What Exactly is Currant Pie?

Red currants...don't they look delicious? If anyone knows how to grow these delightful little berries in Arizona, you'll have to let me know.


I grew up in Michigan, and it seems like everything under the sun grew in our backyard. At least 3 varieties of apples, plus peaches, raspberries, rhubarb, strawberries, innumerable veggies, and of course, maybe, currants.

Mostly I have painful memories of all this largesse. Picking peas, putting them in a sack. Shelling peas, and putting them in another sack. Washing the peas, and putting them in yet another sack, bound for the freezer. Actually, it wasn't so bad. I put a pound of peas in my stomach for every pint I put in the sack, and to this day I only eat raw peas. I detest cooked peas. I was brainwashed at an early age. Only the freshest for me, please.

I also remember picking raspberries and eating them out of my hand, sometimes getting a stinkbug in the mix but not realizing it until it had already been squished between my molars, which is so GROSS to remember that I can hardly ever think about it.

I have vivid memories of picking (and eating) pretty much every single thing we grew. Except currants. And that's so funny, because I remember currant pie as being my absolute favorite kind of pie. A kind of pie that I haven't tasted since I moved to AZ when I was 12, but that I dream about every third Thursday from 1:00-1:20 a.m. (which totally explains the drool on my pillow). Currant pie, to me, is childhood, easy-growing gardens, family and not caring how many calories are in a slice.

I named my blog after this elusive memory. Where did it come from? Dad? Did we grow currants in Michigan? If so, why don't I remember picking them? Unlike every other edibility we had, I only remember eating them. Maybe I've blotted the work from my memory so I don't taint the deliciousness of it all. Kind of like writing. Until the moment I sit down to do it, I'm pretty sure there isn't a shred of even a single idea in my head, and I dread the work of it. Then I sit down, and poof! I find the work is delicious to me, and the rest is all forgotten.

Two Friends

Sometimes I feel myself going through life lurching from activity to activity, as if busy-ness itself were keeping me upright, rather than any particular will to live. Not that I lack the will to live, just that I forget the purpose in it sometimes.

Today two friends woke me up by doing me a service so great and so inherently risky that it was both wholly unexpected and completely endearing.

They took something I love (to despair sometimes), and wrestled it upright and gave it a moment of success, a moment of meaning that meant a great deal to me, too. It was an assist that I didn't even realize I needed until I got it, when the sense I had of gasping for air after being under water too long made me realize how necessary it truly was.

I know I'm being vague. Forgive me for that, but some things are too personal even for a half-baked blog!

Service is the handmaiden of charity, the pure love of Christ. When you give it, it changes your life. When you receive it, it changes your heart.

Thank you.

My People Pleasing Disorder

The time has come for me to make an important disclosure on this blog. I was born with PPD - People Pleasing Disorder. For those of you who aren't familiar with PPD, it is a very serious disorder characterized by excessively pretending to like things you don't really like and the strict avoidance of any and all strong opinions, except those that happen to mirror the opinions of the people you're with at the moment.

My life has been marred by several unfortunate flare-ups of my disease. For example, in the throes of a romantic high-school courtship with my now-husband, I wrote the following statements in my journal:

"I went to prom with J. It was so fun! He really likes to fast dance, which is so cool, because I totally love to fast dance but none of my other dates ever want to."

"I played sand volleyball last night with J. It is like the funnest sport ever! I can't wait to do it again."

Let me be perfectly clear here - both of those statements are boldfaced lies. In addition to PPD, I was also born with a certain lack of coordination, making fast dancing and sand volleyball two things I should never do. And that's not just me saying that, I've heard it from several other people as well. But, I was so anxious to please J that I had convinced even myself that these were activities I loved.

My ever supportive sister says that we're all like that when we're in love. Well, then, I must be in love with her, because I hide my O Magazine every time she comes over, since I know very well that she disdains Oprah as a regular old talk show host cleverly disguised as a moral compass for the world. (I like all the book reviews in the magazine).

Please make a note of how I felt I had to defend myself at the end of that last paragraph. If that is not an indication of the advanced state of my disease, I don't know what is.

Another indication of my sickness is that I have no favorite anythings. Truly. No favorite food, color, musical artist or author. This is likely the result of my many years of practice in having only the same opinions as those around me. I've actually made up a favorite color over the years, simply because people expect you to have one. It pleases them. I say yellow. But, I enjoy orange, blue and green equally as much as yellow, so, whatever.

Since I rarely have the courage to say my real opinions in public (the few that I've formed, anyway), here is a short list that you can print and keep in your wallet for handy reference:

*

Oh, poop, I couldn't think of any.

