by jphilo | Aug 10, 2012 | Daily Life
Pardon the latest of this post, but I just got back from peach pie heaven. Though those of you who shudder at the thought of making 5 fresh peach pies before 10 AM, my peach pie heaven may be your peach pie hell.
But the opportunity to prepare dessert for a wedding rehearsal involving two families who have given generously to us made the time in the kitchen heavenly. While peeling peaches, I reflected upon the ways these families touched ours in the past:
- During our son’s six years as a monk, the bride’s parents subscribed to the monastery newsletter and talked about what they read in it. That simple act of caring meant more to us than words can express.
- The bride and her sister, who are a few years older than our daughter, let Anne borrow a formal for her senior prom. The kicky, funky dress turned out to be Anne’s all time favorite.
- When Anne was in fourth grade, the groom volunteered to play George Burn’s to her Gracie Allen for a school performance project. The groom’s parents helped him memorize his lines.
- The groom did the filming for Different Dream Parenting’s book trailer. Because he has a film degree, he’s been able to help with other audio-visual projects. And he never rolls his eyes when I ask questions with obvious (to the younger generation, anyway) answers.
Such simple things, I mused. But things our family couldn’t do without them.
We couldn’t enter into typical how-the-kids-are-doing conversations with friends unless they understood something about our son’s life.
We couldn’t afford a kicky, funky prom dress for Anne.
We couldn’t be our pint-sized Gracie Allen’s pint-sized straight man.
We couldn’t film professional quality video.
So when our small church group decided to host tonight’s wedding rehearsal dinner for our friends, I volunteered to make dessert.
Not just any dessert.
But fresh peach pie.
Not just 1 pie, but 5.
Enough to feed the whole crowd.
Why volunteer for what some people consider a hellish job?
Because I make a killer peach pie.
Because it’s peach season.
Because this is an opportunity to give back to those who have given to us.
Because being able to give back is a taste of heaven on earth.
How do I know this? Because, I realized, while pouring the last of the glaze over fresh-sliced peaches resting in the baked pastry shell, when God provides opportunities for his people to exercise the unique gifts he’s equipped them with, he’s giving them a foretaste of heaven on earth. And what does heaven taste like?
Heaven tastes serving people who freely served us.
It tastes like the celebration for two lovely, young people making a lifelong commitment.
It tastes like finally being able to give back.
Heaven tastes like fresh peach pie on a warm, summer night.
by jphilo | Jul 11, 2011 | Family
One year ago today our daughter married the love of her life, and we welcomed a new son into our family. Today’s recycled post, from July 12, 2010, looks back on the blessings of a day filled with family, friends, and frolic. And today’s hot, humid weather reminds me of one more blessing that should have made the list a year ago – an outdoor July wedding with temperatures in the low 80s. Even the weather on July 10, 2010 was blessed!
We Are So Blessed – Recycled
Wow! After weeks of planning and wedding tasks that bumped real life activities to the bottom of my to do list, the wedding of our daughter and new son is history. More details will be forthcoming, once I’m not so tired I nod off the minute I’m not moving, and more pictures will be posted once my sweet cousin assigned to taking candid shots has time to download and send them, but for today here are a few highlights:
Sunday morning’s rain tipped the scales in favor of moving the wedding ceremony to the pavilion in the park. Though the weather improved as the day progressed and the sun was shining for the ceremony, we were glad of the change in venue. The gnats and mosquitoes were bothersome, even in the pavilion. They would have been unbearable in our yard.The bride was lovely and her new husband handsome. But their outward appearance is nothing compared to the maturity of their love for one another.
- We are so grateful our daughter has such a devoted husband who appreciates who she is.
- The flower lady, also known as my sister, outdid herself with the flowers. Who knew Queen Anne’s lace and purple cone flowers, combined with greenhouse roses and gladiolas could be so lovely?
- The work done by the reception planner, also known as my friend Diana, was a gift I can never repay. She took a load off my shoulders by organizing food, materials, and workers…the day before heading to LaCrosse, Wisconsin for her last week of graduate school.
- My long time son and new daughter deserve hugs and kisses for decorating the reception pavilion while I rode herd on the bride and bridesmaids back at the ranch until the ceremony.
- We are blessed with loving family – from our new son’s parents and siblings pitching in to my sister doing the flowers, from one of my cousin’s daughters teaching ballroom dancing at the reception to the cousin who took the pictures, from my brother staying late to help Hiram load and return tables to everyone who participated in Anne and her husband’s joy.
- We are blessed with a loving church family, young and old – sisters and brothers in Christ who came early and stayed late, contributed food, served food, helped with sound equipment, acted silly in the photo booth, hugged our children, and joined in the dancing and merriment.
Such fun. Such memories. Such a support system for us and such strength to lift our sweet children into adulthood. So many blessings. So much grace.
Our cup runneth over.
We are so grateful.
We are so blessed.
Thank you, dear God of all blessing.
by jphilo | Jun 21, 2011 | Family
I’m a little on edge this week, trying to finish the edits on Different Dream Parenting and get it back to the editor by the June 27 deadline. But today’s recycled post from last June reminds me that book angst is much easier to deal with than wedding angst. This time last year I was worried about the yard, the flowers, the weather, and a whole bunch of other stuff, as this post from June 14, 2010 shows.
