Some Thoughts on Spring in New England

When a person loses the ability to take pleasure in the mundane - in the cigarette on the stoop or the gingersnap in the bath - she has probably put herself in unnecessary danger. ... One must be prepared to fight for one’s Simple pleasures and to defend them against elegance and erudition and all manner of glamorous enticements. ~Rules Of Civility

I’m just gonna be real for a second. Spring in New England sucks. It's not the deep dark days of Winter that get me down in New England. At least not this year. This year, I found those early Winter days to be magical - the early darkness of days, the forced slowness and calm, the limited sunlight. I knew it doesn't last forever, that the light returns, and that Spring DOES show up. But the six weeks between we set our clocks back and Memorial Day ... that's the real struggle. We are in the hardest six weeks of life for me here. It's the time when we think Spring should be here. We should be able to go outside in something other than snowsuits and boots. We might still need hats, mittens, and coats - but we shouldn't have to be getting all suited up just to go on a walk. The sun might feel warm, but the wind tells a different story. Instead of seeing flowers and new birth, we look outside and see a sea of white. It almost always snows in March ... and the last few years it's snowed the first week of April as well.

Meanwhile back in Georgia, people are packing away the heavy coats (if they ever got them out at all), are spending long days full of sunshine and playing outside, and are maybe even planting Spring gardens. They are cutting fresh flowers for their centerpieces and getting ready for the start of farmer's markets. 

But I embarked on a journey to embrace the seasons this year ... and to find the beauty in it all. What I'm learning is that my way of embracing these terrible early Spring days is by hibernating. It's my time to just be still inside my house. I ignore the world around me as much as possible. It's the time of year when I regularly say no when people invite me to hang out. I know that better days are coming, but right now ... I just can't bear to do anything except hibernate in my own hole and pretend the world outside me doesn't exist.

It's my time to practice my bread making. It's my time to use up the contents of my freezers (yes ... there are multiple.) To clean the house from top to bottom. To rearrange furniture. To read books. To pray. To write. It's now, more than any other time of the year, that I just long to be alone. Now is the time that I'm doing all I can to take pleasure in the simple - in the mundane - in the quiet.

I know that soon, the snow will melt. The sun will shine it's warm rays and the wind won't be quite as crisp. I know the flowers will bloom and we'll be out of the house more often than not. Come summer, our days will be full of fun. Full of friends. Full of sunshine and picnics and beaches.  

There is a season for everything ... this is my season for being still. 

Embracing Winter at the Beach

I am not a Winter person. I can remember the first time I saw “real” snow. I was a sophomore at Valpo, and I walked from my apartment to my class at a turtle’s pace as I stared at the snowflakes falling on my mittens. They were beautiful. I had heard no snowflake was ever the same, but being from Georgia, my experiences with snow were rare, and mostly from inside the warmth of my house.

After that first big snow experience, though, I was over it. I hated having to bundle up every single day and hike across campus in snow boots. Three years at Valpo and three more at Akron Law and I was so totally done with snow. I moved back south as fast as I could - where I loved the occasional winter snowfall. Because it was unusual. It was beautiful. It was extraordinary.

And then we moved to Massachusetts. D knew winter would be hardest for me. He knew my thoughts about snow. And we knew Massachusetts sees a lot of it. But I'm a firm believer that weather shouldn't be your primary reason for moving - or not moving - to a certain place.

But ya'll .... winter is SO hard for me here. Cold temperatures start sometime in October and run through May - sometimes even into June. Half the year you're wearing coats, hats, and gloves. The months of February-April are just brutal ... because just when you think Spring should be on its way, you get whacked with a Spring snowstorm and below freezing temperatures. You can't start a garden until June - you don't get to eat fresh tomatoes until August - and then it seems like Spring, Summer and Fall all roll into one very short season.

It feels like the deeply cold days of Winter began a few months early this year - temperatures have been cold since mid-November, with single digit highs the last couple of weeks. While it was amazing to have a White Christmas, I'd really love if the temperatures would stay above 20 degrees. Anything much colder than that and I feel like life is just impossible. Especially with kids.

Just yesterday I found myself falling into my depths of winter despair. We bundled up and went to the library - and it was near impossible to get home without crying. The bundling and unbundling of very small children any time you go anywhere makes you just want to stay home. But when you stay home, your kids go crazy - so you feel like you just have to get out of the house every once in a while. Life will be SO much easier when we no longer have to deal with carseats and they can keep their coats on ... but with girls as small as mine are, we still have a few years before that's possible.

