It's Grading Time!

We're in that time of the semester when Eric has a lot (really, really, a LOT) of grading to do. Something like 100 homework assignments, 21 projects, 51 papers, 25 portfolios, and 57 tests have come and gone across his desk in the past two weeks, in addition to writing three exams from scratch. Because of this, he really hasn't had much of a chance to spend time with Ian. One solution? Grade together!
(Ok, so this picture was actually taken back in September, but it's especially applicable this week!)

Thankfully, today is the last day of the semester, and Eric hopes to have all this grading finished by tonight so we can enjoy a weekend together before trekking to Louisiana next week. I'm certainly ready for it to be over!
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the Advent Conspiracy

Three years ago, during Ian's first Christmas, Eric and I started rethinking how we wanted to celebrate Christmas as a family and how we wanted Ian to understand the whole holiday. At eight months old, he had piles of presents so large we literally had to rearrange his bedroom to make room for all the toys, clothes, and books he received from loving and generous family members. While we were thankful for the displays of affection, we couldn't escape the lurking feeling that something was just not complete about the Christmas process we were experiencing and had experienced up to that point. Our parents (who are all very wonderful people) did make attempts to "keep Christ in Christmas" by doing things like reading the Christmas story from the Gospel of Luke before our gift-giving extravaganzas and attending Christmas Eve services at our churches, but the reality for both of us was that, as kids, Christmas was more about getting what we wanted than it was about worshiping Christ and loving others. Maybe that was partly due to our lack of maturity, but a big part of it was also that we really didn't know how else to go about it. Even as newly-married adults, we slipped right in to trying to meet the expectations set for us by our culture: buying an abundance of gifts for pretty much everyone we knew. While the attention shifted away from "me me me" (at least on the surface), it was still a rather emotionally and economically stressful experience every year, with very little focus on the miracle of Christ's birth and our opportunity to share His love with the world, except for four or five Sunday mornings at church. This really started to bother us. We asked ourselves things like: "How much do we really need to give or receive? How can we teach Ian to be truly generous rather than succumbing to societal pressures of feigned generosity? How can we teach him to be content with what he has? How can we teach ourselves these things?"

So the past three Christmases have been a gradual alteration of our Christmas practices. We're not exactly sure what we're aiming at, but we do want Ian not only to see us being generous, but also to get to experience it himself. And we want the focus of Christmas to truly be on the incredible miracle of Christ's incarnation and the profound effect that has on our lives. So we're doing things like having nightly Advent devotions, talking about our waiting for Christ's coming, both the first time and the upcoming second time. We're limiting the number of our gifts to each other to one meaningful gift and giving our loved ones gifts that are relational in nature, so as to foster peace and goodwill among one another. We're spending less on ourselves and more on people who are really hurting or without basic needs. All in all, we're trying to find more ways to love others around us as an outpouring of the outrageous love we've received from Christ.

And, of course, we're still working out what that all looks like. Thankfully, about three years ago, a small group of pastors around the country started thinking the same things and asking the same questions, unbeknownst to us. They formed this movement called "the Advent Conspiracy," and encouraged their congregations to focus on four ideas during the Christmas season: worship fully, spend less, give more, and love all. With the money leftover from what they didn't spend on extra gifts, they pooled their resources to dig wells for people who didn't have fresh water. Over the course of four Christmas seasons (and the time in-between), people have been hopping on board and the movement has been growing. So much so, in fact, that even our little church in South Bend, Indiana is discussing ways to implement these ideas, and our pastor is teaching them from the pulpit. Both CNN and Time Magazine did pieces on what's going on. Through hundreds of churches, millions of dollars have been given to help the poor, and ideas are flowing about ways to be intentional and generous with our gift-giving. What I love about them is that they're not taking a single penny for themselves. They're a movement, not an organization. They exist merely to facilitate the implementation of true generosity and the exhibition of Christ's love for us.

Anyone else out there interested in joining the conspiracy?
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Thanksgiving 2009

Last week, I had the wonderful opportunity of making and hosting my fifth Thanksgiving dinner....well, my third actually on Thanksgiving. The other two were for friends or family around Thanksgiving, but it was my fifth attempt at the meal overall. I think it was a success, no matter which way one defines success. Not only did the food turn out well and on schedule, but we also got to spend the day with both sets of parents and some of our best friends in the world, the Dunn's. I really couldn't have asked for a better day!

