One Book Short

book-1014197_960_720Teen has a numbers quirk: they have to be even. The stereo and TV can’t be set to 9 or 11, but to 8 or 10. He’s thrilled that his birth date contains all even numbers, and irked by his rugby bag: #733.

So I won’t bother to tell him that, as of this moment, I’ve read 49 books in 2016. I might still squeeze in one more, but not in time to also blog about it. So as far we are concerned, 49 it is.

49 tops the even 30 I read in 2015, and blows away the 9-13 read by the “average” American (Pew Research Center, January 2014). I guess I could wow Teen with my page count: those 49 books contained 15,662 pages, with an average length of 326. My shortest book was also even: Gratitude by Oliver Sacks, 64 pages; my longest book, odd: Life After Life by Kate Atkinson, at 531. Among Goodreads readers, the most popular book I read this year is the new Harry Potter play, The Cursed Child, while the least popular was I Dare Me by Lu Ann Cahn; and the highest rated book (for good reason!) is Just Mercy by Bryan Stevenson.

My go-to genre: literature/fiction at 25 (favs this year: Everyone Brave is Forgiven by Chris Cleave, Euphoria by Lily King, and Eligible by Curtis Sittenfeld). Young adult comes close at 13 (favs: All the Bright Places by Jennifer Niven and The Sky is Everywhere by Jandy Nelson). I read more than my usual of non-fiction (two completely different, life-changing favs: Just Mercy by Bryan Stevenson and Small Move, Big Change by Caroline L. Arnold). Surprisingly, I only read one book on faith/religion but it’s a practical book on prayer (Fervent by Priscilla Shirer), and not surprisingly, only one book of short stories which I gave up on (What is Not Yours is Not Yours by Helen Oyeyemi – smart, just not for me).

I’ve summarized my 2016 reading in four posts: March 4, March 31, May 26, and September 29. Below are the books I’ve read in the last few months.

Just Mercy: A Story of Justice and RedemptionJust Mercy: A Story of Justice and Redemption by Bryan Stevenson
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

A year ago my teenage son read Just Mercy as extra credit for his high school Social Studies class. This year he read Kafka and Camus for an English class unit on existentialism. As I took up Just Mercy this month, I thought they might be of the same genre: how can it be that we live in a country founded on freedom and still incarcerate–on death row, no less–a hard-working, well-respected man with no evidence beyond skin color and fear? He might as well have woken up a bug. That might have been a better life.

Stevenson’s passion for justice and mercy for those who have been treated with less dignity than the very least of these, combined with his gift of storytelling, has opened my eyes to an aspect of America I wish didn’t exist. In this election year, I feel a new weight of responsibility to research the candidates and measures on the ballot. The headlines and bullet points cannot reveal the whole picture. Those without a voice rely on those of us who do to sing a better, more accurate song of freedom.

A God in RuinsA God in Ruins by Kate Atkinson
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

As a companion piece to Life After Life, this book was not what I’d hoped. I was initially glad we weren’t flipping through lives and time again as we did in Ursula’s story, but to the contrary, Teddy’s story plods along in a rather unexciting way. Even the war scenes felt mostly, surprisingly, slow. Had I not already invested hours reading the first book, I would have given up on the several hundred pages of this one.

Until the last gut-wrenching chapter.

If you haven’t read or didn’t like Life After Life, I won’t recommend this to you. If you read/like LAL, hang in there with this one.

Eligible: A Modern Retelling of Pride and Prejudice (The Austen Project, #4)Eligible: A Modern Retelling of Pride and Prejudice by Curtis Sittenfeld
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

LOVE! After many years, I reread one of Jane Austen’s books while on vacation. Still great, of course, but I have changed and I couldn’t love it the way I had. It felt (I know, writing these words might be sacrilege to some…) trite, superficial.

This book, though…? This book made Austen’s characters and stories real in such a great way. I honestly couldn’t put it down and finished it in less than 24 hours, including time off to sleep. I loaned it to a friend who did the same thing. We both grinned goofy-ridiculous grins because the book is goofy-ridiculous grin worthy. So. Much. Fun!

