Sweet and Tangy Chicken is on the menu tonight!

We are in days that feel so foreign to our very nature right now. I'm a home body but being told to stay home is very different than choosing it.
No more going about our business and not thinking about who we come in contact with and where we go?
Anyway, I decided to post this recipe, quick and easy as it is. If you love "no mess clean up" this is for you. Notice there is not even a single pot needed!  Got to love that!

Sweet and Tangy Chicken
(I've seen many versions of this recipe but I have adapted mine over the years to include the grill)
You need a couple quart or a single gallon ziploc bag. My measurements are not exact.. I just shake them into the bag. 

Ingredients- 
2-4 Chicken boneless skinless breasts or tenderloin strips.
1 tbls dijon mustard (you can use dry mustard) 
1/3 cup olive oil
2 tbls Pineapple simple syrup**  (I make this at home because we like it in tea, etc.) recipe is below.
1/4 cup light brown sugar
approx 1-2 tbls white balsamic vinegar (you can sub lemon juice but then you have Tangy lemon chicken) 
1tsp lite salt, pepper to taste
I pour the olive oil, vinegar, mustard, simple syrup directly in the bag. Mash to mix. Add other ingredients and mash again. Drop your chicken pieces in and place in refrigerator to marinade all day. Throw it on the grill and Voila! 
(You can bake in the oven, be aware w/the brown sugar it can caramelize and burn quickly).. watch it well. 

Large sweet onion chunks, optional. (I mix a separate small bag of the mixture and place onion pieces in it, to prevent cross-contamination w/chicken.) We like the grilled onions skewered to accompany our dinner. 

Pineapple Simple Syrup -
This is good in/on lots of things. Good in drinks, (even hot tea), in breads and muffins. You can cook it down in small batches even more to make a fresh syrup for pancakes and waffles.  In meats it aids in breaking down muscle fiber and makes meat tender.

1 fresh pineapple, cut in chunks
4 cups water, heat on the stove at medium
1 1/4 cup sugar

Heat water and sugar on stove until sugar is dissolved. Add pineapple chunks and allow to simmer about 10 minutes. Remove from heat and cool. Blend on puree in blender.
I use lidded bottles for easy pouring but you can use quart mason jars. Store syrup in refrigerator.

Contentment is a choice.

Time marches on doesn't it? We are pretty much hanging out at home these days while we pray this "COVID19" outbreak levels off to manageable numbers and reduces the death toll. Serious stuff and strange times we live in. We moved into our home in 2005, mama was not yet suffering from dementia and still driving. She visited me regularly. As one particular visit ended and I walked her out as I usually did, she said, "oh, I brought you something."

From her trunk she pulled out a stick wrapped in a damp paper towel and foil. It was close to 10" long, w/a nice green ctr and a stem about 5" long on it. "It's a flowering Plum tree from mine. It needs well-draining soil and 5-6 hours sun each day. I suppose right beside the driveway would be a good spot" as she turned to look and make sure it would receive enough sunlight.

I planted it right where she said. You were right mama. It has thrived there. (now offering off-shoots 6' or taller.)

Every time I pull into the driveway I see the Flowering Plum tree and am reminded of my mother.

My mama was the kind of woman you would sometime find poking around on the side of the road, if something caught her eye. She dug up double blooming day lilies (tagging them with string while blooming and coming back when blooming was done) She once brought me an almost 3-4' tall Hemlock tree she found growing on the side of the road, on the way back from Tennessee. I honestly don't know how she spotted it on the side of the road but she had a keen eye for things she loved. Her sister and brother-in-law were with her. My Uncle Hub helped her dig it up, she said while her sister kept saying, "I can't believe you are digging up a tree on the side of the road, Mary?!"

[Eventually it would have looked like this one]

She carried a small shovel, brown paper groceries bags and a plastic bag or two in her trunk all the time. Just in case she came across something amazing. "It's a Hemlock, Lora!" Quite surprised my Aunt Lora did not feel the same value in the little tree.

I imagine them riding down the road w/the Hemlock in the back seat floor board (no way it fit in the trunk, that little tree was as wide as it was tall at the base) It was close to 4' tall at the time. It must have been resting on the seat to hang in the back window.. Aunt Lora or Uncle Hub sitting beside it. I'm guessing he offered to sit in the back, always the consummate gentleman. I planted that little tree AND my husband moved it to the river house when we were building there. He place it safely in the edge of the woods next to the front yard. The plan was to move it again when the house and yard were finished. It was not to be. An Alabama Power truck ran over it while putting in our power poles. I cried like a baby over that little tree, now nearly 8 ft tall. He apologized and promised AP would pay for it but what he didn't understand was it wasn't just a tree.

