Thanksgiving Day 2015

It's hard to believe, looking back on 35 years of married life, to suddenly realize:
I've never cooked a Thanksgiving meal all by myself from turkey to pumpkin pie
until this year.  Which is good in one way -- because we must be very healthy. 
We were never too sick to turn down the invitations to the Harshbarger gatherings in MT
or the Thanksgiving feast at Maranatha Bible School where our church family gathers each year.  Each year I signed up for caramel sweet potatoes and pumpkin chiffon pie
or a huge salad of some sort and dinner rolls. 

There was the year I was assigned to bring turkey and Deanne said,
"Mom! do you know how to fix a turkey?"

This year we had Josh, Elsa and little Joseph at our house.  Evan and Chelsea had
Thanksgiving with Chelsea's family in the evening because Evan worked in the morning.
The rest of our children are in MT.  Elsa's parents were in Florida over the holiday.
So we got to play Grandpa and Grandma !

Every Thanksgiving in my growing up years was spent at Grandpa Skrivseth's.
We had snow for sledding. We had ice for skating. On a pond. In the pasture.
On the back side of the pasture if I remember right because it was a very long walk
home when we were *cold and hungry and cross.*

By the time we got back to the house we were warmed from the long walk and ready
for turkey sandwiches and hot chocolate and a game of authors with our aunt, Leah.
She is our aunt going on a sister.  She is not much older than us and we have
bugged her half to death many a time.

Especially if Ladina and I were uncooperative when it was time to quit skating.
 (We took turns being uncooperative  =)
There was one year when I insisted, "I'm not cold. I want to keep skating."
But that is a story for another day.

Well - that was a little trip down memory lane. As I was saying . . .
I had all day Wednesday free - no cleaning jobs lined up or duties of driving bus.
Our school gave us Wednesday, Thursday and Friday off !

I put a gigantic, home grown chicken in the oven and started cooking sweet potatoes
in a kettle.  I dug out my dusty meat grinder, washed it in hot sudsy water and attached
it to my piano bench.

(This provided my exercise for the day. I had to nearly stand on my
head to get it out of the bottom cupboard where it was living.) 

Now I was ready to grind the cranberries for the salad. I used the recipe from
The Mennonite Community Cookbook that calls for cranberries, oranges, apples, pineapple,
jello and chopped nuts. Oh, and sugar. Let's not forget the sugar. I think you can top it
with miniature marshmallows when you serve it if you want.

Then it was time to peel the sweet potatoes. Again I followed the recipe in the Mennonite Community Cookbook. This one takes brown sugar and cream and marshmallows on top.
I didn't do marshmallows . . .

I made pies. One of pumpkin chiffon, a recipe from my sister Maria, and a couple more using Grandma Martin's recipe in The Mary and Martha cookbook.

On the day of feasting Ellis made stuffing out of a box, just like his mom always did.
Wait, that doesn't sound right. He made Kraft's Stove Top stuffing just like Mom used to.
We mashed potatoes and made gravy. We heated the chicken in the oven.

Maybe the bird tastes better if it comes out of the oven whole and is carved at the head
of the table like Norman Rockwell's paintings. But I deboned it the day before and it was
scrumptious.

What a wonderful day ! Krysta took some pictures of Joseph, our happy, bright eyed grandson.
We ate yummy food and played a game of Risk. We should have all walked to the far side of the pasture in the rain and snow . . . Maybe we can have a sledding party later.

* I was thinking - that phrase came from a poem our children memorized in school.
(with slight variation)
So I looked it up to refresh my memory.

Goops And How To Be Them
        Gelett Burgess

It's terrible brave
to try to save
A girl on a runaway horse;
You could do that, of course!
But think of trying
to keep from crying,
When you're hungry and tired
and cross,
You couldn't do that
of course!
Or could you?

We should have had this memorized - maybe it would have helped.

A Prayer for Laundry Day

Thank you, Dear God . . .

for water, soap, electricity, automatic washer and dryer

Sunshine and wind to dry clothes on the clothes line

Clothes pins and sturdy clothes lines

Thank you for clothes to wash - enough for each person
We can have clean ones every day

Warm P.J.'s
We don't have to sleep in our work clothes

Sheets, blankets, pillows
Mattress and mattress covers

When I look at the tabs to check how to care for my clothes I see:

Made in Vietnam     Made in Brazil    Made in China
Made in Pakistan     Made in India      Made in Bangladesh
Made in El Salvador

I don't have to raise sheep, shear them, wash the wool, dye the wool
card it and spin it into yarn before I can knit my socks and sweaters

I've always wanted a loom to make rag rugs
But what if I had to weave all the fabric we need?
Then sew all the clothes we need?

