Tourist Trap

I'm not a world traveler, though I did get my passport a few years ago. Just in case.

In fact, I've only left the good old U.S. of A. once. I was a fifth grader on a family trip to California. We crossed into Mexico, where we weren't allowed to drink or eat a thing until we returned to California mid-afternoon. We kids thought we were going to absolutely starve to death. In my parents' defense, they had a car filled with four kids, ages 11 and younger. Would you have wanted to chance a bout (or four bouts) of Montezuma's revenge? From my parental perspective today, it makes total sense that we were banned from brunching in Mexico. 

So, what's been my most memorable family vacation? That's what the ladies at Lovely Branches Ministries wanted to know this month. On the same family trip, I snapped picture after picture of the flower-covered floats in the Rose Parade. Too bad they were all in black and white. (See? My camera clicking began early. Randy is grateful every day for the advent of digital photography.)

Since Randy and I have been married, we've certainly visited some wonderful places. Our honeymoon was memorable. I snowskied for the very first time in March 1981 on icy Rocky Mountain slopes. My new hubby might not have been Olympic-caliber like Billy Kidd, but he'd been skiing several times. Throw in an agonizing toothache one night to go with muscles stiff from trying to stop myself from falling down a mountain: That's memorable. (For any newly engaged couples planning a honeymoon, I'm not sure I'd recommend it, but we have been celebrating anniversaries for 32 years now.)

We've done Disney World with Jill and Brent. (They will be thrilled I shared this photo.)

Two years ago, we left drought-stricken Kansas because my farmer husband was weary of watching our crops burn to a crisp. I'd say the Grand Canyon of Yellowstone was a worthy distraction. 
So were the Grand Tetons.

Within this space, the Creator
must have intended
to bring man in humility to his knees.
-- Margaret E. Murrie, 

Grand Teton Official National Park Handbook, 1984 

When Jill was at Vanderbilt for her dietetics internship, we loved visiting Nashville, whether it was music row or the Cheekwood Botanical Gardens.

We found plenty to do and see when Jill and Eric lived in Omaha, including the solitude and beauty of the Holy Family Shrine.

Brent's work on his master's degree took us to South Carolina where there was more Spanish moss than the cottonwoods of Kansas.

Boone Hall Plantation, Mount Pleasant, South Carolina

We made a side trip to Tybee Island, Georgia, where we watched the sun rise and where there were waves of water, not waves of wheat. Moving Brent to his first job took us to Kentucky and Morehead State University's beautiful Eagle Lake.

Eagle Lake, Morehead, KY, September 2012

It is a place to savor nature in all its glory, whether it's bathed in the humidity of a late summer day or the brisk, catch-your-breath bite of winter. 

 

Some of my favorite places recently have been zoos with our granddaughter, Kinley.

Those vacation images barely scratch the surface hidden among the 27,000-plus digital photos I have on my computer and the dozens of plastic tubs filled with film envelopes in my basement. 

So I was stopped in my tracks by a line in a book I was reading last month, RESTART Your Church by Dottie Escobedo-Frank:

Religion in our time has been captured by the tourist mind-set.

Eugene Peterson

The author was quoting Eugene Peterson, who translated the Bible into The Message:The Bible in Contemporary Language.

Escobedo-Frank explains her take on that statement:

A tourist merely visits a location, taking pictures, getting an overview and seeing sites from a distant viewpoint. A tourist thinks it might be great to live in the locale but is not ready to change addresses in order to know the life of the town he or she is visiting. A tourist Christian is one who is merely ogling the lifestyle without developing a relationship with the town mayor and with the townspeople. Tourist Christianity is unwilling to suffer, sacrifice or remain faithful.

From the book RESTART Your Church by Dottie Escobedo-Frank

I don't know why I'm surprised when things like blog themes and the book I happen to be reading fit together like puzzle pieces. My friend and fellow LBM blogger, Keva, would call it a God Wink. I would have to concur.

It reminded me, too, that beauty is in my backyard every day. I don't have to travel to Mount Rushmore to find it. I don't have to pack my carry-on for a weekend trip to Chicago. It is all around me, every single day.

If you begin to live life 

looking for the God 

that is all around you,

 every moment becomes a prayer. 

–Frank Bianco, U.S. journalist and photographer

It's hard to miss the beauty in the "big" things ... the mountains, the ocean and monuments. But sometimes, in our haste to look forward to the next "big thing," we miss the myriad of small things around every single day. 