I'm happy to say...

that my last electric bill was under $300. Good-bye summer, I will not miss you (for those of you who miss summer a LOT when you are snowed in, note that I live in melt-in-your-hand Arizona, where there is no winter).

that my son FINALLY got to play in a football game (8 downs, a new family record)

that my YA novel rough draft is done, done, done. Emphasis on rough. Bigger emphasis on DONE!

that I accidentally forgot to lock the back door last night and I was neither robbed nor murdered in my sleep.

that my mom is bringing dinner over tonight, just to be nice. I'm not even sick. Moms rock!

that I scored a full-size sample of Olay Pro-X, so I can finally get crackin' on those wrinkles.

that I got a "maybe" from LDS Living on one of my article queries. I query them almost every month, and usually they just say no, so now I'm as excited as a hillbilly with a pile of fermenting apples. (That was just my way of showing LDS Living how great I am with similes)

that I just found out that the singular form of parentheses is parenthesis. That will definitely come in handy if I ever have to write an English textbook.

that all (6) of my loyal readers will soon be getting Blogger identities so they can start leaving me comments, because Connie, Signe and Melissa are getting typist's cramp. They are also getting better Christmas gifts from me than all y'all. (that was a sample of my ability to write from a broad perspective of cultural mores)

Compensating Blessings

Last year I listened as a church leader taught the principle of compensation. He said, “The Lord compensates the faithful for every loss. That which is taken away from those who love the Lord will be added unto them in His own way. While it may not come at the time we desire, the faithful will know that every tear today will eventually be returned a hundredfold with tears of rejoicing and gratitude.”

His talk caused me to reflect on my own compensating blessings, and how I first learned to look for them.

My husband’s battle with chronic pain has, for most of our marriage, made it difficult for him to take the leadership role that he would like to in our family. I try to compensate for that, but at times the burden of providing for our children financially, spiritually and emotionally has threatened to overwhelm me.

I particularly remember a time when I was drowning in self-pity. A difficult change in medication had rendered my husband temporarily unable to watch our toddler while I was at work, and so each morning I shuttled her to the homes of various church members who had volunteered to look after her for me.

I was miserable as I dropped my little girl off each morning. I felt like I was surrounded by happy homemakers, each of whom seemed blessed with the time to nurture not only their own children, but mine as well. It seemed so unfair.

One kind sister was able to change my perspective. Dropping my daughter off to her on a Monday morning, she remarked out of the blue that all of my children seemed to have been blessed with an unusually strong faith, and perhaps that was a reflection of the considerable amount of time they spent praying for their dad.

Tears sprang to my eyes as I recognized the truth of what she was saying. I drove off to work, my mind filling with thoughts of the many compensating blessings I had received, not the least of which was the loving bond I was developing with the church members who were always so willing to offer me service and encouragement. I had also recently been blessed with a new job, working for a company that was far more family-friendly than my previous employer had been. Many other blessings filled my mind as I drove.

Since then, although the basic circumstances of my life remain unchanged, it has been easier for me to focus on what I have that is good, instead of what I feel like I am missing out on. How grateful I am for the seed of hope a friend planted in me that day, and for the many compensating blessings our Heavenly Father gives us during difficult times.

The Six Best Words

I know you can picture it. You're in the checkout line at the grocery store with your 3-year-old when he spots the foot long Nerds rope. He has to have it. It is the most glorious item he has ever seen, and he can't possibly live one minute longer without it. He tells you this using that very toddler-specific language of shrieking. The particular kind of shriek that suddenly makes every other adult's private thoughts appear in a bubble above their heads. The bubbles say: "What a brat." "I can't believe she lets her kid act that way." "Get that snot-nosed ankle biter out of here!" Some bubble thoughts are much worse than that and cannot be recreated here.

You think you have outgrown that phase with your 7-year-old. But then Halloween comes, and you are at Target, and suddenly the angel costume you already have in the closet at home from years past will not do. It has to be Hannah Montana, full-on with the wig and fake mic and everything. You also find out that, to make the outfit complete, you will have to dress up as a backup singer and follow Hannah around the neighborhood singing harmony to "Best of Both Worlds". Your sweet 7-year-old loses any concept of how to leave a store with some composure. Not so much shrieking this time, but plenty of sobbing. Pretty much the same bubble thoughts spring up all around you.

Surely teenagers have more self-control, right? (My older sisters are laughing out loud right now). Okay, we can get through the candy aisle without too much trouble, and Halloween costumes are no longer cool, but please don't let me happen to pass Electronics with my teenager in tow. No shrieks or sobs, just a certain kind of glare that tells me I am definitely the worst mom in the history of the world if I don't break open my pocketbook, and quick.