My family would be in trouble.

Thank you, Dear God, for Laundry Day!

Orphans

May I use your eyes now to weep for My children?
Will you let your spirit be touched with My grief?
It is night, and lone midst all forces of evil,
I stand with My hands holding precious relief.
(I haven't found out who wrote this yet.  As soon as I do I will let you know.
Or if you know please let me know so I can give credit where credit is due.)


I just got done reading Kisses From Katie by Katie Davis.
Krysta brought it home from the library and said,
"You've got to read this, Mom."





I wasn't sure I wanted to.  But I'm glad I did.
I asked her if all who read it will get
sent to Uganda.  =)  She probably thought,
"Oh, silly Mom," but did not say it.







Katie is like a modern day Amy Carmichael.
Or Mother Theresa.  She adopted a family of girls as
they came to her doorstep or as she found them in villages
around her home.  She poured out her life for them
and they in turn started finding girls with needs and
brought them home.  They wanted to share their
home with everyone they met.








Recently I went with friends to a seminar
and heard a talk about adoption and infertility.

One thing the speaker said about adoptive families -
When you adopt a child you are breaking a cycle.
It could be a cycle of abandonment, alcohol, drugs . . .
. . .  the list goes on.






By doing that the adoptive family has stepped into
enemy territory and is in line for Satan's darts.







This is not a new thought for me. 
This summer I have been thinking
about that very thing over and over.
But I had never heard it said out loud
in just that many words.






This verse came to my mind. 

Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this,

    To visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction,

        and to keep himself unspotted from the world. 

                                    James 1:27





How do I make this practical in my every day life?






While reading Katie's book I found out about the organization she founded.
Amazima Ministries






Krysta and I found out about Operation Christmas Child and every fall we
try to get some shoe boxes ready and on the way.






There are all sorts of opportunities to help if you look up Christian Aid Ministries.




Here is another way to get involved.  worldvision.org
One gal I talked to said she and her husband signed up to sponsor
a child after the birth of each new baby in their home.




There are so many questions that come to my mind
         when I think about war-torn countries
  and refugees looking for a place to sleep at night . . . 
                                a warm place . . .
                             when I think about
                     homeless people in our country




I don't want to just do a whole string of these projects to salve my conscience.
I want to be more purposeful in my prayers for those serving in mission work,
and pray more faithfully for my friends and family who are in the middle of a
spiritual battle because they have courageously adopted children.




    You are brave.  May God richly bless you and your children.

Thanksgiving

We sang this song today at Prairie Manor.  I love singing Thanksgiving songs in autumn.  “My God, I thank Thee, who hast made”

By Adelaide Anne Procter (1825–1864)

MY God, I thank Thee, Who hast made         The earth so bright; So full of splendour and of joy,         Beauty and light; So many glorious things are here,                  Noble and right.   I thank Thee, too, that Thou hast made         Joy to abound; So many gentle thoughts and deeds         Circling us round;          That in the darkest spot of earth         Some love is found.   I thank Thee more that all our joy         Is touched with pain; That shadows fall on brightest hours,                  That thorns remain; So that earth’s bliss may be our guide,         And not our chain.   For Thou Who knowest, Lord, how soon         Our weak heart clings,          Hast given us joys, tender and true,         Yet all with wings, So that we see, gleaming on high,         Diviner things.   I thank Thee, Lord, that Thou hast kept                  The best in store; I have enough, yet not too much,         To long for more; A yearning for a deeper peace         Not known before.            I thank Thee, Lord, that here our souls,         Though amply blest, Can never find, although they seek,         A perfect rest,— Nor ever shall, until they lean                  On Jesus’ breast!

My Home Town

I like my little home town. Everyone knows everyone, everyone is friendly.
One day I met a lady at the grocery store that I knew only from meeting her
on the road every morning driving to school. She was driving her family to school
so they didn’t have to ride the bus. We recognized each other from these daily meetings
and introduced ourselves to each other then stood and talked for twenty minutes or more.
One thing we had in common is our name. Her last name is Larson. That was our last
name in Norway. Maybe we are cousins! Our family took the farm name for their
last name when they emigrated. Now we have a name no one can pronounce or spell. 
Skrivseth 

When you go to Norway you can still visit the Skrivseth farm.
There is a Skrivseth Mountain, and a Skrivseth Lake, too.
The family living in the house has taken the farm name too,
but they may or may not be related to us. It is confusing. 