Beauty is found in the church pews, seeing the familiar faces, week after week. It's in the faces and voices of the children who sometimes skip up the church aisle to children's story time. It's found as we make apple butter in the church kitchen for the annual United Methodist Women bazaar. It's nestled next to the box of crayons that someone brought to the church for the school supplies collection drive.

It's found along the ditches as I walk along my dirt road.

Today, I will cherish the small things ... the tomato fresh from the vine, a favorite song on the radio, a phone call, the touch of a hand, the compliment I don't think I deserve, the email from a friend, the smell of freshly-turned earth on an early morning walk, a cool house on a hot day. Small blessings abound, if we just pause to look for them. They don't have to be carved into rock in the Black Hills of South Dakota.

I want to look at my everyday places with the eyes and the wonder of a tourist. But it needs to be more than that. I don't want to just "ogle the lifestyle." I want to live it in the way that God calls me to be a part of it. It's all about getting to know the Mayor Himself. Then it's about listening to His voice as He urges me to be His hands and feet on this beautiful Earth - whether I'm here on the County Line in Kansas or on a mountaintop in Colorado.

***

When we visited Brent in Columbia, S.C., in 2011,  we had an non-traditional Thanksgiving meal,  including shrimp we bought right off the dock.
If you'd like the recipe for Baked Shrimp Scampi and Cheese Grits, just click on this link. After visiting the south, I add cheese grits to our menu here in Kansas on occasion. And every time I eat them, I think of those shrimp boats at sunset in Mount Pleasant, S.C.

Ambassadors for Christ

The tattered flag whipped in the wind as the cowgirl and her horse barreled across the rodeo arena. Surely they could have found a better flag for the pomp and circumstance of an all-American, small town rodeo than this old, threadbare flag ready for retirement, I thought to myself.

But then the rodeo announcer began reading the words to Johnny Cash's The Ragged Old Flag. Like the flag in that classic poem, the flag at the Stafford Rodeo ceremony had waved red, white and blue through years of service, beaten by the Kansas wind and baked in the summer sun. And still, it remained a symbol for those gathered with hands over hearts in small town U.S.A.

Then a new rider and a new flag entered the arena. The familiar melody of The Star-Spangled Banner played, and people joined together in singing the national anthem, most straining to reach the notes in the upper register. 

With our Independence Day celebrations this month, we'll break out the barbecue, serve up the potato salad and light the fireworks to show our patriotism, our theme for Lovely Branches Ministry this month.

As I was thinking about patriotism, a friend posted a status update one morning as a response to Facebook's inquiry, "What's on your mind?" Lori Alvarado was a student intern at The Hutchinson News back when I was the Focus editor there. After seeing her status, I asked if I could share her thoughts, which she compiled during her personal devotional time. It made me think about "patriotism" in a new way:

What's on my mind? Well. . . . .I am an ambassador. I live in a foreign land. I represent a strong power. I carry a powerful message representing an absolute ruler. I am protected and valued. This world is not my home and the power I represent is the strongest power in the universe, Jesus Christ. The message I carry involves believing in Christ through faith. I am protected by Him, knowing I have eternal life, and I am valued enough that He gave His very life for me. Ambassadors plead with leaders of the countries in which they work to take a stand. That's what we do--we carry His message, pleading with others to take a stand for Christ.

U.S. Ambassadors are denoted by our country's flag that flies at their residence or on the car in which the ambassador rides. That prompts me to ask. . . . As Christ's ambassador, would people know who I represent? By my actions? By my words? He wants to speak and act through me so that others will see who He is. Do I make the choice daily to be sanctified--set apart--for my Master's use? Am I prepared to speak His important message with my words and my actions?

Lori Alvarado

 

How do I answer those questions? Can people see Christ through my words, actions and attitudes? If not, why not? The Bible commands us to be His representatives:

We are therefore Christ’s ambassadors, as though God were making his appeal through us. We implore you on Christ’s behalf: Be reconciled to God.

2 Corinthians 5:20

It's great to be a patriotic American, proud of the flag and ready to support and defend her. 

I am quick to claim my love of all things K-State and patriotically wave the purple and white.

But I should just as enthusiastically demonstrate my allegiance to Jesus Christ through my thoughts, words and actions. Jesus gave me the example. He was willing to fulfill a servant's task.