That little tree represented a part of who my mother was, a love for something that she and I shared. It made me smile when I watered it thinking of my Uncle Hub digging while they all talked over that little tree on the side of the road. It was alive, like they were then, all three of them. Only a few years later my Aunt Lora would be gone.
Today, we live without all three of those wonderful relatives and I miss them. God's promises say we will see them again and I look forward to that day. Until then, I have this beautiful Flowering Plum beside the driveway beckoning spring. I can hear my mother telling me those shoots have got to be moved next winter. Yes, I know they do mama, I'll get it done.
Maybe one of my children or one of the nieces or nephew will want one to plant in their yard. It will remind them of mama as well. I snapped this picture on a recent overcast day. We've had many gray days lately with much rain. But the rain makes my trees grow, it feeds the yellow bell from Grandaddy's home place, my mothers first home, the Irises that will soon be bursting with blooms as well as the grass which will be lush and green. It's all in how
you choose to look at it.

You see we can't control how COVID19 or any other disease will affect us or what's to happen in the coming days, not really. While being obedient to the call to stay home and practice social distancing, I can control what my thoughts dwell on. I turn off the news because I have no control over it or the situation beyond my own choices. I can pray for the situation earnestly.

I can look forward to a beautiful spring because the living things will continue to grow, I hear the ducks and geese on the lake. The dogwood have begun to bloom.

I can find Joy in everyday things~ the rain and peaceful days at home. I have some things to move and plant in my yard when the days are sunny again. I'm waiting for a sunny day to get my hands in the dirt again. There's to be a new baby in the family this year, I'm very excited about that.

I bought a little hand made set of wind chimes from the maker to hang outside, I'm looking for the right tree limb where there's nice breezes to bring them to life. I have cushions to sew and clients who will be ready to get out when the covid danger is passed and shop my jewelry again.

I hope and pray these days at home teach us all how to be content in our surroundings, how to listen to our loved ones again- really listen, look into each others eyes and laugh out loud at the things we share. Maybe even slow us down a bit.
Yes, joy and contentment are definitely a choice.

Ever find yourself in a place of discontentment? (part 1)

There are a large group of we boomers walking around who hear the words "shields up" and do not think of Star Wars. Crazy, I know.

"Highly Illogical Captain" My childhood only afforded small amounts of news coverage on the Gemini and Apollo space missions in a time long before social media and 24/7 coverage. Television programs provided a futuristic look at space exploration and it came to us in the form Star Trek, where mama would walk through the living room while we were encamped and mutter something like "turn that trash off."
But mama Captain Kirk is at the helm, Dr Spock is on the bridge and they've got this. "Shields up gentlemen" just before they were to be annihilated. Shields were awesome and when the current threat was over, shields were brought down. It was just about the coolest thing I ever saw and made me proud my daddy was in the aeronautics field. (Even though he never made mention of deflector shields) I'm sure it just slipped his mind. 

About mid-April 2019 I began having a very restless spirit. I felt anxious and unsettled. I could not explain it much less share it with anyone. Nothing unusual had happened that I could recall. I decided to pray over this anxiety, thinking at first it was surely my own creation. I can sometime be an over thinker, as was my mother.  Slowly but surely it became apparent to me, deep in my core that something indeed was afoot, not right, needs my attention. But what? I'm supposed to recognize this but I have no idea what it is, where it came from or why I'm concerned with "it." 
I can only describe it as a nagging feeling that would not go away.  As I continued each day thinking and praying. (still having not shared with anyone) I believe the first scripture passage allotted to me was a favorite from Isaiah. 
Isaiah 41:10: Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. 


Another, For he will hide me in his shelter in the day of trouble; he will conceal me under the cover of his tent; he will lift me high upon a rock. Psalms 27:5 

But the Lord is faithful. He will establish you and guard you against the evil one.
       2 Thessalonians 3:3

I began praying daily over these passages.  I now knew this was not my overactive thinking.  As a mother and grandmother who always prays over her children. My prayers were more frequent but soon I knew. It was not to be my children but our house. This time was different. Now Lord, I understand.

You see I believe in the one true Living Water. Eloheim, Yahweh, Abba Father. I believe God sent his son for my salvation, to bear the burdens of my sin. The sin of the world. I accepted this call at 10 yrs of age and I remember the words I spoke in acceptance of this gift, I remember the white knuckles on the pew I could no longer stand in, I remember racing down the aisle to share my new found faith. I remember the comfort that followed knowing now I belonged to the Lamb. I am one of His sheep.

