The Glory of March - Sap!

Grandsons, acres of maple trees . . . and plastic tubing!

We spent the Ides of March off Layton because the sap is running, and we wanted to follow the flow! Evidently, the sap runs when the nights are cold, and the days are warm. No reason to beware of this Ides as the maple trees are feeling the warmth, and so are we.

I took my grandsons to a maple sugar farm. The experience was much less harrowing than the snow shoe escapade at the state park. In fact, today's adventure involved food . . . a perk that always makes a grandma-adventure fun.

We trekked to Burke's Maple Farm on Crystal Lake Road in Carbondale for their open house weekend. Mr. Burke and his mother walked us through the maple syrup-making process.

I envisioned a maple sugar farm with little wooden spigots drilled in the sides of  maples and a bucket dangling below each spigot. But we had stepped out of that Norman Rockwell painting and into the twenty-first century. This farm boasted all the equipment of a state-of-the-art maple sugaring powerhouse. In fact, the farm looked almost like a scene from a sci-fi thriller!

Thousands of maples, for football field spaces in every direction, linked to each other with miles and miles of plastic tubing . . . plastic tubing up the mountainside, plastic tubing down the hill, plastic tubing across the meadows, plastic tubing weaving serpentine through the forest as far as the eye could see, forming a maze of interconnected, living, breathing, sugar-producing trees.

I wondered if the deer stumble through this plastic labyrinth, entwining their antlers in plastic tubing, or if the black bears pull the tubing apart and sit beneath maples, sucking the sweet nectar until they lapse into a sugar coma.

But it is vacuum cylinders that suction the sap through the tubing, and the sap runs, throbbing and shushing across the woodlands, like the circulatory system of a giant towards the heart of the farm, the boiler. The tubing rises above our heads, over the driveway, and dumps into the gleaming, stainless steel collector . . . the life blood of nature, bringing healthy sweetness to greenhorns like me.

Amazing.

A full time contractor, Mr. Burke runs the maple sugaring operation as a hobby . . . granted, an expansive one that must involve spending a lot of time with plastic tubing and Mrs. Burke's homemade maple muffins, maple cookies, and maple candy. She appears to be a chef extraordinaire with all things maple.

There were samples, of course, so the boys headed for the muffins and cookies. The maple glazed walnuts scored with all of us. We bought two packages, finishing most of them off on the ride home. Of course, we bought a king's ransom of syrup for pancakes, too. The plan is to make the walnuts this week with our fresh syrup so the glory of March will last a bit longer.

We already have a grandma adventure planned for the Ides of March in 2015. It will have something to do with plastic tubing and maple glazed walnuts.

Visit Burke's Maple Farm on line: http://www.burkesmaplefarm.com/index.html

Maple Glazed Walnuts

Yield: 

2 cups of glazed nuts

Ingredients: 

2 cups walnut halves and pieces
1 tablespoon butter
pinch of salt
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/3 cup pure maple syrup

Instructions: 

1. Measure ingredients (or have nearby) before starting so they are ready when needed.

2. In a heavy or non-stick skillet (I used stainless steel) over medium-high heat, melt butter. When butter is melted, quickly stir in the salt and cinnamon. Stir in maple syrup and then stir in the nuts.

3. Contiinue stirring over medium-high heat as the nuts are getting hot and the syrup is bubbly. Stir constantly as the syrup bubbles and then begins to thicken around the walnuts.

4. The nuts are done when the syrup is a thick glaze on the nuts. Remove pan from heat and lay nuts on a plate (not plastic) to cool.

Book Review: A Map for the Middle by Matthew Sink

What if I flunk the test at school tomorrow? What if people don't like me? What if I get sick? What if my parents get a divorce? What if our house catches on fire? And the list of "what ifs" dances about in a young teen's head and whispers failure and fear.

The middle school years for these young teens are a mine field of disaster. The quicksand of popularity to the left, the rapids of sexual awakening to the right, the forest of insecurity all around, and the bustling metropolis of electronic media rearing its head at every turn. Middle school is not for the faint of heart. I know. I was a middle school teacher for thirty-one years.

Middle school students, or early teens from about 12 to 14 years of age, need guidance. This small book (101 pages), A Map for the Middle, written to and for this age group, will provide insight and information these kids "in the middle" need to navigate their way through the treacherous landscape of the middle school.

The book is easy to read. Its presentation is simple and clear, and there are plenty of illustrations from the life and experience of the author, Matthew Sink, a minister at Pinedale Christian Church in Winston-Salem, North Carolina, and a former teacher in North Carolina public schools..