Stained glass window at Youthville Chapel, Newton, Kansas

I, too, can be God's ambassador. But, like that ragged old American flag, we're called to service. We aren't supposed to hang around and "look pretty." We are to get our hands dirty and serve. We are to wear our dirty old tennis shoes and get in the mud and the muck of serving Him, day in and day out.

Some people feel called to serve and travel to foreign countries to spread God's love. Some may foster or adopt children who need a home. But we can also be Christ's representatives in small, ordinary ways in our daily lives when we send a note to a shut-in ...take a covered dish to a grieving family ... attend a ballgame in support of youth at church ... contribute to a local fundraiser ... The ways to serve are as varied as our fingerprints. 

We are to be God's hands and feet on this earth - whether in far-flung mission fields or on the streets of small-town U.S.A.

Father, give me the wisdom and boldness to be Your ambassador to this world. Let me not grow weary in doing well, but through Your strength represent You through my actions and my words. In Christ's name. Amen.

Lori Alvarado

***

Celebrate your patriotism with some All-American baking this 4th of July. Here are a few ideas:

 Star-Spangled Cookies

Macaroons

Clipper Bars

All-American Brownies for a Crowd

(Caveat: I didn't wait until the brownies were completely cool to frost and cut. It didn't affect the taste; just the look!

Broken Chords

 

Music for the soul ... Back in January, when I first saw that topic for the June edition of the Lovely Branches Ministries' Vine Press blogs, I thought to myself, "That should be an easy one for me." Note to self:  Never think things like that!

As the days of May flew by with the lightning speed of spring on the farm, year-end music concerts, family graduations, a three-day church conference and life in general, I wasn't feeling nearly so confident.

I'm a musician. No, it wasn't my major at college. I chose journalism after my Dad wisely suggested that being a music teacher was probably not the best career choice for my DNA.

I thank him every so often for that. He was SO right. I just completed my 18th year as an accompanist for the Stafford School system, most in middle school choir. Let's face it: The majority of middle school kids would much rather be in gym class than music class. As a middle school music director, I would not have survived my natural bent toward perfectionism and order in the midst of the adolescent hormones.

However, I do love music, so that's why I accompany. I certainly have no illusions that I am the most competent accompanist around. Mrs. Lighter, my childhood piano teacher, would be amazed that I am the one of the three Moore sisters who now gets paid to play the piano.

If I am honest, there are days I'd prefer to stay home. Still, there are some fringe benefits. Every so often, there's a student or two who are true musicians. They don't just get the right notes. They interpret the music. They truly make music through changes in dynamics and tempo. They are open to suggestions that take their performance to the next level.

But, as I thought about the theme, "Music for the soul," I remembered a time when my "job" didn't have a thing to do with my time on the piano bench. Instead, it happened in a bathroom after class several years ago. The encounter forever changed how I looked at the time I spent at school.

On that day, I ducked into the bathroom after the bell had rung. A middle school girl was there, washing her hands, but she waited until I came out of the stall and said, "Mrs., I have a question."

"Sure," I told her.

She was standing in front of a full-length mirror, pushing her long hair back and adjusting her clothes.

"What's wrong with me? Is my hair a mess today? Am I wearing the wrong thing? Do I smell?"

"No," I told her. "You look great. I think your hair looks really pretty today. Your outfit is cute."

She stopped me. "No, I really want you to be honest," she said. "Tell me the truth! When I come close to some of the other girls, they look at me and say, 'Oh, __________, get away.' Or they will turn their back, and I can hear them whispering."

I said again, "I am telling the truth. I am being honest. I want you to hear me. Even though it's really hard, you need to realize that sometimes other girls can be mean. I don't know why that is, but it is. So it's not about you. It's about their need to feel better than someone else. If they can put someone down, then maybe, for just a little bit, they can feel better about themselves."

"Try to remember it's not about you, even though it hurts."

I could not get that girl out of my mind. I remembered my daughter's middle school years. They were the absolute toughest for me as a parent (and no doubt for Jill as well). I will never forget how mean they were to one another. For several years, I saved a note that I found one day in Jill's pocket. It was from a girl who was supposed to be her friend. It said something about Jill looking like a pig in her cheerleading outfit.

