I love my mother, I love her every day of the year, not just on Mother's Day. I don't tell her enough that I love her. She is possibly the nicest person I know and would give you the shirt off her back if you needed it. She is crazy, but in a good way. She loves all her kids, grandkids and great-grandkids. She is beautiful, inside and out. I am blessed with her good genes and I am proud to say so. She raised me to be who I am, good or bad!! My mom worked hard for many years, she was a single mom and gave me more than I deserved. My mom's name is Jacquelyne Lee, isn't that a beautiful name?!! Her hair is completely white, in gorgeous way. Her eyes are bluer than the sky and equally as big. She is 85 years on this earth and has earned every single one of those years. She lost her mom when she was nine years old but she still knew how to be a mom. Sometimes it's hard for her to not be "mom", I'm 54 years old and she still wants to mom me. I have a son who is almost 30, I don't really need to be mom-ed. But that's okay, it's hard not to be mom. I love her so much and so much of who I am is because of who she is and who she made me to be.
My daughter-in-law is just about the best mommy I know. She has three little boys, my grandsons, who are the light of her life. She is married to my oldest son and loves him, this ranks her pretty high in my book. She is a born teacher and teaches all the time, I've learned a few things from her in the past eight years. Her name is Melissa Dawn, she is as delightful as her name. She is a tiny green-eyed beauty who is one of the strongest women I know. I'm pretty sure she could take me!! She taught me to be healthy with the birth of Jacob. She has become comfortable in the very loud Lancaster family, she can hold her own with the best of them. She loves all her boys with a love so strong and they love her equally as strong. She challenges them to be better, especially the one that is my son. She has allowed him to grow into a man, husband and father. She works so hard to make her home and her family the best they can be. She loves adventure and looks for it around every corner. I love my daughter-in-law in a way I always hoped I would and the way my mother-in-law loved me. My mother-in-law taught me what it meant to be a mother-in-law and I hope that I bless Melissa Dawn the way Lucille blessed me.
I love being a mom, I love being a grandma, I love being a daughter and I love being a mother-in-law. I hope that each and every mom is blessed during this week. Know that your kids love you all the time, they may not tell you enough and sometimes you may wonder but they always love you. I raise a toast to all the moms out there, you're doing a good job and your kids will turn out just fine. Your work will not be in vain and one day your kids will be the humans you always hope they will be. My boys are the best thing that happened to me and I will always be proud to be their momma, God trusted me big when He gave me these guys, I hope I did Him proud.
Wednesday, May 6, 2015
Wednesday, March 4, 2015
#bakingismytherapy
I absolutely love to bake. I love to bake bread. Cookies, cakes, brownies are not necessarily in my repertoire, although I do these too. I can bake most things, as can you, the key is the ability to follow instructions. Baking is a precise science and measurements are vital to the outcome. Success is generally easy if you have followed the directions as written in the recipe. Now don't get me wrong, I have had plenty of failures even when following the directions as written. Sometimes it is just a bad recipe, sometimes the weather will affect the outcome and sometimes I have left out a key ingredient because of haste or distraction during the mixing stage. But this post isn't about recipes, it is about why I love to bake and why I do it even when I have bread sitting on the counter.
This is a fancy definition of what most people think of when they hear the word therapy. When I think of the word therapy I think of getting back to balance. For some people this may require treatment outside themselves, counseling, physical therapy, medication. It really all depends on what is out of balance for you. My life is stable, it is quiet, it is routine, it is exactly what I want it to be. Sometimes I wake and the brain seems a bit fuzzy or it seems consumed with thoughts that make it difficult to do daily chores. Sometimes I need to empty the brain of all the stuff that has built up, release the toxins that invade. Toxins are poison that need to be purged from the body. I do exercise daily to purge the toxins from my physical body, I also drink a ton of water to wash other toxins out. Occasionally the brain needs more therapy than exercise or water can take care of. This, for me, is where baking has worked miracles.