Now that was a little bunny trail . . . 
 
I was filling the car with gas the other day when a memory flashed
across my mind. Krysta and I were on the way to ND last summer.
We needed gas so we pulled into a gas station being careful to pull
up on the passenger side since our Ford Focus has the gas cap on the
*wrong*side of the car.  I often forget. This station had two pumps in
a row and someone was fueling at the pump ahead of us.  I got out and
started filling the car. Just as I finished I thought,
“Oh, yes, I want to wash the windows.”

I suppose the proper way to do that is wash the windows while the gas flows
but I had not thought of it in time to be efficient. It was a lovely day, the sun was shining,
the birds were singing,  the traffic was rolling down the interstate as I leisurely washed the
windows on one side of our little white Focus. Just as I went around to dunk the window washer in the water someone said, “Can you pull ahead so other people can get gas too?” I wish I would have feigned deafness and kept on with my task. But I looked up - and made eye contact - with a disgruntled looking guy who was oozing impatience out of every pore.

I thought, but did not say, “You aren’t from around here, are you?” 
I put the washer thing-a-ma-jig in the water, got in the car and pulled ahead
to the empty space in front of me. I finished washing my windows. Out of the corner
of my eye I could see this guy rolling his eyes, sighing a huge sigh and shrugging his shoulder’s
at my obvious stupidity.

He filled up with rapid speed and pulled up in front of the store and parked to wait
for the pretty gal who had gone inside.  And that’s when I saw his
North Dakota license plates. Nope, he wasn’t from Minnesota.

Now I realize Minnesotans carry niceness to extremes.  Ellis and I went on a mystery bus tour this spring. The school bus company comes up with an *end of the school year* event. We heard about the murky past when gangsters were welcomed to St. Paul and the police kept them safe as long as they checked in with them, performed no crimes in St Paul and shared a portion of the loot with them. One millionaire was kidnapped outside his house when he came home for lunch. A crook strolled up to him, engaged him in conversation by asking if they could discuss a business proposition. The get away car pulled up, they slipped a pillowcase over his head, pushed him in the car and drove off. This man realized the only way to stay alive was to keep cool and not struggle. The robbers started arguing.

"We got the wrong man."

"No we didn't!"

"Yes we did!"

“Why do you think this is the wrong man?” 

“Because he’s not trying to get away!”

Finally the man who was kidnapped told them they have the right man.

Is that carrying Minnesota niceness to an extreme?

 

For the most part we have found people in ND very friendly.
Since the oil boom things have changed a bit.  There was that one trip
when Ellis and I traveled home from MT in two vehicles.
- one in a white van and the other in a brown pick up.

(We buy used vehicles from MT. There is hardly any rust on them.)


The van developed a funny little hiccough.  It would go along nicely for a half hour
or so then stop.  Twenty minutes later you could start it up and drive again for another
half hour only to have this repeat. We limped our way to Minot in this fashion. Ellis wanted
to have a dealer look at it but they were closing.
"Nope, come back tomorrow and good luck with finding a motel in this town."


So plan B was to get a dolly that would hook up to the pick up, drive the van onto it and pull it home. The gal punched in the make of the pick up and said, "Oh, that pick up isn’t the right size
to pull a van on a dolly."  Company policy or something.  Ellis was frosted.


So we ate supper at a nice restaurant and talked over the situation.
We decided to get on the road and head for Bismarck.
After dark since it was cooler the van ran.
At Bismarck there were no motels with vacancies either.
Ellis fueled up and headed east on the interstate and the van continued to run.
We stopped at a rest area to get a few winks of sleep then drove home as fast as we could
with a few more stops and starts. We pulled into Blooming Prairie and parked in front of our
local garage.  Ellis explained the trouble to the owner.


He listened, and said, "I think I know what’s wrong."
He made a minute adjustment all within five minutes or less 
and the thing ran with no trouble after that.  


If the man in Minot had listened for two minutes
and made the same adjustment . .  . 


how nice that would have been.


I suppose we needed to learn something - maybe patience - right about then.
One thing for sure - we like our home town best.

 

Washing Dishes

One of my friends knows someone who will not go to bed until all the dishes are washed.
My friend's friend says, "If I get sick and my husband calls the ambulance
the paramedics will see all the dirty dishes."

My friend dismisses this with, "I don't think the paramedics will look for me
in the kitchen sink."

The other night the dirty dishes were taking over the whole kitchen.
I woke up at 3:30 and couldn't fall back to sleep so I got up and started
washing dishes.