Everyone Brave is ForgivenEveryone Brave is Forgiven by Chris Cleave
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I didn’t particularly want to read another WW2 book, but Cleave’s Little Bee remains one of the most compelling books I’ve read. I’m so glad I gave this one a chance, as it has cemented Cleave among my favorite authors. His writing is so fresh–personal, vivid, funny, poignant. His characters become real people you’d like to know (or not). The story is so specifically focused that you almost don’t notice the war, but then, you also get new and horrifying details about the war. I’d recommend this book to just about any reader.

Today Will Be DifferentToday Will Be Different by Maria Semple
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

One weird day, and 50 years of Eleanor’s life.

She begins the day with a set of resolutions to become a better, more productive, healthier human being. (Don’t we all do that some days, even beyond our January determination?) She doesn’t achieve most of what she sets out to do/be. It’s too pie-in-the-sky to think sheer will power can override years of dysfunctional habit. But through flashbacks, we learn some of the Big Why’s that led to Eleanor’s current state of peculiarity. And through odd events that pile up one after another, she comes to new insights and revelations.

“Today” may have been as strange as any previous day in her life, but I believe in hope that Eleanor’s tomorrow will be different.

SweetbitterSweetbitter by Stephanie Danler
My rating: 2 of 5 stars

I worked as a restaurant hostess for one short college-years summer, and that was more than enough restaurant work for me.

It was also enough to conjure specific memories–sights, smells, personalities, stress–while reading Sweetbitter. I didn’t like restaurant work, and I didn’t like this book.

The writing was fine–specific, clever. But I am not a “bright lights, big city” kinda gal, while Tess claims the day she moved to New York was the day of her real birth. She longs for Big City adventure, and yet it seemed that her world got smaller and then smaller still. She repeatedly made stupid choices she could have avoided – ones she knew she should have avoided. That’s not very interesting.

And the Big Betrayal she experiences just didn’t seem that big to me. She chose awful “friends” who hurt her. But everyone, including Tess, is so clearly awful that it didn’t seem surprising or even all that bad.

Honestly, this book was enough to make me want to avoid going to restaurants–the facade, the pretension, the dirt. I think I’ll cook at home.

Northanger Abbey (The Austen Project, #2)Northanger Abbey by Val McDermid
My rating: 2 of 5 stars

Confession: I have never read Austen’s original Northanger Abbey. But this book was entirely uneven… Sometimes it felt Austen-formal, others it revealed its updating. Maybe the fault is mine, that I’m not familiar with how Brits currently view social strata, influencing their behavior/attitudes. That aside, vampires? I wasn’t sure if the author was joking or serious. Curtis Sittenfeld’s Eligible, an update of Pride & Prejudice was fantastic; McDermid’s attempt at Northanger Abbey wasn’t.

Small Great ThingsSmall Great Things by Jodi Picoult
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

I read this book for two reasons: someone gave me a gift certificate and a recommendation, and I’ve been reading about racial injustice. Some of it was difficult to read, the violence of white supremacy, for example, but also the implication that I might be more racist than I admit. Indeed, Picoult says as much in her afterword: “I was writing to my own community–white people–who can’t recognize racism in themselves.” In the end, I’m glad I stuck with it. Not because it’s a fantastic book (it’s okay, kept me guessing) but because it offered me different views on race in the US. And for the many who are more inclined to popular fiction than nonfiction sociology, this book will serve a good purpose.

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Meatless Monday – Ginger Stout Cake

I remember the first time I tasted real gingerbread: I was 20 years old, on a college study abroad program. Walking in the English Lake District, we stopped to warm ourselves in a bakery. Of course I’d had gingerbread before–gingerbread cookies, ginger snaps, even the bread–but I’d had nothing like this, so gingery-fierce it seemed to bite back.

I bought a postcard featuring the recipe, their specialty, and sent it to my grandma. Unfortunately, she couldn’t get the recipe to work, stumped by metric measurements and the different quality of flour available in England.

