Dreaming About Heaven...

When all this is done - the striving, the longing, the hoping, the waiting- I'd like a corner in heaven that looks like this.

Or maybe that. I'll wake each morning to the sound of fluttering angel wings, my Grandfather's laugh, and snatches of melodies from the Throne.

I'll make my bed and walk across the moss, past loved ones and new friends, until I find Jesus... my Savior and my One. Will you take a walk with me? I'll ask, blushing.

And He'll wink. And wrapping His nail-scarred hand around mine, together we'll set off....

(Funny how we don't spend much time thinking about eternity, isn't it, considering it's infinite while our lives here are but a vapor? Photo credit/dream photography by the talented Ditte Isager.)

Photo: Preemptive Love Coalition

(Sob. Laugh. Grin. Wipe eyes. Laugh again. Sob.) Leah is home. Read it and weep.

Again, thank you. -Brin

We live, in fact, in a world starved for

solitude, silence, and privacy;

and therefore starved for meditiation

and true friendship.

-C.S. Lewis

Solitude, silence and privacy - today those words sink into my depths like sparkling rain drops into a puddle. How refreshing that would be today- solitude, silence and privacy. I must be burned out.

God, in this dry and weary land, my heart seeks after You. On days I feel numb... on days I'm listless and I'm tired... remind me You're here. Tell me again You never leave. Give me moments, God, to be in that still, simple, quiet place with You. Touch all of these longings that crave meditation... that yearn for true friendship. Reach for us, God, and meet us where we are today. ...

Leah's Out!

Check on her here.

Another No (Way I'll) Bake Dessert

Stop what you're doing and make this. If you have to leave work, all the better. The sooner you get this in the fridge, the better your day will be. This is that good.

The recipe, tagged "Family Favorite" in August's Martha Stewart Living, is one I can see myself making when I'm 70. It's a keeper. Heat cream, melt chocolate, layer it all in plastic wrap, and forget it in the fridge. When three o'clock hits... when the doorbell rings... when supper plates are cleared, pull it out. Then prepare to cry. This is that good.

I changed up the recipe a little. Instead of using all milk chocolate, I used 11 ounces of milk chocolate chips and 3 ounces of semi-sweet. Not being big on banana, I thinly sliced a small one lengthwise and was skimpy with layering it in. Substituting cinnamon graham crackers for plain seemed a no-brainer. And Cool Whip and chocolate shavings had to top it off. The result? Tears. This is that good.

Yup. No way I'll bake anytime soon...

No (Way I'll) Bake Desserts

I don't do much baking in July. I mean, have you ever been to Texas in high summer? It's a huge oven. With grass.

No bake desserts are the only way to go. The colder the better. The jucier the better. The lighter the better. The less time you have to spend away from the air-conditioning vent, the better.

Hello, Watermelon Cake! Have you picked up the August Martha Stewart Living? Buy or borrow it. I'm keeping my copy forever, it's that good. For this "cake", all you need is a seedless watermelon. And a knife. And a spoon (or a melon baller). Hack out a slab of watermelon, cut it into slices like cake, and top with scooped out balls of more watermelon. Refrigerate until ice cold.

I'm taking this to everything that requires food for the rest of the summer.

I also made the no-bake chocolate pudding/banana/graham cracker thingy. Only I slathered peanut butter between the layers, too. (I'm incorrigible.) It hits the table today. Will definitely report back on that.

Ah, summer. We'll conquer you yet.

Leah Goes to Surgery

Remember this sweetie? She's in Istanbul now, gearing up for heart surgery. Together, we at this humble little blog scraped up $1,200 towards making sure Leah got her potentially life-saving surgery. That's amazing when you think of it. You are amazing when I think of it.

(I say "potentially" because not all the children Preemptive Love Coalition has seen into surgery have made it out. Just saying that makes me gulp and take a deep breath.)

God, we pull on the strings of Your heart. We know You. You're full of compassion, justice, and love. Be with Leah and her family now...

The apples are nearly ready. Coincidentally, I'm hungry for cold, cold cinnamon applesauce this afternoon.

If I could be anywhere right now, I'd be in an apple orchard with my head down, working on this beautiful blanket. I definitely would not be stuck at this tediously boring job with no applesauce or yarn.