As it continued, I would often wake at night filled with prayers and scripture of how to "expect" protection. "  While certainly comforted, I was also terrified.
He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart." Psalms 91:4   
What in all of heaven and earth is about to happen? Then one day as I completed my daily quiet and devotion time, it ended with "I trust you Jesus." It was everywhere Ilooked and in every thought. I would wake at night with a scripture passage I had not previously thought much on. 
Jeremiah 30:17 -- For I will restore health to you, and your wounds I will heal, declares the Lord, because they have called you an outcast: "it is Zion for whom no one cares"

Since November 2017 I had not been at my spiritual best. While in that deep pit we find ourselves in sometime where we can find no reason for the things that have happened and the losses we've suffered. We cry out to God for some semblance of understanding, please Lord... yet nothing. It's a terrible place to dwell. Yet, I trust you Jesus. I must. I was broken beyond repair but God. He met me where I was and when I didn't even know what to pray, The Holy Spirit interceded for me. Over the next eleven months I came to a place of complete peace and rest. 
Yes, God was preparing me for something. I instinctively knew Abba Father was calling me to accept instead of reject these thoughts. I also knew it would be hard. Really hard but there will only be one way and that's through it. God will be close to me and cover me with his shield of protection. 
"For my thoughts are not your thoughts. Neither are your ways my ways, saith Jehovah. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts." Isaiah 55:8-9  

A few years ago we were camping and one of the grands spent the night. Pop headed off to work after breakfast. The boy and I decided to hike up the trails which were quite rough for a little boy of 6 but he was completely committed to the venture. We filled our pockets with snacks, a bottle of water in my pocket and off we went. We climbed rocks and steep trails and every step I walked before him, watching along the trail for creatures great and small, protecting my little buddy. Before we sat on rocks to rest and snack at the peak of the mountain, I checked for creepy crawleys that may bite or harm my little friend. When limbs popped in front of us, I instinctively threw up my hand to protect him. "Your arm is scratched and bleeding Honey" he said. "It's okay buddy, I'm fine."
Carefully I freed him from briars and lifted him when he reached a place he could not naturally scale. We reached the Summit of the mountain together, hand in hand. 
This is what God does for us. Every step He is ahead of us, clearing the way and when we must go through difficult paths, He is beside us. Loving us through all of it. He did not create the difficult path but He will use it. He will use it to teach us to trust Him supremely and to glorify His kingdom.  

                                                   

June 18th, 2019, Happy Fathers Day. 

Fathers day morning as I'm drinking my coffee my husband finally shared he had been having chest pains for a week and they woke him this morning at 4:30am.
Dear heaven! I'm dressing to go to the hospital and my husband, smelling the food I've prepared for Fathers Day dinner w/family begs me "Please wait. I promise I'll go if I have another pain, even one." He continued, If I go now they will test me for the next two days and I'll get nothing to eat." Against my better judgement, we waited and watched him like a hawk, had the paramedics on speed dial. By five or so in the evening, he was hurting again and off we went to the emergency room.
Life then hit hyper-speed. Through the hospital stay, the heart cath that revealed significant Coronary Artery Disease, (looks like open heart surgery is planned for Wednesday) then two small strokes followed on Tuesday, the uncertainty of his condition, the weakened spot on one side of his heart from damage...  "If he is to have stents Mrs Crossley, it will take two or three sessions with eight to nine stents. It is extensive work for significant damage" ...
yet,  I was calm.
A couple nights into the hospital stay, his night nurse was the absolute best and told me to go home and sleep in a bed. He would care for Don expertly all night. I was exhausted and reluctantly went home. There was a severe storm that night, which damaged my car but... I was calm. I swept the glass out of my seat and floor come morning, called insurance company and went back to the hospital. God was indeed providing as he promised, protection.
 
We were faced with determining what to do, stents or open heart surgery. After much prayer over a surgeon and team, we met them one by one. Donald was pleased and trusted we had chosen wisely. Now we only had to wait more than a month to allow his brain to heal from the strokes. 
It was at this point I shared my restlessness and what had been happening in the weeks before. What God had done on our behalf. Now Donald became calm and peaceful too. 

