Mushrooms: From My Lawn To My Tummy

Yesterday, I had a less than desireable day. While driving home, I decided to mow the lawn when I got home, to take my mind off things. I finished mowing and was workin’ the weed eater when along comes a lady walking by. She asked me if she could cut the mushrooms from my front lawn. Well, that intrigued me, of course. My curiosity got the best of me as per usual, and I had plenty of studying to procrastinate from, so I engaged her and asked her to tell me all about the mushrooms, and how she knew they were edible. She mentioned she was from Russia and she grew up knowing about mushrooms, and that Americans are so out of touch with nature. She said this kindly, but matter-of-factly, and I agreed with her!  So, we knelt down on the grass and I got my first mushroom lesson. She taught me how to cut them, wash them… and how to cook them. Then she looked at me and said, “now you probably want to keep them.” And she was right… now I wanted to keep them, cook them and eat them… so I offered to split them with her… She gave me her phone number and told me to call her and tell her how they were. When we got up from the grass, I realized that she had made my day and I felt so much better. I shared that with her and… turns out that she had had a rotten day too, and now felt much better. Such a beautiful thing when we stop to interact with one another. I was touched by her sharing a part of life with me, and she was touched by someone being interested. It was a mutually beautiful thing.

So… tonight, I cut, cleaned and cooked the mushrooms, exactly how she had taught me… and they were delicious!!!

French Pressed Life

This is my house-mate’s French Press, but I use it every day, I’m hooked. In order to get a great cup of coffee, there are steps that I willingly and gladly take. Hands down, there is no comparison between what emerges from the french press and a lesser cup brewed in a maker. By far, better than that ridiculous new little gadget that my friend, Josh, uses. (Josh, I know you know this…. deep down )  Recently, there has been a struggle between myself and the french press. Seemingly, I just want to press too quickly. Inevitably, I spew forth the brown, liquidy goodness all over the counter or worse… all over ME! Breathing, slowly breathing, helps me through the process. For the past two mornings, I’ve had a kickin’, almost perfect cuppa joe… and the key is: don’t rush, breathe, take it slowly, focus, enjoy the few minutes that I just get to stand there, still, and wait… That… is what gives the best results. Rushing just spews what could be good… all over the place, and frustrates the heck out of me… Life is the same way. If I want a great cup of coffee, it takes time… if I want the beauty to emerge… it takes time.

About to Bloom…

I haven’t posted forever. I am beginning to realize how non-present I have been for at least the past year, and yet in many ways much longer than that as well. I feel, however, that I am about to bloom, blossom into the woman I have always wanted to be. I look at this picture of a cyclamen on my front porch that is just about to bloom and it resonates with me. Today was a day filled with beauty, and then class tonight hurt so badly I just needed to scream. I bet it’s painful to be birthed from a seed to a sprout, to leaves and eventually a flower. I am feeling that pain and at the same time, I know there is beauty about to be birthed forth. It is not a beauty I am unfamiliar with, because it is a part of me. It’s just been buried for so long. I wonder what color flower I will be, what shape, what form, what intensity… as portions of me open up that have been a long time hidden or uncared for, I experience a breath of fresh air, and pain right alongside the breath. I’m angry, I’m sad, I love, I hate, I rejoice and I scream, I dance, I sing and somedays I don’t know what to do… but it feels good to get to know myself without all the masks. I’m learning to breathe and sit with all of me, not just the happy parts.

A Brief Reprieve

Over Thanksgiving week, I got to co-lead a team from my previous church: Pathways on a servant project to Tacna, Peru. We were able to help a few families by building a house, pouring a foundation for another house, and general clean-up. We were also able to spend time with the people, which is always my favorite part of a trip like this. Jeremy (pictured above) is a young boy with a lot of pre-mature family responsibility. His father is no longer living, and his mother just recently lost her second husband to death from a strange accident. Jeremy has three younger siblings that he helps care for, so is no longer able to go to school, at his young age of eleven. The stress of adult responsibility is evident on his child-face. He is living adulthood way before his time, at the loss of his childhood. One day, he brought out a deck of cards and was just sitting there, while his little sister was napping. I went over and we ended up playing cards. I taught him a few tricks, and we mostly played “go-fish”, “war”, and “slap-jack”. The smile on his face was priceless. It was a brief reprieve for him, from his normal responsibilities, a bit of childhood allowed to reign for a few moments. As I left towards the end of the week, I said goodbye to Jeremy as he was in a circle with his siblings and a few friends… playing go-fish. It didn’t change his life, but it brought a bit of childhood back to his reality.

None of us can ever choose how or where we enter this world, but we can share a bit of love along the way.

Chicken Bus Please!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There are all kinds of busses in this world. I was on the bus, here in Seattle the other day and lo and behold, I learned another piece of good information. But it made me long for Chicken Busses in Guatemala. Apparently, there is no eating on the city busses in Seattle. I was sitting on the bus minding my own business, when I decided to have a bit of a snack. I took out my banana and began to eat it. A few minutes later, the loud speaker came on and the bus driver said… “Please cover your food at all times”. I had no idea what he was saying until it sunk in that I had uncovered food. Then I caught him staring at me in the rear view mirror… and he said, “NO Eating on the bus”. Wow… all I could say was, “Sorry, I didn’t know”. Which was true… I didn’t know… but I sure do now!!!

As I was thinking about eating my banana, my mind went to countless chicken bus rides when I lived in Guatemala. They are called Chicken Busses for a reason… everything is transported on a chicken bus, including chickens, dogs, goats, etc… and everyone is allowed to eat… and if it’s a long, hot bus ride… there are smells that make that food not really want to stay in your stomach, and that makes for a pleasant ride, you can imagine! When you don’t fit in the bus, they even let you ride on top, which I did many times!!

There are definitely different kinds of busses in the world… I actually would prefer a chicken bus over a Seattle city bus any day. Call me crazy, it’s just a bit more real.