But some time last year, I committed to truly embracing the seasons. All of them. Even Winter.

So with the temperature nearly at 30 yesterday, and a reminder in my head that one of the reasons we moved was so that I could go to the beach anytime I wanted, we went home and grabbed our snowsuits and headed to the beach. I've never seen snow on the beach before. It was mesmerizing to watch big pieces of ice flow in and out with the waves. I could have stayed there all day had I had a fire or a big cup of hot chocolate. Well - maybe not all day ... that might be pushing it ...

When we made the decision to move near the beach, I joked with a friend of mine that one way I would embrace Winter would be to head to the beach with my snow pants on. Yesterday, I stayed true to that promise. And I'm oh so glad I did. I'm already making plans to go back in the next couple of days after this monster storm hits.

I'm learning that the trick to embracing winter is to lean in to the warm and cozy things you can do inside, while being crazy enough to bundle up and go outside just often enough to enjoy the beauty of winter.

Dare

What a difference a year or two can make. Just two years ago we celebrated our first Christmas in New England. It was full of wonder - and not around the birth of Jesus. We were full of hesitation. Full of fear. We did a lot of pretending. Pretending that things were okay. Pretending that we liked it here. Pretending that we were in it for the long haul. We did a lot of crying that Advent. A lot of reflecting. A lot of wondering.

This Post was originally published on December 10, 2015. Life looks so different today than it did then. So much better. So much more full of life. And love. And happiness. And yet I know if we hadn't walked the journey that we've walked, we wouldn't we feel as grateful as we feel to now be on the other side.

Tomorrow I'll share with you a reflection on the journey from the other side - but for tonight, I bring you an oldie, but a goodie. Because sometimes you can't see just how far you've come without looking back to see where you started. And because maybe ... just maybe ... you find yourself in a place where you're feeling a little more darkness and despair than happiness and light. Maybe you don't know what's next for you. If that's you, I pray these words bring you a little sense of peace in the midst of your despair. 

Dare
What a bold word for this Advent season. One that I’ve been meditating on all day. It’s pretty appropriate for what I’m feeling these days. These days have been so dark and so lonely.

We had been gone just three nights when I got a text from my sister that said, “Are you loving Boston?!”

I refrained from bursting into tears as I simply replied, “We are tired and weary from traveling, but we are trying our hardest to have a good attitude.”

Dare
I didn’t know how sad I would be to make the move. We had talked about it our entire life together – I knew D wanted to explore some place other than Atlanta. He had lived there his entire life. When the job offer came, I’m the one who said “Let’s do it! It’ll be an adventure. If we hate it, we can move back.” It seemed like such an easy decision. It is Harvard after all – who can really turn that down?

But in our final days there … and in our beginning days here … the sadness began to set in. I feel like I left my whole world … for the unknown. It wasn’t perfect – but it was home. And I truly did love it. And when it became time to go … I just didn’t want to leave. I wanted to chain myself to the front door and tell the new owner – I’m sorry … we’ve changed our mind … take your money and find a different house. This one isn’t for sale.

I didn’t know how hard it would be for my sweet A. She’s such an old soul, that kid. She feels such big emotions, and at the tender young age of 3, she just isn’t sure how to process them. No one slept much our first night away. I think we all felt a little homeless … and I guess in some ways that’s what we were. In between homes – all our stuff on a truck – it was no wonder we all felt a little out of sorts. After being in a hotel a few days, even a very nice one, we were all just ready to be home.

Dare
When our stuff arrived a few days ago, we all began to feel a little more settled. We are now all in our own beds, with our own sheets, and we are even using our old ratty towels that I almost threw away but packed up at the last minute. We were all craving some sense of familiarity – some sense of being home.

We’ve started to hang a few things on the wall – and that helps a bit too – but when it comes right down to it, I’m simply feeling homesick. I miss my house … my neighbors … my church(es) … my family. I miss the Beltline. The Botanical Gardens. Zoo Atlanta. Piedmont Park. The High. Ponce City Market. Walks around Grant Park – my own backyard. The Barred Owl that hung out in the trees across the street.