For you foodies out there, here was our menu:

Appetizers

Roasted Pecans and Pumpkin Seeds
Butternut Squash Turnovers
*Hot Mulled Cider

First Course
Creamy Carrot Soup
Ezekiel Bread
*2007 Toasted Head Chardonnay

Main Course
Roast Turkey with Fried Sage and Pecans
Bacon Onion Stuffing
Garlic Rosemary Mashed Red Potatoes
Fresh Green Bean Casserole
Jellied Cranberry Sauce with Apples
*2007 Foxglove Zinfandel

Dessert
Chocolate-swirled Pumpkin Pie
Regular Pumpkin Pie
Latticed Apple Pie
*Espresso or Hot Rooibos Tea

In the menu planning, we went for traditional and simple dishes, but with new elements for flair and interest. We used a different rub on the turkey that was comprised of pureed fried sage and pecans mixed with butter. It was heavenly! And for the pumpkin pie, I tried my hand at completely from-scratch pies (ok, I didn't grind my own flour or make my own butter, but I did use homemade pumpkin puree and real cream), one of which had melted dark chocolate swirled into it. It was Eric's pumpkin pie dream, and I'm sure I'll be making it again. Also, I tried an actual mold for the cranberry sauce, and used a recipe that called for apples, which have natural pectin in them for jelly-izing. Garnished with rosemary springs and fresh cranberries, it was beautiful!

If there are any recipes that you're curious about, feel free to ask, and I'll send them to you!

And for you curious family and friends out there, here are some pictures from the day...

An example place setting

The table

Ian taking a break by the fire

One of the teacups Eric got me for my 30th birthday (Yes, I turned 30 last week!)

The main course spread buffet-style

The pies, the middle of which is a chocolate-swirled pumpkin, an experiment for this year that I think will become a staple in our family!

I'm so thankful that we live in a place and have the kind of life that we can celebrate with our family and friends in such an elaborate and enjoyable way. We are truly blessed, and I pray that God gives us more and more opportunities to share our blessing with others. I was certainly glad to cook and prepare this meal for my loved ones...not a single moment of it felt like work or drudgery. Thank you Mom, Dad, Nate, Pam, Jeremy, Andrea, Talisin, Kessie, Eric and Ian for giving me the chance to serve Thanksgiving this year!

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Ian the Cave Dweller

A lot of fun can be had with two old futon chairs and a blanket!

(Those of you in Eric's extended family will certainly recognize these chairs and all the good memories you had doing similar things with them!)

More Leaves

"You make me glad by your deeds, O Lord -- I sing for joy at the works of your hands!" (Psalm 92:4)

Yesterday was a quintessentially perfect fall day here in northern Indiana: bright blue skies, bare branches wiggling their fingers in the chilly breezes, and fallen leaves dancing across yards and streets, just begging us to join them. So we did.

The boys and I grabbed our walking shoes and coats, put the oh-so-handy monkey backpack on the littlest one, and took a walk around our neighborhood, searching for and collecting different kinds of leaves. Of course, we stopped to play in various piles, rolling around and burying ourselves in the leafy mountains. When we got home, we laid all the leaves we gathered out on the dining room table and talked about their various colors and sizes. Then we pasted them onto a large piece of paper and made a collage. Here's what we found:

I think I count seven different kinds of oak leaves there, three or four different maples, three or four elms, one tulip/poplar, one redbud, one peony, and a vine leaf. This little exercise really made me want to re-learn all my Indiana trees! Isn't God's creation amazing and beautiful?!
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Leaves

When I was little, probably about two or three, I had a traumatic encounter with leaves. I was walking across a gravel church parking lot with my parents one Sunday, wearing a brand new pair of white Mary Janes with adorable pink stockings, and happily kicking up little piles of autumn leaves that had gathered on the ground. While walking over one such seemingly innocent pile, my right foot was instantly sunk into a wet, muddy puddle, which filled my beautiful shoe with cold, blackish water all the way up over my ankle. My lovely pink stockings were ruined, and my shoe never regained its former luster, thus forever being mismatched with the left one. I have since come to step gingerly around such potentially deceptive leaf piles.

While I remember this incident every single fall, I was experientially reminded of it the other day on one of my bi-weekly walks to campus for the class I'm teaching. As I was rounding a curve of one street, a large pickup truck came barreling around the bend at a most unsafe speed. This forced me to hop quickly into the long pile of leaves in front of my one of my neighbors' houses and walk there for a few steps. Lo and behold, what happens, but that I step on the edge of the road which was expertly hidden by the leaves, trip rather ungracefully, and fall onto my knees in the middle of the leaf mountain. I'm sure the big, burly guy in the pickup truck got his laugh for the afternoon. However, nothing was hurt except my pride and whatever faith I had gained in leaf piles.

