Fresh Fruit Salsa with Cinnamon Chips. Yes, please.

Trust me, when you bring this stuff to a party or shower, you won't bring home any leftovers.  Oh so fresh, fruity and pretty too! Super easy and quick to make.  Thanks to allrecipes.com for this gem!

 Fresh Fruit Salsa
 2 kiwis, peeled and diced
 2 apples - peeled, cored and diced
 8 ounces raspberries
 1 pound strawberries, coarsely chopped
 1 cup fresh, ripe pineapple, cut in chunks
 2 tablespoons white sugar
 1 tablespoon brown sugar
 3 tablespoons fruit preserves, any flavor (I love orange marmalade)

 10 (10 inch) flour tortillas
 butter flavored cooking spray
 2 tablespoons cinnamon sugar


Directions (15 mins prep, 10 mins baking, ready in 45 mins)
In a large bowl, thoroughly mix kiwis, apples, raspberries, strawberries, pineapple, sugars and fruit preserves. Cover and chill in the refrigerator at least 15 minutes. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees. Coat one side of each flour tortilla with butter flavored cooking spray. Cut into wedges and arrange in a single layer on a large baking sheet. Sprinkle wedges with desired amount of cinnamon sugar. Spray again with cooking spray. Bake in the preheated oven 8 to 10 minutes. Don't over-brown. Repeat with any remaining tortilla wedges. Allow to cool approximately 15 minutes on a wire rack. Serve with chilled fruit mixture.

Different is Good

Different is good in all kinds of ways. My husband and I are SO different, even after 34 years together.  For instance, I came downstairs this morning at 6:15, turned on the lights, fed the critters, made coffee,  tidied the kitchen, started breakfast, opened the blinds, and Febreezed everything that didn't move. I may or may not have been humming the whole time.  I'm a lot like this in the morning:

Meanwhile, Gene ambled into the kitchen about 6:45, got a Diet Coke from the fridge, and shuffled back upstairs for a bath...in complete silence.  He's a lot like this in the morning:

Growing up, his family bought theatre tickets, mine bought National Park passes.  His family took student groups to England, mine took the Plymouth to Salt Lake City. He says 'sushi', I say 'cat food'. Let's call the whole thing off! 

Fortunately, we don't have to be alike to have a thriving relationship. Recently at church, we looked at Ephesians 4:16.

"He makes the whole body fit together perfectly. As each part does its own special work, it helps the other parts grow, so that the whole body is healthy and growing and full of love."

(emphasis mine)

I'm so thankful there are artists and musicians, visionaries and detail people, neat freaks and mess makers, leaders and followers, out-front people, and behind the scenes people in my family and in my church! Isn't it awesome that God equipped us to fit in families and churches, and made us to need each other to grow? Many people search for a mate, or friends, or a church full of people just like them, when what's most beneficial to us is exactly the opposite. I can't grow or be healthy like I'm supposed to without you.

What would it look like if we celebrated our differences with our mate, our kids, our church instead of bemoaning them? What if we stopped trying to mold others into our image? Ephesians 4:16 says our relationships, families, even His body the Church, would be healthy, growing and full of love. Different is very, very good!

Prayer for Today: Father, You've made us fit together, each using their own gifts and talents to help others grow.  Help me to embrace the differences in my spouse, kids, family, and church so those relationships will be healthy, growing and full of love.  Amen. 

The Night of a Thousand Hot Dogs (or Tales of a BBQ wife)

Be devoted to one another in love. Honor one another above yourselves.

Romans 12:10 NIV

My husband loves to barbecue. Not like the guy in those Home Depot ads, flipping burgers on a Weber kettle. Nooo, not my guy. He built a smokehouse of cinder blocks and expanded metal in our backyard. He has piles and piles of special woods and charcoal and all kinds of odd looking implements used in the preparation of smoked meats. He has a chair next to his smokehouse you would normally see on the sidelines of a Little League game - you know the one, with the backrest and the cup holder? He spends hours in that chair tending the fire, gently bringing the meat to smoked perfection.

Our family has experienced a good deal of tragedy this year with the death of a 24-year old son on Father's Day, and a parent diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease slowly losing her grip on everything.  Smoking meat seems to relax and comfort him, so we eat a LOT of barbecue lately. Now, having spent nearly all of his childhood summers in West Texas, to him BBQ = BEEF.  Here in the South, BBQ comes from pigs, which he cannot begin to understand. I refer you to my earlier comment about the particular part of the country he hails from.

For the fourth time in a fortnight, there was smoke pouring from the ..er.. primitive contraption. A few weeks earlier, we had the great Pork Sacrifice of '14, whereby 8 Boston Butts were torched by a consuming fire ignited by pork fat dripping onto the coals beneath. Pork has a considerably higher fat content than the beef briskets he loves to smoke. However, he made no adjustment to his method to allow for the extra fuel...hence the Great Blaze. With the help of our friend Judy, a veteran of such mishaps and the smartest person I know, they salvaged about 20% of the meat, which we subsequently slathered with sauce and served on buns at the church BBQ.

