sneakers – my knees are already thanking me). This winter hasn’t been nearly as bad as the past few, but I’m suddenly, totally Over It. But the time change is only a few weeks away! Then we’ll at least have more sun.

3 Comments + Posted in: family, travel

I made the original version of this soup for my parents’ 35th anniversary party, and it was a huge hit. Since then I’ve made at least five batches! Something about this soup really hits the spot in winter, and while cheese isn’t a main ingredient, the broth is really rich and creamy.

This recipe is great for variations. I’ve made it without the celery when I didn’t have any, and added mushrooms when they were on hand. While the meatballs are delicious and not difficult to make, I usually replace them with chicken for time and health reasons. The soup would be tasty without meat, too, but technically I’m not sure if this is true Italian wedding soup without the meatballs. Oh well!

Italian Wedding Soup

Adapted from Barefoot Contessa. Serves 8 – I half it if I’m just cooking for me.

Ingredients:

For the meatballs:
¾ pound ground chicken (I used turkey)
½ pound ground chicken sausage (I used ground pork sausage)
2/3 cup fresh white bread crumbs
2 teaspoons (2 cloves) minced garlic
3 Tbsp chopped fresh parsley leaves
¼ cup freshly grated Pecorino Romano
¼ cup freshly grated Parmesan, plus extra for serving
3 Tbsp milk
1 extra-large egg, lightly beaten
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

For the soup:
2 Tbsp olive oil
1 cup minced yellow onion
1 cup diced carrots (3 carrots), cut into ¼ inch pieces
¾ cup diced celery (2 stalks), cut into ¼ inch pieces
10 cups chicken stock ½ cup dry white wine
1 cup small pasta, such as tubetini or stars (I use ditalini)
¼ cup minced fresh dill
12 ounces baby spinach, washed and trimmed

Directions:
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F.

For the meatballs: place the ground chicken, sausage, bread crumbs, garlic, parsley, cheeses, milk, egg, 1 teaspoon salt, and ½ teaspoon pepper in a bowl and combine gently with a fork. With a teaspoon, drop 1 to 1 ¼-inch meatballs onto a sheet pan lined with parchment paper. You should have about 40 meatballs. They don’t have to be perfectly round. Bake for 30 minutes, until cooked through and lightly browned. Set aside.

For the soup: heat the olive oil over medium-low heat in a large heavy-bottomed soup pot. Add the onion, carrots, and celery and saute until softened, 5 to 6 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add the chicken stock and wine and bring to a boil. Add the pasta to the simmering broth and cook for 6 to 8 minutes, until the pasta is tender. Add the fresh dill and then the meatballs (or shredded cooked chicken, if using) to the soup and simmer for 1 minute. Taste for salt and pepper. Stir in the fresh spinach and cook for 1 minute, until the spinach is just wilted.

Ladle into soup bowls and sprinkle each serving with extra grated Parmesan.

Add a Comment + Posted in: food

My name change has finally gone through at work. I didn’t want to announce anything until my e-mail and other accounts had been changed (a slow and painful process, thanks to outsourcing). Now I have a new name plate, a new badge, and new business cards on the way, and I feel like a new woman! My co-workers have added to the chorus of encouragement and support about the change. It’s nice.

Last week, in response to my name update on Facebook, an old friend confided that her marriage is falling apart. She’s going through much the same experience I did. My heart hurt for her, and I was overwhelmed with things I wanted to tell her. In all seriousness, I could fill a book with advice and hope for hurting, bewildered, abandoned women, and maybe someday I will. In the meantime, I may start blogging about it more regularly. I don’t know the demographics of my readership, but even if these things don’t apply to you, maybe you can use them to help or relate to someone else.

All that to say, my very positive name change has reinforced something I realized on day one: when you’re going through a divorce, or any life-changing crisis that requires a lot of hard decisions, you have to do it on your own terms. This is so important. I’m not saying you should act carelessly or selfishly. I’m not advising against seeking wise counsel, or for doing it all on your own. I’m talking about the gray areas. The timing of things. The choices only you can make for yourself. With every step of my divorce, I waited, I talked to trusted friends, I prayed, I figured out what I could handle, and then I did what was right for me at that time. It wasn’t always what others wanted me to do, when they wanted me to do it, but I have no regrets. It was a faith-enriching, confidence-building experience like no other. In keeping with that process, going back to my old name has been a happy and empowering occasion. People have congratulated me, and it’s actually felt like the right response. It wouldn’t have back then. Divorce, in itself, will never be something to celebrate, but a positive fresh start and reclaiming your identity is. In this case, I didn’t have my name taken from me. I thought it all through and chose to give it back. That makes all the difference.

So many times over the last year and a half, I’ve thought I knew how people would respond to my situation. I’ve expected people to shun me, tsk-tsk me, assume that I casually tossed my marriage out like yesterday’s garbage. With few exceptions, the exact opposite has happened. Even acquaintances and new friends have assumed all the correct things, have embraced and encouraged me. Every time it happens, my heart heals a little bit more. I still bear a lot of shame for being a divorced Christian woman, no matter how many Biblical grounds I had. But the shame is melting away, a little at a time.

I wrote this passage out for myself to claim it over my year. Over my life. I encourage you to claim it for yourself too.

5 Comments + Posted in: divorce, hope