Every year about this time my built-in timer goes off and I find myself strangely motivated to prepare for the winter.
I need to get back to the kitchen -again. Beans are about half strung. This bunch I am going to cook and EAT!!! Next bushel will be for canning for the long winter months. How I long for the days on the farm when everything we ate came from our cellar. We had jars of jelly, apple butter, pickled beets, corn relish, dill pickles, sweet pickles, sweet relish, green beans, peas, corn, peaches, apples, rhubarb, blackberries, and pears. The bins were full of potatoes, carrots and sweet potatoes. In big crocks we had sauerkraut, pickled corn and pickled beans. There were jars of canned sausage balls. We made our own mincemeat for holiday pies. We made souse meat using the head of the hog that was butchered by the 'boss'. So good. We bought bacon by the slab and cut it our self. No packaged sliced bacon, just jowl bacon which was used for flavoring beans, both the green beans we canned and the dried beans we had shelled.
The grease from the bacon was used for making gravy for morning biscuits and for frying potatoes, corn or cabbage. It was a simple life but so much more peaceful than what people have today. We didn't worry about what the neighbors had. We didn't worry about keeping up with the times other than the news.
I am so thankful I grew up living on the farm. Today I wish I could spend time hoeing in the dusty rows of corn, beans and potatoes. Oh, if only we could have seen the future when we were young. We would not complain so of the work we had to do. Now I am too old to walk, let along stand in the heat of a dusty garden. I am glad I can sit in a chair as I prepare the produce others have planted. This way I still have the 'taste of home".
During the growing season our meals consisted of fresh green beans, corn, sometimes on the cob, wilted lettuce (leaf lettuce from the garden with added green onions then hot bacon grease poured over it. It was then tossed and seasoned with salt, pepper and vinegar.) Cucumbers were often sliced with onions and put in a mixture of vinegar, water, salt and pepper. Sliced tomatoes were placed in a big bowl on the table. Sometimes mother would take the peeling off, other times not.
To this day I don't have a need to eat meat. It is not that I don't like it, I just didn't grow up eating it, so it feels normal to have a meal without it. At times there was fried chicken, but not every week. I don't even remember eating bacon. I just remember using the grease for cooking. I feel secure in the fact the bacon was given to the hard-working farmer who sat at the head of the table. Of course he had eaten and was out working before the rest of the house was up. Getting in the fields before the heat of the day was important.
After hours of work as the sun was setting low in the field, dad would come home to a hot meal. I don't remember him ever complaining about what was on the table. Many times at night it was the same as for dinner, other times it would be brown soup beans, potatoes fried in an iron skillet, and cornbread with the fresh green onions on the side. He drank coffee. We all had water. No iced tea, no canned pop, no Koolaid. Just water from the pump outside the kitchen door. It was cooler if pumped fresh. And I never felt deprived. It was just the way I thought life was.
Eggs were not the normal breakfast fare either. They were used for baking and put in other things we ate. If the chickens were laying well there might be an egg. We did at times have a fried egg on biscuit to take to school for lunch. A biscuit with egg, wrapped in a newspaper tied together with string. That was our noon meal at school. I chuckle to myself as I think how my grandchildren would recoil at this idea. Why, they would be laughed right out of the room, or so they think. Oh if only they could see how blessed I am for being one of the 'didn't haves'. Someday in the future they will learn.
I know it is 90 degrees outside. My inward clock says it is time to make a big pot of vegetable soup. On the farm we had no meat to put in the pot. We used bacon grease for flavoring and added homegrown cabbage, carrots, celery, potatoes, green beans, corn, peas, onions and tomatoes. I can close my eyes and almost smell the aroma of that soup. Cornbread was baked with bacon grease as well. Mother covered the bottom of the 'bread pan' with grease before pouring the batter into the pan. It made the bottom crunchy and the top had a crust as well. Mercy, I am getting hungry.
The bread was never cut, it was broken off. I like the corner because of the crust. I would use a knife to split it and then homemade butter was added. After having satisfied my craving for cornbread and butter, the rest of the portion I broke off was crumbled into the vegetable soup. This was done as well when we had brown bean soup. It just isn't right without cornbread.
The day is getting on. It has taken me most of the day to get the corn prepared for the freezer, cut a head of cabbage and do half the bag of beans. I am slower now, but there is a joy in me that I cannot describe as I take myself back to the farm by the way of preparing green beans.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Getting Rich!!!
I am fixing to be a millionaire. And it is all legal. I know it is because the non-chain letter I just received in the mail says it is. I will tell you how it works.
Some dummy opens a letter that I send to them requesting they send me and some other people a dollar. When they get my letter they are SURE to send me those dollar bills as they don't know me from Eve. But the letter says it is legal, so why not try.
Once I get the dollar from each of these six dumb people, they will in turn send my letter to other people who don't know them from Adam or Eve and my name will then be on a list from all these folks and these complete dummies will then send my name to all on their list and I am raking in the dough by the handfuls. Yes, it is true! I am fixing to be a millionaire as soon as I make 200 hundred copies of the five-page letter I received and send it to only SIX people. Don't ask me why I would need 200 hundred copies of the letter if I only have to send to six to become wealthy. But the letter says do it, so I reckon that is what I should do. Now, I go buy envelopes and stamps (what does a letter cost to mail these days, anyhow?), replenish my supply of paper, because after 200 copies of a five-page letter I am out and head to the post office.
This is indeed a dream come true. I don't have to stick my head out the door to become filthy rich! Oh, after I get the six dollars, I need $45 to buy peel off address mailing labels which I can order from a place called Data Line. If I want more, I just pay more money. What a DEAL!!! The cost of the envelopes is around $11, paper $55, and $88 for postage. Does this sound like an amazing deal to you!!! That is supposed to be my entire investment before becoming so rich I would be too big for my britches and shun the lowly people around me. (I jest)
And, what is it that makes this NOT a pyramid scam? It is supposedly the way the letter reads. You simply ask the person to add you to their mailing list and all is well and good. And I bet that is going to make more dummies want to send money to me, WHY?
Also it has Oprah Winfrey's name on the letter. That must make it legal. After all, she is the guru of give. Highly respected TV and radio programs say it is legal. (that in itself is an oxymoron - TV X radio, respected??? I think I should call my local Christian station and ask why they are not on board with this.
My first question about this is: HOW did this man, George Cox from Spencerville, Ohio get my name and address!!!! I am on a no-junk mail list at the post office, a no call list on the phone and all my information on the Internet is set at HIGH security.
I do have a plan. I intend to spend a bit of money to mail only ONE letter. I will reuse the address label on the front of the envelope and mail it back to the one that sent it with proper instructions on what he is to do with it.
Yes, I am fixin' on being rich. Why don't each of you that read this just send me a dollar while you are at it and add me to your reading list! Does that make it legal?? I can save all the $205.00 initial investment and probably get about six dollars.
Some dummy opens a letter that I send to them requesting they send me and some other people a dollar. When they get my letter they are SURE to send me those dollar bills as they don't know me from Eve. But the letter says it is legal, so why not try.
Once I get the dollar from each of these six dumb people, they will in turn send my letter to other people who don't know them from Adam or Eve and my name will then be on a list from all these folks and these complete dummies will then send my name to all on their list and I am raking in the dough by the handfuls. Yes, it is true! I am fixing to be a millionaire as soon as I make 200 hundred copies of the five-page letter I received and send it to only SIX people. Don't ask me why I would need 200 hundred copies of the letter if I only have to send to six to become wealthy. But the letter says do it, so I reckon that is what I should do. Now, I go buy envelopes and stamps (what does a letter cost to mail these days, anyhow?), replenish my supply of paper, because after 200 copies of a five-page letter I am out and head to the post office.