Luckily, a miracle occurred in my life several years ago, at a time when I'd completely had it with all those checkout lane showdowns. I somehow stumbled onto the six best words in the annals of parenting: "I'll keep it in my mind". If it is close to my child's birthday, I say, "Wow, that is a really great toy. I'll keep it in my mind for your birthday." If it's closer to Christmas, I say the same thing, replacing birthday with Christmas.

The best part - my kids believe me. The only time I've ever had a problem with it was on that Target shopping trip last year. Don't get me wrong, I tried. But somehow, "Wow, that is a really great Hannah Montana costume. I'll keep it in my mind for Christmas," just didn't cut it.

What works for you? If you have a great tip, you can be sure that I'll keep it in my mind. After all, I've had lots of practice!

High School Football From a Mom's Perspective

Training, Day 1: "Okay, honey, I washed and pressed your practice uniform. Try not to get it too dirty, k? And don't get hurt!"

Training, Day 7: "The most essential thing I must accomplish today is to put together a carpool. These 5:30 a.m. practices are killing me!" Insert sarcastic comment from teenage son here about who these practices are really killing.

Training, Day 14: "You have to sell how many fundraising coupon cards? 15?! What, the $400 we already gave the school for the privilege of summer weight training and football camp isn't enough to get you guys through a season? Geez louise."

Training, Day 21: "A white t-shirt? You don't have any white t-shirts. I have given up trying to make your t-shirts white. Coach will just have to live with you showing up in a brown and green streaked formerly white t-shirt. You're lucky I still wash them at all."

1st game of the season: "Yeah, buddy, I'll be there. So will Dad, 2 sets of grandparents, 3 aunts, 2 uncles and one neighbor twice removed. By the way, you look so super cute in your uniform!" Inject a gagging noise from teenage son here.

2nd game of the season: "Umm, yeah, I'm coming. Is the coach thinking of letting you play this time? Well, can you ask him exactly when? If I come at halftime I get in free."

3rd game of the season: "Okay, well, I for one am glad you never get to play. I don't have the money for crutches and casts and things anyway."

4th game of the season: "No, he didn't get to play, but did I tell you he has straight A's?"

5th game of the season: Note to self - post ad on Craigslist to sell 2 stadium seats, 3 fundraising coupon cards, and 27 used-to-be-white t-shirts. I can't wait for track season.

Voluntary Simplicity?

Why does it feel so good to be cheap? Today I put a ham and bean soup in the crockpot to cook while we were at church. At lunchtime, as we sat around breathing the steam and eating our fill, I kept experiencing this strange sensation of fulfillment. I tried to pinpoint exactly what it was that was making feel such a glow. Having the whole family together at the dinner table? My semi-successful day at church with the children I work with? The fact that I actually planned a meal in advance? No - it turns out that the root of my feelings came from feeling really good about getting every last bit of meat off of that ham slab I bought last week. I realized I was mentally adding up the cost of the meal for my family of 6, and let me just say - 5 Dollar Dinner lady? Not so impressive anymore, are you?

I recently read an article about the exploits of a family that decided to stop shopping for a year. They vowed to only buy depletable resources such as groceries and gasoline, and forego absolutely all unnecessary purchases. They claim to have saved over $10,000 in one year. Sounds pretty good right? Well, here's how they saved that much money, and how you and I could too:

First, they opted NOT to buy a flat screen TV that year. So, if you were planning on doing that this year, just change your mind and watch your savings rack up!

Second, they stopped eating out at restaurants. That's going to be a little hard for me to do, because unless you count Sonic as a restaurant, I can't remember the last time I went to one. I think it was my company's Christmas party last December. Of course, the wife in the article didn't find it that hard to give up eating out, because her husband decided to start doing all of the cooking, and apparently he's pretty good. I'll say.

Finally, they quit buying clothes at The Gap and Macy's, saving a couple thousand that way. I guess I could stop dreaming about shopping at the Gap and see if that helps at all.

What helped this poor family survive the year? Well, mostly presents and gift cards from friends and family who couldn't bear to see their suffering.

Okay, that last bit may have sounded a little catty. I'm just saying, it's all well and good for a pair of dual-income doctor/lawyers to cut back a little, and then make a bunch of money by writing about it and going on Oprah. But what I'd really like to see is an article about someone who surmounts some actual problems. Let's read about the single mom with $15 in her pocket trying to buy a week's groceries for her family of five. Or how about a family that has to choose between picking up a prescription or paying the heating bill? How about all those people working three part-time jobs trying to get by when their unemployment runs out and they still haven't found a job to replace the one they lost? These people I could actually learn something from.

And I have a suggestion for them, too, like a filling dinner of ham and bean soup. Warms the tummy, warms the soul... (and can stretch for two meals if you double the amount of water you use).