Dare
So I’m trying … I’m trying to be courageous and dare to have faith! I know God has called us here for some reason – and although I have no idea what that reason is, I’m trying to have faith that it will be revealed to me soon. I’ve been thinking a lot about how our journey is happening right in the midst of Advent. I think about how the shepherds, the wise men, all of us … all expecting the light of God to shine on something grand and glorious – but instead it shines on a lowly manger. Something about that manger should be comforting to me in this time of transition … right?

And while I know in my gut we made the right decision for our little family … these days have been too short, too dark, and too lonely. I find myself praying for peace, for comfort, for connections. For strength to make this adventure a good one and for courage to continue stepping out on this limb in faith that God will provide everything that we need.

Photo by Sven Scheuermeier on Unsplash

The Last Move: Part Two

This is part two of the story. If you haven't read it yet, start here.

In some ways, it was an easy decision. We finally found a place we loved - why wouldn't we move there?

But in other ways, it was painful. After moving three times in six months, the last thing I wanted to do was move again. I wanted to be settled. I wanted to put down roots. I did not want to pack and unpack boxes again.

We had just spent 3 months in an incredibly exhausting, but incredibly inspiring school search. You see, elementary schools in our town are all open-enrollment. That's a fancy way of saying there are no school districts - but instead one big district - and enrollment is all done by a lottery. Families rank 6 schools in order of their preference and the district does what they can to match people in their requested school. It reminded me a lot of sorority recruitment ... it's not perfect, but most times it works out.

We went to tours and information nights, we talked to other parents, we talked to current students, teachers, principals, we read books and articles on education styles and philosophies. We found an incredible school - it was a perfect match for us. My children would be taught in a similar way that we would teach them if we were to homeschool. They would be connected to kids of all ages - not just the ones in their individual classes. They'd have the same teacher two years in a row. They would learn in a project-based setting. They wouldn't have homework. They would learn through play. It would give us a community in this town that felt oh-so-difficult to make connections. It was the only school I wanted them to go to. And after the lottery was held, we learned that we got in. It's everything I wanted for my kids in the realm of education ... why the hell would we give that up?!

When it came down to it, school wasn't a big enough reason for us to stay in a town that did very little to fulfill our heart's desires. We knew if we didn't go now, we'd fall in love with the school and we'd stay here forever. I would become a person I never really wanted to be. I would lose myself for the sake of my kids' education. And we agreed that wasn't a good way to live.

So - after a lot of conversation and prayer, we put our house on the market. It would be a very short listing - if it didn't sell within a couple of weeks, we would stay put, try out Kindergarten, and revisit the decision at the end of the school year. God must have heard that as a prayer & a challenge, because we were under contract within a week. We now had about four weeks to find a new place to live.

I found a realtor who just happened to be mutual friends with people I know from my Georgia days. She was able to answer all of our questions, talk to us about specific neighborhoods, churches, people, areas. She listened to our non-negotiables. We need sidewalks. We need walkability. We need neighbors. We need a park. We had already fallen in love with one neighborhood, but she encouraged us to visit a few others. We put offers in - got outbid - and watched the inventory dwindle.

We began to think about what compromises we were willing to make. We found another house that we wanted to see. It was a somewhat busy street, but we loved the features. It was the right school district. It was near places we wanted to be near. I was ready to settle on it. I needed a new home in this town - and I needed it fast. So we made plans to go to a Friday open house. And I kid you not ... the house went under contract at noon that day. After I had already made the hour drive. That afternoon, our realtor sent us a new list of houses. These are on the higher end of your budget, and aren't really in the exact locations you've been looking at, but you should drive by them and see what you think.

I looked them all up and decided I'd drive by the ones with a walkability score of 45 or higher. There were two. One was way out of our price range, and I didn't love the neighborhood. The other seemed okay - but I really didn't want to live in the Northern part of the city. But wait ... it had an open house that night ... so it couldn't hurt to go look, right? 

We picked D up from the train station and went to one of our favorite parks to play. I don't want to see it, I said - much like a stubborn child. I don't WANT to live there. I WANT to live HERE! But we went. He practically had to drag me into the house. I left thinking, This is a nice house. Someone will really love it.

And as we were getting in the car, a gentleman on the street said Is it nice? Yes, we said; it's very nice. Do you live in the neighborhood?

I do. I live right around the corner. We love it. It's the best neighborhood in Beverly.

I laughed. We don't really want to live up here. We really want to live closer to downtown. What makes this the best neighborhood in Beverly?

The people. The people are amazing. This is the kind of neighborhood you can borrow a cup of sugar from your neighbors if you need one. We walk everywhere. All the time. There are tons of kids. It's safe - they play together all the time. People watch out for one another.

