Another New Day

Arbitrarily it is the end of a year and the end of a decade. An ancient Roman-based calendar obliges us to consider tomorrow January first as the demarcation of a new year: 2010. For weeks (or months) we will continue to write 2009 on our checks, not ready to give up the old year, not ready to embrace the changing times as the years zoom away from us.

The date marks no change of seasons. We are in the midst of winter and winter will continue into the new year. There is no high holy feast to observe, no pre-calendar pagan rituals harking us back to a holiday mood. There is no reason tomorrow should be anything other than another quotidian sunrise and sunset. Another ordinary day.

Yet offices are closed, tomorrow there will be no post, and everyone goes about today with good wishes and cheerful greetings. The midnight sky will be interrupted by fireworks and dropping pickles, apples, roses, crystal balls.... each timezone will countdown to this one instant, this thin line between two ordinary days on a calendar, a separation between old and new.

We go about with Hope brimming over, Expectations and Good Intentions leading our way...This year we will do better. This is the year. Everything will be different this year. Are we deluding ourselves? I don't think so. Somehow, even though it is just another ordinary day it is still a day of promise.

Anne of Green Gables says "Tomorrow is always new with no mistakes in it -- yet." we are never more aware of this truth than at the new year. Tomorrow the whole year will be New, with no mistakes in it -- yet. Despite our best intentions the coming year will fill up with mistakes big and small. But for right now it lies ahead of us level and clean like the blanket of new fallen snow outside my window. What tracks we will make through that unbroken white! For now the expanse lies clean at our feet.... 10...9...8...7...

When morning comes remember, every day begins fresh and new and blank waiting for us to make something of it. Will it be a holiday? Will it be a day when we wish each other well? Will it be a day when we spread a message of Hope? We get to choose -- all year long.

Ashmead's Kernel

The twelfth and final apple of Christmas is the ancient Ashmead's Kernel. My sister says, "This is the only brown apple you should eat, all the others taste like cheese." She then proceeded to nibble away like a mouse with.... never mind.

Although this russet had the strongest "cheese" smell before it was sliced it had a lovely non-cheesy tart flavor. Sprightly with a nice edge to it. It's a great eating apple. We think it would also make a good cider apple for those who like their cider to turn a bit hard. Which means Ashmeade's Kernel also makes the list of those trees waiting to be transplanted from my wish list into reality. Our apple had a very nice form too. Sorry about the blurred photo but you get the idea.

Baldwin

The Baldwin, our eleventh apple has a nice tartness to it. The pretty shape and colour with bright white flesh make this an apple that is as fun to look at as it is to eat. It was ranked as "better than a Red Delicious." We are a bit scornful of the omnipresent Red Delicious however, so that's not so high a praise as you might think. Still it is a good apple and deserves a place in the fantasy orchard (which is now well over 100 imaginary acres, BTW).

Golden Russet

When my sister refers to "the apple Cheez-it" this is the apple she means. The Golden Russet hints at a cheese scent and she is now firmly convinced that all brown skinned apples will smell like cheese.

I thought it was more of an alfalfa aroma, rather like the smell of rabbit feed.

I'll wait while you laugh.

The Golden Russet has a lovely pear texture and an inoffensive flavor which actually put me very much in mind of Asian apples and pears. And it has an adorable shape.

Newtown Pippin

No, the apple isn't fuzzy. Sorry for the blurred photo but don't let it prejudice you the photo might be bad but the apple is great. The Newtown Pippin was an all around favorite. Juicy, and firm, and spunky, and flowery. It seems to store quite well and we thought it would be good for ciders, pies, sauces, and eating fresh. This pippin is on the list of favorites waiting to make the move from fantasy orchard to real orchard.

Calville Blanc

This apple, the Calville Blanc would work well in sauce or cider. It is mildly acidic. The aroma reminded me of yellow tomatoes. Evidently, I am told, there must be something wrong with my nose because that wasn't it at all. We found the flesh of our apple to be a certain sort of grainy, quite probably from age, and suspect that this apple does not store well.