This is indeed a dream come true. I don't have to stick my head out the door to become filthy rich! Oh, after I get the six dollars, I need $45 to buy peel off address mailing labels which I can order from a place called Data Line. If I want more, I just pay more money. What a DEAL!!! The cost of the envelopes is around $11, paper $55, and $88 for postage. Does this sound like an amazing deal to you!!! That is supposed to be my entire investment before becoming so rich I would be too big for my britches and shun the lowly people around me. (I jest)
And, what is it that makes this NOT a pyramid scam? It is supposedly the way the letter reads. You simply ask the person to add you to their mailing list and all is well and good. And I bet that is going to make more dummies want to send money to me, WHY?
Also it has Oprah Winfrey's name on the letter. That must make it legal. After all, she is the guru of give. Highly respected TV and radio programs say it is legal. (that in itself is an oxymoron - TV X radio, respected??? I think I should call my local Christian station and ask why they are not on board with this.
My first question about this is: HOW did this man, George Cox from Spencerville, Ohio get my name and address!!!! I am on a no-junk mail list at the post office, a no call list on the phone and all my information on the Internet is set at HIGH security.
I do have a plan. I intend to spend a bit of money to mail only ONE letter. I will reuse the address label on the front of the envelope and mail it back to the one that sent it with proper instructions on what he is to do with it.
Yes, I am fixin' on being rich. Why don't each of you that read this just send me a dollar while you are at it and add me to your reading list! Does that make it legal?? I can save all the $205.00 initial investment and probably get about six dollars.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
The Peanut Butter Tree
THE PEANUT BUTTER TREE
by
Hazel Williams-Jann
It had been one of those nights when sleep eluded me. I was finished with all my packing, the alarm was set, and I was ready to head out the door as soon as I was dressed, but throughout the night, I kept replaying all of this in my restless mind. Before the alarm sounded, I was already out of bed attending to last minute chores that needed completed. I made sure the windows were closed. I locked the doors, opened the door on the dishwasher, turned the water reservoir to the coffee pot to the off position and finished packing the van. My bags were packed, sitting by the door with my bedroll and other items I would need while on the island. I was about to embark on a memory trip.
The coming trip took me back to the old log cabin where I was born and the taste of peanut butter swiped between two soda crackers. I recall the days when my mother would drive the country roads in our old car selling Watkins and McConnon spices and flavorings to neighboring farm wives. In the late 1930's money was scarce, and there were items needed in our home that could not be grown. Being a farm-to-farm sales person was one way mother could help financially. This was not an easy task with four children in tow. We were not left with a babysitter, we traveled these roads as well.
The afternoon sun beating down on the car created four sweaty, squirming kids. Having anticipated such a problem mother would prepare a snack for us to break the monotony of just sitting in the car waiting for her to finish filling the orders from the farm wives. We all sat in the car while she was in the farm houses. We were enticed to behave ourselves with the promise of a coming treat. Mother always packed something for us to eat while out on the road. At an appropriate time the car was pulled off the gravel road under a nice shade tree. It did not take long for us to tumble out of the back seat of the old car and sit at the trunk of a tree under shady branches where we could enjoy a cooling breeze while we ate our peanut butter crackers washing them down with orange Kool-aid.
As the years passed we remained in the country on a farm. In the mid 1940's as tenant farmers we were dependent on a bountiful garden to supply our winter food. After the garden was plowed, along with my two brothers and one sister, I helped plant the seeds. When the vegetables started to grow it was our chore to keep the weeds from smothering the plants. Once school was out it seemed many of my days were spent with a hoe cutting down thistles, dandelions and other invasive, unwanted weeds. Work-day on the farm was long. Mother and dad were up by daybreak, and the day did not end until dark. With all the work to be done breakfast was very early. Dinner was always on time as dad was there to listen to the news while we ate. On occasion we kids would fill our plates and sit outside on the ground in the shade of the house to eat so as not to interfere with the news. I recall on occasion having to leave the table as I could no longer stifle my giggling. I wonder why it is that when it is necessary for a child to be quiet everything just seems to become more funny? The harder we tried to be quiet, the more we wanted to laugh. Usually that was just when something important was being repeated on the radio news. Supper time was at six or after, depending on the amount of work to be done, so an afternoon snack was still necessary.
On the back side of the acre of garden and a little to the right, a tree had been left to grow. Not too many vegetables could be planted near it but it did provide the perfect place to sit while cutting the dust from my throat with orange Kool- aid. Again the taste of peanut butter on crackers was welcomed, and this treat gave each of us energy to hoe more weeds before supper time. As a mother, I too prepared peanut butter and crackers with Kool-aid for my children for an afternoon snack.
When my children were old enough to go to summer camp I found a way to go with them on occasion. One summer, while living in Oklahoma I spent the entire summer in camp. I took the job of cook, and two of my girls were in camp all summer.
Falls Creek is a huge camp near Davis, Oklahoma where my local church had their own cabin. I was blessed to attend camp with the teens to help with cooking and counseling. In the same location, higher up the mountain is another camp for girls no yet in their teens and in third through sixth grade in school. This camp is called Camp Nunny-Cha-Ha, which is an Indian name meaning High Hills. It was as one of the cooks for this camp one summer that peanut butter became a big part of daily life.
There were three of us in the kitchen to prepare meals for the up to 250 young girls that came each week. We each had our own cooking station. Mine was salads and desserts. One of my chores was to see that all the tables in the dining hall had an ample jar of peanut butter on it during each meal. It had been noted that if a child will eat nothing else, peanut butter would sustain them. During this summer I was taught new and sundry ways to introduce different foods to unwilling girls. One camp counselor had a distaste for peas. She added peanut butter to her peas in order to show she could eat what was placed before her no matter if she liked it or not. Many of our snacks involved peanut butter. We sliced trays of apples and put peanut butter between them. We had peanut butter crispy squares. We had peanut butter cookies.
My day as a camp cook was busy. Between meals it was our custom to just put our feet up relax. I was not used to being on my feet. For the first few days I found myself craving the time for putting my feet up. After a couple weeks I was able to do more than hobble to the dinning hall and actually was pain free. We were isolated on the mountain. The big event of the week for these young girls was waiting for the garbage truck to come to haul away the refuse. You see, we had no radio, no telephone, no television and the worse possible for this age, no boys! I have to smile when I think how it seemed the building should have tilted as the girls all ran to one end to get a glimpse of the cute young man working during the summer as a garbage man. I am sure he was flattered by all this attention, but he was on a mission. His stay was limited.
A few weeks into the summer routine we decided to take a break from the isolation of Nunny-Cha-Ha to go down the mountain to Falls Creek Camp for a change of scenery and a cool treat while on our afternoon break. The teen camp had snack stations where the young people could choose their own snacks at their own expense. We cooks put a few coins in our pocket before driving down the mountain, because we were planning to purchase an ice cream cone while on the lower mountain. Any flavor would do, it would be different. What a laugh we had when we came upon the ice cream vendor. Of all the days for us to choose our descent we picked the day when the ‘flavor of the day’ was, you guessed it - peanut butter!!! I still chuckle when I think of the irony of that.
Many years have passed since I spent the summer up to my elbows in peanut butter. All of my children are grown, and I now have grandchildren old enough for summer camp. I have moved back East close to my roots, but I continued to have a longing for the days of summer camp. This year, I was able to relive a bit of that time as several of us spent the Memorial Day weekend at a summer camp.