I started baking my own bread ~ 3 years ago, I had been making my own pizza crust for several years previously but that's about it. Chris had gotten me a KitchenAid stand mixer for Christmas 2005 or 06, I loved it and was so excited to have it--it was PINK! I used it sporadically but never for making bread. Mostly it was a decoration for my kitchen. When the grandchildren started showing up my daughter-in-law started really paying attention to what her family was consuming. This prompted me to do the same. Reading ingredient labels and really taking stock of what I was buying and eating was so eye opening. Then one day I figured that I could throw ingredients into my mixer bowl and let it do the work. Well not only did the house smell amazing but I found myself loving the process. There are times when I knead the dough by hand just to get a really good workout in my arms and to feel the consistency change into what I desire for that particular loaf or pan of rolls. One time I was attempting to make ciabatta, this required a long kneading time with the mixer and it is a stiff dough. Well it happened, I blew out my little pink KitchenAid and I cried. I took it to a local repair shop and 1 week and $36 later I was back at work. I had to be careful as to what types of dough I was working with and do more by hand. This past Christmas my wonderful Chris got me a new KitchenAid bigger, better, sturdier and able to leap tall buildings in a single bound!! Although it is not pink it still makes a fine addition to my kitchen. And the pink Kitchen Aid sits in the closet waiting for me for smaller jobs. I used it when making all my Christmas cookies.
The act of baking bread---or rolls, English muffins, bagels---has so many layers. First it is the finding of the recipe, many of the recipes I use, not to mention most of the ingredients, come from http://www.kingarthurflour.com/. Their flour is the best you can use and they have been around for 225 years so they must be doing something right. Another thing I like about King Arthur is the reviews on the recipes, these are helpful and King Arthur will post comments following reviews with helpful suggestions. Fresh ingredients are key to success, be aware of how fresh everything you are using is. I buy flour in a 25lb bag and it may last a month or two. I buy my yeast directly from http://www.kingarthurflour.com/ because it is so much more economical. I use whole milk and real butter. Once you start making your own bread you will not be satisfied with store bought. I'm still working on hamburger buns. I have made pretzel buns that are amazing, if I say so myself.
Okay so you have all the ingredients in the mixing bowl and the magic begins. I stated previously that I generally let the mixer do all the work because I am doing more than one thing at a time. And to be honest I have been having some shoulder problems that cause the kneading part to be a bit painful. I am almost healed and will be kneading again soon. So the dough is exactly how you want it and ready for the first rise. This is my favorite part because you can see the action taking place. This takes anywhere from an hour and a half to two hours, again depending on your surroundings. Sometimes I have over-proofed the dough--don't worry, punch it down and let it start over. Time consuming, yes? but worth it in the end. After the first rise comes the shaping and second rise. Rolls are a little more work but if that's what you're going for you have to invest the time. The second rise is a little more critical because you don't want to over-proof at this stage of the game, timing is important so don't schedule anything that requires you to be away. Bake according to directions, but also know your oven, watch your bread as it bakes and try not to open the door because it releases too much of the heat. Let your bread or rolls cool for a few minutes in the pan, as much as you want to tear into a hot loaf, it needs to rest just a few minutes. So there you have a fresh loaf of bread made with your own little hands and with no extra ingredients that you don't need. Be warned there is a short life to fresh bread, no preservatives so it will not last forever. You can freeze your bread and when you want it wrap it in foil and heat in a 300 degree oven and it will taste as good as the day you baked it.
What have I learned from all of this: Baking bread is not scary, it is not difficult, it is time consuming, I have yet to find a whole wheat loaf that I love that doesn't weigh a ton. Baking bread is cheaper than buying bread, I give my bread to my kids and they don't seem to mind. Each and every step of the process is exciting for me and keeps me on my toes. Lancaster's love bread so it is vital that it is available, in all forms. I don't want to do this as a job. I am happy to make it for anyone who asks. The smell of fresh bread is one that cannot be duplicated in a candle. The taste of fresh bread cannot be described effectively.
Anyone can bake bread, even you!
Therapy
- Therapy is the attempted remediation of a health problem, usually following a diagnosis. In the medical field, it is usually synonymous with treatment.