When we met our cardiac surgeon, he commented he thought it was sad that his stroke patient had a grip like a sailor and hurt his hand. I believe Don was amused. Right before he walked out, Don yelled out "we are going on vacation in a couple weeks, that okay?"
[I had hoped Don had forgotten and I could take him home and watch him for the next 6 or so weeks to make sure he was okay until surgery. But he would have none of it.] I spent several days figuring our route to the beach trying to stay within a couple hours of a clinic or hospital all the way to the beach.
We went with some of our babies and Don had a ball, me not so much. I was happy when we got home.
He could not work during this time and we all need to pay our bills and eat but I was totally at peace. God continued to provide. It was summer. The farm had to be bush-hogged, the grass cut, horses fed daily. While Don could only rest, friends & family took over the physical things I could not do while I cared for him. Our church family loved on us and prayed over us daily. Friends had their friends all over the world praying for us. One friend shared there were even prayers in Jerusalem for Don. God surely showed up and showed out through His people.
You are in a deep valley and then... you aren't. He offers up that life giving water. 

Shields up.  (to be continued...) 

Thursday Thoughts with Buttons, Tiny hoomans are loud.

I like it here. I live with my two big hoomans and they are nice for the most part. They do not sit enough for me though.
I carry my bed out of my wire house and keep dropping it at their feet to show my displeasure but they never seem to understand. The girl just takes it back and puts it in my wire house again. The old gray one doesn't pick it up, I think his legs do not work well. It's quiet most of the time here and I like it when we sit in the warm screen place and I smell all the stuff and look at the wet. I chew on my ball and get belly rubs from my person. They talk about all the wet and I think they like it here too.

My hoomans still watch all those dumb flyers. I will never understand hoomans. You can't even pet a flyer! My person still likes them and I do NOT get it. She watches them eat rock things from little houses on a stick, high in the air. It amuses her for some reason. My person calls them seeds and nuts. Oh no! Could my person being feeding those stupid flyers to keep them coming here? Surely not.
They taunt me with their fluttering around like they know everything. There are even HOOGE flyers, they sit on the wet part out from the trees. They are fat and slow and keep getting away from me but I keep chasing them back in the wet. One day I will catch those weird, wet sitting flyers. Did I tell you I hate flyers?

My hooman likes me to sit in her lap. I like to walk with her, then stretch out and relax on the couch. About the time I am getting soft rubs and belly scratches, here come those tiny hoomans. They seem to like it here too and they come all the time.
I like it when they first get here, they jump and talk loud, bounce up and down and they bring toys too. I hide their fuzzy toys where they can find them later. We play a game where I run and lick them, I jump on their legs but they do not seem to understand the game. I don't think they have been shown how to play properly. The little one crawls inside my wire house and I do not like this at all. I pitch a fit but no one seems to care, that's my house. He has sweet eyes though and touches me easy. He tires quickly of my house and goes to bother the larger ones.
There's a little larger, tiny hooman, he is older I think but his legs still work. He sits and rubs my back while they watch the big box on the wall. He is very calm and he never hurts my ears. He also walks me outside and take me to see the stupid flyers. He does not steal my ball either and he makes sure I have water. There is a fancy tiny hooman who is very different than the others. Sometimes cat noises come out of her but she looks strange for a cat?! She takes my ball, alot. I do not quite trust her, she is sneaky but most of the time she is sweet. She throws my ball again and again, for me to chase. Sometimes she hides it too, I do not like that.
There is another bigger, tiny hooman and sometime he joins the three loud ones. He smells very much like cat and he does not bother me at all. I like him like the other bigger one.
The big hoomans and the little ones eat kibble all together and I like to sit under the little cats chair and wait for things to fall. The little cat drops things for me to eat. Okay, I forgot about that, I like her again- I guess.
I do not understand the attraction my hoomans have to these small ones. I snuggle them all the time and leave things out for them to play. I leave my ball right by my hoomans sleeping place every night but instead of being happy in the morning, she stumbles all over it. It's a ball, hooman? What's wrong with you? She says words I do not understand but she sounds mad and I go under the sleeping place until she seems happier. Those tiny hoomans do not leave balls for my hooman, surely she must know I am better to have around.

[This is me. Watching tiny hoomans watch the big box. They seem to like it.]

I had a scardy-time not long ago. The old gray one was gone for a long time and my person came in when all the light was gone and left as soon as the light was back, sometimes she didn't come home at all. I stayed with another hooman friend at her place. She was nice and took very good care of me while my hoomans were gone. Soon my slow hooman came home with my person and he was even slower. I smelled all kinds of new smells on him and some scared me but I snuggled at his side for days and days. He needed my help and I followed him everywhere. He is now smiling again and leaving when it gets light again. I think he will be okay. He smells right again. He is back to playing with the tiny hoomans and watching those flyers too. They are weird but I think I will stay, they need me.

I thought I would be much smarter by now.

Recently, we had a lovely evening with some of our grandchildren.

