Absolute Perfect Timing

Every day I trust more in divine timing.

Dan returned from Atlanta last night still suffering sinus trouble. He left for a late-morning clinic appointment with the intent of using Wal-mart's pharmacy should he need to fill a prescription. I asked him to pick up a card for his sister's birthday while he waited.

I forgot to give him a small Norwegian chocolate bar that I'd meant to enclose with the card. An hour later, I left home to run errands. I considered stopping at Wal-Mart to catch him. But an inner voice urged me to attend the other matters first.

"Fine," I thought. "We'll just have to make a special trip to run the card and chocolate over tomorrow."

Forty minutes later, as I approached Wal-Mart's east entry doors, whom did I meet leaving? My hubby with his drugs and a card for his sister. We went to his car. He wrote out a message. After shopping, I made the delivery. Absolute Perfect Timing!

And then the inner voice repeats: "When will you trust Me for ALL?"

Come...

... and
meet
me.












Come –












and

greet

the

day.







The
work –


will
never
end.













But

morning...













... will

soon...










...pass

away.





As such it came to me this morning – prompting me out into the elements – Along Life's Road. Celebrating the 100th post!

Boston Cream Pie

Country
Living
Style.



Why
the
extra
effort –






Stirring
up
homemade
vanilla
bean
pudding...




Baking a yellow cake from scratch

and

whisking up a dark-chocolate-glaze topping?



Because....


Some
things
taste
that
divine.


(Ask three sons
and a father-in-law
of mine.)

My Husband Chose...

... my washer.

"What? You let your husband buy a washer?"

"You bet," I replied to numerous women who'd scorned my recent judgment. I grinned, "I'm just the stay-home mom."

"But you're the one who uses it," they replied. "You're the one who knows what you need."

"That's right," I said. "My job is prompting him into action."

FEAR

After a mid-week evening run to the laundry mat with the boys, I came home flustered. Dan asked why. "Remember Noah and the razor-flushing experiment in the toilet?" I asked. He nodded. I continued, "Let's just say: they tested the limits at the laundry mat – its machinery and my patience. They will not enter that place with me again."

COST

Last weekend, I summed up the situation for Dan. "I spent $40 this week on laundry - and that doesn't include bedding or throw rugs." I added, "The manager thanked me personally for my business. At this rate, we'll spend $200 a month on laundry. That's a car payment."

TRUST

Within the hour, Dan began discussing options. "I'd like a special cycle for delicates," I said. "Otherwise... just get me something that works. You earn the big bucks. Now you can spend them."

I hate wheeling and dealing. Dan thrives on it.

He buckles down, researches products online, reviews customer complaints and raves, considers longevity, features and price and then haggles with local dealers to get the biggest bang for his buck.

Frugality motivates his drive to buy. He discovered all washers last about 10 years. Front loaders cost two-to-three-times more than top-loading ones. Front-loading ones do save on water usage. But we have our own well and don't pay a water-use fee. So, he got a top-loading, stainless-steel-tub washer with multiple cycle options, including ones for delicate and hand-wash. The new washer arrived Thursday and works great – as does this process of marriage building.

Yes, it's true. My Husband Chose My Washer... and another interest-free-payment plan for me to juggle too.

Top Ten Reasons

...for Laundering Out


10. Bellying up
to the neighboring bar
to exchange
a $20 bill
for two rolls
of quarters


9. Coming into
a rush of hot air
from the arctic
outdoor
temperature.

8. Filling

all seven

washing

machines

with

laundry


7. Listening

to the

washers

work

while I

waited


6. Reaching

for a

recycled

magazine

on the

rack



5. Reading
in peace
and
finding
its
profound
message



4. Filling all four dryers
and promptly gaining
a refund when one
failed to function properly

3. Having the manager
genuinely thank me
for my business -
$40 worth in one week

2. Spending less than
six hours (over one week)
doing work that usually
takes more than twenty



And the
Number One reason
for Laundering Out is...


1. KaBang.
KaBong.
KaBoomBoomBoomBoom.

With that noise,
our home
washing machine
died two weeks ago.

The Almighty Artist

uses
our
window
as
His
polar
canvas.





Sharing

today's

mighty

mural

Along

Life's

Road.

Twenty-Two Below

Ice crystals

on the

window

pane

blocked

the

thermometer.



I bundled

up and

went out

to read:

22 below.


I stood in the stillness. A crow cawed. Song birds chirped. The rising sun's rays bathed the tree tops in a pink light against the clear sky. I contemplated climbing the hill to glimpse morning over the moors. Cold air penetrated my nostrils. My skin began to stiffen. I opted to head inside.




With a
closer look
at the
window
screen,
I saw
intricate
patterns.



Inside the house –
more stillness.

The wood stove
furnace blew...

it had been hours
since the last stoking.

Yet the coals glowed...

In spite of

winter and its

Twenty-Two Below.