Here's to us working girls today. May there be many apple orchards and handmade blankets in our happy futures. -Brin

Naughty Jelly

I made pepper jelly. I made pepper jelly because I love pepper jelly. There's something funny to me about the whole concept of making jelly out of peppers: it comes out acting like green jell-o gone naughty.

One of my favorite meals is this: red potatoes, cornbread and peas. Zipper Cream Peas. I top my peas with a dollop of pepper jelly and am in heaven.

I realize friends to the north feed these peas to their cattle. Cowpeas, they call them. Please don't remind me of this. Down here, these peas sell for $28 a bushel. I would know. I just gave someone $28 for a bushel of them.

For the pea haters among us, pepper jelly also goes great with cream cheese and crackers. But it's very Texas. It should be eaten on a porch while wearing scuffed leather boots.  Just sayin'.

Recipe forthcoming. I still have some naughty jelly tweaking to do, I'm afraid....

I love that verse in Genesis where Jacob is listing off precious things for his sons to take to Joseph in Egypt:

Put some of the best products of the land in your bags, he says, and take them down to the man as a gift —a little balm and a little honey...

A little balm and a little honey. That phrase has always sung to me. Balm and honey... something soothing and something sweet.

This is just a little annoucement that I'll be opening a brand new shop on August first filled with things soothing and sweet. My own website, my own shop. Look for an array of things to add solace to your world, including: organic herb blends. Spiced honeys and jams. Recipes and mixes. Bird seed. Handmade aprons of vintage trim and lace. Handknit cloths. Pretties to catch your eye and strike your fancy. I'm so, so excited about this little corner of my world.

I can't wait to invite you on over.

-Brin

No Wasted Hours

I would I could stand on a busy corner, hat in hand,

and beg people to throw me all their wasted hours.

-Bernard Berenson

 

Trade you a bloom for an hour.

No wasted time or time to waste around here, if you follow me. I'll be back as soon as I can come up for air. -Brin

 Ah, summer,

what power you have to make us suffer and like it.

-Russell Baker

   

Happy Memorial Day. And happy summer.

From one suffering, satisfied country girl to another.  -Brin

And The Winner Is...

...Michelle Turner who donated on April 27.

Congratulations, Michelle!

Goodies for Giving!

I can't put words to how touched I am by your generosity. For Leah. Sweet, precious little Leah who's waiting patiently for a healthy heart. Leah's surgery is on the books for July, and I am deeply touched by those who've given and those who've written with words of hope and prayers for a miracle.

I'll admit to a few tears as I read your emails. Especially when I got to a note from a gal who lost her job six months ago. Times are tough and some days I don't see a way through this, she wrote. But God is good and I have so much to be thankful for. Moments later her donation came through: $20. Letting go of money these days is hard, but letting go of $20 when you're unemployed can be heart wrenching. That kind of selfless giving gets me every time.

Thinking of this heart... this little life a world away... and the stories and the lives and the sacrifices that will merge once this child is out of surgery... leaves me in awe.

Okay. All that said, here's the fun news: we're having a goodies giveaway! I'm crossing my fingers and hoping to raise $1,000 by Monday's close, so to that end, here's the thing: everyone who gives - however they are able - to Leah's New Heart - will be entered into a drawing to win:

1. A year's subscription to Ready Made Magazine
2. Days from the Heart of the Home by Susan Branch
3. A dazzling assortment of notebooks, stickies, and doodle pads

If you've already given to help Leah, your name is already in the drawing. Thank you! If you haven't given, click the ChipIn! button below and you'll automatically be entered to win once your donation arrives. Simple!

Winners will be announced on Tuesday, May 25th. Good luck! And thank you so much for helping Leah. I love you more than jelly beans.  -Brin

Monograph on May, Photograph of Millie

Millie Out Walking
by Jim

May has been so full and the week days so brutal. I'm staying in a hotel in a strange place, six days a week, pouring over legal documents, Excel spreadsheets and paperwork. Paperwork, paperwork, paperwork. I do that until it's time to do reports. Or attend meetings. Why are there so many meetings? Oil and gas brokers love meetings. I yawn and tap my pen on my paperwork and mentally bow out, leaving the suits behind as I dream of knitting and pies and sagging clotheslines and picket fences. I don't enjoy this business but am unspeakably grateful for the job. Means to an end, Brin. It's a means to an end.