Without the help, guidance, love, and support of adults around them, middle schoolers can be swallowed in the turmoil of these years. This book will provide an excellent resource for caring, involved adults to use in mapping their young teens to safety and right choices.

Some teens will enjoy reading and doing the devotion at the end of each chapter on their own, but the book's maximum effectiveness might be in discussing each chapter with a significant adult in the teen's life: a parent, grandparent, youth group leader, or mentor. Discussing this book with other teens and an adult will provide an accountability group that could be vital in keeping them on the right track.

Each chapter addresses a challenge faced by early teens: popularity, insecurity, sex, worry and stress, decision making, managing media, and finding a life of meaning. The devotion at the end of each chapter consists of a Bible reading related to the topic of the chapter and a thought-provoking question to help the teen apply the biblical truth to his or her life.

Simple and clear directives give young teens a plan for dealing with the conflicts and crises of their middle school lives. For example, in the chapter on insecurity this is some of the advice the teen is offered:
1. "People judge us by how we present ourselves to and treat them . . . People are hungry for kindness . . . As long as you are kind and warm, they'll respond favorably to you!" (page 26)
2. "Don't allow others to define your worth." (page 26)
3. "Every kid in school is as insecure as you are." (page 27)

I love the kind of encouragement that Pastor Sink gives teens throughout the book. Try this advice on any teen . . .
 "God made you in His image, and He loves you right now. Knowing this changes everything. Think about it - because of God's love:

• "You don't need to try so hard to impress people."
• "You can stop worrying about whether or not you're worthy of admiration."
• "You can take a breath and say, 'I was made in the image of God, and He has plans for me; I matter!'"
• "You can freely be you." (pages 28-29)

A Map for the Middle walks the middle school student through the difficult adolescent years and provides him or her with guidance, compassion, and direction. I would recommend this book to young teens and the adults who mentor them.

For further information on this book, go to http://ambassador-international.com/books/map-middle/.

*I received this book free from the publisher,Ambassadors International, in order to write this review.

How to S.T.O.P. (Or Sitting in the Rain and Loving It)

After a snowstorm earlier this month, rain assaulted this house on Layton.

Rain in January. An icy, damp, chilling, and generally depressing bit of weather.

In mid-afternoon the kitchen lights blazed in premature twilight. The kettle hissed on the stove, and I refilled my cup with another variety of Tazo. A week's worth of mail lay helter-skelter across the kitchen table. Bills, advertisements, late Christmas cards, early birthday cards, catalogs, a few large manila envelopes, even a package. The pile that awaits a vacationer upon her return.

Rain pelted the kitchen window. The wind hurled the snow shovels across the porch, and they clattered about.

I sorted the heap of mail carelessly, tossing fliers and ads on the floor, and randomly choosing to open any envelope that caught my eye.

Here was a Christmas photo of my sister's family. Her annual holiday letter, always creative and lengthy, recounted the achievements of my niece and nephews through the past year. They had launched successfully from high school to college. I relished the list of accomplishments. News worth tweeting about.

I recognized Joan's broad, flourishing strokes on a card. We rarely see each other, but year after year, she never forgets to send a birthday wish.

I opened several more birthday cards, a few with small gifts tucked inside, from friends, separated by distance or long absence, and some from friends near, faithful remember-ers.

A yellow envelope, stuck with customs forms and the profile of Queen Elizabeth, could only be from cousin Ann in Wales. Her annual holiday gift from the Celtic kingdom by the sea. One year she sent a Welsh cook book. Another year a book of Welsh sayings. This year's souvenir - a CD of two Welsh tenors singing carols in their guttural, native language. It reminded me of my personal favorite among Welsh tenors - my grandfather.

I wanted to save the brown-papered box as the last piece of mail, but it wouldn't wait. Eddie's careful cursive and the San Francisco postmark called me. My translator during a visit to China fourteen years earlier, Eddie maintained our friendship. He left China during the ensuing years, and he lives now as an American. The package captured the flavor of  Frisco: a bag of Ghirardelli chocolates and a small ceramic horse, a reminder from Chinatown of the Year of the Horse.

A "Year of the Horse" reminder from Eddie.

I STOPPED and stuffed a few of the Ghirardelli in my mouth, sipped a bit more Tazo, and savored every minute of this gray-day-turned-sunshiny at my disheveled table.

In a recent Bible study, teacher Beth Moore encouraged me to S.T.O.P. everyday and Savor The Observable Presence of God.

This afternoon I knew God sat with me at that messy table in my rain-pelted house. His presence sang from each piece of mail. Love in one. Grace in another. Blessing in a third. The United States Postal Service deals in heavenly business!