Fast forward many years to Guy and I deciding how we would combine family Christmas traditions to form new memories with our children. Thanks to my Norwegian heritage, Christmas for me has always been a two-day affair: big family dinner (fish and potatoes) on Christmas Eve + presents and more cookies than a child can dream, followed by a small family affair on Christmas morning to open more presents. Because of the tremendous effort that went into Christmas dinner, Christmas breakfast consisted of a big tin of popcorn, chocolates from family in Norway, and lots of coffee. Popcorn and chocolate weren’t gonna cut it for Guy, a breakfast traditionalist.

Cue the gingerbread memory. My kids like ginger almost as much as I do. Ginger snaps are both kids’ cookie of choice and Teen enjoys gingerbread pancakes for his December birthday breakfast. So, for most of my kids’ lifetimes, I have made gingerbread batter after they go to sleep on Christmas Eve and baked it as they wake up on Christmas Day.

All these years I’ve been making a good gingerbread, but it didn’t have that deep ginger bite that first took me by surprise. Until now. I found a recipe that looked like it might be closer to that Lake District specialty. I took a risk and tried it this Christmas, and the kids heartily agree that they prefer this version.gingerbread

Published in The New York Times, the original recipe comes from The Marrow, a NY West Village German restaurant. I have veganized, healthified, and simplified it some (do yourself a favor: use a stand mixer!). Not that it’s health food; of course it’s a treat. But instead of whipped cream I served it with homemade applesauce for a quick and delish Christmas breakfast. Guy also bought several flavors of popcorn and Christmas stockings were filled with chocolate, so we hold on to the old as we make way for the new.

Ginger Stout Cake
Serves 12

3 flax eggs (1 Tbsp flax meal & 3 Tbsp warm water per “egg”)
3 Tbsp grated fresh ginger
1 c stout
1 c molasses
1 ½ c white whole wheat flour
½ c whole wheat flour
1 Tbsp ground ginger
1 tsp cinnamon
¼ tsp each ground cloves, nutmeg, allspice
¼ tsp each ground black pepper & fine sea salt
1 ½ tsp baking powder
½ tsp baking soda
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 c brown sugar, unpacked
½ c granulated sugar
¼ c agave syrup
¾ c safflower oil (or unsweetened applesauce)
¼ c candied ginger, chopped fine

Heat oven to 350 degrees. Spray a 9×13 pan with cooking spray.

Prepare flax eggs and set aside. Grate fresh ginger (or use a veggie peeler to slice thin then rough chop).

Add the stout and molasses to a medium saucepan and bring to a simmer. Remove from the heat.

Sift together the flour, ground spices, pepper, salt, baking powder and baking soda. Set aside.

In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the whisk attachment, mix the fresh ginger, flax eggs, vanilla, sugars, and agave on medium speed for five minutes.

Turn the mixer down to low speed and add the oil (or applesauce). Mix for another 5 minutes. Slowly add the stout mixture and mix for another 5 minutes.

Carefully add the dry ingredients in two parts, mixing well in between each addition.

Pour the batter into the prepared pan and sprinkle with candied ginger (it will sink and bake into the cake). Bake for 55 to 65 minutes, or until a cake tester comes out clean. Let the cake cool for 15 minutes. Serve with non-dairy whipped cream or homemade applesauce.

merry-cheer

Merry Christmas 2016!

In a world of broken promises, a world of broken peace, a world of brokenness, oh how we need the promises of God, fulfilled in Jesus! Today, more than ever, I am praying for peace for people everywhere, especially for those who cannot call Christmas “merry.”

christmas-cluster

Advent Wreath Candlelighting for Christmas – The Promise Fulfilled

Read and light all candles: The first candle represents the promise of joy. The second candle represents the promise of a King. The third candle represents the song of glory. The fourth candle represents the song of salvation. The center candle represents Jesus, God’s promise fulfilled.

Say aloud together: Jesus said, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.”