This got me to thinking, though: isn't most sin often a little like those hidden puddles and drop-offs underneath seemingly fun piles of leaves? You're walking along, shuffling through and kicking up crunchy leaves with the flourish of a three-year-old, and having a blast! Then, wham! Your foot discovers something nasty the fun leaves were hiding and that discovery completely messes up your walk...and potentially ruins something forever.

I don't really know where I'm going with this except that it just reminded me to be careful about where I "walk." Something that looks so fun and innocent can be hiding something sinister. So, I guess we should all just walk through leaves at our own risk...or maybe avoid roadside and parking lot piles altogether.
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Wheeeee!

One of Ian's favorite games: Wagon racing!

Butternut Squash Soup

If you haven't noticed already, in our family, we mark the seasons by our menus. In the spring, I pull out recipes starring fresh flavors and bright colors, like my spring pea soup. In the summer, the grill is often the main event, cooking up a variety of meats along with veggies from our garden. And in the fall, we love us some squash -- lots of it! Pumpkin dip with ginger snap cookies, maple-roasted acorn squash, Arabian squash casserole, and of course, the star of them all, butternut squash soup. Thanks to Food & Wine Magazine, I have a simple, mouth-watering recipe that keeps us coming back year after year and time after time. Want a true fall experience? Follow me on a journey of squash soup....and then make some for yourself!

Step 1: Slice the squash in half and roast it in a 350 degree oven, face down, and get it all nice and soft. This'll take about 40 minutes, during which time you can chop up the white and tender green parts of two large leeks. When the squash is fork-tender, remove it from the oven and let it cool. Scoop out and toss the seeds, then scoop out the flesh with a spoon. Set it aside and discard the skins in your trash or compost bin.

Step 2: Melt 5 tablespoons of unsalted butter in a large saucepan or soup pot, the saute the leeks and 6 or 7 fresh thyme sprigs until the leeks are soft and the thyme is fragrant (about 5 minutes). Your house will start to smell really yummy by this point! At this point, you can discard the thyme sprigs, and add the squash along with 5 cups of chicken or vegetable stock. Simmer over medium heat for about 20 minutes, stirring occasionally.

Step 3: Puree the soup with whatever method you have on hand. I use a stick blender (a.k.a., an immersion blender) for the job, but a blender or regular food processor will work too. Just puree it in batches if you use one of the latter two. Don't be afraid to pulverize the mixture, because, believe me, you want this as smooth as possible!

Step 4: Serve and enjoy the hearty, yet light warmth of this delicious fall recipe. It goes perfectly with a mug of hot cider and some fresh bread.

Happy Autumn!

Riding Topless...

...for probably the last time this season. We'll probably be putting the hard top on the Jeep in the next week or two to combat against these cold temps we're having. Bye, bye, Summer!

Canning Tomatoes For the First Time

As you know, the garden we tended this summer did not produce tomatoes like I had hoped. (See my lament here.) However, a couple of weeks ago, I was taking a stroll around our neighborhood with Ian and Jan (my nanny charge), and as we neared our house, my incredibly nice and generous neighbor Sheri came out of her garage and offered me some tomatoes that she had picked up from a roadside stand that afternoon. Apparently, the guy was desperate to get rid of his tomatoes, because he gave her a huge box for only $5, along with some red peppers. So, Sherri unloaded about half of the tomatoes on me. The next day, she came by my house with yet another box, explaining that she had driven by that same spot today and bought yet another huge box of tomatoes, and would I like some? And, oh yes, they're free. "Shoot!", I thought, "Load me up!" So she did.

What was I to do with this plethora of tomatoey-goodness? Why, can them, of course! It took me a few days to do it because we had a busy couple of days ahead of us, so I shoved the tomatoes in the fridge (I know, a huge no-no), hoping that they would last long enough for me to process them before they rotted. Thank goodness, most of them survived, and I was able to can them in two batches. Here's the 2nd batch, ready to be peeled, shoved into cans, and cooked to death:

I peeled them by putting them in boiling water for a couple minutes until the skins burst, then plunging them into ice water, followed by separating the skins from the meat, dicing them in my hands as I went. My kitchen looked like a murder had taken place.

Then, I filled a bunch of wide-mouthed glass Ball jars with the tomatoes and a teaspoon of lemon juice (to balance the pH), and processed them in boiling water in a large canning pot for 45 minutes. Place them on a towel on the counter, let cool overnight, attach labels with the name and date, and voila! Canned tomatoes are now in my possession. They joined my pickling attempts on my basement shelves for future use.

I was once a canning virgin, but no longer! Thanks to my mom for walking me through the canning steps and imparting her wisdom as I went. I'm looking forward to the salsas and marinaras and chilis that will grace our table this fall and winter due to my neighbor's generosity and willingness to help a poor farmer out by taking his tomatoes off his hands.