New Life Island is a Christian camp located in the Delaware River near Frenchtown, New Jersey. It is said this island has only flooded once every fifty years, that is, until this past rainy season. It was flooded twice this year. With the summer camping season quickly approaching help was needed to get repairs completed. The Youth Pastor where I attend church spent time as a counselor on this island as a college student. When he heard help was needed he asked if anyone would be interested in helping. I was so thankful they needed a cook for this weekend trip. I was finally going to relive a happy time.
After an eleven hour road trip, we arrived at the camp. The first thing on my mind was the dinning hall. When I walked in I felt right at home. There was the mammoth cook stove, the walk in cooler, the preparation tables, the dishwasher that made the mountains of dishes easier to clean and on the shelf in the pantry I saw a jar of peanut butter. I smiled as I thought of the peanut butter crispy treats that would be enjoyed by this work crew.
There were no finicky eaters this time, only hard-working willing adults who consumed whatever was put in front of them when the dinner bell rung. The work was hard. The cabins all needed repairs. New drywall was applied, primer and then paint covered this. New trim was nailed where needed. The cabins were emptied of debris. The grounds had to be mowed, flowers were planted by the mother of the camp director. Everyone had a job to do, even the teens that lived on the island with their parents worked along side. My job again was being the camp cook.
Having spent many of my high school days working in one or another of my parents’ restaurants, I had acquired the ability to prepare meals and have everything hot as well as on time. I was in my element in that massive kitchen. I begged the regular cook to take a break so I could relive my dreams. She agreed and for two days I cooked. Of course I had to make the peanut butter crispy treats, and I left the recipe which I had gotten at Camp Nunny-Cha-Ha, for the campers that will be on the island this summer. The adult workers were more than pleased to have this protein treat as their afternoon snack, and not one morsel was left the following day.
It was a good time. Our rooms overlooked the Delaware River. In the evening we were treated to the site of a mother duck taking her nine babies on a swim. In the morning hours I saw two geese swimming together out into the river. It was such a peaceful time filled with many good memories. On the last evening there was a gentle falling rain. Before the evening meal was done we all sat on the front porch of the dinning hall talking. After supper was over, the kitchen cleaned and everyone taking time to relax before packing up for our trip home, we went into town for an ice cream treat. Yes, you guessed it. I had peanut butter ice cream.
Returning to my familiar bed, I had no trouble sleeping. The work trip is over, but I have stored wonderful memories which will linger yet for years. God was good to have given us memory to help relive the good times of life. Every time I see peanut butter I will think of extraordinary summer memories of my life
by
Hazel Williams-Jann
It had been one of those nights when sleep eluded me. I was finished with all my packing, the alarm was set, and I was ready to head out the door as soon as I was dressed, but throughout the night, I kept replaying all of this in my restless mind. Before the alarm sounded, I was already out of bed attending to last minute chores that needed completed. I made sure the windows were closed. I locked the doors, opened the door on the dishwasher, turned the water reservoir to the coffee pot to the off position and finished packing the van. My bags were packed, sitting by the door with my bedroll and other items I would need while on the island. I was about to embark on a memory trip.
The coming trip took me back to the old log cabin where I was born and the taste of peanut butter swiped between two soda crackers. I recall the days when my mother would drive the country roads in our old car selling Watkins and McConnon spices and flavorings to neighboring farm wives. In the late 1930's money was scarce, and there were items needed in our home that could not be grown. Being a farm-to-farm sales person was one way mother could help financially. This was not an easy task with four children in tow. We were not left with a babysitter, we traveled these roads as well.
The afternoon sun beating down on the car created four sweaty, squirming kids. Having anticipated such a problem mother would prepare a snack for us to break the monotony of just sitting in the car waiting for her to finish filling the orders from the farm wives. We all sat in the car while she was in the farm houses. We were enticed to behave ourselves with the promise of a coming treat. Mother always packed something for us to eat while out on the road. At an appropriate time the car was pulled off the gravel road under a nice shade tree. It did not take long for us to tumble out of the back seat of the old car and sit at the trunk of a tree under shady branches where we could enjoy a cooling breeze while we ate our peanut butter crackers washing them down with orange Kool-aid.
As the years passed we remained in the country on a farm. In the mid 1940's as tenant farmers we were dependent on a bountiful garden to supply our winter food. After the garden was plowed, along with my two brothers and one sister, I helped plant the seeds. When the vegetables started to grow it was our chore to keep the weeds from smothering the plants. Once school was out it seemed many of my days were spent with a hoe cutting down thistles, dandelions and other invasive, unwanted weeds. Work-day on the farm was long. Mother and dad were up by daybreak, and the day did not end until dark. With all the work to be done breakfast was very early. Dinner was always on time as dad was there to listen to the news while we ate. On occasion we kids would fill our plates and sit outside on the ground in the shade of the house to eat so as not to interfere with the news. I recall on occasion having to leave the table as I could no longer stifle my giggling. I wonder why it is that when it is necessary for a child to be quiet everything just seems to become more funny? The harder we tried to be quiet, the more we wanted to laugh. Usually that was just when something important was being repeated on the radio news. Supper time was at six or after, depending on the amount of work to be done, so an afternoon snack was still necessary.
On the back side of the acre of garden and a little to the right, a tree had been left to grow. Not too many vegetables could be planted near it but it did provide the perfect place to sit while cutting the dust from my throat with orange Kool- aid. Again the taste of peanut butter on crackers was welcomed, and this treat gave each of us energy to hoe more weeds before supper time. As a mother, I too prepared peanut butter and crackers with Kool-aid for my children for an afternoon snack.
When my children were old enough to go to summer camp I found a way to go with them on occasion. One summer, while living in Oklahoma I spent the entire summer in camp. I took the job of cook, and two of my girls were in camp all summer.
Falls Creek is a huge camp near Davis, Oklahoma where my local church had their own cabin. I was blessed to attend camp with the teens to help with cooking and counseling. In the same location, higher up the mountain is another camp for girls no yet in their teens and in third through sixth grade in school. This camp is called Camp Nunny-Cha-Ha, which is an Indian name meaning High Hills. It was as one of the cooks for this camp one summer that peanut butter became a big part of daily life.
There were three of us in the kitchen to prepare meals for the up to 250 young girls that came each week. We each had our own cooking station. Mine was salads and desserts. One of my chores was to see that all the tables in the dining hall had an ample jar of peanut butter on it during each meal. It had been noted that if a child will eat nothing else, peanut butter would sustain them. During this summer I was taught new and sundry ways to introduce different foods to unwilling girls. One camp counselor had a distaste for peas. She added peanut butter to her peas in order to show she could eat what was placed before her no matter if she liked it or not. Many of our snacks involved peanut butter. We sliced trays of apples and put peanut butter between them. We had peanut butter crispy squares. We had peanut butter cookies.
My day as a camp cook was busy. Between meals it was our custom to just put our feet up relax. I was not used to being on my feet. For the first few days I found myself craving the time for putting my feet up. After a couple weeks I was able to do more than hobble to the dinning hall and actually was pain free. We were isolated on the mountain. The big event of the week for these young girls was waiting for the garbage truck to come to haul away the refuse. You see, we had no radio, no telephone, no television and the worse possible for this age, no boys! I have to smile when I think how it seemed the building should have tilted as the girls all ran to one end to get a glimpse of the cute young man working during the summer as a garbage man. I am sure he was flattered by all this attention, but he was on a mission. His stay was limited.