Scheduled Posts continue tomorrow with another lovely Old-Fashioned Apple for the 12 days of Christmas.

Northern Spy

Thin-skinned with a crisp flesh and nice tartness the Northern Spy is a very pretty apple with a spunky flavor. We think it would probably also be a good baking apple, holding together well in pies, but we like it as an eating apple. The lovely acidity suggested lemon hints.

My sister says: "So far the little red apples are winning. Normally I like green apples. You're writing that down? You're so strange."

Hudson's Golden Gem

Our sixth apple in the apple tasting was a russet known as Hudson's Golden Gem. Russets have characteristically rough brown skin. My sister is not a fan of the look.

Hudson's Golden Gem carries with it an aroma of cheese and strong tones of pear. The texture of the flesh is particularly pear-like. My sister calls this russet the "sharp cheddar one" and although she means it as a criticism I believe it nicely points out that this apple would be an excellent apple for serving on an apple and cheese tray. But then, I thought Hudson's Golden Gem was a fairly decent eating apple.

So Very Christmasy

It's snowing. Already over four inches and still coming down. The Christmas tree is twinkling and although our Christmas Concert has been cancelled for this weekend, I am caroling away happily here at home with Bing Crosby and Frank Sinatra.

I hope you are having a Happy Christmas.

Rhode Island Greening

A very pretty apple the Rhode Island Greening is sour. SOUR! Like "sour green apples," like sugarless sour patch kids, like the best use for this apple would be vinegar.

To quote my sister "If anyone offers you a Greening, tell them NO." I didn't think it was quite that bad. It's not an eating apple for sure, though the Greening probably would be good for a cider blend if you ran out of crabapples.

Esopus Spitzenberg

"I like you." The Esopus Spitzenberg is my sister's favorite antique apple of the 12 we sampled. Thomas Jefferson and I share her good opinion of this apple. The Spitzenberg was our third president's favorite apple. With a spunky flavor and a friendly freckled skin it's a great eating apple and we are sure it would make good cider too. We could tell that our apple had been stored for some time -- and it seems to store well -- but the flavor fresh off the tree would be even better. This antique apple graduates from fantasy orchard to real orchard at the first opportunity. Only... would someone please tell me how to pronounce that first part of the name? E-sop-us? Es-op-us? Eso-pus?

Tolman Sweet

The Tolman Sweet we tasted did not live up to its billing -- it wasn't particularly sweet. Instead it might have been better named the Tolman Sort-of-Pine-Tasting. We found it to have an interesting evergreen pine scent and flavor. An intriguing apple as a unique specimen but a bushel might be to many. It's not a bad apple, but we couldn't think of a good use for it as the flesh (being grainy and mealy) was not of a quality to encourage ideas of baking or drying and we thought the pine flavor might throw-off the taste of sauces and ciders.

Moyer's Prize

Our second apple had a fun "sheepnose" shape and a brilliant pink blushed cheek. Moyer's Prize is a very sweet apple with an exceedingly soft flesh. It was not at all firm and we thought would never be a good baking apple but would probably be a good sweet to balance a snappy tart apple in a cider blend. I thought it was okay for eating, My sister suggests it is another saucing apple -- for people who don't mind a slightly "pineapple taste."

Arkansas Black

First up was the Arkansas Black. We were not impressed with the watery taste of this apple. It was bland and although the flesh was firm and would probably make a good sauce we decided this tree did not make the list for our fantasy orchard.

Hey, if they can have fantasy football leagues I can have a fantasy orchard. You should see it, it's self-mowing. ;D

The neatest thing about an Arkansas Black apple is the dark red skin. It colours everything a beautiful deep pink-red. Incidentally, the skin is where most of the flavor seemed to be also.

Old-Fashioned Apple Christmas

On the 12th Day of Christmas...

We opened up our Antique Apple Sampler and had an apple tasting party while the freezing rain slowly melted from the trees and roads.

Look for the first apple when the bell tolls... ummm... tomorrow's post.

Christmas Coming

Flowers and Chocolates

Chocolate Tort with Hazelnut Ganache.