I made their favorites for dinner, they played in the bathtub, they watched a couple cartoons while I cleaned up the kitchen, I read books, then Pop read books. I know these days are fleeting and it makes me a little sad. As we read The Wonkey Donkey and Peter Pan each for the 900th time, I know there will come a day soon when little hands will no longer want or need me to read to them. It is not this day however and we read The Wonkey Donkey one more time.

One of our sweet boys had a birthday coming up and I made his choice of cake. Once everyone was tucked into bed, I went to work on little figurine decorations for the top of the cake and worked until well after midnight. I quietly slid into bed being careful not to wake my husband. I could hear one of the children fighting mighty battles in his sleep. I'm pretty sure he was either Thor or Batman.

Just about the time I drift off, another tiny human calls out to me. He is quite sleepy and needs "snuggles." I'm guessing Thor woke him up defending against the Ice Giants. Yes, it is now 2:30 a.m. it's the wee hours but these days are numbered and I happily oblige.
This tiny human is the best kind of snuggler, he has it down to a science. He caresses your face with his little hand as if he's the grown up and you're the child. He gets as close as possible and just before drifting off his baby arm goes around your neck. Finally, we are all asleep.
Soon I hear a freight train coming through our bedroom.

I can remember my mother talking about the sheer magnitude of my daddy's snoring. She described it as "shaking the entire house" and I always felt she was exaggerating. Nope, she was right. It feels like the neighbors can probably hear it. I remember being about eleven years old when we had severe thunderstorms with possible tornadoes coming through our area. Mama always held vigil over the radio to be sure we were safe on stormy nights. Before we went to bed she had us put a pair of shoes beside our bed, just in case we had to rush out. Late that night she woke us all to go to the basement. Our basement wasn't finished but rather a large dug out spot beneath the house where the coal stoker furnace was and we had to go outside to access it. One of the boys would lift the huge cellar-like door and mama held the umbrella over us as we made the mad dash in the rain. Before we headed down there, mama would wake daddy and tell him we need to go to the basement. He agreed fully, would ask if she had all of the children up and promptly fall back to sleep. We sat in the basement in chairs listening to the howling wind and rain pelting the house, thunder and large strikes of lightning raging outside. There were limbs flying from the trees and daddy... upstairs snoring like a freight train. At this point mama was mumbling under her breath and rolling her eyes. Of course, she was concerned for his safety but Oh my word, the snoring?! My oldest brother slipped around the side of the furnace (closer to their bedroom) and pounded the end of the shovel handle up against the floor, hard enough to stir daddy. In a few minutes he joined us. Little did I know, those were treasured times together.

So, by 4:45 that morning I decided to just get up. But that's okay, I have coffee!

Again, I slip out quietly, as not to wake the tiny one and the "snorer" even though a part of me wants to punch the man right in the face.

Slipping into the kitchen I'm in stealth mode, I push the button on the coffee and begin gathering my needed equipment very quietly.. I notice something doesn't sound right, there is a sizzling sound. I glance over to find coffee all over the counter and I managed to grab something to catch it just before it pours onto the floor. I am staring at the coffee maker trying to figure out what's going on. It's not even 5 a.m. and I need this coffee.

I am wiping up the coffee off the counter and realize it's still running out.?? Maybe the little thingy that makes it run into the pot may be askew. Well, this faulty coffee maker isn't going to outsmart me- I grab a large cup to catch as much as possible before it all runs on the floor. It is only then I realize there is a chip out of the coffee pot and it's about done w/the cycle. This is critical.

As any coffee devotee would do, I tilt the pot away from the tiny hole. I prop it on some dishes stacked in the sink being careful not to lose my tiny bit of coffee. Then it hits me... glass? Darn it. What do I do now?

I actually thought of my brother who would just about trade his children for a good cup of coffee and said to myself "what would Steve do?" So, I grab a fine tea strainer and run the liquid magic thru it careful to avoid the tiny hole in the pot. Then into another cup through a clean cloth, last I run it through a paper towel.

Pleased with myself I stand gazing on my coffee, it's not even daylight yet. Did I sufficiently strain the possible glass out of my little cup of joe? I decide Steve would approve.
I sat down on the couch waiting for daylight with my journal and my tiny cup of coffee, quite proud of myself actually. I managed to save a small cup, I didn't have to get dressed to go get coffee and I woke no one. It's a win.

My only worry is possible internal bleeding from the glass that may or may not be in my cup. I prayed over that cup. As I finish the last drop and the sun begins to rise, I realize I have a small coffee maker in the camper, in the driveway.

I thought I would be smarter by now.