A few weeks into the summer routine we decided to take a break from the isolation of Nunny-Cha-Ha to go down the mountain to Falls Creek Camp for a change of scenery and a cool treat while on our afternoon break. The teen camp had snack stations where the young people could choose their own snacks at their own expense. We cooks put a few coins in our pocket before driving down the mountain, because we were planning to purchase an ice cream cone while on the lower mountain. Any flavor would do, it would be different. What a laugh we had when we came upon the ice cream vendor. Of all the days for us to choose our descent we picked the day when the ‘flavor of the day’ was, you guessed it - peanut butter!!! I still chuckle when I think of the irony of that.
Many years have passed since I spent the summer up to my elbows in peanut butter. All of my children are grown, and I now have grandchildren old enough for summer camp. I have moved back East close to my roots, but I continued to have a longing for the days of summer camp. This year, I was able to relive a bit of that time as several of us spent the Memorial Day weekend at a summer camp.
New Life Island is a Christian camp located in the Delaware River near Frenchtown, New Jersey. It is said this island has only flooded once every fifty years, that is, until this past rainy season. It was flooded twice this year. With the summer camping season quickly approaching help was needed to get repairs completed. The Youth Pastor where I attend church spent time as a counselor on this island as a college student. When he heard help was needed he asked if anyone would be interested in helping. I was so thankful they needed a cook for this weekend trip. I was finally going to relive a happy time.
After an eleven hour road trip, we arrived at the camp. The first thing on my mind was the dinning hall. When I walked in I felt right at home. There was the mammoth cook stove, the walk in cooler, the preparation tables, the dishwasher that made the mountains of dishes easier to clean and on the shelf in the pantry I saw a jar of peanut butter. I smiled as I thought of the peanut butter crispy treats that would be enjoyed by this work crew.
There were no finicky eaters this time, only hard-working willing adults who consumed whatever was put in front of them when the dinner bell rung. The work was hard. The cabins all needed repairs. New drywall was applied, primer and then paint covered this. New trim was nailed where needed. The cabins were emptied of debris. The grounds had to be mowed, flowers were planted by the mother of the camp director. Everyone had a job to do, even the teens that lived on the island with their parents worked along side. My job again was being the camp cook.
Having spent many of my high school days working in one or another of my parents’ restaurants, I had acquired the ability to prepare meals and have everything hot as well as on time. I was in my element in that massive kitchen. I begged the regular cook to take a break so I could relive my dreams. She agreed and for two days I cooked. Of course I had to make the peanut butter crispy treats, and I left the recipe which I had gotten at Camp Nunny-Cha-Ha, for the campers that will be on the island this summer. The adult workers were more than pleased to have this protein treat as their afternoon snack, and not one morsel was left the following day.
It was a good time. Our rooms overlooked the Delaware River. In the evening we were treated to the site of a mother duck taking her nine babies on a swim. In the morning hours I saw two geese swimming together out into the river. It was such a peaceful time filled with many good memories. On the last evening there was a gentle falling rain. Before the evening meal was done we all sat on the front porch of the dinning hall talking. After supper was over, the kitchen cleaned and everyone taking time to relax before packing up for our trip home, we went into town for an ice cream treat. Yes, you guessed it. I had peanut butter ice cream.
Returning to my familiar bed, I had no trouble sleeping. The work trip is over, but I have stored wonderful memories which will linger yet for years. God was good to have given us memory to help relive the good times of life. Every time I see peanut butter I will think of extraordinary summer memories of my life
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Soup Beans
A thought came to mind when a friend told me I needed more beans in my bean soup. I didn't agree with her and then wondered why she liked lots of beans and I preferred more soup than beans.
I grew up on a farm where we had very few luxuries, and food was at times rather hard to come by. There were six of us that had to be fed three meals a day. Our main foods were home made biscuits and gravy for breakfast, brown soup beans, fried potatoes and cornbread for dinner and then for a switch we had cornbread, fried potatoes and soup beans for supper. (a little humor there). Today soup beans are something I eat because of the memories. It is a comfort food for me.
With little money mother had to 'make do' with what she had to feed everyone. To make a pot of beans go further she added more water to the beans. Jowl bacon was used as flavoring and only salt and pepper were added. A large pone of hot cornbread accompanied the beans and fried potatoes at each meal. Each person would break off a piece of the bread. It was not cut in squares as one sees most of the time these days. We actually broke bread together. Everyone wanted the corner edges as they were crispy. The bread was crumbled up and put in my bowl of beans. This made the soup more filling as well as making sure everyone had a larger portion to eat.
Today I don't bother peeling the potatoes as there are nutrients in the skin of the potato that should not go to waste. It is not often I fry potatoes to go with the beans now as they go to the waist! On the farm we didn't have such problems as there was enough activity in the day to use up the stored energy of such foods. Back to the potatoes. Mother use a peeler to remove the skins. I remember the knife mother used to slice the potatoes. It was well worn. The blade was very thin from being sharpened after it was nicked with something. Mother had a big iron skillet in which she fried the potatoes to a golden brown. My favorite part of the fried potatoes was the crunch brown parts. I still have the big iron skillet for making the potatoes. I think that iron must have gained weight over the years as it is very hard for me to pick it up now.
Ah, memories. I am tempted to fry potatoes to go with that pot of beans I cooked yesterday. I have plenty of soup and a portion of cornbread left.
I grew up on a farm where we had very few luxuries, and food was at times rather hard to come by. There were six of us that had to be fed three meals a day. Our main foods were home made biscuits and gravy for breakfast, brown soup beans, fried potatoes and cornbread for dinner and then for a switch we had cornbread, fried potatoes and soup beans for supper. (a little humor there). Today soup beans are something I eat because of the memories. It is a comfort food for me.
With little money mother had to 'make do' with what she had to feed everyone. To make a pot of beans go further she added more water to the beans. Jowl bacon was used as flavoring and only salt and pepper were added. A large pone of hot cornbread accompanied the beans and fried potatoes at each meal. Each person would break off a piece of the bread. It was not cut in squares as one sees most of the time these days. We actually broke bread together. Everyone wanted the corner edges as they were crispy. The bread was crumbled up and put in my bowl of beans. This made the soup more filling as well as making sure everyone had a larger portion to eat.
Today I don't bother peeling the potatoes as there are nutrients in the skin of the potato that should not go to waste. It is not often I fry potatoes to go with the beans now as they go to the waist! On the farm we didn't have such problems as there was enough activity in the day to use up the stored energy of such foods. Back to the potatoes. Mother use a peeler to remove the skins. I remember the knife mother used to slice the potatoes. It was well worn. The blade was very thin from being sharpened after it was nicked with something. Mother had a big iron skillet in which she fried the potatoes to a golden brown. My favorite part of the fried potatoes was the crunch brown parts. I still have the big iron skillet for making the potatoes. I think that iron must have gained weight over the years as it is very hard for me to pick it up now.
Ah, memories. I am tempted to fry potatoes to go with that pot of beans I cooked yesterday. I have plenty of soup and a portion of cornbread left.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Point of View
I would like to clear up my feelings concerning those who are presently serving as our leaders in Washington. My number 1 issue is BIG government, not who is sitting in the Oval Office. If Tiny Tim were sitting there with his crookedy leg, I would still feel the same. I don't understand why any American citizen wants a leader to make up a set of rules for the common folk to live by. The 'rules' of our country were put into place long before any of us were born, long before socialism entered the USA. We became a free nation because people were tired of being told what to do. The Constitution was put there for a reason. Put there by men who had differing opinions but came together to do what was best for America. Of late I see the higher echelon trying to change things to favor only part of the people. It is not right. Again, let me say, Obama is not the problem. In my opinion he is a puppet being used by something much more sinister than many people want to acknowledge. This trend did not start with this administration. It has been building over many years. Years ago I heard it said of Russia - we will not have to fire a shot to destroy America, they will destroy themselves'. It is happening. There is an elite group of people who want to control everything and everyone. If you are not aware of these people you should become aware. Have you ever heard of the Builderburg Society? Did you know they are still in existence? Do you know they are still meeting with the intent on taking control of you? Some of the players have changed, but their ideals have not. Look it up, see just who some of those involved in this project have been and are now. They are all money people. Some have gotten their riches in less than honest dealings.