But the weekends? Saturdays are every bit as sweet as Mondays are brutal. Saturday I started reading The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie and was too delighted for words.

I picked wild blackberries and searched dusty cookbooks for jam recipes, a blackberry tart in mind.

I lay on my back and stared at stars, outlining their heavenly shapes with my finger.

I followed Millie through wildflowers and clover meadows, walking everywhere and nowhere.

And I slept. I put a lace-trimmed case on my pillow and slept the sleep of a child: dreamless, heavy, and deep.

Here's to a mundane month, missing you, and another weekend coming 'round the bend.  -Brin

Learning to Sail...

We must free ourselves of the hope

that the sea will ever rest.

We must learn to sail in high winds.

-Aristotle Onassis

The winds are... high... right now as I take every opportunity to lift the sails and catch the winds of destiny wherever they drive the boat. (My favorite poem.)

See you in a bit. -Brin

Seeds, Matters of the Heart, and Vegetarianism

I've been dreaming these past few days about my old garden. I miss that glorious patch. To me, gardening loosens the body and weeds out the mind; an hour in the garden chases away stress like the sun chases away shadows. I think, on some level, we were intended to spend time close to nature. You know, to everything there is a season.

I Am Learning...

... that home is where your bed is.

... that it's wiser to be silent.

... that your bank statement is a print-out of your heart.

... that polite never expires.

... that jeans can't get too comfortable.

... that a dog is a friend forever.

... that no dream goes to waste.

... that steel wool cures any cast iron (!).

... that we can always use a hug.

... that paths to a friend's house can be too far.

... that fireflies are magical.

... that nothing lasts forever.

... and that I can't expect God to use me

in a way different from the way He created me.

What are you learning?

Salty Tears and Caramel Hearts

I woke up this morning and tripped over Millie on my beeline to the computer. As it started up, I jostled Millie's ears. Whatdoya think, girl? Has anyone given for Leah? She wagged her tail.

Of course you have. Fat, salty tears are dripping down my cheeks as I type. The folks who hang out at this blog are the best in the world. I'm honored to share my life with you. Thanks for encouraging. Thanks for giving. Thanks for being who you've turned out to be. Thanks, thanks, thanks. We're off to an amazing start.

Jessica from Preemptive Love Coalition sent me several emails overnight. One included this link to a video she voiced about Leah. It's short and will melt your heart into warm, caramel-like goo, so please do take a second to watch it: click here to watch Leah's video.

Little Leah (No Small Thing)

Everyone, meet baby Leah. Isn't she beautiful?

Do you remember me telling you about my college friends who decided to make a difference and founded the Preemptive Love Coalition? Well, Leah is a little friend of theirs. Leah is from Iraq, a place where "Saddam Hussein’s 281 chemical attacks and experiments on the Kurds of northern Iraq contribute to the high rate of life-threatening heart disease among children in the region today". (That's what the Preemptive Love Coalition found when they got all Erin Brockovich in Iraq.) Leah also has Down's Syndrome, which makes her a tough case and an otherwise low-on-the-list recipient of a surgery that can save her life.

Leah needs heart surgery. Soon.

So? you say. (Yawn.) Lots of people in lots of places needs lots of things. Don't bother me with this today.

But what if today's THE day you go from being ordinary to being a life saver?

Here's the deal. Over 3,000 people read this blog every day. As much as I try not to bombard you with ads, sponsors, frantic support requests, etc., I do have a favor: if you've ever read and enjoyed this blog... if My Messy, Thrilling Life has ever made you smile... or think... or sob... or crack up... or introduced you to a good book or site or adventure, would you consider helping? Kinda by way of saying thanks?

You'll be saving a life, after all. Leah's life. That's no small thing.

So. We need to come up with $3,000 to pay for Leah's heart surgery through the Preemptive Love Coalition. The surgery would be slated for July... and who knows. I may even head over there and introduce you to her myself. In the meantime...