I don't know why I saved the note. Was it to remind me of the power of words? Was it to remind me to really listen to my kids - whether they shared the hurts of the day vocally or exhibited it with a quiet, sullen mood?

Am I naive enough to think Jill was never mean to another girl? Of course not. I'm sure she had her moments even though my constant soundtrack with both my kids was, "Be the bigger person."

So I worried about this girl who I didn't really know. She was a face in the crowd on the risers before I heard the anguish in her voice that day. On the night of the concert, I made it a point to find her and tell her how nice she looked in her dress-up clothes. When I would see her at ballgames, I would stop and visit with her - even after she graduated from middle school and became a high schooler.

You see, I have been that girl. I wasn't the thinnest girl or the prettiest in my class or the girl every guy was clamoring to go out with.

But as I've gotten older, I've realized that most women have felt like that. Even those girls who from the outside looking in have it all - the thin girls with the perfect hair and just the right fashion flair - have that nagging feeling that they just aren't good enough.

It's been kind of a revelation for me as an adult.

But it doesn't change the hurt of a 13-year-old girl peering at herself in the mirror of a bathroom.

So, I hope she heard me - really heard me. If she did, it was worth all the time commuting to town ... practicing at home ... being annoyed at the noise ... the nervous stomach before festivals and concerts.

It was worth every second. If she heard me. I pray she did.

Not long ago, this arrived in my email devotional:

God has a beautiful way 

of bringing good vibrations out of broken chords. 

--Charles Swindoll

Christian pastor, author and educator

And I again thought of that girl. And I thought about myself. And I thought about all of we women who are so quick to be critical of ourselves.

But then I thought about it a little more. By definition, a broken chord is any chord whose notes are not played simultaneously; a chord played with separated notes. A broken chord is the way an accompanist gives each part of a choir its assigned note before we put all the parts together. Each and every part - soprano, alto, tenor and bass - is important for a harmonious chord. Through the brokenness of our lives we can become the strong chord that God intended us to be.

2 Corinthians 12:8-10 New International Version (NIV)

⁸ Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. ⁹ But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. ¹⁰ That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

It's in His perfect love that we are made whole, even in our brokenness ... kind of like that broken chord before the choir sings.

***

It takes just a few ingredients to come together for a yummy pasta dish that can be eaten warm or cold. And you might just be able to use tomatoes from your summer garden for this meal. Enjoy!

Chicken and Bowtie Feta Pasta

Or try this salad, which is also good for summertime family reunions and potlucks at church.

Cornbread Confetti Salad

A Father With a Mother's Heart

Thanks to Morgan Hildebrand for allowing me to use her chick photos from Priority Ranch, Stafford, KS

Check out her blog, Priority Ranch and see more photos of the chickens and other animals they raise on their farm.

... How often I have longed to gather your children together,

 as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings ...

Matthew 23: 37

The animal kingdom at our farm doesn't include hens and chicks. But as I read those words from Matthew 23, I think back to my grandparents' farm. Each spring, they would purchase baby chicks and put them under heat lamps in the brooder house until they grew big enough to survive without the extra pampering. When I was a child, I loved seeing those little balls of yellow fluff huddled together. I loved touching their downy feathers. They weren't nearly as cute when they grew up to be hens, and we had to move them out of the way to get to the eggs in the hen house.

Photo by Morgan Hildebrand, Priority Ranch

But even as I remember the pecking and racket of the hen house, I think about it a little differently now as a mother and grandmother - and I as read the words from Matthew. 

While most often we hear about "God the Father," the Matthew 23 verse gives us that maternal essence of God.

The birthing process is God’s idea. He’s maternally given birth to the universe, birth to our planet, and birth to us. Most importantly He’s given us re-birth. Simply stated, He is Father God with a mother’s heart. Waiting to wipe every tear; sitting up with us through the night; and listening to our troubles—solving them while we are yet speaking. 

Christian Author Susan Watkins

Each year, I am mystified by motherhood as we work with our cow/calf herd on our South Central Kansas farm. When we move the cow/calf pairs to different corrals or pastures, we separate the mamas and their babies to keep the babies (and the humans) safe.

The mamas don't realize we are doing it for a purpose. They protest - LOUDLY - when they are on one side of a fence ... and their babies are on another.

They bellow at the barn because they know their babies went that direction on the way to the trailer. Then they move the protest to the fence and watch as the trailer leaves them behind.