This is a fancy definition of what most people think of when they hear the word therapy. When I think of the word therapy I think of getting back to balance. For some people this may require treatment outside themselves, counseling, physical therapy, medication. It really all depends on what is out of balance for you. My life is stable, it is quiet, it is routine, it is exactly what I want it to be. Sometimes I wake and the brain seems a bit fuzzy or it seems consumed with thoughts that make it difficult to do daily chores. Sometimes I need to empty the brain of all the stuff that has built up, release the toxins that invade. Toxins are poison that need to be purged from the body. I do exercise daily to purge the toxins from my physical body, I also drink a ton of water to wash other toxins out. Occasionally the brain needs more therapy than exercise or water can take care of. This, for me, is where baking has worked miracles.
I started baking my own bread ~ 3 years ago, I had been making my own pizza crust for several years previously but that's about it. Chris had gotten me a KitchenAid stand mixer for Christmas 2005 or 06, I loved it and was so excited to have it--it was PINK! I used it sporadically but never for making bread. Mostly it was a decoration for my kitchen. When the grandchildren started showing up my daughter-in-law started really paying attention to what her family was consuming. This prompted me to do the same. Reading ingredient labels and really taking stock of what I was buying and eating was so eye opening. Then one day I figured that I could throw ingredients into my mixer bowl and let it do the work. Well not only did the house smell amazing but I found myself loving the process. There are times when I knead the dough by hand just to get a really good workout in my arms and to feel the consistency change into what I desire for that particular loaf or pan of rolls. One time I was attempting to make ciabatta, this required a long kneading time with the mixer and it is a stiff dough. Well it happened, I blew out my little pink KitchenAid and I cried. I took it to a local repair shop and 1 week and $36 later I was back at work. I had to be careful as to what types of dough I was working with and do more by hand. This past Christmas my wonderful Chris got me a new KitchenAid bigger, better, sturdier and able to leap tall buildings in a single bound!! Although it is not pink it still makes a fine addition to my kitchen. And the pink Kitchen Aid sits in the closet waiting for me for smaller jobs. I used it when making all my Christmas cookies.
The act of baking bread---or rolls, English muffins, bagels---has so many layers. First it is the finding of the recipe, many of the recipes I use, not to mention most of the ingredients, come from http://www.kingarthurflour.com/. Their flour is the best you can use and they have been around for 225 years so they must be doing something right. Another thing I like about King Arthur is the reviews on the recipes, these are helpful and King Arthur will post comments following reviews with helpful suggestions. Fresh ingredients are key to success, be aware of how fresh everything you are using is. I buy flour in a 25lb bag and it may last a month or two. I buy my yeast directly from http://www.kingarthurflour.com/ because it is so much more economical. I use whole milk and real butter. Once you start making your own bread you will not be satisfied with store bought. I'm still working on hamburger buns. I have made pretzel buns that are amazing, if I say so myself.
Okay so you have all the ingredients in the mixing bowl and the magic begins. I stated previously that I generally let the mixer do all the work because I am doing more than one thing at a time. And to be honest I have been having some shoulder problems that cause the kneading part to be a bit painful. I am almost healed and will be kneading again soon. So the dough is exactly how you want it and ready for the first rise. This is my favorite part because you can see the action taking place. This takes anywhere from an hour and a half to two hours, again depending on your surroundings. Sometimes I have over-proofed the dough--don't worry, punch it down and let it start over. Time consuming, yes? but worth it in the end. After the first rise comes the shaping and second rise. Rolls are a little more work but if that's what you're going for you have to invest the time. The second rise is a little more critical because you don't want to over-proof at this stage of the game, timing is important so don't schedule anything that requires you to be away. Bake according to directions, but also know your oven, watch your bread as it bakes and try not to open the door because it releases too much of the heat. Let your bread or rolls cool for a few minutes in the pan, as much as you want to tear into a hot loaf, it needs to rest just a few minutes. So there you have a fresh loaf of bread made with your own little hands and with no extra ingredients that you don't need. Be warned there is a short life to fresh bread, no preservatives so it will not last forever. You can freeze your bread and when you want it wrap it in foil and heat in a 300 degree oven and it will taste as good as the day you baked it.
What have I learned from all of this: Baking bread is not scary, it is not difficult, it is time consuming, I have yet to find a whole wheat loaf that I love that doesn't weigh a ton. Baking bread is cheaper than buying bread, I give my bread to my kids and they don't seem to mind. Each and every step of the process is exciting for me and keeps me on my toes. Lancaster's love bread so it is vital that it is available, in all forms. I don't want to do this as a job. I am happy to make it for anyone who asks. The smell of fresh bread is one that cannot be duplicated in a candle. The taste of fresh bread cannot be described effectively.