The present mind set of many elected officials seems to have a mother hen concept. Keep those little chicks under the wing, don't let them see the outside world. That is great for a biddy, but American voters are grown up now. I remember my kids as teenagers were a bit testy when I tried to micro-manage their lives. It was not about to happen. Rebellion was on the way. Why is it such a surprise that those of us who take the time to think would be more like a teenager than a biddy? Washington might as well get used to the idea it is not going to happen now either.
When we assert our rights we are labeled as idiots, yes that is right, I have been called an idiot, uneducated, and many other things because I choose to disagree with the fat cats in Washington. I have been called violent because I agree with a peaceful collection of people called Tea Party Patriots. I am selfish because I prefer to keep what I work to earn. IF I want to give it away, it should be MY choice to do so, not a mandate signed into law by someone who is a puppet of the bigger problem. I am a bigot because I oppose giving any rights to those who break the law. When I stated my opinion I was 'blocked' by one liberal because my opinion caused her 'stomach to knot up'. And you say liberals are open minded! That is not being open minded. What others think of me will not stop me from stating my opinion. That is like willingly giving up my right of freedom of speech. What I think is not put out there as hatred toward others. I state my opinions because someone, somewhere may just think of what I have to say and look a little deeper into what is happening to America.
Pushing your head down deeper into the sand will not stop the coming events. Either stand up and face the truth or learn to live in a socialist country. Health care run by the government is not the answer. Government is not the answer. More laws is not the answer. The change has to come from within each person. I still say if you don't like America, you should leave it, not try to change it to fit you. We are who we were, are and will be. True Americans will not change. We enjoy being a free people. I think some are trying to enslave the entire population to fit into a very controlled lifestyle. I think of a mother duck walking in front of her ducklings. How rigid she is, how straight is the line of little ones. I am not a duckling, never was and never want to be.
Now when you disagree with my point of view, you know where I stand. A couple of people have said I am an angry person. Wrong again. I am a very happy person with the freedom to say how I feel. I know how all of this ends because I have 'read the end of the book'. I know America is not a great power during the end times. She is not mentioned in the book of Revelation. It seems Russia was correct in that. I just hate to see it happening. The Bible tells us there will come a time when people are self-absorbed and far from God, each doing their own thing. It is happening. I also have a peace knowing I will not be here during the devastation to come. I belong to the Creator of all things and He will transport me to my new home before these things happen. You see, I have nothing to fear. I do, without a doubt know where I am going and how I will get there. My heart aches for those who stubbornly hang on to their own self destruction.
The present mind set of many elected officials seems to have a mother hen concept. Keep those little chicks under the wing, don't let them see the outside world. That is great for a biddy, but American voters are grown up now. I remember my kids as teenagers were a bit testy when I tried to micro-manage their lives. It was not about to happen. Rebellion was on the way. Why is it such a surprise that those of us who take the time to think would be more like a teenager than a biddy? Washington might as well get used to the idea it is not going to happen now either.
When we assert our rights we are labeled as idiots, yes that is right, I have been called an idiot, uneducated, and many other things because I choose to disagree with the fat cats in Washington. I have been called violent because I agree with a peaceful collection of people called Tea Party Patriots. I am selfish because I prefer to keep what I work to earn. IF I want to give it away, it should be MY choice to do so, not a mandate signed into law by someone who is a puppet of the bigger problem. I am a bigot because I oppose giving any rights to those who break the law. When I stated my opinion I was 'blocked' by one liberal because my opinion caused her 'stomach to knot up'. And you say liberals are open minded! That is not being open minded. What others think of me will not stop me from stating my opinion. That is like willingly giving up my right of freedom of speech. What I think is not put out there as hatred toward others. I state my opinions because someone, somewhere may just think of what I have to say and look a little deeper into what is happening to America.
Pushing your head down deeper into the sand will not stop the coming events. Either stand up and face the truth or learn to live in a socialist country. Health care run by the government is not the answer. Government is not the answer. More laws is not the answer. The change has to come from within each person. I still say if you don't like America, you should leave it, not try to change it to fit you. We are who we were, are and will be. True Americans will not change. We enjoy being a free people. I think some are trying to enslave the entire population to fit into a very controlled lifestyle. I think of a mother duck walking in front of her ducklings. How rigid she is, how straight is the line of little ones. I am not a duckling, never was and never want to be.
Now when you disagree with my point of view, you know where I stand. A couple of people have said I am an angry person. Wrong again. I am a very happy person with the freedom to say how I feel. I know how all of this ends because I have 'read the end of the book'. I know America is not a great power during the end times. She is not mentioned in the book of Revelation. It seems Russia was correct in that. I just hate to see it happening. The Bible tells us there will come a time when people are self-absorbed and far from God, each doing their own thing. It is happening. I also have a peace knowing I will not be here during the devastation to come. I belong to the Creator of all things and He will transport me to my new home before these things happen. You see, I have nothing to fear. I do, without a doubt know where I am going and how I will get there. My heart aches for those who stubbornly hang on to their own self destruction.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
THE BIRTHDAY CELEBRATION
I felt so honored. A birthday celebration was being held in my honor. I had gotten an invitation to come and join the celebration. I was so happy.
There was just one problem. I was unsure where the celebration was to be held. I would have to look around town to see where I should be going.
As I traveled down the road coming into the little village I saw many houses with decorations befitting a celebration of colossal merit.
There were lights that shone at the windows and doors of many homes. Twinkling lights danced about in the crisp night air. The fresh fallen snow glistened like tiny diamonds. I saw shiny ornaments that had been carefully selected to adorn the beautiful trees that had been cut just to celebrate this occasion - my birthday. I felt humbled by this scene.
At the edge of town I saw all of the street lights along Main Street had been dressed up to herald the party that was to be held in my honor The shop windows were filled with special displays which were pulled out once a year just for this occasion. There were shoppers hurriedly checking each shop to find just the right gift, the gift that would undoubtedly be the best of the assortment of gifts being offered at the birthday celebration. There were wonderful aromas wafting from homes as I passed along the way. It was truly a marvelous sight to behold.
But, I knew it was time to find the place where my birthday commemoration was being held. I saw a house just ahead, people were gathering there. It looked as though every aunt, uncle, cousin, husband and wife, as well as all their children were gathering here for a great celebration. I knew this must be the place.
I fell in step with those entering this gathering place. Everyone seemed so happy. Smiles were given away freely as were the exchange of greetings. The cold air brought puffs of steam as the villagers quipped regards to one another. I was sure this must be the place. I knew a gathering of this size would surely be a good place to celebrate my birthday. Music started playing just about that time. The people all sat down to listen. The music was heavenly. I relaxed in a seat close to the back door of the gathering place and got lost in the sounds of the organ.
Soon I realized this was not the place to which I had been invited. This was not the place where my birthday was being celebrated. Why, I was hardly mentioned at all. There were songs being sung and a story was read, but the people; the people were hardly listening at all. They were shushing the children at times.
I noticed one with a shopping list, and still others lost in thought far away from this gathering. A few were trying to recall things left to do before they were ready to celebrate my birthday party. Many of those at the gathering seemed eager to be gone from this place. They were eager to hurry to somewhere else. Saddened, when the gathering had ended, I left, unnoticed. I continued my journey to find the place I had been invited.