We continued our conversation for a while, and then said our goodbyes. As I got in the car, I looked to my sweet D and said,

Seriously? The kind of neighborhood you can borrow a cup of sugar in? How the hell did he know I'm the one that would go to my neighbor's house to borrow eggs and sugar?! I DON'T WANT to live here. But I kind of love it.

On our drive home, we talked about it. It was on the very top end of our price range - but it needed no work. It wouldn't be yet another starter home ... this would be our forever home. We went home and worked on numbers. We asked our realtor to meet us there for the next open house. We made an offer - and attached a letter where I poured my heart out to the sellers. I told them how much we loved the house and the neighborhood. I told them how we had been searching all over the Boston area for a place to truly call home. I told them we would love their house forever and would treat it with nothing but love and kindness.

Three days later, our realtor called and said - They want you to have the house. There was a higher offer, but they just feel like this is your house. They want you to have it. I cried - tears of joy, tears of relief, tears of disbelief. I said a prayer of thanksgiving, and a prayer of awe that God would work in this way.

But even after that moment, there were still times of doubt. Especially once our oldest started school, I began to wonder why we were pulling her away from something she - and I - loved so much. And then ... as I was at her dance studio waiting for her ballet class to end ... I got a notification from Facebook. A day or two earlier, I had posted on a local page asking if anyone had Kindergarten students at the school we would be zoned for. My daughter was sad to be leaving her friends, and I'd love to make her some new ones, I said. Someone responded to that post, telling me the school was wonderful and asking if I just happened to be the person buying the house on her street. 

Yes! Do you live in the neighborhood?

I do! I live on that road!

Wait a second ... I think we met your husband at the open house.

Oh I bet you did! He told me he met the nicest family!

We continued our conversation and I decided she was going to be an awesome neighbor. As the weekend went on, our paths crossed online several other times. I discovered we had a gazillion things in common, and I couldn't believe the gifts God was giving us with this move. It's like every thing we had been praying for - in all of our adult life together - was finally coming together in this last move. We met the other neighbors - and as we stood in the street talking to them about who we were and when we were moving, I felt this overwhelming sense of gratitude. All this time we thought we needed a specific location. But what we really needed was a community of people ... and God knew that more than we did.

That house - that neighborhood - it's ours now. We begin our last move today. We've already found a church to call home. After a lot of prayer, we've decided to home school and already have a home school community to help us navigate how to make that a positive thing in our family and home. We have a beautiful house that we can live in forever. And we have the most amazing neighbors we could ever ask for.

It took a long time, and a lot of searching, but we have found our New England dream. We have found our new home.

The Last Move

It's 7:50am on a Wednesday morning. My house is a complete disaster - boxes in every room ... some full, others waiting to be packed. Every room has stuff everywhere ... and if I look around and think about it for just a second, I end up on the verge of a panic attack. But the tiniest begged to watch Madeline, and the older tiny just got on the bus for her next-to-last day of school, so I am ignoring all the mess and using the time to write. Just write.

We are about to close yet another chapter on our "Rowes Move to Boston" adventure.  We hope this is the last ... and that the next chapter becomes it's own book. It's been a long road - one that has many twists and turns. It's been a lot of wandering. A lot of wondering just what we were doing. A lot of questioning just what in the world God has in store for us here.

It was almost exactly two years ago when we received the call inviting us to come to Boston for the first time. We planned a vacation around my husband's interview - knowing that this would be a huge move, and a decision he wouldn't be able to make on his own. I remember that week so vividly. The hotels we stayed in. The adventures we had. The Boston Common, the Public Gardens, Copley Square, Boston Public Library, Franklin Park Zoo, Historic Lexington, the Boston Children's Museum ... it was one of the best vacations we've taken as a family. I could live here, I told him.  I think we'd really love it here.

The day of his interview I took the girls to the most amazing playspace I had ever seen. They were so tired by the end of the day that I ended up walking half a mile from the bus stop to our hotel wearing a sleeping A on my back and carrying a sleeping E in my arms, while also carrying our bag for the day. What was supposed to be a 2-hour interview turned into 5. We took that as a good sign. 

I can remember our conversation that evening as clear as day - we were on the T, headed to dinner.

If this happens, we can't say no. It's an incredible opportunity. There's no reason not to take it. Massachusetts is one of the best places to raise kids. You can go back to school for very little cost. This is a no-brainer.