Anyone can bake bread, even you!
PS: cinnamon rolls are Chris's favorite!
Thursday, January 29, 2015
Father of the Bride
I'm sitting here watching "Father of the Bride" for the hundredth or so time. I love this movie it has a lot memories for me. The first is Sam, the day Jason Stary left for Tajikistan we were both a little sad. Jason had lived with us while collecting support for this mission, he and Sam had become close, Luke was away at college and Sam was going through a tough period. Jason was like a brother as well as a friend. Sam and I didn't say a lot to one another but we just sat and watched "Father of the Bride". This is a happy memory for me and I think of it every time the movie comes along on the remote.
The second set of feelings are far more complicated and not nearly as pleasant. I wish they wouldn't come but they always do and they always make me deal with something I only think about occasionally. I have only put these thoughts and feelings into words on paper one time before and that was to the person at the center of all of this. I'm sharing this with you because I want to for one, and because I think I need to. I need to in order to understand a little more for myself and so maybe you will understand me a bit more. The beginning of the story goes back to 1970 but the meat of the story starts on June 11, 1982.
In 1970 my mom and dad were divorced, I was 9 years old and didn't really understand all that was involved with this. Dad and my brother left and thus began the every-other weekend-visits. I don't remember a ton of that time, the benefits of being a kid, your forget a lot of stuff. About a year later my dad left Kansas City and I think I can count how many times I saw him after that, up to and including my wedding day, on one hand. I can go into a blame game here but I'm not going to, it doesn't matter anymore and isn't productive. Let' just say that dad and I weren't terribly close, it was mostly cordial.
On June 11, 1982 Chris Lancaster asked me to marry him. I said yes. Let the wedding planning begin. We planned a church wedding and reception, cake and punch. It was going to be simple, beautiful and pink--my favorite color--set the date for June 4, 1983. We were both graduating from college on May 15, 1983, so most of my senior year in college was spent doing wedding stuff and Chris spent his senior year in college doing school and doing job interviews, going on plant trips and dealing with too much rejection from that.
Shortly after we got engaged I started thinking about what I wanted most for my wedding day. I wanted it to be perfect, like a story book, but things don't always happen the way you want them to. First of all dealing with the lady at the church who was in charge of the wedding stuff was proving to be challenging. She wouldn't let me have 2 of the 3 songs I wanted as part of the ceremony, they weren't "religious" and didn't fit in a church wedding. I was devastated because picking the music is so personal for brides and in the end I did not get to hear those two songs because one was prior to the service and the other was following, both times of which I wasn't in the sanctuary.
The next thing that didn't happen the way I would have wanted was the part where I walk down the aisle. In a perfect world daddy walks his little girl down and gives her hand to the next man in her life. I wasn't daddy's little girl, this was the part of my life that never happened. I grew up with my mom, she did great, she did everything she could possibly do and I appreciate it all. But she couldn't be daddy. All that being said, I made the decision to walk down the aisle alone, with all the parents standing and answering the question "who blesses this couple tonight?' with "we do". Adequate but not storybook perfect. I chose not to have my dad give me away because I truly felt as though he did not deserve that privilege, he had given me away a long time ago and didn't really make much of an effort to be daddy to me. I couldn't ask my mom to walk me down the aisle, for one thing that was way too progressive for the Lutheran church (and me) and for another thing it would be too hard emotionally for both of us. We had been just the two of us for a long time.
So when I watch "Father of the Bride" I get very emotional because I feel as if I missed that time of my life when I was the center of my daddy's universe and could do no wrong, that time when he would do anything for me simply by my asking. I never had that person who looked at me like a daddy looks at his little girl, that person who taught me how a husband was to be, what a father was to be. No one to show me the way a man treats a woman. Fortunately for me, God had a man in mind for me. A man whose father knew these things. A man who wanted to be all these things and more, just for me. I am blessed and I hope Chris knows how much he means to me. When I was pregnant, both times I secretly hoped it wasn't a girl. I didn't want to deal with the kind of daddy Chris would be to a little girl, I knew that I would be jealous because he would be PERFECT!!
