Recovering

Recovering from a total knee replacement. Finding time in the surrounding silence of my house to pray and to worship. Learning to see that accepting the pain and doing the work of recovery can be offerings, acts of worship before a Holy God. It is also teaching me to be so very thankful for the small things.

Today my husband brought me a cup of coffee in bed. Made perfectly. It was an unexpected gift. I am still savoring the moment.

He also brought me an ice pack. It was better than french toast with blueberries or a bouquet of pink roses. It was divine!

Now I am ensconced on the sofa watching Jane Eyre. It doesn't get much better than that.

Rain for Roots: Katy's Story

Something must be up because The Daughter is back for a post!

I long for my children to know God, to experience His love, and recognize their need for a Savior. I long for them to bask in His light and love. I hope it is not a distant knowledge of a God way up in the sky rather a relationship with a God that would sacrifice His own Son to be close to humanity, to you, to me.

I personally love how music is a pathway to experiencing God. The beauty of lifting our voices to the Almighty is a powerful thing. It is truly precious.

I want my children to know how precious this gift is -- singing to our Lord and singing of our Lord. Let's be honest here, where do I find music that is on my child's level but does not bring my sanity into question? Most children's music is either over-produced or so cheesy that I can only try to listen to the entire product knowing that I will toss it after that initial experience.

I sat down with a dear friend, Ellie Holcomb, to discuss this dilemma. I gently, maybe not so gently, urged her to start making music that I could share with my own child. She mentioned that some "talk" was happening amongst her music community. She teamed up with some other dear folks (Sandra McCracken, Flo Paris, Alice Smith, and Katy Bowser) and came back with the product below:

Head over to Rain for Roots to buy it (for only $8!) and enter 'truelove' for a 10% discount on the album (that makes it $7.20!), available to all my readers!

Please listen as this product is a keeper! Music that will take you and your children to the feet of Jesus so you can bask in His justice, mercy, and love. What a treasure!

I also am leaving you with some sweet words from Katy Bowser about this special project (if you want to hear from the other gals who worked with Katy view the links at the bottom of this post).

1) Which is your favorite song or Story's favorite from the CD? Why?

I wrote the music to Baby Moses while rocking my baby daughter Story to sleep, so it is truly a lullaby!  I still sing it to her almost every time I rock her before she goes to bed, and she asks for it.  "BAY-beeee. BOOOAT."  It's a wonderful reminder to me, too, like all of the songs.  I often sing this thinking of God rocking me in His arms, as well, God who knows just what a baby (and her mama) needs.

2) What memory do you hold dearest from this process? Any funny details/stories about the recording process?

 It was truly special for Sandra McCracken, Ellie Holcomb, Flo Paris, Alice Smith and I to take Sally Lloyd-Jones out to our favorite neighborhood cafe and talk to her about the possibility of this project.  She immediately felt like a friend, and there are so many little moments that I treasure from talking that afternoon.  Sally talked about how often when God is doing something, it feels like a treasure hunt, like following bread crumbs as we watch and listen to what He is doing.  Is it any wonder she writes stories that big and little people love, when she talks like that?

As for funny details, this is the first project where I've recorded with my daughter literally at my feet or in my lap. You may notice some additional background vocals throughout the recordings. My husband Kenny Hutson played a number of instruments.  This truly felt like a family project with Kenny, Story and the rest of our extended family of friends.
3) What inspired this project?

I think Alice Smith that it came together over cups of tea.  I have a kid's jazz project called Coal Train Railroad.  Ellie Holcomb called me up with the thought that perhaps I could also be writing scripture songs for little ones, and I had begun to do just that. Meanwhile, Flo had begun to do the same thing, Alice was excited about the thought, and Sandra and I had started to mull the thought over.  Big thanks go to Lisa Rohrer, our friend, for saying, "Have you seen Sally's Hug-A-Bible?"  It was the perfect starting point.  It does such a wonderful job of saying big ideas in little words.  God is the One, the Hero.  From here, we plan to put melodies to scripture.  We want to tuck lots of very true truth deep down into the hearts of little ones.  I've never forgotten the little scripture songs I learned as a child, and I want to help make many more of them for many children to hear.  I can think of few better ways to love the church in the coming years.