And then it happened. He got the offer. We said yes. And it wasn't until we had a buyer for our little Grant Park bungalow that the reality set in for me. We were leaving everything I had ever wanted. Grant Park was my dream. I had fabulous neighbors. I lived across the street from a beautiful park. An incredible farmer's market was just blocks away. We could walk to one of the best zoos in the nation. We spent our free time at art museums, botanical gardens, history museums, parks. All of our memories were in Atlanta ... and we were giving it all up. 

I remember a friend telling me it would all be okay. You guys build community wherever you go. You'll find your village. You'll find your tribe. And so with those words in our mind, we left our home in search of a brighter future. 

We never thought it would be easy, but I can't say we expected it to be as difficult as it has been. Building our village here has been so hard - and so slow. We've made incredible friends - yet this place has never really felt like home.

When we last visited Georgia as a family, we were wrecked. When we walked through the park, I sobbed like a baby. This is my home. I want to come home, I said. I cried out to God ... literally ... in tears as we went to bed at night.

God ... please ... I want to come home. This is where I want to be. Please. Please. PLEASE! I'm begging you.

We made a plan. We decided D would look for jobs and we would hope to be home by Christmas. We contacted friends and neighbors who may have leads for openings. He called old companies, sent in proposals, updated resumes. With as big a network as we have, and as skilled as he is, we thought it would only be a matter of months before we had an opportunity to go back South.

And then I had lunch with a dear friend of mine. She was the first friend I made here - and quickly became the best friend I've had in all my adult life. As we watched our kids play together, I told her - I'm not sure I'm ready to go back. I don't want to stay. But I don't know that I want to go back. She's so wise - this friend of mine. I will be crushed if you leave. But I want you to be happy. And I don't think you're happy where you are. Are there places here that you could live that you might like better than where you are right now? 

So while we were looking for opportunities back home, we also started searching for a community here that would be more like home. We looked at train lines. I talked to people. Summer came - finally - and we ventured out to find beaches and splash pads and all things outdoors. We discovered Beverly. And as I drove through it for the very first time, it reminded me of home. It was gritty - and yet beautiful. It was historic - and yet slightly urban. It had beaches. Parks. Playgrounds. A splash pad. Coffee shops. Museums. The best Mexican we've had since we moved to Massachusetts. It had sidewalks.

You could say we fell in love. Hard and fast. After just one day there, the girls and I came home so happy that D said I need to go see this place. So we went back. Over and over and over again. And every single time we visited, we were filled to the brim. After just two months, we decided we'd move there. Sure, we had a house to sell - but we felt confident this was a move God was pushing us to make. We felt like this was the answer to our prayers.

God wasn't going to let us move home ... because there is a better home for us here. We just had to find it. 

Stay tuned for the rest of the story - coming one week from today!

EDIT - You can read part two of the story here!

Every Ending is a New Beginning

As I left the courthouse, I went straight to my car and called my mom. As soon as I heard her voice, tears started streaming down my face. I was sobbing so hard I could hardly get the words out. Breathe, she said. Take a deep breath. What happened?

She told me to go back to being a lawyer. She said it didn't matter that I felt called to ministry - if I can't afford my obligations, I should do the very thing that I went to school for. After all, it will pay a lot more, and I won't leave him footing the bill. MOM - IT'S NOT FAIR! I don't deserve this! I thought this would make things better ... but how am I going to survive on my own?? Did I make a terrible mistake??

Some memories are so vivid, you know? If there was ever a time in my life when I thought I had it all figured out, it was then. I was certain God was calling me out of this marriage - a marriage that was destructive to both of us - a marriage that wasn't fulfilling either of us. A marriage that was broken - and one that, when it came right down to it, I just didn't have the energy to try to fix. I was so certain God was calling me out of this little mountain town and into the big city. Calling me out of the lawyering world and into the world of professional staff ministry. Certain that God had provided me with a church community that would sustain and support me through this darkest time of my life.

So, I left the marriage. I moved to the city. I accepted a full-time ministry position. I had it all sorted out.

And then it was over.

Although it was a no-fault divorce, it felt like the judge declared me to be the one solely at fault. The selfish one. The one who didn't care about my marriage, or about the person I was married to. And although they claimed to be neutral, it felt like most of our mutual friends took his side. And to top it all off, not long after, that ministry position I picked up and moved to the city for was eliminated - a mere 6 weeks after I accepted it and began work.