I came upon a home where many people were gathering to enjoy a banquet. The women were carrying in a variety of foods which were made special for this occasion. Each woman had worked for days to prepare their addition to the meal. Each lady seemed ready to accept adoration, hoping her sumptuous fare would be considered the best dish at the banquet. The men and children were carrying gifts wrapped in elegant paper. Ribbons and bows were carefully protected so as not to be crushed, causing the package to look second-rate. As I observed the plethora of gifts, I wondered if there could be anything left in the shops at all. I was again so happy to see the care folks had taken to make my birthday special. The crowd gathered inside.
I stepped inside the door and stood. I stood waiting for someone to notice that I had arrived. I stood there hoping someone would notice the guest who was supposed to be honored at their party was here, waiting to be recognized. The food was laid out on long tables and placed just right to make the festive occasion perfect. The chinaware shone and the silver was wiped clean of spots, as were the stemmed goblets placed close to the punch bowl within easy reach of anyone who desired to drink. It reminded me of something in the past, it was something about living water to drink. I was jolted out of my reminiscence by the lusty call of someone announcing it was time to eat.
In no time at all, the beautiful banquet was in a shambles and with full bellies, the entire group moved to the area of the decorated tree where they had placed all the gifts that I had supposed were mine.
A young boy was sitting down beside the tree picking up each gift and reading a name written on it. With squeals of delight, someone would quickly gather up the package and start ripping off the pretty paper. Soon all of the gifts were passed around and everyone had a gift ... but there was none for me. There were no gifts there for me, in fact, my name was not even mentioned. I realized this too was not the place I had been invited.
I quietly slipped out the door unnoticed. The wind was picking up a bit more, and I felt a chill as I pulled my cloak closer. I seemed to be walking into the wind. I could not help but think this was just about par for the course of the evening.
The gatherings I had visited were not in my honor. The gatherings, though very festive, had nothing whatsoever to do with wanting to celebrate the day I was born. Again, I felt sad and alone. But I knew my invitation had come from somewhere, and I was determined to find it.
I walked on through the town, seeing nothing that would cause me to think anyone even knew me let alone want to celebrate my special day. There was a humble little house just ahead, and I thought I should stop here to see if maybe someone there could tell me where the celebration was to be held.
I was beginning to get a chill from the cold and if nothing more, I needed to stop and rest awhile. I knocked at the door of a little cabin which had only one small candle in the window. One of the panes had a board taped to it to keep out the cold. The fireplace looked warm and inviting. Soon, the door opened just enough for me to see inside. The frail old woman stood there with a smile on her face. The wind, through the door, blew her shawl from her shoulders. As she clutched it close she asked me to please step inside as it was just too cold to stand out in that weather. I was surprised at her hospitality, as I had a feeling strangers were not welcomed with open arms in this village.
I gladly accepted her kind invitation and stepped inside, closing the door quickly behind me. I was invited over to the warm fire and was handed a cup of hot cocoa to warm me inside.
I told the aged woman I was so glad to have found a friendly place to rest. I told her I was also glad she had accepted me into her home. It was then she told me I was not a stranger to her at all. She said she had been waiting for me to arrive. She had been sitting there by the fire, rejoicing because it was my birthday. I smiled and sat down close to the fire with this one soul who understood how to celebrate my birthday.She offered me a fresh baked roll swiped with butter and another cup of cocoa. She bowed her head and gave thanks as we sat together.
I listened as she read from a worn old book which had been well-used. She turned to a familiar story and read about the night I came to be born of a virgin long ago, in the city of Bethlehem. With labored breath she read of how the angels had told the shepherds of my birth. She told of the struggles I had faced before I died.
And then she leaned back in her chair, closed her eyes and relived the day she had asked me to come into her life. She opened her eyes for only a moment and thanked me for all I had given her. She said she was ready to go now to live in my home with me forever.
We left the shabby little cottage on the edge of town together. We both knew the true celebration of my birthday was not in those big gatherings. There, no one even mentioned my name. All of the glitz and glamor was not a celebration of me at all. Not one bowed their head to thank me for anything.
The true celebration was in the heart of the bent, old woman who accepted me as LORD of her life and then waited patiently for me to come take her to her new home on this, my birthday.
Hazel Williams-Jann
© Dec 2002
The Birthday Celebration
by
Hazel Williams-Jann
Published by
HWJ Enterprises
70 East Fourth Street
London, OH 43140-1258
Illustrations by:
Jason Mascari
Sue Henthorn - front cover
Betty Mitchell
Copyright © 2002
by
Hazel Williams-Jann
All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.
Dedicated To
My Lord and Savior,
Jesus Christ
Acknowledgments:
I wish to express my appreciation to those who continue to encourage me by continuing to read the thoughts I put on the written page.
A special thank you to Ken Robison who spent hours helping me with my computer software skills. Without his patience in teaching me to navigate the word processor, I could not have completed this work.
And, to those who so graciously supplied the graphics, I applaud your abilities and am humbled by your kindness..
Last, but not least, I must thank the One who gave me the ability to write. Without Him, I could do nothing.
But Jesus looked at them and said to them, “With men this is impossible, but with God all things are possible.” Matthew 19:26
Luke 2: 1-20 (KJV)
1. And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be taxed 2. (And this taxing was first made when Cyrenius was governor of Syria.) 3. And all went to be taxed, every one into his own city. 4. And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judaea, unto the city of David, which is called Bethlehem; because he was of the house and lineage of David:) 5. To be taxed with Mary his espoused wife, being great with child. 6. And so it was, that, while they were there, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered. 7. And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn. 8. And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. 9. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. 10.And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. 11. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. 12. And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. 13. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, 14. Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men. 15. And it came to pass, as the angels were gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds said one to another, Let us now go even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing which is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us. 16. And they came with haste, and found Mary, and Joseph, and the babe lying in a manger. 17. And when they had seen it, they made known abroad the saying which was told them concerning this child. 18. And all they that heard it wondered at those things which were told them by the shepherds. 19. But Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart.20. And the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things that they had heard and seen, as it was told unto them.
About the Author
Hazel Williams-Jann, a widow with five children, eleven grandchildren and six great-grandchildren began writing at an early age. Her first published writing was in high school. Throughout her life she has continued to put her thoughts on paper in the form of short stories and poetry with a personal touch. Many of her poems are in homes across America, some have even made their way overseas. Hazel continues to write articles for her local newspaper and other assorted publications.
The Birthday Celebration came together while observing how many chose to celebrate the birth of Christ one Christmas season.
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I felt so honored. A birthday celebration was being held in my honor. I had gotten an invitation to come and join the celebration. I was so happy.
There was just one problem. I was unsure where the celebration was to be held. I would have to look around town to see where I should be going.
As I traveled down the road coming into the little village I saw many houses with decorations befitting a celebration of colossal merit.
There were lights that shone at the windows and doors of many homes. Twinkling lights danced about in the crisp night air. The fresh fallen snow glistened like tiny diamonds. I saw shiny ornaments that had been carefully selected to adorn the beautiful trees that had been cut just to celebrate this occasion - my birthday. I felt humbled by this scene.
At the edge of town I saw all of the street lights along Main Street had been dressed up to herald the party that was to be held in my honor The shop windows were filled with special displays which were pulled out once a year just for this occasion. There were shoppers hurriedly checking each shop to find just the right gift, the gift that would undoubtedly be the best of the assortment of gifts being offered at the birthday celebration. There were wonderful aromas wafting from homes as I passed along the way. It was truly a marvelous sight to behold.