4) Who are the kiddos that sing along in the recording?  

All of our little ones.  Whoever was feeling gregarious, musical or just very much wanted to be very near their mama when we happened to be recording. These are the hazards and rewards of being a musician's child.

Anything else we (the listeners) should know about the project?  This is the beginning.  We've been so delighted, amazed at the unbelievable word of mouth thus far.  This feels, as Sally, said, like we're just following the breadcrumbs and watching a very good Story that God is telling unfold.  What a joy to join in!

Read Ellie's Story at Designs by Stephie
Read Flo's Story at Nala's Photography
Read Sandra's Story at Life: Edited
 Read Alice's Story at The Musician and the Geek

How Could I Forget Thee?

"Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child 

she has borne? Though she may forget you, I will not forget thee. See, I have 

engraved you on the palms of my hand." Isaiah 49:15-16

 
     No mother would ever forget her child, for once conceived, a mother's children are hers forever. Yet the Lord makes it clear that His love for us exceeds that of a mother for her child. How can it be? And yet, He tells us again that no man can fathom the depth and heighth and breadth of the magnificent love He holds in His being for each of us. It is a love that defies description. A love that extends beyond all measure. It runs so deep that it forever scarred the hands of the One who gave Himself up for us. Even Isaiah who gave us these beautiful words could not have imagined the terrible price it would cost Christ to "engrave" us on the palm of His hand.
   Every mother alive would shudder to think of those selfsame nails piercing the hands of any of her children, yet that is precisely what happened to the Only Begotten Son of God. And it was love that compelled Him to go to that cross. Love for for you and for me.
   I began this Mother's Day by being thankful for my own Momma and her many sacrifices of love that have enabled me to become the woman I am today. It was she who rejoiced with me over the impending arrival of each little one; it was she who came at every birth and tenderly taught me how to love and care for my babes; and it was she who has supported and championed me at every turn of my life as a mother. I owe her so much.

   My heart is also filled to overflowing as I consider the treasure of the three sons and one daughter who have afforded me the priceless treasure of being a mother. There are no words to express the joy I hold in my heart for them, as well as for their wives and husbands. Daily I am also thankful for the joy of being a grandmother to Little One, Little Two and soon-to-be here Little Three. These little people are teaching me so much about the faithfulness of our God!

    Yet it is to the Lord Himself that I owe the greatest debt and the one debt that can never ever be repaid. For it is He who has given me and those I love life and breath and everything else. They and I are engraved on the palm of His hands. Those beautiful nail-scarred hands. It is simply too much to comprehend.

A Prescription for Hope

   I have been in two radically different worlds this past week. In one I visited a country steeped in antiquity that understands the important lessons that can be learned by the careful preservation and investigation of the past.
   In this other world, I traveled to a place that seemed bounded by the realm of possibility and a dream for the future. A world where the finest technology that man has developed in the fight against a specific disease travels side-by-side with compassion, kindness and the dispensation of hope. Where have I been in the space of one week?  I have traveled from the country of Italy to the hallways of MD Anderson Cancer Center. Both are places that will remain indelibly imprinted on my mind and heart, but for very different reasons.
   I am not unfamiliar with hospitals and medical centers. I live in a relatively large urban center (for the South), and we have a world class trauma center, a world class Children's Hospital, not to mention a world class heart center, but to enter the world of MD Anderson is to go to another planet...something seemingly out of this world.