Courtesy of one of my sister's co-workers -- who used to be a pastry chef.
Discount Daisies courtesy of Wal-mart.
Completely unseasonal, and yet still more appealing than poinsettias.

Blue Hoo

Can you guess what this is?

From the back it's hard to tell. Here's a hint.
That's right. It's BLUE HOO.
Future owls are planned, among them: Bally Hoo, You Hoo, Wa Hoo, Hoo Cares, and You Know Hoo.

What's Your Food Made Of?

This is too funny. I had to pass it on.

ummmm.... what do they think meat is made out of?

Perhaps they should read this NY Times article.

And, just for my Brother-in-Law, in case he's reading this post: "Soylent Green is People!"

Gustavian Grey

I went to sleep last night dreaming of Swedish Interior Design white upon white, pickled wood, pale painted floors and white painted furniture. I woke to a view painted with shades of grey and white. White upon branch and the pale pallet of sky and snow. The neighborhood still dreams.

By evening every yard will reveal the occupants of its home -- snowmen will announce the presence of children. I am almost nostalgic enough to don my mittens and build one myself.
It is snow. The magical transformation of the world from dull mud and bare branch to a place of white wonderment. Where Christmas trees (balled and burlaped, living Christmas trees) wait upon the doorstep and buckwheat pancakes beckon from the kitchen.

Friday Photo

Good For Goodness Sake

I have been trying to put something into words... an ideal, a feeling, a revelation... things are connecting for me in new ways this Christmas season. So here goes:

I'm watching stores fill up with Santas, Winter Carnivals or Wonderlands, Frosty, Rudolf, various seasonal characters and gingerpeople with the occasional nativity thrown in just to remind us of the original idea behind naming this holiday Christmas. Wandering aisle after aisle of bargain discount made-in-plastic made-in-China super-savings I'm listening to seasonal songs blaring from overhead speakers.

...Don we now our gay apparel...

Sleigh bells ring, are you listening?...

... voices singing 'Let's be jolly...

So this is Christmas, and what have we done?...

...He knows if you've been bad or good... That one stopped me in my tracks this year.


... he knows if you've been bad or good...

I was just talking with my mom about the way we both observe traffic laws even on roads where we know there's never any traffic or any cops. I still remember the ridicule from friends when I stopped for a stop sign on a deserted road in the middle of nowhere -- we hadn't seen another car for at least 15 minutes -- but I stopped anyway. In the idiolect of my college years I could say I've internalized Foucault's Panopticon as a sociological restraint -- but I think it's something more than that. Along those lines, maybe, but way more than that.

...he sees you when you're sleeping...

This past Sunday the pastor preached an excellent sermon -- completely unrelated to this train of thought, except for one tiny part when he asked if we had ever watched kids when they think there is no one watching. Children tend to, we'll say, "take more risks" when they think they are unobserved, than they do when they know their parents are standing right there. In reading a Scripture verse letting us know God is with us, the pastor explained that this tells us not just that God is there to comfort us, but that God is there watching to see how we behave in each situation. Hoping that we live up to the teachings He has given us, and loving us even when we don't.

...he knows when you're awake...

Every year we tell children the gifts given at Christmas are earned by good behavior. We spend the days leading up to December 25th telling children their naughty behavior will get them coal in their stockings, telling them that they have to earn the nice gifts with good deeds, telling them that "Yes, Virginia there is a Santa Claus..." and he's omniscient enough to know what you've been up to when Mommy wasn't looking.

But Salvation, the gift of Christmas, is not something we earn. We are given that gift, completely undeserving of it. For those of us who accept that gift of Salvation through Christ, those who spot it under the tree and unwrap it, this is the gift of adoption. We are made sons and daughters of the Lord.

Our Heavenly Father sees what we do when Mommy isn't looking, He knows when we've been bad or good, and He is there when we think no one can see. Like most parents He wants more for us than we can imagine for ourselves and He loves us in a way that both overlooks our flaws and fully knows each foible. He is omniscient and omnipresent. In the words of a Brooks and Dunn song: "Imagine someplace God could never be... He's there."