Fast forward 7 years. I'm in a second marriage - a marriage that is incredibly healthy, wholesome, fulfilling. A marriage that builds up our confidence rather than destroys our souls. A marriage that is faith-filled and oh-so-happy. We are a couple that strives for faith-based community. A couple that takes church seriously. A couple, with two children, who is determined to find a faithful place that fulfills the needs of everyone in the family. A family who had it all sorted out.

And then we didn't. A few months ago, we found ourselves in limbo once again - searching for that perfect church home - the one that would offer us everything we hoped for - a place for each one of us in our family to worship, to learn, to grow. Not because we didn't love that new place we found, because we did ... but our tinies didn't. So we found ourselves swallowing our pride, acknowledging that sometimes the voice of God comes in the form of a child's request to return to a place she loved - a place she cherished - a place she considered home.

In the first chapter of her new book, Out of Sorts, Sarah Bessey says this book is

About Jesus and why I love him and follow him. It's about church and church people and why both make me crazy but why I can't seem to quit either.
...

It's a book about not being afraid.
...

A book about how feeling out of sorts leads us to sorting it out.

Amen, sister ... Amen.

Here's to not being afraid. To sorting it out. To embracing church and church people and following Jesus - even when it all makes us crazy.

This post was originally written in 2015, in response to Chapter One of Sarah Bessey's book, Out of Sorts.  

Photo Credit

Eggplant Burgers [Meals Under $15]

This is the time of year when we are stocking up every bit of produce we can find. I feel like a bear - getting ready for hibernation. Last week I found eggplant on the misfit shelf at the farm, so I came home with 10 small ones, 3 medium ones, and 2 from my CSA share. What in the heck do you do with all that eggplant, you might ask?

Last year, we had over 100 of these little things in our freezer before winter. They lasted us about 3 months before they were gone. They are SO easy to pull out and heat up, and they are always a hit. Rather than chicken nuggets, this is my go to easy meal. Not only do we eat them as burgers, but they are also delicious crumbled up and put on pizza. We used to saute them in olive oil, but this week we were making such a huge batch that we decided to experiment with baking them ... and I have to say I liked them even better!

My hubby and I like to put two burgers on a bun with cheese in between them and top them with ketchup. The girls eat them like a veggie patty and just dip them in ketchup. We made a triple batch this week and it costed us less than $10. Eggplant burgers for everyone!!

Eggplant Burgers
Adapted from Weelicious.com

Ingredients
1 tablespoon Olive Oil ($0.25)
1 medium eggplant or two very small ones, cubed (Cost of this varies. I get mine on the misfit shelf at the farm, so it only costed me $0.50. Most of the time you can get eggplant for $2 or less.)
1 garlic clove, minced ($0.25)
1/2 teaspoon salt (pennies)
1/4 cup fresh parsley, roughly chopped (or 1 tablespoon dried) ($0.25)
1 egg ($0.30)
1/3 cup parmesan cheese ($0.50)
1 cup breadcrumbs (free - we make it from leftover bread!)

Total Cost - $3-8, depending on how much your eggplant costs, whether you top it with cheese and a bun, and what condiments you like on them. 

Preparation
Preheat oven to 375. Prepare a large cookie sheet by rubbing it with olive oil or spraying with non-stick cooking spray.

Heat olive oil in a heavy dutch oven over medium heat. When hot, add the eggplant and cook for 3 minutes. Add the garlic and salt and cook for 2 more minutes. Add a splash of water (1-2 tablespoons will do), cover and cook for 3-5 minutes or until the eggplant is tender. I typically turn the heat off after 3 minutes and let it sit with the cover on a few more minutes to finish steaming. Then I take the top off and put the eggplant in my food processor to sit a few minutes.

Add parsley, egg, cheese, and breadcrumbs to food processor and process until mostly smooth. 

Using 1/4 cup of mixture, form into patties and place on a cookie sheet. Bake 20-25 minutes, or until golden brown and firm. We like to flip them after the first 10 minutes so they get brown on both sides. Serve with cheese and a bun or just ketchup on the side. Be amazed at how much everyone loves them!

For a Vegan Version
I can't personally vouch for how tasty these are, but several of you have asked me for a good vegan version. I refuse to give up eggs and cheese, so I haven't played around with it ... but theoretically, you could mix 1 Tbsp flax meal with 3 Tbsp of hot water and use in place of the egg and substitute nutritional yeast for the Parmesan cheese. If you try it out, report back and let me know how they are!