   The sheer magnitude of the size of the complex is staggering.  More than 50 freestanding buildings in Metro Houston comprise what ranks as the world's largest free-standing cancer center. And with over 18,000 employees, 6100 trainees, and 1100 volunteers, MD Anderson has assembled a highly trained army to wage war on a terrible foe.
   Given the nature of the beast that the folks you see in the hallways are battling, you would not think to find this to be such a place of peace. Yet it is. Not only does peace reign, but kindness also abounds. Almost every staff person I met greeted me with with words, "How may I serve you?" accompanied by a smile. And wonder of wonders, it did not feel stale or obligatory, but rather heartfelt. I was amazed. Even the doctors don't duck their heads to pretend you don't exist. They look you in the eyes, smile, and more often than not, say "Hello, how are you?" Definitely not the norm.
   Over the course of the week I talked to nurses, techs, and volunteers who told me that there is a huge emphasis on patient and care-giver interaction with all levels of staff receiving continuing education about "the service, compassion, and dignity" that is to be afforded each individual.
   It shows. From the Jolly Trolly that rolls the hallways dispensing free coffee, hot chocolate, lemonade and tea to the convenient Post Office, hair salon and library stacks that are open and available to patients and care-givers alike.
   To achieve the level of service that is pervasive at MD Anderson is not accidental. It is obvious that a strategic hand has been at work. Surgical Waiting Areas are arranged around a common theme: ours were flowers. Since we were there on surgery day for twelve plus hours, we spent time in both the geranium and daffodil waiting areas. There were round tables for working puzzles or card games, along with an ample supply of current magazines as well as a lending library.  Warm blankets were offered without having to ask for them, the lighting was soft rather than harsh, and the pods were small enough that no more than three families were in each little area. There was a soft murmur of conversation as families came and went escorted by the kind and compassionate volunteers who checked in every hour to be sure that needs were met. The common battleground brought families together.  Shared stories, prayers and encouragement were the norm. Despite the gravity of each family's situation, there was a shared camaraderie. In the space of a day, we met two different families with daughters who were undergoing brain surgery for the relatively rare Cushing Disease. I now know more than I ever dreamed I would know about this disease.
  And yet. There is this intangible thread of hope that encircles all who enter this place. The finest minds, the finest technology and the finest care have all been assembled in one place to wage this war. The MD Anderson website perhaps says it best. I pray that by God's grace, they will find success.


Mission
The mission of The University of Texas MD Anderson Cancer Center is to eliminate cancer in Texas, the nation, and the world through outstanding programs that integrate patient care, research and prevention, and through education for undergraduate and graduate students, trainees, professionals, employees and the public.


Vision

We shall be the premier cancer center in the world, based on the excellence of our people, our research-driven patient care and our science. We are Making Cancer History. 

Core Values

Caring: By our words and actions, we create a caring environment for everyone.

• We are sensitive to the concerns of our patients and our co-workers.
• We are respectful and courteous to each other at all times.
• We promote and reward teamwork and inclusiveness.

Integrity: We work together to merit the trust of our colleagues and those we serve.

• We hold ourselves, and each other, accountable for practicing our values.
• We communicate frequently, honestly and openly.
• By our actions, we create an environment of trust.

Discovery: We embrace creativity and seek new knowledge. 

• We help each other to identify and solve problems.
• We seek personal growth and enable others to do so.
• We encourage learning, creativity and new ideas.

I hope you never have need of this place, but if you do you will quickly discover that MD Anderson is the best in the world. They mean what they say: Making Cancer History.