But, I knew it was time to find the place where my birthday commemoration was being held. I saw a house just ahead, people were gathering there. It looked as though every aunt, uncle, cousin, husband and wife, as well as all their children were gathering here for a great celebration. I knew this must be the place.
I fell in step with those entering this gathering place. Everyone seemed so happy. Smiles were given away freely as were the exchange of greetings. The cold air brought puffs of steam as the villagers quipped regards to one another. I was sure this must be the place. I knew a gathering of this size would surely be a good place to celebrate my birthday. Music started playing just about that time. The people all sat down to listen. The music was heavenly. I relaxed in a seat close to the back door of the gathering place and got lost in the sounds of the organ.
Soon I realized this was not the place to which I had been invited. This was not the place where my birthday was being celebrated. Why, I was hardly mentioned at all. There were songs being sung and a story was read, but the people; the people were hardly listening at all. They were shushing the children at times.
I noticed one with a shopping list, and still others lost in thought far away from this gathering. A few were trying to recall things left to do before they were ready to celebrate my birthday party. Many of those at the gathering seemed eager to be gone from this place. They were eager to hurry to somewhere else. Saddened, when the gathering had ended, I left, unnoticed. I continued my journey to find the place I had been invited.
I came upon a home where many people were gathering to enjoy a banquet. The women were carrying in a variety of foods which were made special for this occasion. Each woman had worked for days to prepare their addition to the meal. Each lady seemed ready to accept adoration, hoping her sumptuous fare would be considered the best dish at the banquet. The men and children were carrying gifts wrapped in elegant paper. Ribbons and bows were carefully protected so as not to be crushed, causing the package to look second-rate. As I observed the plethora of gifts, I wondered if there could be anything left in the shops at all. I was again so happy to see the care folks had taken to make my birthday special. The crowd gathered inside.
I stepped inside the door and stood. I stood waiting for someone to notice that I had arrived. I stood there hoping someone would notice the guest who was supposed to be honored at their party was here, waiting to be recognized. The food was laid out on long tables and placed just right to make the festive occasion perfect. The chinaware shone and the silver was wiped clean of spots, as were the stemmed goblets placed close to the punch bowl within easy reach of anyone who desired to drink. It reminded me of something in the past, it was something about living water to drink. I was jolted out of my reminiscence by the lusty call of someone announcing it was time to eat.
In no time at all, the beautiful banquet was in a shambles and with full bellies, the entire group moved to the area of the decorated tree where they had placed all the gifts that I had supposed were mine.
A young boy was sitting down beside the tree picking up each gift and reading a name written on it. With squeals of delight, someone would quickly gather up the package and start ripping off the pretty paper. Soon all of the gifts were passed around and everyone had a gift ... but there was none for me. There were no gifts there for me, in fact, my name was not even mentioned. I realized this too was not the place I had been invited.
I quietly slipped out the door unnoticed. The wind was picking up a bit more, and I felt a chill as I pulled my cloak closer. I seemed to be walking into the wind. I could not help but think this was just about par for the course of the evening.
The gatherings I had visited were not in my honor. The gatherings, though very festive, had nothing whatsoever to do with wanting to celebrate the day I was born. Again, I felt sad and alone. But I knew my invitation had come from somewhere, and I was determined to find it.
I walked on through the town, seeing nothing that would cause me to think anyone even knew me let alone want to celebrate my special day. There was a humble little house just ahead, and I thought I should stop here to see if maybe someone there could tell me where the celebration was to be held.
I was beginning to get a chill from the cold and if nothing more, I needed to stop and rest awhile. I knocked at the door of a little cabin which had only one small candle in the window. One of the panes had a board taped to it to keep out the cold. The fireplace looked warm and inviting. Soon, the door opened just enough for me to see inside. The frail old woman stood there with a smile on her face. The wind, through the door, blew her shawl from her shoulders. As she clutched it close she asked me to please step inside as it was just too cold to stand out in that weather. I was surprised at her hospitality, as I had a feeling strangers were not welcomed with open arms in this village.
I gladly accepted her kind invitation and stepped inside, closing the door quickly behind me. I was invited over to the warm fire and was handed a cup of hot cocoa to warm me inside.
I told the aged woman I was so glad to have found a friendly place to rest. I told her I was also glad she had accepted me into her home. It was then she told me I was not a stranger to her at all. She said she had been waiting for me to arrive. She had been sitting there by the fire, rejoicing because it was my birthday. I smiled and sat down close to the fire with this one soul who understood how to celebrate my birthday.She offered me a fresh baked roll swiped with butter and another cup of cocoa. She bowed her head and gave thanks as we sat together.
I listened as she read from a worn old book which had been well-used. She turned to a familiar story and read about the night I came to be born of a virgin long ago, in the city of Bethlehem. With labored breath she read of how the angels had told the shepherds of my birth. She told of the struggles I had faced before I died.
And then she leaned back in her chair, closed her eyes and relived the day she had asked me to come into her life. She opened her eyes for only a moment and thanked me for all I had given her. She said she was ready to go now to live in my home with me forever.
We left the shabby little cottage on the edge of town together. We both knew the true celebration of my birthday was not in those big gatherings. There, no one even mentioned my name. All of the glitz and glamor was not a celebration of me at all. Not one bowed their head to thank me for anything.
The true celebration was in the heart of the bent, old woman who accepted me as LORD of her life and then waited patiently for me to come take her to her new home on this, my birthday.
Hazel Williams-Jann
© Dec 2002
The Birthday Celebration
by
Hazel Williams-Jann
Published by
HWJ Enterprises
70 East Fourth Street
London, OH 43140-1258
Illustrations by:
Jason Mascari
Sue Henthorn - front cover
Betty Mitchell
Copyright © 2002
by
Hazel Williams-Jann
All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.
Dedicated To
My Lord and Savior,
Jesus Christ
Acknowledgments:
I wish to express my appreciation to those who continue to encourage me by continuing to read the thoughts I put on the written page.
A special thank you to Ken Robison who spent hours helping me with my computer software skills. Without his patience in teaching me to navigate the word processor, I could not have completed this work.
And, to those who so graciously supplied the graphics, I applaud your abilities and am humbled by your kindness..
Last, but not least, I must thank the One who gave me the ability to write. Without Him, I could do nothing.
But Jesus looked at them and said to them, “With men this is impossible, but with God all things are possible.” Matthew 19:26
Luke 2: 1-20 (KJV)
1. And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be taxed 2. (And this taxing was first made when Cyrenius was governor of Syria.) 3. And all went to be taxed, every one into his own city. 4. And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judaea, unto the city of David, which is called Bethlehem; because he was of the house and lineage of David:) 5. To be taxed with Mary his espoused wife, being great with child. 6. And so it was, that, while they were there, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered. 7. And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn. 8. And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. 9. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. 10.And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. 11. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. 12. And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. 13. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, 14. Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men. 15. And it came to pass, as the angels were gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds said one to another, Let us now go even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing which is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us. 16. And they came with haste, and found Mary, and Joseph, and the babe lying in a manger. 17. And when they had seen it, they made known abroad the saying which was told them concerning this child. 18. And all they that heard it wondered at those things which were told them by the shepherds. 19. But Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart.20. And the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things that they had heard and seen, as it was told unto them.
About the Author
Hazel Williams-Jann, a widow with five children, eleven grandchildren and six great-grandchildren began writing at an early age. Her first published writing was in high school. Throughout her life she has continued to put her thoughts on paper in the form of short stories and poetry with a personal touch. Many of her poems are in homes across America, some have even made their way overseas. Hazel continues to write articles for her local newspaper and other assorted publications.
The Birthday Celebration came together while observing how many chose to celebrate the birth of Christ one Christmas season.