Read Scripture: Luke 2:1-20

Read: Just as the angel promised, Mary had a baby boy. Unexpecting shepherds also received an angelic promise: in the town of David you will find a baby, wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger. When they found the Promise Fulfilled, shepherds joined the angel’s song—let all who hear it be amazed: A Savior has been born to us, our Messiah, the Lord! Glory to God in heaven, and on earth, peace.

Pray: Dear God, thank you for fulfilling all your promises in Jesus. In His precious name we will sing your glory forever and ever, Amen.

silent night wide version

artwork by Nancy Ingersoll http://nancy-ingersoll.pixels.com/

Learning to Let Him Go

norcalfootball2016

Today Teen drove away with friends to cheer on their high school football team in the state championship (Go, Campo Cougars!). Four hours away, in a city they’ve never visited. They’ll stay together in a hotel, arranged by another parent. They’ll return home tomorrow.

It makes me a little nervous, honestly. There will be plenty of adults at the game, but no chaperones at the hotel. A group of teenage boys staying alone overnight…what could go wrong?

But he’s a good kid. He turned 18 last week and he’s off to college in nine months where, obviously, he will have unprecedented freedom. I’ve got to start letting him go sometime.

My parents were overprotective of me and I respected them for it. And I still found a way to occasionally make questionable choices. So my instinct is to overprotect my kid, which he hates because he is way more wired for risk-taking than I am. All the more reason to overprotect, right?

I have to trust him. I have to demonstrate to him that I believe he is worthy of my trust. I have to trust that we’ve done the best job we could raising a responsible young adult. I have to trust that God is looking out for him.

Deep breath, mama. He’s gonna be fine.

Two years ago he asked to go to a rave. I’ve never been to a rave, but I’ve heard more than enough bad about them. He was so determined that I couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t go regardless of our prohibition. So we put a range of protections around him, including logical consequences: an early morning bike ride with his uncle—an adventure to anticipate!—would be so much fun if he wasn’t hung over and terrible if he was, for example. He didn’t drink, and he enjoyed both concert and biking. We found a way to give him what he wanted and satisfy our parental concerns.

Two Halloweens ago, he told us he was going to a party about which we’d heard neighbors had contacted police in advance. We asked him not to go. We were with friends down the street when we heard the sirens. We walked to the house, texted Teen, to which he replied: “Busy.” Paramedics rolled out a stretcher with an intoxicated girl strapped to it. Teen walked next to her until she was in the rig, then turned back to talk to police and the home owner. We stood across the street and watched as our son held a mature discussion with adults.

Turns out he hadn’t had one sip to drink. Instead, when a girl arrived already drunk, he appointed himself her caretaker. He tried to get her to go home. When she refused, he parked her on a couch and got her water. When police, and then paramedics, arrived and she tried to fight them off, he convinced her to go with them peacefully.

Another night he returned from being out with friends and flopped on my bed. “Have I got a story!” he exclaimed. Teen was driving his friends when they witnessed a bad car accident. He pulled over to call 911 and see if he could help (good Eagle Scout!). Fortunately, no one was hurt, but both drivers were badly shaken. They emerged from their cars shouting at each other. Teen separated them. He then talked with each individually, calming them and waiting with them until police arrived. His friends sat in the car, disgruntled at Teen’s good deed-doing because he made them wait. Teen cared more about doing the right thing and less about what his ticked off friends thought.

He doesn’t always make good choices, of course, developing teen brain and all. One night he returned home later than we’d asked but still early, 10pm-ish. He didn’t say a lot, went to his room, and Guy assumed he’d gone to bed. Mom-suspicion sent me to check on him, where I found windows open (under closed curtains) and pillows under bedcovers, topped with stuffed lion mane on the pillow, a nice touch to simulate his own curly-coarse hair. I threw the lion at Guy (feeling betrayed that Teen used my lion-gift to deceive me—and frustrated that I was simultaneously impressed with his creativity) who immediately called him to Come. Home. NOW!