It's always amazing to me when it's time for the mamas and babies to reunite. The babies barrel out of the trailer in search of their mamas. 

It doesn't take long before the "lost" is again found by each mama and welcomed home for a nuzzle and a snack.

And isn't that how God seeks us? Our Heavenly Father has a mother's heart.

He seeks us when we're lost. (Luke 15: 3-6). He numbers the hairs on our heads (Luke 12: 6-8). He rejoices over us. His thoughts about us outnumber the grains of sand (Psalm 139). Isn't that just like a mother?

***

Happy Mother's Day to my Mom and to my daughter. (She did the important job of making me a grandma. It's a pretty wonderful job description! I think there's a little Grandma in our Father God, too!)

***

Be sure and check out Morgan Hildebrand's blog, Priority Ranch. Again, I thank her for allowing me to use her chick photos. We have our share of cattle and cats here on our farm, but you'll want to see the menagerie of animals that live at Priority Ranch and the people who care for them. Click on the link to "visit."

***

To celebrate Mother's Day, try these quick bread recipes for a tasty start to the day:

Grandma's Blueberry Muffins with Crumb Topping

Banana Pineapple Cherry Nut Bread

Peanut Butter Banana Bread

I'm Thankful

"I'm fine."

It's the automatic response, it seems, when someone issues the familiar greeting, "How are you?"

"I'm fine."

We say it whether we really mean it - or we don't. It's the socially acceptable way to respond. But a recent email devotional from The Upper Room challenged me to think about a new response.

It's "fine" to be "fine." But how would life change if I followed the author's cue and instead responded, "I'm thankful!"

He says that his "I'm thankful" response often elicits a conversation starter when the questioner probes, "Why are you thankful?" But even if it doesn't evolve into anything more than a pleasant response, it just might remind me to BE more thankful.

The Psalms provide plentiful examples of being thankful, including Psalm 105: 1-6:

Psalm 105

¹ Give praise to the Lord, proclaim his name;
    make known among the nations what he has done.
² Sing to him, sing praise to him;
    tell of all his wonderful acts.
³ Glory in his holy name;
    let the hearts of those who seek the Lord rejoice.
⁴ Look to the Lord and his strength;
    seek his face always.

⁵ Remember the wonders he has done,
    his miracles, and the judgments he pronounced,
⁶ you his servants, the descendants of Abraham,
    his chosen ones, the children of Jacob.

One of my favorite hymns is Fairest Lord Jesus, a hymn that seems perfect for the Lovely Branches Ministries theme, April Gladness, this month.

At left and clockwise: The church sanctuary's stained glass behind the altar; a view of the front of the church; the piano where we gathered each week to sing Sunday School songs, much like the poster still on the wall in one of the classroom; the back of the church, where we would play on the steps and in the yard during our Mom's WSCS (now UMW) meetings and during VBS recreation.

Today, the words of the familiar hymn may be projected onto a multi-media screen during morning worship. But the message was imprinted on my heart long ago at my childhood church, Byers United Methodist. (I was there when the church closed its doors for the last time in 2011. See some of my memories by clicking on the underlined link.)

Dear Lord, as we turn the calendar to April and welcome spring, let us see our blessings with eyes wide open to You and your miraculous world. Let me truly be able to respond, "I'm thankful!" each and every day.

Fairest Lord Jesus 

(with my photo illustrations)

Fairest Lord Jesus, ruler of all nature,

O thou of God and man the Son.

 Thee will I cherish

Thee will I honor

Thou, my soul's glory, joy and crown.

Fair are the meadows

Fairer still the woodlands

Robed in the blooming garb of spring

 Jesus is fairer

Jesus is purer

Who makes the woeful heart to sing.

 

Fair is the sunshine

 

Fairer still the moonlight

And all the twinkling starry host.

Jesus shines brighter

Jesus shines purer

Than all the angels heaven can boast.

 Beautiful Savior!

Lord of all the nations! 

 Son of God and Son of Man!

Glory and honor,

Praise, adoration,

Now and forever more be thine. 

**

Spring on a plate ... It's how I think about this Roasted Tomato and Asparagus Tortellini dish with asparagus and spinach. It can be served as a side dish. But you can easily make it into a main dish by adding cooked and seasoned chicken breasts or strips of beef, if you want a heartier meal ... or if any guys around your table would prefer that! Enjoy!