Give $1. One dollar. You'll hardly miss it. And if all the folks who hang out here will do that, together we can give Leah a new heart - we can give this helpless baby girl a hope and a future.

Donate $1 by clicking below. It's handled by PayPal and is private, secure, and super easy. Also, feel free to check out my friends and their organization, Preemptive Love Coalition, by clicking here.

Thank you, thank you, thank you. -Brin

Just a note: donating via PayPal/ChipIn means you automatically get a pretty receipt for your records. If a write-off receipt for tax purposes is important to you, consider donating directly to Preemptive Love Coalition. Visit their site here and be sure and let them know it's for Leah. Thanks!

More on cast iron repair soon. For now I'm popping in to say howdy. Hope you're well and had a good hair day. And to all you fancy-pants folks who read your blogs through readers, I wanted to personally inform you that I updated my banner and added a nifty sidebar feature with a few of my favorite travel adventures.

Travel (vicariously) on.  -Brin

Rusty on My Cast Iron

It appears I'm rusty on my cast iron care as rust continues to mock me from deep inside this cast iron pot.  Please... can anyone out there help?

Last week, while scavaging around in a junk store, I found these two cast iron beauties. Four dollars each. Heavy as yours truly after her marriage ended. Problem? Rust. Rusty Rust Rusterson.

I've tried scraping it off. I've tried boiling it off. I've tried reseasoning these pots with oil in a hot oven. Still the rust persists. What's a girl to do?

Anyone with advice on how to cure my cast iron woes is encouraged to write, comment, or come over.

My sincerest thanks,

Brin

(Cast Iron Obsessed FarmGirl at Heart)

Cottage Dreams

Cusato Cottage KC 1200

Every day, most of the day, I dream about my cottage. This is the one I've chosen. This is the one I hope to build soon. Picture it, though, as a white cottage with a stone path. And picture it sitting in a field of wildflowers, not up on some hurricane-force foundation. Imagine it, too, with an ivy-covered chimney and a rocking chair on the porch that creaks as the wind blows through. Pretend you're peeking through the screen door and see wood floors swept clean. A pie just out of the oven. Candles flickering, Yes, you're almost there. That's almost it.

Creamed

 I got creamed over yesterday's post. You should see my email inbox. Whenever I write about God, questions come at me like ping-pong balls - fast and forceful and all over the place. I want to write another post, soon, explaining my faith... what I believe and why.

The Artist

I have loved you with an everlasting love;

I have drawn you with loving-kindness.

-Jeremiah 31:3

We get this idea in our heads... somewhere along the way... that God is powerfully snobby. Cold. Vengeful, even. That He keeps scores and settles them. That He's a watch dog, ever-vigilant and ready to attack. That He's a cranky old man, finding fault and calling us out. That He's a distant father, stingy with love, affection, forgiveness.

We couldn't be more wrong.

Mental Vacation

I'm working today but my mind isn't on it. Obviously. Outside the air is light. Clouds are puffy and lazy. Bees are buzzing about. Buds are swelling and dew is drying and I'm longing to hide in a leafy alcove and watch it all. And yawn. Maybe sleep. Definitely lose myself in a book. I think I need a mental vacation.

Holly Hill would be wonderful right about now...

Thank you all for the kind birthday wishes. I had a quiet, happy day, and hope that's telling of the sort of year I'll have, too. -Brin

If We Didn't Know How Old We Are

How old would you be

if you didn't know how old you are?

-Satchel Paige

If I didn't know how old I was turning tomorrow... (thirty-one years old, to be exact)... I would think I was twenty-four. Not sure why. But definitely twenty-four. My heart is stuck in that age.

Happiness Designed... and Not Postponed

My old strawberry patch at Freeman House. I'm trying not to look back... trying not to be wistful... trying not to be a smidge sad... especially as gardening season gets underway.

It's hard to be sad, anyway, when thinking about strawberry patches.


I bought pots. A few. And I got strawberry runners from a nursery. I'm watching, eagerly, as the berries begin to blush.

It may be awhile before I get this sort of bounty from a little garden again. That's okay.

For now I have my pots. My strawberry patch pots. After all: "Happiness is not something you postpone for the future; it is something you design for the present." (Jim Rohn)

Here's to happiness designed - and not postponed.