Yard Angst – Recycled
These days, I’m worrying about the yard. First, the warm April weather fooled the summer flowers into blooming two weeks early even though May turned cold. Now, a week of heavy rain and predictions of more to come put the whole state under a flood watch. So I’m looking for someone or something to blame for my daughter’s unshakable decision to have her wedding in our yard on July 11.
You see, the wedding has become a constant source of yard angst for me. Will all the flowers be done blooming before the wedding? If the rains continue, will the yard be a yishy, squishy mess? Will the creeping Charlie be too noticeable? Will the weeds in the flower beds take over? Will the weather be too hot, too cold, too wet, too dry, too windy, too still?
I found the perfect outlet for my yard angst. It’s the young red oak in our yard. We planted in during Anne’s childhood. She waited year after patient year for the sapling to get big enough to climb, which she did frequently once her dad declared it a tree. Since then, it’s gotten big enough to cast a respectable amount of shade on hot, summer days. And on cool fall afternoons, it glows red and glorious. Despite its usefulness and beauty, between now and the wedding, I plan to blame it for my yard angst every single day.
After all, it’s a perfect whipping post. When I start railing about the wedding, it can’t walk away. It can’t spout off a snappy comeback or argue with my logic. It’s too flexible for straight line winds to snap it, too deeply rooted for a flood to wash it away, and too far from the house to fall on it during a tornado.
Ahh, I’m beginning to understand why Anne fell in love with her tree. Not enough to climb the darn thing (no need for height angst to keep the yard angst company), but enough to go along with her romantic whim. At least until the next round of yard angst sets in.
How much longer until July 11?
by jphilo | Sep 20, 2010 | Daily Life
This past weekend’s abrupt switch from summer to fall was hard to believe. After all, over Labor Day, our family gathered for boating and swimming, and to throw cousins in the the lake – all the good stuff that accompanies warm summer days and nights.
But Saturday evening Hiram and I, along with scores of other guests, sat shivering and dodging raindrops at an outdoor wedding. Our teeth chattered in rhythm with the processional. Steely-eyed bridesmaids willed away goosebumps and walked down the aisle, their bouquets dewy fresh and trembling in the cold. The bride, tall and calm, came down the aisle escorted by her parents. The weather bothered her and the groom not one bit. They had eyes for each other only, and by the end of the chilly ceremony, they were as married as they would have been in a warm, dry church.
After the festivities, Hiram and I went home to a chilly house and turned on the furnace. “Hard to believe,” I said, “that we need the heater this early in the fall.” The house was still nippy the next morning, so I turned up the heat a tad before we went to church. Surely, it would be warmer there.
It wasn’t.
Apparently, the custodial staff at the the high school, where we meet for Sunday services, found the weather forecast hard to believe, and hadn’t bothered to turn on the furnace. By the end of church, I couldn’t feel my toes.“At least it will be warmer when we get home.” I hurried to the car.
But it wasn’t.
“Must have turned up the night thermostat instead of the day control.” I fiddled with the dial again, made a cup of hot tea, and put on another sweater. “Hard to believe it’s supposed to be 85 tomorrow.”
“Well, today it’s freezing in here.” Hiram checked the thermostat. “Only 66 degrees.” He went down to check the furnace and discovered the pilot light wouldn’t turn on. “You better call the furnace guy tomorrow,” he suggested. “Gonna be a cold night tonight.”
But it wasn’t.
The outdoor temperature rose throughout the night, and by morning it was nearly as warm outside as in. By midmorning, it was muggy and humid outside. But the house was cool and dry. Quite comfortable, in fact, though the temperature was no higher than during my shiverfest the day before. Hard to believe a call the furnace guy could be necessary or wise.
But it was.
And though it’s hard to believe, when the next cold snap comes and our pilot light behaves correctly, I’ll be thankful for the weather’s brief flirtation with fall.
It’s hard to believe that the bride and groom will be be quite so grateful for the turn the weekend’s weather took. But they can be proud of this: for all who attended, their wedding will be one of the most memorable ever.
It certainly was.
by jphilo | Aug 25, 2010 | Uncategorized
The wedding pictures have arrived. This photo won’t give you a close up of the newlyweds’ big smooch, though believe me, they were enjoying themselves. It won’t provide a good look at the wedding party, though I can attest to the loveliness of the bridesmaid and personal attendant as well as to the handsomeness of the groomsmen.
But it will maintain the young couple’s privacy, which is important to them. And you can see the beautiful woods that ringed the pavilion where they married. You can see my daughter, small and white, embraced by her tall groom. You can see the dresses and the vests glowing under the July sun, just as Anne hoped they would. You can see my sweet daughter and her new husband surrounded by friends and family we hope will walk with them throughout their lives, long after we are gone. You can see the leaps of young joy as the bride and groom kiss.
You can see much, but there is so much more the photograph doesn’t show – the challenges yet to come, the joys to be experienced and adventures to be shared, and the affirmation of God’s presence, through the every day happenings of life. Those things are waiting beyond the edges of the photograph, to be captured on another day, with a different lens.
But for today, this picture, this memory of the beginning of their life together, is enough.
It is more than enough.
It is joy.