The Gastronomic Italian Adventure

 
    You cannot talk about Italy and not discuss the food. I loved the beauty of the Italian scenery, art and architecture. Each day that we spent in Italy, I was reminded of the majesty and diversity of both God's creation and the gifts He has bestowed upon His creatures. Yet Italians have certainly elevated food to an art form. Dining is an experience that incorporates all of the senses and is, perhaps, a sacramental element to life in Italy. In 10 days of travel, we did not have a single bad meal. And some of the foods that we ate will be remembered as the best I have ever eaten. But it's not just the food, it is the entire experience.
   You sit down at an Italian restaurant and you wait. Be prepared. Americans are not used to this "breathing" experience where you settle in to the climate of the restaurant. You are expected to begin the process of relaxation as you begin to prepare yourself mentally and physically for the meal. After what often seems to Americans to be an interminable time, the waiter carefully and gently either catches your eye or approaches your table. They are always careful to give you your space; you are never rushed or pressured in a meal in Italy. If you are not ready to order, fine. You are welcome to sit there for as long as it takes.  Italians do not understand the American concept of "turning" a table. Your table is your table. You can stay until the place closes if you wish.
   The Husband and I have learned to carry a bottle of water everywhere as it never pays to enter a restaurant thirsty. You are almost always expected to sit for a bit before they will approach you about the beverage service, so if you are dying for a drink don't expect to be served quickly. Quick service is not in the Italian vocabulary.
  After ordering your beverage, you may wait a bit longer. Relax. You will not be asked to place your order until you have closed your menu and put it to the side. Sometimes the server will bring you bread. Other times, you request it. We always asked for olive oil and balsamic vinegar to accompany our bread, as well...oh, and we always asked for a plate because they will do exactly as you ask: they will bring the bread basket, the oil and the vinegar but you will have no place to dip it...so request a plate!

   The Italians eat a lot of food, but I never saw any obese Italians. I don't know how they do it. I watched the Italians around us, and they were generally eating three or four courses at every meal accompanied by wine, an aperitif, and coffee. Granted, the meal was taking 2-3 hours to consume, but it was still an enormous meal. Ed and I sometimes managed two or three courses (including dessert), but we never made it to four courses.

   The Antipasti is usually cold. It's ham (pruschutto, pancetta, etc.) and melon or cheeses, salami, sometimes shrimps (they use the plural form) and calamari or octopus (if you are in a seafood town). The best antipasti course I had was a "duck" ham with a terrine of cauliflower accompanied by a pear chutney. I could have eaten it every night I was in Italy, and I am not a huge fan of duck. Or at least I wasn't until then.

   The Primi Piatti or first plate is usually some form of pasta. We sometimes found that it was large enough to split, and they never object to bringing you two plates and utensils if you ask. We often found that this first course is usually a generous enough portion to serve as a meal in itself by American standards. However, in Italy, they do not want you to order just the first course. You are expected to order the Secondi Piatti (second plate) as well. So get ready...for this gastronomic adventure you will need to pace yourself. Be sure to ask your waiter the special pasta fresca (fresh pasta) for the day as that is always the best way to go. Fresh pasta in Italy is nothing like the fresh pasta I have had in America. It literally melts in your mouth. I don't know if it's the flour or the semolina, the butter, the eggs, or maybe all three. One lasagna dish The Husband ordered had 15 layers of tissue thin pasta and a bechamel meat sauce...divine!

   The second course (Secondi Piatti) is meat. It may be veal, shrimp, beef (if you are in Florence) or fish. You will also have a variety of choices for sauces as well. You usually order sides with this course called Contorni. I don't know if it is in deference to American tourists, but in Florence almost every menu had french fries listed under contorni. Be sure to tell them that you would like the side with your second course.

   I usually think of Americans as beef people, but the Florentines give us a run for the money with their steak known as Bistecca alla Fiorentina. They serve these giant T-Bone steaks from this special breed of cow known as Chianina. The steak is prepared very simply: salt, pepper and garlic and is cooked over a wood stove. The outside usually has some char but the inside is rare and succulent. Lemons are served as the garnish and all of the Italians I saw squeezed the lemons all over their meat. The piece of meat is HUGE (and a bit pricey), but The Husband finished all of his very nicely. He did afford me a bite, and it was delicious.

   Pizza is another menu category all together. The pizzas differ by region in terms of thickness, sauce and cheeses. Southern Italy  (Naples) is famous for its pizza which is the thinnest of the pizzas, but I loved all of the pizza we ate in the Tuscany region.  My favorite had to be a pizza with smoked cheese called scamorza, the likes of which I had never tasted. It was divine.
   Since I am a cooking channel aficionado, I had heard about this Italian bread soup called ribolitta which serves basically the same function as gumbo in the South. It is really more of a stew than a soup and incorporates all of the leftover vegetables and stale bread. I ordered it at the end of our stay in Florence and was not disappointed. It was hearty and very filling and could easily have sufficed for a meal had it not been our last evening. My tasty ribolitta had beans, peas, kale, onions and possibly cabbage or potatoes along with chunks of the requisite bread. To be honest, I was hard pressed to identify all of the ingredients, but it didn't really matter. My bowl was wiped clean.
   