I kept thinking about two book characters who loved to wash dishes.
One was Sue Barton. She was never given the chore of washing dishes
in her childhood. She was only allowed to do dishes as a treat.

As an adult when washing dishes she noticed
rainbows in the soap bubbles,
   steaming hot water,
and sparkling glassware
gleaming in the dish rack.

The other girl was Victoria North, in the book, The Secret Language. 
When she washed dishes she always imagined a battle field after a war.
She was Clara Barton or Florence Nightingale come to the rescue.
She washed the poor battered soldiers (silverware) and put them to bed
in the hospital (drawer) in neat rows.

This reminded me of a report I wrote every year in grade school.
The subject was Clara Barton. I would pick the same book out of the library,
 read it and then come up with a report.

Nurses intrigued me and some day I was going to be one.
Then I discovered that I wasn't too excited about giving shots.  

My list of things to enjoy was more along this line:

Bandaging minor scratches on cute little pinkies
- giving kisses for ouchies
- warming up milk for bedtime treats
(with lots of  chocolate and sugar mixed in)
- chauffeuring family members to the clinic or hospital
when they developed ear infections or strep throat,
       pneumonia, appendicitis or cellulitis

Recently I pulled a couple books off my shelf at home . . .
Sue Barton, Student Nurse
Sue Barton, Rural Nurse

After I read them I wondered if Krysta could find more of the series
in our library system.  First she looked them up on Amazon and found
that we could spend a small fortune. Then she found them in the library system.
Some of them even came from the library in International Falls, MN.

Helen Dore Boylston was born in 1895.  She wrote this series of seven books
in the 30's and early 40's after serving as a nurse in World War I. She worked
for the Red Cross in Europe and also became friends with Rose Wilder Lane.

Sue Barton, Student Nurse
Sue Barton, Senior Nurse
Sue Barton, Visiting Nurse
Sue Barton, Rural Nurse
Sue Barton, Superintendent of Nurses
Sue Barton, Neighborhood Nurse
Sue Barton, Staff Nurse

And now I am so curious about that Clara Barton book
in the Williams High School Library
that I kept checking out year after year
because Helen Dore Boylston also wrote
Clara Barton, Founder of the American Red Cross

This series reminds me a little bit of the Anne of Green Gables books.
Sue and Anne are both red heads with tempers to match.
They each marry a doctor and both series continues on after they
get married instead of abruptly ending at the altar like some books.
There is humor and some drama and a great deal of mischief  that
threads through the set.

When I wash dishes it's fun to write blog posts in my mind
while I'm enjoying the rainbows, bubbles and sparkling plates and silverware.
That's how this one came to be.

"The best teacher is also a student." ~HyVee fortune cookie

School

Way back in August - or was it the end of July? -  Krysta and I walked into Wal Mart

and saw aisles of

SCHOOL SUPPLIES! 

I wanted to run away from that store, but we bravely went on and shopped for other things.

All the while I kept telling Krysta, "Don't look!  It isn't really time for school stuff yet."

And Krysta was saying, "But I want to go look at those folders! 
They have some really neat ones this year."

That same day I read a comment on facebook, written by my daughter-in-law,
all about how much she loves the "back to school" things that are showing up everywhere.

Maybe it's the feeling of time rushing by at the speed of light that gets me every year.

Because if it's time for school then before we know it MEA week will be here.
            And the fall craft sale . . .

    And then it will be Thanksgiving.

And Christmas . . .

      and just like that it will be the New Year!

Kind of like that story when the lady of the house calls up the stairs
to her maid on a Monday morning.

"Eliza Jane!  It's half past five! 
We don't have the wash started.
It's time to hang the clothes on the line.
If we don't hurry up soon it will be Tuesday
and the next day is Wednesday. 
   Half the week is gone
and we haven't done a thing!"

Now that school is started and we have one month done I am kind of enjoying it.
This year I am trying to see the colors all around me.
Yellow school buses
Red plaid skirt on a little girl . . .
She was walking backwards
reading a book out loud
to her little brother
who was dragging his back pack behind him.
Red and yellow leaves on the trees
Beautiful flowers everywhere
        . . . still blooming like crazy
Orange and cream colored kitties
A full moon and a lunar eclipse
Stars in the night sky
Puffy white clouds in a Blue sky
Green grass that keeps growing and growing
Goldfinches at the bird feeders
Old fashioned blue-green canning jars
Red tomatoes
Jars of salsa and red beet pickles
Pink applesauce

The list goes on and on . . .
and now it is time to say "Good night!"