I know that George and Annie Banks are not real, I know that a lot of girls grow up without their dads, I know that Chris and I were still 100% married even without my dad giving me away. I know that my wedding was perfect and I couldn't have asked for more. I try not to resent my dad, I try not to be angry, I try but sometimes I fail. Mostly when I watch "Father of the Bride"...
So what have I learned from this? I've learned that some feelings run pretty deep and cannot be stopped from coming to the surface. I have learned that "Father of the Bride" is still a fun movie and I will watch it every time I run across it. But seriously, I have also learned that we are what we have lived. I am the person I am because of the things that have happened to me. I am who I am supposed to be. I am who God knew I was going to be, I am who He designed me to be and I hope I honor Him in my life.
The second set of feelings are far more complicated and not nearly as pleasant. I wish they wouldn't come but they always do and they always make me deal with something I only think about occasionally. I have only put these thoughts and feelings into words on paper one time before and that was to the person at the center of all of this. I'm sharing this with you because I want to for one, and because I think I need to. I need to in order to understand a little more for myself and so maybe you will understand me a bit more. The beginning of the story goes back to 1970 but the meat of the story starts on June 11, 1982.
In 1970 my mom and dad were divorced, I was 9 years old and didn't really understand all that was involved with this. Dad and my brother left and thus began the every-other weekend-visits. I don't remember a ton of that time, the benefits of being a kid, your forget a lot of stuff. About a year later my dad left Kansas City and I think I can count how many times I saw him after that, up to and including my wedding day, on one hand. I can go into a blame game here but I'm not going to, it doesn't matter anymore and isn't productive. Let' just say that dad and I weren't terribly close, it was mostly cordial.
On June 11, 1982 Chris Lancaster asked me to marry him. I said yes. Let the wedding planning begin. We planned a church wedding and reception, cake and punch. It was going to be simple, beautiful and pink--my favorite color--set the date for June 4, 1983. We were both graduating from college on May 15, 1983, so most of my senior year in college was spent doing wedding stuff and Chris spent his senior year in college doing school and doing job interviews, going on plant trips and dealing with too much rejection from that.
Shortly after we got engaged I started thinking about what I wanted most for my wedding day. I wanted it to be perfect, like a story book, but things don't always happen the way you want them to. First of all dealing with the lady at the church who was in charge of the wedding stuff was proving to be challenging. She wouldn't let me have 2 of the 3 songs I wanted as part of the ceremony, they weren't "religious" and didn't fit in a church wedding. I was devastated because picking the music is so personal for brides and in the end I did not get to hear those two songs because one was prior to the service and the other was following, both times of which I wasn't in the sanctuary.
The next thing that didn't happen the way I would have wanted was the part where I walk down the aisle. In a perfect world daddy walks his little girl down and gives her hand to the next man in her life. I wasn't daddy's little girl, this was the part of my life that never happened. I grew up with my mom, she did great, she did everything she could possibly do and I appreciate it all. But she couldn't be daddy. All that being said, I made the decision to walk down the aisle alone, with all the parents standing and answering the question "who blesses this couple tonight?' with "we do". Adequate but not storybook perfect. I chose not to have my dad give me away because I truly felt as though he did not deserve that privilege, he had given me away a long time ago and didn't really make much of an effort to be daddy to me. I couldn't ask my mom to walk me down the aisle, for one thing that was way too progressive for the Lutheran church (and me) and for another thing it would be too hard emotionally for both of us. We had been just the two of us for a long time.
So when I watch "Father of the Bride" I get very emotional because I feel as if I missed that time of my life when I was the center of my daddy's universe and could do no wrong, that time when he would do anything for me simply by my asking. I never had that person who looked at me like a daddy looks at his little girl, that person who taught me how a husband was to be, what a father was to be. No one to show me the way a man treats a woman. Fortunately for me, God had a man in mind for me. A man whose father knew these things. A man who wanted to be all these things and more, just for me. I am blessed and I hope Chris knows how much he means to me. When I was pregnant, both times I secretly hoped it wasn't a girl. I didn't want to deal with the kind of daddy Chris would be to a little girl, I knew that I would be jealous because he would be PERFECT!!