We heard the story over days, in a less-than-effective shouting match, then debate, and finally, calm and cool discussion. He’d left his hat in his friend’s car; the car was low on gas and Friend didn’t want to come back up our cul-de-sac; so Teen hopped out his window to meet him on the main road. Once out, Friend asked if he wanted to stay out, as he didn’t have to be home until 1am. They’d only gone a few blocks when Guy called and Friend was forced to waste gas driving Teen home again.

Meanwhile, I did my own research, asking friends with high schoolers about their curfews. I thought 10:30-11pm seemed reasonable; apparently, that’s early. The football guys (Teen started high school as Football Guy before giving his all to rugby) regularly stay out until 1am on Fridays/Saturdays. Teen didn’t approach the conversation well, but we weren’t listening well, either. We had to listen to his actions to learn to let go.

We’re learning. As a student, Teen’s primary job is learning. My primary job (not the paycheck, the vocation) is parent; I get to be a student of my children, fascinated by their unique temperaments, personalities, and strengths/weaknesses. I have a Master’s Degree focused on Adolescent and Family Ministries, and yet there’s no class on “Teen Ricketts.” Some days I don’t even want to learn to let him go, and yet I want to launch him well. This learning may come harder, yet it’s that much more important.

Meatless Monday – Birthday Mac & Cheese

The one who made me a mama was turning 18. Because his birthday gift is a 3-day trip to an out-of-town concert venue with family + seven teenage friends over New Year’s (yes, we might be nuts, but we also have a lot of experience chaperoning teens…), we decided to have a celebration dinner at home. And because on his Thursday birthday he had rugby practice while Brother had a band concert, we made Sunday his birthday dinner.

He asked for homemade mac & cheese.mac-n-cheese

And because he will only turn 18 once and I have only this year leaned hard into a (mostly) plant-based diet, I gave him what he asked for.

Not only that, but between four different lunch requests between three people and several courses for dinner, I cooked for five hours and made nine different recipes: boxed mac & cheese with veggie dogs for Tween; a big salad and a tuna melt for Teen; spicy coconut noodles for me; homemade mac & cheese, veggie meatballs, and coleslaw for dinner, and orchard crumble for dessert; and–since I opened a can of tomato sauce but only used 3 Tbsp–enchilada sauce which would provide the base for two more weeknight dinners.

Food is most definitely one of the key’s to this young man’s heart! (Not to mention the traditional gingerbread pancakes and homemade applesauce he devoured for his birthday breakfast…)

This has been a big week in our lives: Thursday he became a legal adult. Friday Guy and I designed a congratulatory ad for his high school yearbook (and yes, I cried just a little, admitting to myself that there is no one else on this planet with whom I have such a unique relationship). Saturday he got his first job (other than kid-, pet- or house-sitting): for almost eight hours of absolute downpour, he stood outside and helped people select and attach their Christmas trees to vehicles; Guy had to take him not one but two dry changes of clothes (he even stole the shoes Guy had on!), and he did it all with a big smile and great attitude. And today, four days into his nineteenth year, he found out that he got accepted to his #1 college choice: Colorado State University at Fort Collins, where he will study Wildlife Biology and play rugby. And yes, I cried just a little more. He even let me hug and kiss him more than once this evening as the news sinks in…

Go rams!

Go rams!

So, yes, I made him exactly what he asked for and more. How many more birthday dinners will I have the privilege of cooking for him?

Macaroni & Cheese

¼ c red onion, diced
1 ½ c elbow macaroni (I used whole wheat mac)
3 T margarine
3 T flour
2 c milk
½ t salt
1/8 t pepper
2 c sharp cheddar cheese
Bread crumbs (mix w/ a little extra cheese & Trader Joe’s 21 seasoning salute)

Boil the macaroni according to package directions.

Warm small amount of oil (veggie or olive) in a sauté pan, then sauté onions until tender. Set aside.

In a large stock pot, melt margarine and blend in flour. Add milk, cook, and stir until thick. Add salt, pepper, and cheese. Stir until cheese is melted. Mix sauce with macaroni and onions and put in a casserole dish. Sprinkle with bread crumbs and bake at 350 for 20 minutes.