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Sunday, November 7, 2010
Homeless in Delaware
November, 2010
On the coldest night, so far, of the year, plans were made for the entire family of five to take on the elements as though they were homeless. This project was set up to help raise funds for Habitat for Humanity. After working all day the parents gathered their three children, the oldest a boy of fourteen and his two sisters, age 11 and 12. It would be a night they would not soon forget.
Many cardboard boxes had been gathered and placed on the street to simulate the sleeping quarters of those who are unfortunate for one reason or another and have to live without a home. My mind, being of the older generation fixes on images taken in the early 1930's and 40's. It was a time when men could not find work. These were not all just worthless people who had no desire to work, they consisted on once affluent members of society. Due to the economy, many lost well-paying jobs. Some were soldiers who had come home from fighting for America’s freedom. So many similarities face America today.
Banks have failed, the construction business is at a standstill for lack of money to pay workers. Jobs are being lost. Ordinary people are losing homes to foreclosure. It is beginning to look worrisome to many families. America has been fortunate until now. People have been spending money with no thought of ever having a problem paying it back. Many have been living far beyond their means with the use of credit and credit cards. They have purchased more than they need, because they could. Hindsight is not much help now. The time has come to pay the piper.
Mom and Dad decided their children should look at the reality of what could be just around the corner for America. Dressed in layers, the family walked to their designated ‘home’ for the night, determined to face the bitter cold as though they were truly homeless.
Much to mom’s chagrin this was not the case with many others in the area. What WERE they thinking! She could not imagine how they were going to learn anything about being homeless with heat generators plugged into electrical plugs. She shook her head at those playing corn hole, a game that costs around $100.00. These young people were going to be totally clueless of the plight of the homeless after their night outside. She wondered what sacrifice they were making that would help them understand the plight of a homeless person. She thought; “Little do they realize this could actually happen to them in the near future”. She continued her journey of teaching her children.
Mom, dad and the three children started the process of dressing as a homeless person. Each child had on at least two pair of socks, three layers of shirts, three pair of pants, a large coat, gloves and a hat. They each carried blankets for extra warmth. They walked among the crowd and she taught as they went. They were cold, but did not entertain the thought of using an electric heater of any kind. How would her children understand if she gave in to make their stay more comfortable. After all, she was quite sure no homeless person would have access to those things.
Soon it was time to sleep. Shivering, they bundled together in their cardboard box. At this point a family of five was a blessing as each helped keep the other stay warm. Mom and her youngest daughter lay close together with their heads covered with the blanket because mom’s long hair kept causing her hat to come off. The child mentioned that being that close together did not smell very good! Yes, it was a lesson to be learned. They each had stinky breath, just as a homeless person would have. Supper was still on their teeth as they were not at home with a toothbrush. I had to chuckle.
With only a few hours sleep, dad shook them awake to say the boxes were being torn down. They needed to get up. Another reality set it. There was an urgent need to use the bathroom!!! What bathroom? There was none! Another lesson that would not be soon forgotten. This was where mom drew the line. She gave in to that one modern convenience and scampered off to the place she works. She said; “That was just much to ask, no toilet!”
They gathered their belongings and thought they would go to McDonald’s for breakfast. But, that was not to be. She taught her kids another bit of truth. In order to have any money, those who are homeless would have to panhandle if they were to eat. She pulled out four dollar bills and told them that was all they could get during the night. In actuality, the lack of funds was in place to show them eating a meal was not always possible for those on the street.
I spoke with the children to see what they had taken away from this experience. I think they will never again look at homelessness in the same way. Because of this one cold night they will forever have compassion when they see someone less fortunate. They learned it is better to buy things you can afford, leave credit cards alone and be truly thankful for every little thing you have. They will think twice before spending money on the latest toys, games and expensive clothing. There are things much more important in life than trying to keep up with the Jones’. I applaud mom and dad for showing their children these truths.
On the coldest night, so far, of the year, plans were made for the entire family of five to take on the elements as though they were homeless. This project was set up to help raise funds for Habitat for Humanity. After working all day the parents gathered their three children, the oldest a boy of fourteen and his two sisters, age 11 and 12. It would be a night they would not soon forget.
Many cardboard boxes had been gathered and placed on the street to simulate the sleeping quarters of those who are unfortunate for one reason or another and have to live without a home. My mind, being of the older generation fixes on images taken in the early 1930's and 40's. It was a time when men could not find work. These were not all just worthless people who had no desire to work, they consisted on once affluent members of society. Due to the economy, many lost well-paying jobs. Some were soldiers who had come home from fighting for America’s freedom. So many similarities face America today.
Banks have failed, the construction business is at a standstill for lack of money to pay workers. Jobs are being lost. Ordinary people are losing homes to foreclosure. It is beginning to look worrisome to many families. America has been fortunate until now. People have been spending money with no thought of ever having a problem paying it back. Many have been living far beyond their means with the use of credit and credit cards. They have purchased more than they need, because they could. Hindsight is not much help now. The time has come to pay the piper.
Mom and Dad decided their children should look at the reality of what could be just around the corner for America. Dressed in layers, the family walked to their designated ‘home’ for the night, determined to face the bitter cold as though they were truly homeless.
Much to mom’s chagrin this was not the case with many others in the area. What WERE they thinking! She could not imagine how they were going to learn anything about being homeless with heat generators plugged into electrical plugs. She shook her head at those playing corn hole, a game that costs around $100.00. These young people were going to be totally clueless of the plight of the homeless after their night outside. She wondered what sacrifice they were making that would help them understand the plight of a homeless person. She thought; “Little do they realize this could actually happen to them in the near future”. She continued her journey of teaching her children.
Mom, dad and the three children started the process of dressing as a homeless person. Each child had on at least two pair of socks, three layers of shirts, three pair of pants, a large coat, gloves and a hat. They each carried blankets for extra warmth. They walked among the crowd and she taught as they went. They were cold, but did not entertain the thought of using an electric heater of any kind. How would her children understand if she gave in to make their stay more comfortable. After all, she was quite sure no homeless person would have access to those things.
Soon it was time to sleep. Shivering, they bundled together in their cardboard box. At this point a family of five was a blessing as each helped keep the other stay warm. Mom and her youngest daughter lay close together with their heads covered with the blanket because mom’s long hair kept causing her hat to come off. The child mentioned that being that close together did not smell very good! Yes, it was a lesson to be learned. They each had stinky breath, just as a homeless person would have. Supper was still on their teeth as they were not at home with a toothbrush. I had to chuckle.
With only a few hours sleep, dad shook them awake to say the boxes were being torn down. They needed to get up. Another reality set it. There was an urgent need to use the bathroom!!! What bathroom? There was none! Another lesson that would not be soon forgotten. This was where mom drew the line. She gave in to that one modern convenience and scampered off to the place she works. She said; “That was just much to ask, no toilet!”
They gathered their belongings and thought they would go to McDonald’s for breakfast. But, that was not to be. She taught her kids another bit of truth. In order to have any money, those who are homeless would have to panhandle if they were to eat. She pulled out four dollar bills and told them that was all they could get during the night. In actuality, the lack of funds was in place to show them eating a meal was not always possible for those on the street.
I spoke with the children to see what they had taken away from this experience. I think they will never again look at homelessness in the same way. Because of this one cold night they will forever have compassion when they see someone less fortunate. They learned it is better to buy things you can afford, leave credit cards alone and be truly thankful for every little thing you have. They will think twice before spending money on the latest toys, games and expensive clothing. There are things much more important in life than trying to keep up with the Jones’. I applaud mom and dad for showing their children these truths.
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