Customized Twist

I don't make resolutions. I habitually fail to keep them. But I AM trying to finish projects.

Last night, I crocheted a few rows on an afghan I'd started years ago. Amidst its creamy ripples flow a few textured ones in deep blue. I started the project thinking of waves on a lake... and later, loons – my favorite water fowl. When this project was done, I'd planned to sew a pair of coordinating pillows from a fleece fabric featuring the bird with the haunting call. That was about five years ago – when we'd discussed building a cabin on a little piece of property that we'd bought next to a pond where a loon pair nests each year...

Raising a family and fixing an aging house took priority over starting a cabin project. The afghan fell by the wayside too. Until... my cousin announced his upcoming wedding.

I like to give homemade gifts, especially for weddings and baby showers. That's why I pulled out my work bag, counted the rows left to finish and decided have a go at the afghan again.

Last weekend during the bridal shower, we took a multiple choice test. The game's gist was to guess each of the bride's and groom's favorites: color, animal, bird, pet, instrument, candy bar, number, etc. Of the sixteen items, they had five in common. We scored a point a piece for each correct answer with a total of 32 points possible. The top three scorers got prizes. I was not among the prize winners. But I did win valuable knowledge.

Today while perusing aisles of fabric, I found the perfect "pillow piece" – reflective of not only their favorite colors, animal and bird but also the wetland habitat abutting the couple's new homestead. The fabric's blue color scheme matched not only the afghan's textured ripple but also my intended water theme. (I'll credit prayer on all counts.)

With just nine rows and a pair of pillows to go, I'm on my way to transforming an unfinished project into a homemade wedding gift – with a Customized Twist.

Now, about that loon fleece...

Arctic Canopy

There's

place

l like

to go...







along

the shores

of a lake

I know...








where –

when

the sun

shines

brightly –









upon

the

red pine –

delightfully...








and

the moon

glows –

even at

midday...






I can see

beyond...




the

Arctic Canopy.

One Day

One day
One 8th-grade basketball player meets
One team challenge –
One to dress up each Game Day.

One mother fills number-one son's
One request of
One button down shirt by finding
One BIG clearance-rack bargain because
One wonders: Will he ever wear it again?

One son grabs
One "flashy" tie from dad's tie rack.

One dad teaches number-one son how to tie
One half-windsor knot.

One number-two son laughs off his pants seeing
One big bro all dressed up.
One big bro spouts: You're just jealous!

One 8th-grade basketball player turns to
One mirror – eyes himself and says:

Sophisticated!

One mother rolls her eyes – amazed...

Sophisticated?

One mother utters: I never thought I'd see this One Day.

One dad sputters:
One needs a few whiskers before THAT
One Day.

Smørgåsbord

Today our quilting group met in the afternoon. So, I had time to run morning errands. I was still shopping at lunchtime. (My bowl of raisin bran – long gone.)

On my way to the milk cooler, I passed the bakery cart. A bag of wheat bolillio rolls caught my eye.

This bread's rich taste is very close to that of Norway's kneip bread. My thoughts began to roll: Norway, open-face sandwiches, lunch!

Rather than eat before quilting, I decided to take lunch to share. We usually have "coffee" (beverages with sweets) during our meeting. Today I'd expand our horizons with a smørgåsbord of open-face sandwich toppings.

Back home, I whipped up a batch of Italian salad. I grew to love the Norwegian-deli version of this dish during my college-dorm days in Telemark. My wing mate showed me how to stir in cubed ham for a satisfying sandwich spread. When I wed three years later, another dorm mate sent a cookbook called "Eat the Norway" which included a basic recipe for this popular salad. Here's my version – inspired from my days at Grivi Student Home.

Grivi Italian Salad Spread

In a bowl, toss:

1 small carrot, grated
1 stalk celery, chopped
1 apple, chopped
1/2 cup chopped cucumber
1 pickle, chopped
1 cup ham, cubed
2 cups finely-shredded cabbage

In a separate bowl, mix:

1/2 cup light Miracle Whip
1/2 cup sour cream
1 tsp mustard

Stir dressing into the vegetable mixture. Refrigerate to blend flavors. Serve "open-faced" on a slice of heavy bread.

* * * * * * * *

With my "main dish" complete, I scanned our refrigerator for other Nordic toppings, piled them into a shopping bag along with a serving plate, bread tray and cheese cutter – which Norwegians will proudly tell you their ancestors invented! Down in the church-basement kitchen, I made final preparations for...

...an array

of

Nordic

smørbrød

(translated:
buttered
bread)


Out in the dining room, the ladies worked on world mission projects: laying out fabrics, tying quilts and rolling used-sheet strips for bandages. Soon I heard comments.

"What's Wendy doing in the kitchen?" one asked. Another guessed, "Getting supper ready for confirmation class."

"No," I replied. "This is for us!"

"She's preparing a feast," someone guessed. "I think I smell beef roast and mashed potatoes?"