I know that George and Annie Banks are not real, I know that a lot of girls grow up without their dads, I know that Chris and I were still 100% married even without my dad giving me away. I know that my wedding was perfect and I couldn't have asked for more. I try not to resent my dad, I try not to be angry, I try but sometimes I fail. Mostly when I watch "Father of the Bride"...
So what have I learned from this? I've learned that some feelings run pretty deep and cannot be stopped from coming to the surface. I have learned that "Father of the Bride" is still a fun movie and I will watch it every time I run across it. But seriously, I have also learned that we are what we have lived. I am the person I am because of the things that have happened to me. I am who I am supposed to be. I am who God knew I was going to be, I am who He designed me to be and I hope I honor Him in my life.
Saturday, January 17, 2015
One year ago...
I don't know how to really approach this but I am going to try best as I can. One year ago Chris and I were on a geocaching date for the day. The day started with coffee at Quay, our favorite spot to have a coffee date. On our way out of town, we were on our way to Lawrence, KS to find some specific caches Chris was looking for, I got a call, it was Luke's caller ID, and I answered, as I always do, "Hey baby, what's up!?!?" On the other end of the call was Jess, Luke's new girlfriend. I had met her in November briefly, at the coffee shop she works at in Nashville. I didn't even really know they were actually dating, just that Luke liked her and thought she was cute (which she is). Anyway, Jess was on the other end of this call telling me that Luke was at Vanderbilt Med Center in the ER, his leg was infected and they were trying to figure out what was going on. She was not letting on how serious this was and told me she would keep me posted throughout the day about how he was doing. Chris and I went about our day as planned, I was a little preoccupied with thinking about Luke but I had a good time nonetheless. Later that night we talked again and things were a lot different from the morning. She was completely freaked out and on the verge of losing it, she was panicked and throwing out words like septic, amputation, this was more than I could comprehend. Less that 12 hours later, I was on a plane to Nashville. I've written previously about Luke's ordeal and I am not going to repeat it here.
It is one year later and things have returned to normal, what has changed? I for one, I found and inner strength that I did not know I had. I found a faith that I will never take for granted again. I found that people will stand in the gap for you. I found that friends will hold your life in their hands for however long you need them to. I found that people you don't know will pray for you. I found that your husband will drive a million miles to make life better for you. I found that my boys, all of them, are the center of my universe and there is nothing that will change that.
The day, one year ago, is still as clear in my memory as it was that day. I keep hoping it will fade but it may never go away. Facing the death of a child is something I hope you never have to experience but I did and I'm trying to move past that part. Luke is doing GREAT, he is healthy, happy and better than ever, so why do I struggle with these damn flashbacks?? I saw my baby struggle for breath, I watched him make the decision to fight to keep his leg--amidst ICU psychosis--I spent two months living in a bachelors apartment taking care of my 27 year old sick child. I was away from my grandbabies. I relied on my mom to take care of my puppy and my husband's laundry and ironing. I want to not remember but I know that I will not be able to EVER forget. How do you move on? How do you? I do not know, I do not think I will ever be free from the flashbacks. This is something that has left an indelible mark on my life and I must learn to face the flashbacks and accept the tears that accompany them.
I try to focus on the positive. I marvel at the miracle that happened following this horrific time. I think about the young lady who stole my son's heart and saved his life. I watched one son rush to the side of his brother and just hold his hand. There are so many good things to think on and I am grateful for each of them. Not a day goes by that I don't think about the miracle that happened and maybe that is why I have flashbacks, this is not something I can put in the memory banks, it must remain front and center. It is a constant reminder of the power of God and His love for me and my family. He did a miracle in my life and no one can tell me differently, I asked people to pray and they did, more than I could ever imagine. So many things have happened between then and now, life has returned to a place of normalcy. I go about doing all the things I do, the things I am built to do. I take care of my home and my family. But I have to tell you that I look at those things a little differently and I hold each moment a little more tenderly.
This is our experience, your experience will be very different from ours. I will pray for you and for your loved ones, please just ask me, I don't even need the details, God knows, He will be with you, it may not be how you think you need Him, but He will be there, in many forms. So maybe the flashbacks aren't negative, maybe they are just a reminder to me to thank God once again for being in my life.
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