God doesn't forget birth-days or ordinary days. He delights in showering us with blessing anytime. I sat indoors, drenched in those rain showers. It was warm and sweet.

A final card, not meant for a birthday but heaped with blessing, simply left me breathless. Nestled inside was a gift that would pay for an entire year of  "The Voice of Hope," our blog talk radio show into China.

That winter afternoon there was no outside world, no clattering on the porch, no concern about the mess on the table, just a kitchen aglow with His observable presence. HE filled the room. And I . . . I savored the beauty of basking in His love and attention and sitting in the rain.

STOP and Savor The Observable Presence of God in your life today.

The Voice of Hope: Christmas in China 01/03 by Voice of Hope | Family Podcasts

The Voice of Hope: Christmas in China 01/03 by Voice of Hope | Family Podcasts

Christmas Greetings to YOU!

Immanuel, God with Us-Wherever We Go

The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel (which means “God with us”).  

Matthew 1:23 NIV

One Christmas, I awoke alone in a foreign culture to a gray morning and a cold apartment, devoid of gifts, festivities, and companions. Loneliness and isolation reigned.

I pictured my family celebrating Christmas on the opposite side of the globe: the breakfast buffet, gift wrap strewn about, pajama-clad relatives. I tried to shake thoughts of family and prepared for my 8 a.m. class.

Teaching English in China had required a riveted focus on the One who called me to serve there. Challenges with language, food, and culture, although often frustrating, became exciting because God revealed Himself through His work and His presence. As I taught my classes and lived among the Chinese as the only American in my corner of a city of five million, I relished the comfort and joy of Jesus’ sweet whisper to me daily, “I am with you wherever you go . . . I will never leave you nor forsake you.”

God’s desire for us to know His presence is evidenced everywhere in scripture. On the first page of the New Testament His desire became flesh. The baby Jesus, Immanuel, is born. His life from the manger to adulthood emphasized His driving passion: to be in relationship with people, to be with us.

And then Jesus did the unthinkable. He offered His body as blood sacrifice to tear down the barrier of sin that kept us from experiencing Immanuel. Jesus’ passion for us did not stop there. Upon His return to heaven, He sent the Holy Spirit to dwell in us. No closer communion of spirits is possible than God in us so that God can be with us.

As I walked to my classes that Christmas morning in China, my focus slipped from Jesus and His presence. I wallowed in self-pity, and I prayed, “Lord, help me to know you are with me today. I miss my family. I feel alone.”

I pushed the classroom door open. An unusual silence enveloped the room. Sixty students sat motionless with their eyes riveted on my face.

Then I saw it. In the corner of the classroom stood a Christmas tree, draped with lights and decorations! I gasped, and the pent-up emotion of the day was unleashed. The children had handmade each ornament in preparation for a holiday they did not understand and had never celebrated. I blubbered away in the beauty and love of the moment. Again in that Chinese classroom I heard His sweet whisper, “Dear child, I am Immanuel. I am with you.”

Are you lonely this holiday season?

Listen. Immanuel is whispering, “You are not alone. I am with you wherever you go.”

Excuse My Absence. I've Been Buried in a Book.

I lost November.

I've been buried . . . in a book.

The month of November slipped into oblivion, and Thanksgiving appeared rather suddenly, turkey, apple pie, and all. I've tried to write two blogs a month, but I guess I knew somewhere in my subconscious when I started my blog that there might be a time when I wouldn't make the goal. Voila! Here it is.

But I had good reason to lose the month and my faithfulness in blogging. I had a job!

"Retired?" you say.

 "Nay, changing focus," I reply.

God, who with His usual grace and mercy placed me in the teaching profession for over thirty years, just keeps loving on me. And He tossed another career, albeit part-time and free lance, into my corner of Layton. Who would think it? Certainly not I, but here I am . . . editing books.

In the first week of the month I downloaded Covenant Teamwork by Dr. Guy Henry, and I've spent the remainder of the month wading through periods, commas, quotation marks, parentheses, subordinate clauses, compound sentences, semicolons, and exclamation points. The publishing company offered me the book with a three week deadline. I've been consumed.

Its intensity became obvious this past week when I attended a church meeting for small group leaders, and as the young pastor scrolled his power point across the screen, my only concerns were the words he failed to capitalize and the end marks he forgot to use. Oh dear! Great grace was lost to grueling grammar, and a young pastor's excellent words of encouragement were sucked up in minutiae.

"Get a grip!" I reminded myself. "Cook a turkey or something."