He's got it all over Santa.

But the jolly red fat guy with the sleigh full of gifts has climbed into the manger and is telling us we have to earn our gifts -- including the freely given gift of the Christ Child.

How many Christians are on that treadmill of earning Grace? Earning our way into heaven? One more good deed, one more kind word, and we can have that Barbie's dream house/many mansions. We are buying into Santa's version. The goodness of God doesn't ask us to deserve our gift. The goodness of God simply says I love you enough to hope you can do better next time. And the goodness of God still loves us even if we mess up that next time too.

Even when we deserve that lump of coal, even when He watches us disobey Him, even when naughty outweighs nice... that gift of grace, the mercy and the miracle of the manger and the cross , that goodness -- that's still ours to keep.

... so be good for goodness sake...

because goodness know He loves us.

Tiny Turkey

We had our Thanksgiving meal with the traditional turkey on Saturday but it wouldn't seem right not to have some form of poultry in the oven while the parade and dog show play on the telly. So this morning the pot of homemade sage and garlic stuffing went on the stove top, and the sweet potatoes in their foil jackets went into the oven with the single serving birds. I have always wanted to try my hand at Cornish Game Hen...

Mind you, the sweet potatoes actually took longer to cook through than the birds. I got some huge ones this year (2-3 pounds each). Bigger than the "turkey." And, yes, that one sweet potato is rather piggy shaped -- I couldn't resist adding ears by tipping up the corners of the foil.
The little hens were surprisingly easy. If you've managed to cook a full-sized turkey you can certainly do a game hen.

I stuffed dried rosemary sprigs and whole black peppercorns in the cavity.

Rubbed the tops with olive oil and garlic powder, and a few more sprigs of rosemary.

Drizzled in the fruit juice, I used lime juice --because pepper and lime is a great combo but it's not the best fruit flavor for enhancing this bird. I think apple would be better.

My game hens were about 1 1/2 pounds each (once I removed the gizzards a little less) and they took about 1 1/2 hours at 350 degrees to bake. I didn't really time it that well. The key to knowing when any poultry is done? Poke the bird with a fork -- if the juice runs clear (no tinge of pink) then it's cooked through.

Aside from going in and dipping up juices over the birds (to keep them moist) there's not much to do. They really just sit in there and bake themselves.

Happy Thanksgiving

Why Don't They Ever Listen?

I remember taking a handicapped friend to see Titanic for the 14th time. Colleen takes it hard that Jack dies, I was warned, but last time left her distraught over the fate of the poor iceberg.

Coming out of the theater after the movie I was completely unprepared for Colleen's assertions that Rose died. Nothing I said could convince her that Rose had lived in the movie. She was full of a story about how Rose had sacrificed herself to save Jack --she changed the movie. Jack was going to live, if the film makers wouldn't save him Colleen would.

I understand how Colleen felt. I often find myself imagining different endings, or middles, or whole movies after seeing something on-screen that did not live up to its trailers. And I'm vocal about it.

My family refuse to go out to the movies with me -- especially if I've read the book they made the film from -- because I will make comments. During the movie.
I try not to but I always end up talking to the screen. I offer advice to the characters, to the writers, to the director... I tell them how they should have done it. They never listen.

For me, nothing ever changes. Films go on deliberately altering the fictional realities of my favorite books in a manner that amounts to character assassination, violating the facts of history in a manner that makes the word anachronistic an understatement, and demonstrating truly original bad taste and poor decision making at a frighteningly increasing rate. (Really good movies are getting scarce, IMO.)

Last night as my sister and I watched a comedy on the television, I was once again speaking to the screen, bemoaning the lack of morality in our culture and pointing out that the obvious consequences could have been avoided if they would simply have listened to me four or five scenes ago....
And I had an idea: What if television and movies did listen? What if it the endings did change?

Remember "Choose Your Own Adventure" books? I love this concept. You read a page or two and then there is a choice to be made, you choose what you would do and turn to the corresponding page to see how your choice plays out... why couldn't this be done with film? An interactive webisode for all of us out here who shout advice to the television while patient family members quietly insist "They can't hear you."