Happy Easter

And he departed from our sight

that we might return to our heart,

and there find Him.

For He departed, and behold,

He is here.

-St. Augustine

I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in Me, though he may die, he shall live. And whoever lives and believes in Me shall never die. -John 11:25-26

Happy Easter Sunday. -Brin

Good Friday

There I was.

Accused.

Judged.

Guilty.

Condemned.

The things I'd done wrong bled together and followed me like a shadow, haunting. Jeering. Pointing fingers. Just look at her. Look at what she's done. She isn't good enough. She will never be.

And there God is.

Creator.

Omniscient.

Holy.

Just.

As much as I love you, I cannot abide your sin. I cannot look on your disobedience. But I will make a way. I will bridge this gap.

So there was Jesus.

Man.

Son.

God.

Willing.

He put on skin and became one of us. Human, yet divine. Tempted, yet blameless. And when the time came, He climbed a hill and was nailed for my sin.

Accused.

Judged.

Found guilty.

Condemned.

The Creator took the fall for the created. The Innocent accepted punishment for the convicted. And one Friday night, a many, many years ago, Jesus looked into the face of His Father and cried, "It is FINISHED." I have made the way. The Holy and the guilty need not be apart. I have bridged the gap.

And by His wounds... through His love... I am healed.

Forgiven.

Free.

As it thunders and rumbles outside my dark window tonight, I think of the night Jesus died for me... the night Jesus died for you. And my eyes cry and my heart sings with gratitude over a God who loves this big. This openly. This freely. This selflessly.

And I am awed.

Happy Good Friday. -Brin

Um. Yeah.

So you know me a little, right? Granted, we may not have met in person, but if you've been coming here for a while you do know a little about me. You know my faith. You know some of what's important to me. You know my heart. Right?

I signed an exclusive contract with AOL some weeks ago to write for them. The idea was a "mood food" type column filled with recipes, food pics, stories from my life, the like. I gleefully jumped into the challenge of being a paid food columnist. Are you kidding me? I was ecstatic. But I did have some reservations about submitting my work to editors with full creative control and license over my writing. That was a big deal for me. They can change things up and publish them however and wherever they wish, I told my parents. They'll own the rights to my writing. But maybe I'm just a control freak. I'm sure it will be okay.

If anyone's read the article(s) coming out with my name on them, please know: they have been edited. You know me. And I hope you'd know I didn't write some of the things, titles or comments that are out there. We live and learn.

To Do List

Put "eat chocolate" at the top of your To Do list.

That way, you'll get at least one thing done every day.

Eat chocolate chip pecan pie today? Check.

Now I just need the recipe....

Mingling Souls

Still writing letters, papering them in stamps, and sending them far and wide. For, as John Donne mused, "more than kisses, letters mingle souls".

My New, Old Thing

Letters are among the most significant memorial

a person can leave behind them.

-Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

My Grandfather wrote letters to my Grandmother during WWII; letters I found bundled in her garage last year. The tightly-tied parcels were like paper presents, the writing unfamiliar to me... the stamps and markings both foreign and strange. The crinkled pages inside the envelopes told of feelings and promises that exist now only in my Grandmother's fading memories. And in the significant memorial my wonderful Grandfather left.

I decided after reading the lot that I would become a letter writer. A dying art form, to be sure. But an entirely lovely one. I mean, how often do you get a handwritten letter? A card, maybe, with a line or two penned at the bottom. But a letter? Rarely. I miss letters. I want to send and receive letters. And I wonder: in an era of email and text and Facebook, what are we leaving behind for our grandchildren to find fifty years from now?


So I write. I write people I love, people I've met, people (like a daughter?) I have yet to meet. I have a new, old thing: letters. Stamps. Stationery. Ink. I'm snatching up creamy, heavy pages... old, beautiful postage... and cork-capped bottles of liquid inks. And I'm writing.

With each bundle that leaves my hand bound for someone I love, I realize: my letters aren't just chaining souls; they're building my memorial.

If you're interested in letters, too, here's where I started:

The Art of the Handwritten Note: A Guide to Reclaiming Civilized Communication

Vintage Postage reclaimed by VerdeStudio

Stationery from Kate's Paperie

Liquid Inks and Pens

I always say, keep a diary and someday it'll keep you.