Determined to master this Southern brand of 'barbecue', more butts were purchased, the fire was relocated so as not to be directly beneath the pork, a drip pan was added, and he sat in his chair, brooding over the meat.  But alas, the butts 'stalled' (who knew that could happen?!), and he was forced to bring them inside and finish them in my oven. In my oven! Soon, an odor reminiscent of preschoolers past filled the house. "AACCCKKK!", I believe I said.  "IT SMELLS LIKE YOU'RE COOKING A THOUSAND HOT DOGS IN HERE!" Undeterred by my ranting, he proceeded to cook the meat for two hours. Who knew you could smell hot dogs for two hours and live? Fortunately, the tale ends well with delicious, if inferior, pork barbecue enjoyed by all the guests.

 My point in telling you the this story is this: whatever is fun and relaxing to your guy, support him! Watch college football, go geocaching, go to car shows. Maybe it will wind up being something you both love.  But even if it's not your favorite, go.  Because he's your favorite. And if what your guy loves is cooking pork butts in your oven, God help you, Sister.  I'll be prayin' for you.

Prayer for Today: Father, help me look for ways to support my husband, to spend time with him.  Help me to honor his wants above my own.  In Your Name, Amen.

Super Easy Chocolate Chip Croissants (your kids will love you!)

School is back in session and we're all looking for ways to reign in the morning crazy.  Here's a little recipe my sister shared with me when all 4 of my kids were in school.  Just add milk, their favorite juice or fresh fruit, and wa-lah! Hot yummy breakfast in minutes.  Obviously, this isn't for every day, but I made it about once a week in our house and the kids loved it!

Chocolate Chip Croissants
(thanks to allrecipes.com!)

Tube of 8 refrigerated crescent rolls
1/2 c semi-sweet mini chocolate chips
powdered sugar (if desired)

Preheat oven according to package directions. On an ungreased baking sheet, separate the dough into 8 triangles.  Sprinkle 1 TBSP mini chips at the widest end of the triangle. Roll up from the smallest end, and bake according to package directions.  Place on a cooling rack and sprinkle with powdered sugar (I use a mini strainer, works great). Serve warm.  Enjoy!

Creatively Created to Create

A few days ago, I joined a group of ladies from our church at a local art studio. It's one of those wonderful places where you paint a canvas or a piece of pottery with the help of a local artist. If you've known me for any length of time, you've probably heard me say that I didn't get the "craft gene" or that I'm "artistically challenged". I say that because I didn't, and I am. I'm just not gifted like so many of my artsy friends. I did struggle more than most with the sketching required before you can paint. But when I was finished, and I signed my initial in the corner of my painting (a must, said our instructor) I was actually excited to take it home, in all its splendid imperfection.

I know, it's kind of wonky, and not exactly proportional. Kind of like me :o)  But I mixed the colors myself, and the brush strokes are all mine. There's something so meaningful about creating something. It reminds us that we are, after all, created in the image of the One Who Creates.  As I walked around the studio, I marveled at the spark of the divine in all of our handiwork; each woman's unique personality so beautifully reflected in her painting.  I learned some things from our night at the studio:

1. Because the Creator lives in us, we can all create! A song, a dress, a garden, a business.. create!
2. I cannot chat and paint at the same time. Or really even think and paint at the same time.
3. Never pass up the chance to have the instructor trace your squiggles with the puffy paint. Genius.


Verse for Today: "For we are God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago."  - Ephesians 2:10 NLT

The Treasures of her Childhood

I absolutely love Christmas!  All you bah-humbug people, I do not understand you! Okay, I'll try.  But really...I don't.  Since I was a little girl, I've collected Christmas ornaments.  Our daughter Caitlin is celebrating her first Christmas as a Mrs., so last night after family dinner, I got to share some treasures from her childhood.  We spent over an hour sitting on the floor of my living room, opening boxes of Christmas decorations, sharing memories, and choosing the things that will be hers from now on. My heart was full of joy as she carefully chose the things she wanted: the handmade "jewel ornaments" lovingly made by her Pappy, the little nutcracker, the pretty blue star, the tiny silver teapot. She was positively tickled to have my snowman cookie jar, and the red bead garland for her tree. As we wrapped the winners in tissue paper and tucked them all in a big blue rubbermaid tub, I smiled as I thought of my son-in-law Cameron dragging it all back out again next year, like my husband has done for thirty-two Christmases.  I sighed contentedly, and thought how quickly 

this:

...becomes this...

....and this.. 

I promise.  You blink, and they're grown. 

That blue rubbermaid tub does contain treasures from her childhood. It was such a joy to give them to her! I pray one day she'll sit on the floor with her little girl, filling a big blue box with holiday memories. But the real treasures of her childhood aren't wrapped in tissue paper or hanging on a tree.  The real treasures we have to give are the  strong love we all have for each other; the 'No D-word' commitment to marriage her Daddy and I share; the forgiveness that marks our family relationships, even the complicated ones; the faith that guides and sustains us;  the beautifully raucous noise of our home..brothers and sisters and dogs and music and friends and cooking and laughter;  and most precious-the absolute certainty that in spite of ourselves, God loves us without reservation or condition. That's the real family treasure.  What real treasure do you have to share with your kids? Why not share in a comment!