       No trip to Italy would be complete without a daily dose of gelato. The Husband religiously followed this rule. It's hard to believe, but I am not a huge fan of ice cream so I passed most of the time, but I made up for it by eating the weight of one leg in tiramisu. I also had at least two cappuccinos every single day. It was for my mental health. And my caffeine addiction.

  By far one of the best things about eating in Italy is seeing the joy that the Italians have when you express your genuine appreciation for the meal. In several cases, they brought us additional food to taste or served us a glass of limoncello as a way of saying thank you.  We left Italy satiated in body, heart, and spirit. The beauty and generosity of the country and its people were like a fine wine...best if savored slowly so that the memory and the taste will linger.

Italian Adventure Part Three

     The Husband loved Florence. I knew he would. It is much more manageable than Rome and is a perfect size for once intrepid travelers. We slept like babies in the Bernini Palace Hotel on our linen sheets. I've never slept on linen sheets before. Now I can say that I have. They supposedly help regulate body temperature and breathe with you. Whatever. It worked. As soon as my head hit the pillow each night I was out like a log. And if the snoring next to me was any indication, The Husband experienced the same.
     The weather was also perfect. Cool mornings and evenings and highs in the lower seventies. And that glorious Italian sunshine.

The famed Duomo. It's just as magnificent as you think it would be. It's two domes really. Brunelleschi executed this amazing architectural masterpiece by building a dome inside a dome. There's a stairway inside. It's redolent of a metaphorical stairway to heaven. The Husband climbed all 886 of the steps. He said he sweated like a pig and got a little claustrophic. Thankfully, I kept my own feet on the ground and visited Michaelangelo's Duomo Pieta while he was toiling away. We were both happy campers.
   It's a long way up there.

This is the view from the top!

This is not a picture of the Florence Duomo's Pieta, but these iron rings are everywhere in Florence. They are definitely not a one of a kind.

However, this is:

I have now been blessed to have seen two of Michaelangelo's Pietas...

one in Rome and one in Florence. Each is magnificent in its own way.  

While the Pieta in St. Peter's is more finely finished and was likely executed when 

Michaelangelo was at the height of his powers, this one has a roughness that lends 

it a particular pathos. Carved later in Michaelangelo's life, the Florentine sculpture reflects his understanding that he was nearing the end of his own life. It is said, as well, that the hooded figure on Nicodemus is cast in the likeness of Michaelangelo's himself. I stared at the face forever trying to get some sense of the man, but it was the face of the Christ that kept calling to me.

We just couldn't get enough of the Duomo 

This was the breakfast room in our hotel

And this is the lobby

Are you surprised that I'm ready to go back?!

And this is the lobby

Italian Adventure Part Two

   Venice. The city that defies description. Home to Marco Polo, Vivaldi and Bellini. Immortalized in Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice and Othello. The floating city. The Bridge of Sighs. Glassblowers and lace makers extraordinaire. Ancient gondolas glide alongside modern vaporetti. The masks and costumes of the Carnival vie for tourist Euros with the vaunted purveyors of high fashion. The worlds collide, overlap, and flow together. They move in tandem with the water. Life in Venice is eternally bounded and defined by the blue green seas that ceaselessly lap against the buildings.
   Make no mistake, this is a city of extremes. It polarizes visitors. One is either entirely captivated by the romance and the sense of timelessness or one feels disoriented, confused, and eager to escape its labyrinthine passageways. I fall into the former category. History. Art. Architecture. The provocative and creative marriage of Byzantine, Rococo and Moorish forms. Maze-like streets that seem to turn inward upon themselves. Water, water, everywhere. And overriding all a pervading sense of mystery. This is a city of endless secrets. For me, a romantic at heart, what is there not to love?