-Mae West

Perfect Pool and Pattern

Photo credit: Anna Maria Horner

This afternoon is gorgeous. Perfect, even. Sunshine and fluffy clouds and spring breeze perfect. Millie and I are sitting by the open door some 15 feet away from the rippling hotel pool. I adore watching the light-and-water dances in pools. Mesmerizing, like fire.

Have you seen Anna Maria's new dress pattern? As soon as I find a second I'm ordering this pattern... ordering this material... and not getting up from the sewing machine until I have this dress. I want to paint my toenails pink and call a friend and sip on a glass of lavender lemonade and sit by the pool in this dress.

This weekend. (Maybe this weekend.) It's on.

P.S. If you're an Agatha Raisin mystery fan, I have five of my M.C. Beaton books up for auction to help benefit To Write Love On Her Arms. Check them out here.)

To Write Love on Her Arms

I found it in a bin in a dusty store in Kansas. Useful Drugs. A book that made its way into this world in 1936 and was, that very year, chosen. Read. Marked. Studied. Consulted. As I thumbed through, papers fluttered to the floor: a 70-year old note, a card, and an old, old prescription from the Stanford School of Medicine.

An amazing find. I bought it, wishing I knew a Stanford grad, a doctor, pharmacist, drug rep, or medical or pharmaceutical student who would get a kick out of it. I mean, wouldn't this make the best gift or material for a scrapbook or artist-dreamed keepsake for someone in the medicine world?

It's time to pass it on, so there's an auction over here, part of the proceeds to benefit To Write Love On Her Arms, an organization that's on the front lines helping people who struggle with depression and substance abuse. And there will be other items added throughout the week, all to help the same folks.

I wonder: how many could put down the bottles... the pills... the Useful Drugs... if only someone would write love on her arms? -Brin

Outside it is raining. Inside, my feet are cold, a movie is playing, knitting is tossed aside, and The Pleasures of Cooking For One is open to a page that makes me happy.


I'm still on this away job... this project that demands so much, including requiring me to board myself and Millie in a motel. It segregates me from real life. Sometimes I welcome that; right now it's tiresome. I chide myself for complaining. So many would be so grateful for this work.

But I'm ready for roots again.

I sense myself skimming through this slow part, eager for scenes in the next chapter.

Time, as it's always faithful to do, will tell....

The Lacy List

I am blessed with amazing friends. Brilliant, captivating, compassionate, sparkling friends. Go-to friends. These folks are there... so patient with me and my little life... and I depend on them. A lot.

And they never stop giving. No worry or favor or crazy thing I'm into now has ever been too much for them. They don't throw up their hands and run away from my messy self, which astonishes me every day. They're my everything, and they deserve recognition:

Sara Elisabeth

Amber

Lisa

Erich

Emily

Jan

Brian

Kim

Shelley

and Lacy

You people make my world happy. I wanted to say Thank You.

Over the weekend, I had the chance to catch up with a few of them. Lacy and I even spent time knocking around Barnes & Noble, which is my idea of a super time. Several of my friends are English teachers/professors, and Lacy is one of the highest caliber. Her mom's a librarian, so Lacy was born with books in her blood. And when Lacy says you should read a book? You read it. You buy it right then and you read it.

Between us, this is Lacy's Latest List. These are the books I bought over the weekend based on her recommendations. Here's what I'll be flipping through this spring... and what I'm reading right now:

The Book Thief

People of the Book

The Handmaid's Tale

The Know It All

Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close

Just in case you don't have a reading/book/genius friend like Lacy, I thought I'd share.

I'd even share the rest of my incredible friends, too, only we better not mention I sent you. Much more from me and they'll probably assume a different name and move to the mountains of Uzbekistan.

(Are there mountains in Uzbekistan? I'll bet Brian would know....)

How to Hold

I have held many things in my hands,

and I have lost them all;

but whatever I have placed in God's hands,

that I still possess.

-Martin Luther

It was one of those March days when

the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold:

when it is summer in the light, and winter in the shade.

-Charles Dickens

It's painted into the sky and pushing up from the ground: Spring is coming.

Happy March. -Brin