Notes:
I use one large stock pot to cook onions and make mac & cheese.
You don’t have to use oil to cook onion; you can sub a tablespoon of water if onions start to stick.
The roux (margarine, flour, milk) always looks like it won’t work, and it always does. Seriously, it has never failed me. Just keep stirring and breaking up flour clumps by pressing them with a wooden spoon against the pot.

 

 

Advent Wk3 – The Song of Glory

christmas-musicYears ago a pastor-friend shared from the Sunday chancel that, each year during Advent, he awaits the moment when Christmas will arrive. That feeling of wonder, the child-like joy-filled Christmas spirit, or truly, the Spirit of God who dreamed the first dreams of Christmas.

Every year since I’ve readily anticipated that moment and still every year it comes unexpectedly. One sad December I thought I’d missed it altogether; God took His time and my Christmas moment arrived in January. Last year it arrived as I read narration for our church Christmas concert.

This year’s moment was just as unexpected. I was supposed to drive carpool, a mundane-motherhood duty, and so would have to leave our staff Christmas party early. But I got times mixed up and asked the other mom if we could switch driving directions; I drove the first shift before donning party clothes and she took the second shift, dropping Tween at home to do homework while we reveled.

I hadn’t thought I’d be there for the caroling, followed by white elephant exchange, but I was. And as we began to sing Silent Night, suddenly my eyes welled with tears. I looked around the room, and my heart swelled with gratitude–for Christmas, for my job and these talented people with whom I work and worship, for the gift of song. I closed my eyes and whispered, Thank you…

It shouldn’t surprise me, really, that Christmas arrived in song. Music has the power to get past our logical brain and into our soul. Sometimes music is how we experience God, and sometimes music is how we express ourselves to Him. Some very blessed times, it is both.

Mary burst into song upon hearing Elizabeth’s confirmation of the angel’s confusing message to her. She glorified God who had lifted her up from her humble state, from poor small-town girl to Blessed Mother of God. She sang her praise-filled recognition that this miracle was not only for her but the fulfillment of God’s long-ago promise to Abraham, that all the world would be blessed through one of his descendants.

During Advent I look for my Christmas moment, but all year long I look for miracles in the mundane. I pray for eyes to see what God is doing. And I try, humbly, imperfectly, to share those blessings, recognizing that they are not for me alone.

Luci Shaw’s poem, Salutation, expresses that joy, that recognition of God in our midst. May we all look for our Christmas moments–God with us–and seek ways to share it with others.

Salutation
Framed in light,
Mary sings through the doorway.
Elizabeth’s six month joy
jumps, a palpable greeting,
a hidden first encounter
between son and Son.

And my heart turns over
when I meet Jesus
in you.

trumpet-angels

Week 3 – The Song of Glory
December 11-17

Read and light three candles (two purple, one pink): The first candle represents the promise of joy. The second candle represents the promise of a King. The third candle represents the song of glory.

Say aloud together: Jesus said, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.”

Read Scripture: Luke 1:39-56

Read: Unborn John leaped for joy in the presence of unborn Jesus and Elizabeth newly saw her cousin as the mother of her Lord. Blessed because she believed the Lord would fulfill His promises, Mary sings glory to God her Savior, the Mighty One who mercifully lifts up the humble and fills the hungry with good things. God promised our ancestors mercy and still He works to fulfill His promises.

Pray: Lord, our souls glorify you and our spirits rejoice in you, our Savior. May we always be hungry for the good things you provide. In the name of Jesus we pray and sing, Amen.

Monday 1 Kings 8:28 Where do you need God’s mercy in your life?
Tuesday 2 Chronicles 7:14 How do you humble yourself before God?
Wednesday Psalm 63:1-5 Glorify God by sharing some ways you experience His love in your life.
Thursday Isaiah 43:10-12 What did God tell Isaiah about who He is and who we are?Friday Philippians 4:4-5 When do you sense God’s presence, and how do you express your joy?
Saturday 2 Corinthians 1:10 How has God delivered you?