Now if only someone was listening....

Seed Head

Presto

The three main ingredients in Pesto are fresh basil, pine nuts, and Parmesan cheese... but it also takes a lot of time in the blender and time cooking and some days you just don't have that kind of time. So here's a pesto inspired dish that takes way less time to prepare.

PRESTO:
2-3 cups fresh basil loosely chopped
1 1/2 cups pine nuts
1/4 cup (or so) cup olive oil
1 red pepper roughly diced
2 yellow peppers roughly diced
1/2 an onion diced fine (or equivalent amount diced dried onion)
kosher salt to taste

If you're serving over noodles (I recommend a fun-shaped noodle like pinwheels) you'll want to start your water first. And don't begin sauteing until after the noodle water boils because, seriously, this only needs about five minutes over medium flame in a cast iron skillet.

Serve over noodles, with a sprinkling of Parmesan cheese to top it off.

FourSquare and Seven

Another NEW Quilt Pattern is out!
The pattern includes:


Everett’s Address

Before Lincoln’s brief speech dedicating the Soldier’s National Cemetery at Gettysburg on November 19th 1863, the famous orator Edward Everett delivered a 13,000 word speech. Everett (1794-1865) was a Whig Senator from Massachusetts, former president of Harvard University, and served as Secretary of State under Millard Fillmore.

Everett’s two hour speech began: “Standing beneath this serene sky, overlooking these broad fields now reposing from the labors of the waning year, the mighty Alleghenies dimly towering before us, the graves of our brethren beneath our feet, it is with hesitation that I raise my poor voice to break the eloquent silence of God and Nature.”


Lincoln's Address

“Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

“Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation, so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

“But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate...we can not consecrate...we can not hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us—that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion—that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain—that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom—and that government: of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.” -- Abraham Lincoln

Remembrance Day

In the town of Gettysburg we find the tradition continues. Each November parades of Civil War re-enactors fill the streets, living history demonstrations and tours pack the National Park, while every hotel in town boasts a conference room turned period ballroom hosting a Remembrance Day Ball. At the appointed time Abe Lincoln, or his double at least, proceeds up Baltimore Street from the Wills House to the National Cemetery to deliver his famous address once more.

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PIECEFUL SLUMBER PATTERNS ARE AVAILABLE THROUGH NEEDLE AND THREAD IN GETTYSBURG PA. [They ship phone orders.]

Gettysburg Town Square

Today the town of Gettysburg sits, as it always has, on the intersection of several major highways, like a spider at the center of a web. In the summer of 1863, at the height of the Civil War, Confederate and Union soldiers caught in that web would find themselves fighting one of the bloodiest battles of history. In just three days the battle of Gettysburg resulted in over 46, 000 American casualties -- 7,863 dead and 27,224 wounded.

Meant to relieve the battle-weary southern states and resupply Confederate soldiers with bounty from rich northern farms, General Lee’s northern campaign became the most decisive turning point of the Civil War. Nearly a third of Lee’s officers were killed, captured, or wounded. Abandoning the Pennsylvania Campaign, the South retreated and for the remainder of the war Lee planned no more strategic offensives into northern territory.

On July 1st 1863 the battle began. The two armies, led by General Lee (CSA) and General Meade (USA), collided in the low ridges to the northwest of town. Buying time until reinforcements could arrive, Union cavalry and infantry forces laid out defenses on Herr’s Ridge, McPherson’s Ridge, and Seminary Ridge. Stronger Confederate forces attacked from the north and west collapsing Union lines and sending the soldiers retreating to the hills south of Gettysburg, taking the battle along the web of roads through the town itself. This quilt square takes its inspiration from those historic streets. From the intersections of highway and history that make up the town of Gettysburg.

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PIECEFUL SLUMBER PATTERNS NOW AVAILABLE THROUGH NEEDLE AND THREAD IN GETTYSBURG PA

Sheep and Goats

Sitting in the tiny church I heard the message of salvation preached to a congregation of parishioners settled inexorably into their pews, seeming to have weathered and aged in place.

