ONE GIRL'S SEARCH

Olivia came to us knowing pretty much nothing about God, faith, church, the Bible.  She had gone to church a few times but nothing had really stuck. She knew we were a Christian family, but she just didn’t know what that meant. So, she began going to church with us. She sort of had to attend Sunday School because Jay and I facilitated an adult class and to get a ride home, Olivia had to stick around. She was receptive to learning the basics. She was curious and asked a lot of questions. The spring of her first year with us, we decided to go to the church one Sunday afternoon around Easter to watch the Passion of Christ.  Oh my gosh!  This might have been a big mistake!  She sat between Jay and me and Jay kept a running whispering dialog in Olivia’s ear to try to explain everything that was happening in the movie. At the horrific part where Jesus is being whipped and his skin is coming off in strips, I saw tears start to trickle down Olivia’s face. I kept asking her if she wanted to leave and she kept shaking her head. All the way home, I worried it had been too much for her but actually, I think it was the first time it really sunk in who Jesus was and what He did for us, for me, and for her.

Olivia continued to learn from us, sermons and Sunday school teachers. I think it gradually seeped in but it stayed in her head – she just started to understand. Our church is great - somewhat formal and very conservative, with prayers from a prayer book. It is a comforting place to be – a beautiful structure, an extremely loving community, communion every service.  During Olivia’s freshman year, a friend invited her to Young Life. I had suggested she attend but it took a friend to make it work.  She loved it – the silliness, the fun-loving believers, the short, to-the-point, teenage-centric messages. The next summer, she went to Windy Gap, the Young Life camp in North Carolina and that is where it happened for her. All that stuff in her head went straight to her heart. She got it! She became close with a college aged leader who continues to be her friend and mentor – even to this day five years later. Olivia chose a college (Furman University in Greenville, SC) based on finding others with whom she could feel comfortable expressing her faith. Bottom line: You never know where it might come from that your child will get a great, holy leading – it may very well not be you – embrace it.

MOM'S FAMOUS BISCUITS - A THANKSGIVING OFFERING

A couple of years ago, I started to notice that our family would regularly request to have “Dad’s famous pancakes/fried chicken/prime rib….”  I thought, “Wait a minute, Dad’s famous??  What about me?  I cooked night after night for all of you and I have nothing that is requested and considered ‘famous.’ Well, that is just not fair.” Dad’s famous pancakes – yes, they are amazing I will admit.  Dad’s famous fried chicken – here again, it is definitely worth writing home about.  I guess I even encouraged this because I was so excited when someone else was doing the cooking. 

Hmmmm……. surely I made something that was famous-worthy.  My biscuits! That was it!  Yes, they are embarrassingly easy to make, but everyone loves them. One time, a friend of John’s from college was spending a holiday with us and got to have “the” biscuits. Justin requested the recipe and now makes them for his family every special occasion. Our boys have actually competed on who could eat the most. Sidebar: remember, house of boys, EVERYTHING is a competition.

They are called Adelaide’s Rolls in the Atlanta Cooknotes cookbook.  I like that name because although they are much more of a biscuit than a roll, I have a beloved Goddaughter named Adelaide. But I want to bequeath this recipe to you and suggest YOU start calling them “Mom’s Famous Biscuits.”  I realized my husband, Jay, was the main promoter of calling the dishes he liked to make his “famous” dishes. So it is up to you, ladies.

YOUR FAMOUS BISCUITS

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2 cups self-rising flour (I use White Lilly)

2 sticks of regular (salted) butter (I use Land ‘o Lakes)

1 small container of sour cream – 8 oz. (full fat)

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.  Grease two mini muffin pans (12 each) – I use Crisco.  Let the butter sit in a bowl on the counter for an hour or all morning with the flour thrown in there.  When butter is softened (melted butter won’t work), mash the two ingredients together with a fork.  Stir in the cold sour cream. Scoop dough into the muffin tins – they should be pretty overflowing and don’t roll or smooth them at all. I think all those peaks make them better.

Bake 20-25 minutes.

They are quite buttery but some like to add jam or honey. Allow a couple per person. Christmas dinner is coming – impress your guests!

Bottom line: “Yay, we’re having Mom’s Famous Biscuits tonight!”

EMPTY NEST? Not so fast.