Dr. Henry's book has a riveting thesis. I read it four times. I think it's the kind of thing I could read every year for the rest of my life. Dr. Henry explains the principle of covenant, the unbreakable bond that God has formed with those who accept and believe in Him. Because of Christ's sacrifice, He has formed a blood covenant with us which He will never break.

Dr. Henry explains covenant in the introduction of his book like this, "Covenant is the term God uses for commitment and everlasting relationships. With covenant there is no turning back. No matter what happens, I am with you to the end. No matter the cost, we are in this together. It is this type of commitment that is the missing piece in teamwork."

That covenant relationship between God and forgiven man is the same type of relationship that Dr. Henry says we should have with any person with whom we are in relationship: spouses, children, other believers, fellow team members. Can you imagine how our relationships would be changed if we took the covenant approach? "I will protect and defend you. I will love you with a selfless love. I will consider you as more important than myself." Is it any wonder I need to read this book every year?

Geese encourage each other to keep going. "Have you ever heard a flock of geese? As high as they fly, we can still hear the 'honk, honk, honk' as their "V" formation passes overhead. What we consider honking is actually the cheerleading squad at work. It seems they honk to encourage the one in front of them to keep going and not slow down." Covenant teamwork works in nature.

Dr. Henry has been a missionary in Honduras since 1996. He has established a ministry called Tree of Life and a school called Plan Escalon. He heads a team there of twenty-five pastors and over 600 live-in students, ranging in age from elementary to high school. Over seventy-five mountain villages are consistently reached with the Word of God and physical necessities as well as visits from medical and dental teams. Their goal is to change Honduras, one of the poorest countries in the western hemisphere, through the love of Christ. Their motto at Tree of Life Ministry, "Feed the Need, Meet the Need, Change the Nation."

The ministry runs on the principle of covenant teamwork, and . . . it works. It's God's plan for relationships. It could change every relationship in our lives. It could change our neighborhoods, our workplaces, our communities, our states, our country, our world. And I think we could use a healthy dose of world change.

The book will be published by January, 2014, and you can purchase it on Amazon then.

So if I should disappear off the blogging radar for awhile, be assured, there must be a good book in the works. Interesting how God moves. I always thought I would be the writer, not the editor. He has a surprise around every corner. I wonder what wonders December will hold? (Where's the editor to fix this final redundancy?)

Good Fathers . . . and the Steamtown Marathon

Two lines in this week's newspaper set me to thinking about good fathers and races.

The newspaper published the finishing times of the runners in the Steamtown Marathon, held on Sunday, October 13th (not on Layton). I combed through hundreds of names in the paper to find friends I knew who were running, silently cheering for their success. I spotted Leo, Taryn, Paul, and Jerry in the list and hoped Tom and Beth were there too. Completing a marathon warrants praise. It's a monumental accomplishment.

But these two lines in the finish results jumped off the page:

Brittany Spears, 20*, Scott Township, PA     3:13:51     5:00:40    4:58:31   
Anthony Spears, 43, Scott Township, PA       3:13:51     5:00:41    4:58:32  

Anthony "Tony" Spears, a former Marine, served in Iraq and other overseas theaters. Tony has run many marathons.He could have done better in this race. He could have exerted his usual strength and endurance and pushed ahead. Instead, he chose to finish one second behind his daughter, Brittany. 
Brittany and Tony Spears run the distance together.

Brittany ran her first marathon. Like all events in Brittany's life, dad trained, encouraged, and set the standard and pace for her long distance run. He ran with her, just one second behind, close enough to yell a "keep on, don't quit," close enough to notice her weariness, close enough to catch her if she tripped in any pot holes. One second behind, ever present, ever watchful, faithful father.

Next month, Brittany will marry her high school sweetheart. Dad, her trainer, coach, and encourager, will pass the job of long-distance companion along to Brittany's new husband. 

Fathers, like Tony, who know the value of setting the pace and standard for their children, who train them with discipline and with one-second-behind love, give a treasured gift to the world . . . great kids who know how to run the distance. 
Steamtown Marathon, October 13, 2013

Of course, thinking about one-second-behind love invoked thoughts of my dad, who has run the distance with me for sixty-some years, and thoughts of my sons who areright there in the race now with their children, keeping up marathon stride and accepting the challenges of trainer, coach, and encourager.

Our Father reminds today's fathers that in this race they should forget what is behind and strain toward what is ahead, pressing toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called them. (Philippians 3:13-14)

Thank you, Lord, for young fathers and old ones who follow your example and remember your promise: "The Lord Himself goes before you and will be with you; He will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged." (Deuteronomy 31:8)

Trev, a great long distance coach

Encourager and trainer, Bry runs the race well.

The team: Bry and Trev with their sons, running the race together.