Every Sunday for the last fifty years they must have heard this message.

I could not help wishing I knew how many had chosen, how many had accepted Christ. I wanted to stand up front and ask. Will the congregation please take sides?

Those who need to hear it one more time on the left, and sheep to the right.
Would anyone move?

Anne of Green Garbled

I watched with increasing horror the latest "Anne of Green Gables" movie. New Beginnings is supposed to be a prequel. Based on the DVD's back blurb I was prepared for the astounding fact that Canada's most beloved orphan has been recategorized as a compulsive liar with a secret living parent for this latest Ken Sullivan flick.

Granted I was already resigned to expecting wide divergence from the facts of the books after the shenanigans of the third Anne movie in the original trilogy. In that third movie, ignoring a wealth of material to choose from in the books by L. M. Montgomery, Sullivan chose instead it invent a new story wholecloth, putting Anne and Gilbert on the front lines in WWI.... but that, at least was a fairly well written story. The prequel has no such merit.

From pillar to post New Beginnings is ill-conceived anachronistic trauma juxtaposed with speeches and spectacles lifted from earlier movies. And when I say earlier movies, I do not mean solely scenes from the Anne of Green Gables films which the new child star mimics perfectly down to the very pauses, emphasis, inflections Megan Follows used in the same speeches. I also spotted a scene or two from Jane Eyre. I am fairly certain the Shirley McClain "Mrs. Thomas" character and her mill town of "Merrysville" came straight from Pollyanna for the picnic. And to be honest, I was almost surprised not to have heard Anne saying "Please Sir, can I have some more?" But perhaps that scene was mercifully left on the cutting room floor.

Aside from being a pastiche, in the most hopeless sense of the word, the story is fraught with inconsistencies. To put it kindly, the movie is not only Not Anne of Green Gables, it's not even a good story.

I was particularly moved by a scene at a railway station when Louisa confesses to stealing -- and in the next breath gushed about her destine friendship. Not exactly an apology, and no offer to repay, not even any guilt really, just: "Hey, I stole money rightfully yours and sent you to a poorhouse - clearly we were fated to be bosom friends." The lack of reality and awkwardness of this construction moved me to near tears. Secrets that would force the mills to be sold, turn into secrets that make the mills worthless. I have to admit for forcing "suspension of disbelief" this is an excellent storyline -- I still can't believe I watched it to the end. Heart-warming moments of character growth are revoked in the next scene with no explanation. Villains abound. And moreover, no matter what happens in the interim when the action picks up again they insist on remaining villains -- or starting unions -- it's unclear, but either way it's bad news for young Anne.

The framework for the younger story is a conflicted, aging Anne's struggle to write a theater play. This is the plot line where the manners and wardrobe anachronisms really bothered me most. I realize I am more sensitive than most when it comes to period costuming but SERIOUSLY???? Anne wears slacks the entire time. Okay, sure they've yanked the time frame forward to the 1940's so women were wearing slacks then -- though I seriously doubt that a 12 year old who yearned for "puffed sleeves" (c. 1875) would have worn them no matter how many script writers were lying about her age -- but even the most liberated young pant wearing female wouldn't have worn a shell blouse, over sized sweater, and trousers Everywhere. I'm sorry, it's a good look for the actress but it's just not period correct. And even if, by some inconceivable stretch of the imagination, you could justify the pants for each and every scene -- there is NO way to justify a trouser-clad female sitting with one knee up, foot in the chair, other leg curled around in the lobby of a hotel. Respectable women in that time period did NOT sit that way in public, EVER, even in pants.

Plus the unrecognizably morphed and modern Anne is really the only character remaining that L.M. Montgomery ever put a pen to. Diana Barry won't return Anne's calls, she's too busy golfing. I suspect she saw the script and decided she rather be dead than participate in such a travesty. That was certainly Gilbert's approach. Anne cries on his grave in a touching scene that reminds me of another movie I saw ...

Why I Vote

I like to complain about the government.