A Final Look at Summer

Where does the time go? It seems as though it was only yesterday that I was sitting in my comfy chair typing out a post on how dreary spring was ... and now we're on the cusp of Fall! Summer is my favorite in New England. The weather is mostly glorious, beaches are everywhere, and we pretty much get to spend all of our days outside. By the time winter is really over around here, summer is well deserved ... and this year we vowed to soak up every moment of sunshine we can.

We did a lot of biking. Around playgrounds, campgrounds, rail trails, driveways ... just about anywhere we could bike, we did.

We learned how to pitch a tent. And we camped all over Cape Cod. 

We found our favorite beach. And drank a lot of Ningxia Red.

We found our favorite town in New England. And we went there at least once a week - sometimes twice - to make sure we really did love it as much as we thought we did. We talked to people, we tried out restaurants, we rode bikes, we went to the library. We drove by houses on the market in our price range. We went to Open Houses. We fell in love. Over and over and over again.

So we decided to sell our house.

The girls and I flew to Georgia to spend some time with family and D stayed in New England to get the house on the market. The plan worked. We were under contract before we even came home. It was, quite possibly, the most stressful and hardest two weeks of the summer. But in the end, the right decision. And it was SO good to see all the cousins play together. That just doesn't happen often enough.

We came home at peak harvest season. So we shucked a lot of corn. Over 100 ears to be exact. And it's still coming. I've now resorted to giving some to friends each week. 

We ended our summer with one final camping trip. This time to Maine with our best buddies. We found Grant Park. And hiked (a little bit) around Acadia National Park. We fell in love with New England a little bit harder, and decided Acadia would be a place we went back to again next year. This time for longer than just a day.

We said farewell to Walden Pond. The place that made us initially think that maybe life in New England wasn't so bad after all.

And in the final weeks of summer, we found a house in our new beloved town, we gave more hugs and cherished more moments together as we prepared to send the oldest off to Kindergarten.

The Summer of 2017 .... it has been the most fun summer I can ever remember as a little family of four. And perhaps the most life changing as well. Here's to new beginnings!

The Importance of Family Worship (and why we don't use the church nursery)

I've been thinking a lot about the importance of family worship lately. I've had conversations with so many parents who think of worship as "their" time with God. Week after week they leave their children in the nursery while they go to worship. If their children are old enough for Sunday school, they sometimes attend worship while their kids are in Sunday school - which means their kids hardly ever attend worship.This post was originally published in May of 2014, when we only had one child and were anticipating the arrival of our second. The words you find on this page are even more true for us today with two children than they were then. Because of that, I have posted it in its entirety without any edits.

It's a topic I thought about and discussed ad nauseum back when I was a full-time Director of Children & Youth Ministry. I was always trying to come up with ways to encourage parents to attend worship with their children, instead of without. But now that I'm a parent myself, it's become even more important to me.

Then today - I just happened to open the latest issue of The Lutheran magazine and found this article. It was, hands down, the best article in the issue. And it echoed so many reasons why I will always worship with my children - and will never use the church nursery.

Don't get me wrong - I'm thankful for church nurseries. The people that work in them offer a special ministry. They offer a safe, caring environment - and truly embody the love and ministry of Jesus Christ. And I totally get it - there are days when parents need that ministry more than any other.

I already shared with you one of the most important reasons we take our toddler to worship. There aren't many ways we can actually experience Jesus Christ through all our senses. Holy Communion allows us to do just that - to tangibly experience Jesus in a way that just isn't possible any other time in our lives. But it's more than that too.

It's the way she asks to say the Lord's Prayer and give thanks to God every night before going to bed.

It's the way she sings How He Loves and Happy Day at the top of her lungs no matter where she is or who is looking.

It's the way she wants to hold hands to pray before we eat dinner every night.

It's the way she dances to the music in that sacred worship space and says to us "Come on! Dance!"

It's the way she opens her Bible in the morning and says "Mommy, read Bible with me?"

It's the way she gets on her knees and folds her hands to pray during the prayers of the people. And how she screams "Amen" when they are over.

It's the way she reaches for the Communion wafer and dips it in the wine. And how she asks for more when she's finished eating it. Because don't we all really want more of Jesus?

It's the way she strains her neck to watch the pastor giving the Words of Institution. Just like her mama does.