Olivia, our niece, decided she wanted to leave home where her life was chaotic and tumultuous, when she was only 14. She wanted to move in with Jay and me.  Our youngest son had just graduated from SMU and moved to New York.  Our nest was newly empty and my husband was loving it.  Do your husbands enjoy walking around naked and pausing in front of the mirror to maybe flex a muscle and admire their physiques?  (What I wouldn’t give to even have that urge cross my mind!) My theory is that women look forward to the empty nest because they imagine all the lovely free time they will have to relax, read, or maybe drink coffee and really get “into” their devotionals.  Or possibly they will go on a trip with girlfriends or take up something new, like knitting.  They basically can’t wait to have a time when there won’t be anyone demanding their attention.  On the other hand, men look forward to the empty nest because they will finally get their wives back – all to themselves. So, prepare yourself and try to appreciate that as a wife and mother, you will always be "in demand."

Anyway, when Olivia proposed the idea of filling our nest, Jay had to be convinced. Her Dad, my brother, had to be convinced as well but that is another story.  It wasn’t easy.  A couple of months before all of this, Jay and I had actually prayed that we were ready to do whatever God wanted us to do – we stressed the “whatever” even if it meant moving. But…but….you want us to do what, God?? Take in a teenaged girl?? Are you sure?? God was leading us down this path – I was sure of it.  Jay said, “I am going to take Olivia out for breakfast and talk about it.” I was a little nervous – I had been Olivia’s spokesman.  I was on my knees praying during that entire breakfast. The two returned all smiles.  Jay had been impressed with Olivia’s maturity and desire to change her circumstances. Olivia told me later that it took everything she had not to cry but she was determined. Bottom line: Jay said yes!

So, Olivia moved in just a few weeks later. It was very hard on her Dad.  Her mother was struggling with her own stuff.  Their marriage was about to disintegrate.  Jay and I were trying to wrap our minds around the idea of raising a girl after having a testosterone laden household. It was funny, after raising four sons, everyone was saying, “aww……you finally got your girl.”  I kind of hated hearing that to be honest.  I love Olivia and was happy she was with us but she was 14!  Just starting on those teen years in earnest.  Plus I felt like people were suggesting I needed a daughter to feel complete – not so. I have always loved being the mother of boys and when the fourth one was born (William) I was glad to have another boy.  Bottom line: God knows what He is doing.

QUIET TIME

When you are a Christian and have Christian friends, someone will inevitably say, ”….during my quiet time this morning….” Quiet time?!!  What is that?!!  With four little boys running around, there is simply no such thing as quiet time. I know there are some super human women who get up before the kids and spend time with God, and I admire them, I really do, but I was (and am) not one of them.  If there were no children awake and it was morning, I was still rock solid asleep in my bed.

Yet, I did need to give God some time each day or I would drift away from Him and not feel good about it. Feeling distant from God and sort of just forgetting about Him on a day-to-day basis makes me feel untethered. So I had to find some easy ways to stay on track, even on my busiest days. I found that if I actually got out of bed before reading my devotional, more times than not, I would never get back to it.  Even if I tried to sneak into the kitchen for a cup of coffee to enjoy while reading and praying – life would just happen – I would see the dirty soccer jersey that needed to be ready to go in an hour, my husband would see I was “free” and want to talk or have breakfast, a baby would start to stir.  Better to stay in bed, even for just five minutes (at least it is still warm and cozy) and close your eyes and pray (don’t fall back asleep!), then grab your devo and read.  Who knows, God may see you need more time and make that happen.

My “Go To” that has gotten me through many a hard day is Jesus Calling by Sarah Young.  Her messages are short, to the point and universally things we all need to hear. I have used it for many years, on and off, and it never gets old. I like the one that has the scripture references printed out.  You can get it as an app too – but don’t you look at your phone enough already?  Although that could be good for carpool line. Get the hardback (all different colors!) because it will become a standby for years to come. There is another one I like too that gives me room to journal a little bit – I just use it to praise and thank God and pray for my concerns.  If 15 or 20 minutes seems do-able, try one of Beth Moore's 90 day devotionals - they are beautiful, there is an area to write, great easy, applicable reading, plus you will learn something. My favorite is 90-Day Devotional, David, a Heart Like His.

Bottom line: Don't give up. God can do a whole lot for you in five minutes. He is amazing that way! No guilt allowed.  

Missing Mama

I woke up this morning missing Mama.  I’m sure “Mama” sounds super southern (I am from Atlanta, after all) but I don’t have that strong of an accent.  Anyway, I woke up thinking about how much I continue to miss her.  She HATED doctors, and going to the doctor, so when she started having stomach aches all the time, she did a teeny bit of research and decided (all on her own) that she had diverticulitis – I had never heard of that but she assured my sister, my brother and me that it wasn’t a big deal.  She convinced all of us that she had it figured out and she changed her diet – which really just meant she didn’t eat popcorn anymore.  Our baby, John, was a couple of months old at the time (aka I am in the weeds) so I didn’t think much about it. So, the stomach aches got worse and we forced her to go to the doctor. Tests were done, x-rays were taken. Mama had colon cancer. Strangely, we still weren’t that worried or maybe I was just hiding my head in the sand. Mama needed surgery and surely they could get it all. Here I have this little baby and my mother is sick and my husband is at work – what I really wanted to do was check out of my real life and go sit by my mother every minute of the day. Obviously that wasn’t an option.