2016 Create Challenge & (Re)Discovering My POV

Just about a year ago, my brother-in-law and I discussed creativity as we washed Christmas china. We hatched a plan to invite people to post on my blog about creativity. As a result, this year 39 people have guest-posted, one friend 2x, and I have been moved, inspired, blessed.

Throughout this year, I have heard two phrases repeatedly: “I didn’t /don’t think of myself as creative…” and “Thank you! Committing to guest post helped me in such-and-such a way…”

To which I say two things. First: STOP it, friends! As human beings, we are created to create, and thus we are all creative. Own it, already, figure it out, create!

Secondly… You’re welcome! I am so grateful that the opportunity to post on this little blog has proven significant in some way.

Your posts have been significant in my life. Of that I am certain.

Each week, February through November, I had the opportunity to reflect on a friend near or far. Few of those who have guest-posted reside in our immediate community. Some I have known since childhood. Some I haven’t seen since high school graduation—mine, perhaps theirs. Some I have only rubbed elbows with, “elbows” perhaps meaning “social media accounts.” The age range has been considerable, a 40+ year gap. The creativity also has been vast, from “traditional” arts—writing, painting, singing, composing—to those necessary for daily life—parenting, friendship, encouragement, forgiveness. As I have prepared to post, I have belly-laughed and I have wept tears of grief and gratitude. Your posts have grounded me, uplifted me, and leveled me.

I feel honored to have created this platform, this community, for people to share their stories. I feel honored to have such a wide web of connections among honest, vulnerable, creative friends.

I have learned a few things:
I love to encourage—oh, how I have looked forward to my weekly guest post intros.
I love to share stories—to encourage others through posting stories that resonate with me and with you.
Creativity begets creativity—I created a platform, you created posts, which further inspired you, and me, and others…

On the day I posted 2016’s last guest post, I also indulged another creative project: I attached prints of recent photos I’ve taken to cards. For sale. Just a little thing for a little moms’ Christmas boutique. Not a money-maker, just enough to pay for supplies really.16photocards

Still, it’s something I haven’t done for a while. I picked up the prints and, as I laid them out, I remarked out loud: “Huh. I have a style…?!” Of course I knew what drew my eye, what had me reaching for my camera, but here it was, the recent best of, and it surprised me.

My pictures tend to be flowers, close up. They are quiet moments, some with riotous color. Most so close you don’t see the whole flower/bouquet. I don’t do landscapes, wide-scapes, the Big Picture. I stop, bend down, notice the details, the small, too-often overlooked beauty.

You wouldn’t know it to look at them, but each image tells me a story: of the rose bushes Guy gave me one Valentine’s Day; of the bulbs we planted in our yard; of the end-of-summer Farmer’s Market we visited; of Nephew’s 18th birthday celebration in Guy’s hometown; of a friend’s wedding.

Much like those who have posted on my blog, I will say: “I don’t think of myself as observant…” I guess it depends on what draws one’s attention. My guys see things as we hike—lizards, snakes, berries in trees. They are more naturally observant than I am. They have better distance eyesight.

I see flowers here, there, and everywhere. They stop me, make me notice them, help me see what makes each special.

During Thanksgiving week Tween and I walked the dogs through my childhood neighborhood. An African daisy caught my eye, orange-yellow-black, petals as intricate as butterfly wings. We stooped to look closely, to barely touch so as not to disturb. Neither of us had phone or camera, so we couldn’t snap for later. The next day I took my phone running with me. The flower was shut tight, the sun not in the right position for it to open. It reminded me to appreciate beauty while it may be found.

Which is really and truly The Whole Point of this blog: Miracles in the Mudane! My life may be small, but it contains glorious, beautiful details pointing to the Divine. Your life may be small, but you contain stories that speak to so much more.

One of my favorite things is to help people share their stories, and this year the blog, the Create Challenge, has done just that. Because most of us live small lives, but all of us have something important to share. And I am so grateful!