It's the way she sings with the songs when I hold her close. She doesn't know the words, and can't read them on the page, but that doesn't stop her.

My two year old is an active participant in worship. Not only do we take her to worship with us every time we go, but we sit in the front row. We sit there because she can see what happens. It makes it easier for her to participate when she can see the musicians playing, the choir singing, the pastor preaching. She is probably a distraction to the people who sit behind us, but so far no one has said anything to us about it.

It's not always a typical worship experience for D & I - we often miss the point of the sermon because we're too busy trying to get A to sit still and whisper. We hardly ever actually hear the names of people that are being prayed for, because we're trying to make sure A doesn't fall off the kneeler. We sometimes miss pieces of worship because we have to sneak out for a snack (often sneaking the snack back into the pew with us as a bribery to her being quiet!)

For us, it's far more important that she experience worship with us than it is that we fully grasp the message of the sermon. It's important that she feels like she's a part of the community - no matter how young she is. It's important that she knows that worship is something we do as a body of Christ together - whether we really feel like being there or not. And it's important that she grows up knowing that the space where we worship is a safe, sacred, holy space. A space where we go when we need to feel God's presence the most.

Because one day she'll be old enough to make her own decisions about church. And when that day comes, I want her to feel such intense love for Christ and his church that she just cannot bear to stay away.

This post was originally published in May of 2014, when we only had one child and were anticipating the arrival of our second. The words you find on this page are even more true for us today with two children than they were then. Because of that, I have posted it in its entirety without any edits.

Photo Credit

Discovering Purpose

For we are what he has made us, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand to be our way of life. ~Ephesians 2:10

I take the albums off the shelf, one by one. Before putting them in the box, I just can’t resist cracking them open. Taking a stroll down memory lane. One in particular catches my attention. Letters from grade school teachers during a transition from one school to another. Three different teachers all had similar things to say…

She is always reading. Every spare moment she has is spent with a book.
Out of the 125 books in the classroom collection, she has read 95% of them.
We never see her without a book in hand.

And then I come across my 8th grade writing test results.

The scoring scale is from 175 to 260. This test score is 272.

I not only topped the chart – I surpassed it. In the 8th grade. Is it possible I knew myself better then than I do now??

I cant help but think about how God has prepared me to do his work since I was a small child. I was created to read. Created to write. As a very small child, I always had a book in hand. I self-published my first book – an autobiography – when I was in the first grade.

But somewhere along the way I got distracted. I no longer read for fun. I forgot to pick up my pen and paper. It wasn’t cool to always have my head in a book. I needed to make friends – to be popular – to be “in.”

And when I started finding that part of me - when I started to revive the creativity deep within my soul - I had babies ... and I was afraid my creativity was gone forever.

But recently I've been feeling that pull to create once again. A dear friend once told me that creativity does come back postpartum ... but that sometimes it takes a year or two. So here I am - two years postpartum for the second time - and I'm once again working to rediscover who God has created me to be.

It’s like discovering a forgotten gift that has been shoved to the back of your closet. You knew it was there – but you had so many other things to keep you busy. You just didn’t have time to find a place for it.

But when you discover it – when you unwrap it for the second, or third, or even fourth time – you begin to realize how God has placed it in your life over and over and over again.

For we are what he has made us …

God is constantly preparing us to answer his call. He’s constantly showing us tiny glimpses of who he has created us to be. Quiet whispers of what he has prepared for us.

And when we answer … when we finally say yes … it feels like all is right with the world.

It’s not always easy to say yes. It sometimes means turning away from those we love. It often means saying no to things we want. There are so many things left unknown. So many uncertainties.

And let’s face it – if we’re honest with ourselves, it’s often more difficult to say yes than it is to say no. Saying yes means a lifetime of being in the dark. But yet at the same time – a lifetime of living in a light brighter than anything we could ever possibly imagine.

And so I continue to stroll down memory lane. Remembering the paths I’ve taken and the people I’ve met. Recognizing God’s presence in each and every one of them. And realizing, in a very new way, that God knew who I was going to be before I was born. He created me to do great things.

And every day I uncover just a little bit more of what he’s got in store for me.

How are you discovering who God’s created you to be? What’s your purpose?

Photo Credit

This post was originally published at Bibledude.net. It has been edited ever so slightly to reflect a new stage of life since it was first written in 2012. Because life changes, but our purpose remains.