This may sound weird but Mama was my best friend. I adored her. She was fun and friendly. She was wise and had great advice. I thought she was beautiful and really cool.  She was totally unconventional too.  In her later years, she decided that these flowy Indian dresses and cowboy boots (remember – living in Atlanta, not Dallas) were just “her” and she dressed like that pretty much every day. I have some of those dresses in my closet – I just can’t bear to give them away. We were known to go to two or three movies in a row where she would talk too loudly – which was a little annoying I have to admit. Anyway, my mother was the definition of “awesome” to me.  Plus, I was in a stage of life where I really needed her counsel and just to be there for me.

After the surgery, the doctor called and told her, over the phone (!), that she had six months to live. We were all devastated. It was a crushing blow.  Mama’s closest friend sent her to Europe for interferon treatments – they made her sicker. My brother went with her and cared for her during that trip. I will always be grateful to him for that. Mama refused to have chemo.  She didn’t want to spend her remaining days throwing up and she didn’t want to lose her hair. (Did I mention she was totally vain? That hair of hers was staying on top of her head!) She went to Emory Hospital for an experimental treatment, an infusaid pump, which was something they insert in your belly surgically and then every two weeks, they insert a huge syringe for chemotherapy.  She only agreed to it because there are no side effects.  This gave her a miraculous extra two years of life.  

Towards the end, I started to feel sick myself. By this time, John was 2 and our second child, Philip, was about 9 months old. Strangely, I felt pregnant. Wait a minute. I had an IUD to keep that from happening. I called my doctor, they said come in at lunchtime and we’ll give you a quick test.  This was before you could go spend $16 at Walgreens. I had John and Philip in their Maclaren double stroller (loved that thing) and as I rolled them past my doctor’s office, I called out, “If I’m pregnant, it is your fault!” I was kidding of course. Jay and I wanted a big family – we had planned to have more kids – just maybe not quite this soon. When the office called with the news, I said, “That can’t be right. We need to do a second test.” The nurse said, “Sure, no problem, but there is no need. You are definitely pregnant.” Jay and I were in shock – but all of that is a different story.

I was really sick during that pregnancy. It was the one and only time in my life I lost weight without trying. Of course, I gained later on but it was tough.  Mama was sick in bed with round the clock nurses by now. I would go for a visit, the boys would be running around, and I would actually climb into bed with Mama. Here is the crazy thing – she would comfort me. She would tell me what a wonderful life she had led and how blessed she was and how God was there waiting to greet her. Those months were probably the hardest of my life.  There came a time when the boys running around were not pleasant for her.  Oh no, how was I going to visit? A therapist gave me some great advice. I complained that I just wanted to be with my mother but I had John and Philip to care for. She said it is not the amount of time that matters but rather the frequency of my visits.  She said just pop in at least once a day for five minutes. Best advice I’ve ever gotten. I saw my mother every day those last few months. After a visit one day, I went to hang out with my brother and sister – they worked in the same office.  I had left Mama’s about 10 minutes before. The nurse called the office and said Mama had slipped away peacefully.  God orchestrated that – for us not to be there but to be together.

Three months later, I had baby #3.  I was sure it would be a girl who we would name Emily, after my mother.  It would be the perfect circle of life. But, as often happens, God had a different plan for the Crouse house. We had our third precious little boy, who we named Edward. He has been a joy and I can’t imagine our lives without him.

I miss my mother every single day. My sister and I have started talking about her which is bitter sweet. My brother can’t really “go there.” But here is the reason I started thinking about all of this today. I learned in a Bible Study one time this story about sheep. I guess this was in Biblical times. When a lamb keeps wandering off from the herd, sometimes a shepherd will actually break one of its legs.  He will then carry the lamb around his neck until the little leg heals.  By that time, the lamb is comforted while it is healing and comes to know the shepherd’s voice so clearly that they never wander again. I think God does that with us. Maybe not on purpose but sometimes our life becomes broken in one way or another so we need God so desperately that we stay close to Him and listen for and to His voice until we clearly know it. And hopefully we won’t stray again.

I guess the bottom line is that really tough things happen and God is always there to lift us up, wrap us around His shoulders and comfort us until we have healed.