I love quoting Mark Twain: "Suppose you were an idiot, and suppose you were a congressmen -- but I repeat myself."

Politics gives me ulcers. So why do I vote?

Because I value my right to complain, and my freedom to make snarky comments about idiotic legislation.

I may not like who gets elected every time, and I may not care for every law that gets passed by the guy I did vote for, and I may not agree with every action my country takes -- but I do like knowing my voice counts when the votes are counted.

I like knowing that I'm allowed to vote... and that I'm allowed to criticize my politicians when they majorly goof-up. Every day I have the right to voice my opinions to my friends, to strangers, and once a year to my government, at the polls.

Saints and Sinners

Sunday, November 1st was All Saint's Day. Preceded by Halloween -- the celebration of all things ghoulish and wicked -- the juxtaposition of these two holidays was quite pointed for me this year. A brief foray to the mall Saturday night showed an astounding number of goth witches and vampires -- more than usual -- leaving me wondering how many Christians chose to masquerade as satanists this year. Were those same black-clad candy gluttons in the pew with me the following Sabbath morning? And why do so many of us celebrate this pagan holiday?

I have been pondering for some time the question of sinners and saints. For the last year or so I have heard sermons stressing the reality that we are all sinful. Correct. Only Christ was without sin. Only His grace and mercy saves us and covers our sins. So why do I feel uncomfortable when a pastor proudly proclaims "Hey, I'm just as bad as you. You're a sinner and I'm a sinner. We are all sinners." Why do I get queasy instead of shouting amen?

Perhaps because it sounds like embracing sin and dwelling in the fleshly side of our natures. It's not the intention, I am sure. I'm positive these pastors mean to embrace the sinner not the sins. But in admitting our failings and our humanity -- in confessing the "Old Man" are we forgetting the "New Man?" Are we buying into satan's lie that the old sinful nature is still alive and kicking in the born-again new Christian? Salvation is not a costume we wear to church. It's not a mask to hide a sinner's face. Christianity is not a masquerade.

As born-again Christians our dead sinful-selves are past-tense. I used to be a sinner. Now I am a Christian.

As Christians we can call on the strength of God to help us resits temptations and keep us from sinful choices. It's not that we don't have the potential to sin. It's that we have the power to stop ourselves from sinning.

Like having brakes on a bicycle -- we don't have to careen wildly downhill. I used to be a sinner. Now, God helps me stop myself from sinning.

When we embrace our human sinfulness we run the risk of forgetting that we are saved from sin. We are called Saints. We have been born again into the power of Christ, the power of His forgiveness and mercy, and the power of His armor. His protection against temptations to sin is ours to call upon.

It's something we have to remind ourselves of every day. The sinner is dead: "For he who has died has been freed from sin. Now if we died with Christ, we believe that we shall also live with Him ...reckon yourselves to be dead indeed to sin, but alive to God in Christ Jesus our Lord." Romans 6:7-8,11

Christians have no need to dress ourselves in the costumes of the sinner, the costumes of the undead. I used to be a sinner. But the sinner is dead and I am alive in Christ.

November 1st was our holiday.

Pepper Jack

For a festive fall treat take an orange vegetable, hollow it out. Remove the seeds. Carefully carve a face on the front. With a pumpkin you put a candle inside to make a jack-o-lantern...
But that doesn't work with orange peppers. So I stuffed mine with cottage cheese and made a pepper jack. :D

Time Lapse Photos of Front

In the beginning... The front of my house.
Ugly and awkward (those steps are 4" high, 8" high, 8"high and 13" high!)

I painted the door and got a better trellis.

Then the digging started.

more digging

and laying block

The rose was happy about this and decided to bloom.

The foundation bed started looking substantial.

The sidewalk started looking level and I was loving the diagonal modified herring bone pattern of the granite colored pavers.

The stoop got covered and the steps became even. Hooray!

Aren't they pretty?

Yesterday I spent the whole day planting shrubs and flowers.

Wait until this all fills-in... and blooms!

So this was before.

But give it a few weeks (months)...

and... This is now.

What do you think?