I Should Be Sleeping

Instead of sleeping this week, I:

* Worked on my math skills by trying to figure out how much baking powder I should have in my food storage if I need 18 TBS + 5.75 tsp and I have 8 oz already on hand (please don't ask me what I came up with...I'm still waiting for the Homework Helpline to get back to me on that one)

* Made a list of all the things I do in a month, and since the list wasn't very long I pretended like it was a list of things I do in a day. Spent a few minutes feeling really good about myself for my accomplishments.

* Actively pursued a missing black sock on laundry day, since my boys only have one pair of Sunday socks each. Because my search was unsuccessful, TLC had to wear navy blue soccer socks to church instead. Unfortunately, his suit pants (black) are also about a 1/2 inch too short. And those thick socks made it pretty hard to cram those dress shoes on his feet. Note to self: go to Walmart before next Sunday and put the poor kid out of his misery.

* Laughed about the time my oldest son was four and my sister caught me stashing his outgrown underwear in my cedar chest to pass down to son #2. Hey, I washed them first! Sister says there are some things kids should not have to share.

* Fought a good fight with my hair, but lost anyway. Straight in the front, curly in the back - what did I do to deserve this?

* Helped D-Dawg with his homework. I didn't do it - I just typed it. Because I felt sorry for him. Because he'd been at football practice all afternoon and was tired and cranky and it was coming up on 11 p.m. Perhaps I will admit to making some slight editorial changes as I typed.

* Worked on training my kids to do their chores properly after I noticed TLC had mowed something resembling the face of a cat into our front lawn. I explained to him that front lawns are traditionally mowed in straight lines, with the grass being cut to uniform size throughout. He mumbled something about stifling his creativity and went back out to mow again.

* Got hubby ready for his first ever daddy-daughter campout. I learned that I should have packed more spare clothes for the girls, and he learned that when you take a little girl potty out in nature, it's best to just completely undress her bottom half, including shoes.

A Letter to You From Heaven

Dear little one,

It seems that you are having a problem with perspective. You close each day, with its never ending list of things to do, realizing with disappointment in yourself that you don't think you spent even close to enough time loving your kids...that you made it to work and basketball practice and the grocery store and got the dishes done, but didn't spend one minute sitting on the couch snuggling and reading. And in your perceived inability to have enough of yourself to care for your few little ones, you wonder how I could care for you, amidst the many. Especially when you feel that you must be among the least - least valiant, least trustworthy, perhaps a huge disappointment so far. Your life, like your day, has not gone at all how you meant for it to go.

But that's only because the veil has clouded your eyes and you no longer have an eternal perspective of what "your life" really means. Your few years on the earth are not "your life". They are not even one day in your true life, your eternal life. But they are all you see, and so you weep. Would you like to know what I see?

I see a beautiful daughter of God, dressed in white, moving among the hosts of heaven, trying through the power of love to move the hearts of her rebellious brothers and sisters. You were so intent, even if you could just save one...I noticed you then, and I loved you for it.

I see you, still in your premortal existence, faithfully fulfilling your calling to prepare those who were leaving for their second estate. You always smiled and said, "Remember who you are!" Do you remember? Do you know, can you feel, can you accept who you are?

I see your earth-journey, and yes, I have seen your mistakes and wept with you over them. There are many who begin and end their lives with such weeping, but you are not one of them - your life is not over! Like the tide smooths out the dips and valleys made by careless feet in the sand, my Atonement has washed over your life and filled it all in - the gaping wounds, the dents, the small nicks. Now wash out the sand that remains in your eyes, and follow me, for you are mine. I have loved you from the beginning, and you are one of my masterful creations! Within you lies great compassion and desires to serve. Your spirit remembers, if your mind does not, the purposes you served for me before, and it longs once again to lift up the hands that hang down and strengthen the feeble knees. It is not too late! In fact, it is still very early, and you have a great work to perform, and I entrust that work to you, and I trust you still to do it.

Love your children, love your husband, speak words of kindness in all situations. Love is that great quality that allows you to be like me. Give it in great abundance and you will find the joy and the closeness to me and my spirit that you seek.

I love you. When you think that I am not there, it is only because, like Mary of old, you have mistaken me for something more common, like a gardener. At those times, listen for your name. I know it, like I knew Mary's, and I will speak it, and you will recognize my voice. I don't leave, I don't get distracted. I am always the stronger of the forces at work in your life, and I have protected you from many things that you are not even aware of. There is great rejoicing over you in heaven, for you are loved by many.

I will see you soon. Until then, let your soul be still and let your body be engaged in doing much good, and you will have a place with me in heaven.

Love,
your Elder brother, Jesus