"It's a smørgåsbord," I said. "I was shopping at lunchtime –"

"Big mistake!" she interrupted. "Shopping on an empty stomach."

"I know. But, my mistake is your reward," I said. "I found a bag of bolillio rolls and was inspired to make Italian salad – the Norwegian way. Pretty soon I was pulling out all kinds of Norwegian sandwich toppings."

When we finally sat down to coffee, I explained:



to
represent
"pølse,"

I used

summer
sausage;



For
farmer's
cheese –

provolone –

topped
with
cucumber.






These
cloud berry
preserves
came from
Sweden's
mountains.




Scandinavians will confess that they guard these berry-patches secrets – just like we Minnesotans guard our favorite fishing holes.


Then I
confessed –

about the
last topping:

real goat cheese

and homemade

strawberry preserves.


"When I first came to Norway as a 16-year-old, I hated their caramel cheese. But after a year immersed into their culture, I wanted to BE Norwegian... and that meant learning to like geit ost. One summer afternoon during an alfresco lunch by the lake, I shaved off a slice, set it on my tongue, and let it melt in my mouth. After the initial bitterness wore off, I grew to love geit ost.

To offset its strong taste, Norwegians use a dab of strawberry preserves – like this one homemade by my neighbor lady.

Værsågod!"

With that welcome and a table prayer, we hungrily part took in the Smørgåsbord.

Do You Struggle...

to hear the voice of God?

I shook my head as the pastor asked that question during today's sermon.

I hear God's voice all the time. Had the pastor asked, "Do you struggle to "follow" the voice of God?"

I would have smiled and nodded.

I am a child of God. Time and again, my heavenly Father advises me.

I know it is Him. From deep within my being comes a persistent, calm voice of ultimate reason – one that sometimes seems unreasonable or profound but, upon reflection, is absolutely right.

Like a child pushing the parental boundaries, I sometimes rebel – insisting upon MY way. And to what end? I find my Father's guiding hand around my shoulder comforting me: You'd have saved yourself time and energy following my instruction.

That's how it happened Sunday. I was on my way to a bridal shower – ALONE – doing a GIRL thing. I left right after church. No looking back – at the house, its messes, lunch preparation, whatever... "A free day off," as Noah would say. He and the rest of my guys would spend the afternoon with the church youth group frolicking at a local hotel in the water park.

I drove in silence – southbound over the hills, winding through the forest and onto the main highway toward my hometown. If all went well, I had an hour to spend before the party's start. I intended to shop. I needed a big roll of batting – a supply for my Norway trip fundraiser.

It was in that BEAUTIFUL silence – away from the noise of my parental duties, I sought God.

My heavenly Father said:
Just go to the party.


I replied:
What?
I can avoid temptation.
I can conquer the fabrics.
I just need batting.


Just go to the party.

I need the batting.
I have the coupon: 50% off plus a $10 gift card.
It won't get any cheaper than that.

Just go to the party.

I need the batting.
I have ALL this fabric to make potholders to sell to fund my Norway trip. I also have blankets to make.

Just go to the party.

But I have time today.
I need the batting.
The big batting roll might not be my local store when I get there later this week.


And so, the battle continued during my hour drive in "silence" with the Lord.
His: Just go to the party.
countering
My: I need the batting.


I got into town with time to spare. I went to the store. I combed the aisles of beautiful bargain fabric. I resisted temptation. I found a giant batting roll. I took it to the cutting table. I asked, "Do I need a slip or just take it to the checkout."

The clerk said, "You need a slip. Do you have a coupon?"

"Yes," I nodded. The store phone rang. She excused herself. I dug in my purse, found the flyer and paged to find the coupon. It wasn't there. I paged once more. Nothing. I looked at the flyer date and realized this was the old flyer. The new one with the BIG savings coupon was left at home. The clerk returned. I explained my trouble. I put the batting back.

And I drove to the party... in silence.

This time, I spoke first:
OK God, I know. You told me so.
I should have heeded your voice: Just go to the party.


I told my story about heeding His voice several times that day. I figured: Okay, I can still try again later in the week at our local store. No big deal.

But that night, I got a bigger surprise. God took the advice to the next level. I opened a forwarded email from a fellow church member. One of the lines PENETRATED my heart. It read:

"A rich person is not the one who has the most, but the one who needs the least."


Long ago, I understood "materialism." Recently, I've made strides to "simplify." (One step forward. Two steps back?) But now, this thought struck me. "How can I justify buying more... to sew more... to sell more... to earn more... for my trip?"

For months, God has been asking: "Do you trust me?"

When I say: "Yes. But..."

He asks again: "Do you trust me?"

I say: "Yes..."


And He replies:

"Then let it go.

('IT' being the old ways: making and peddling wares – and even – the worries of 'how.')

"I have a better way. Trust Me."


I hear His voice.
And yet, I struggle.

Do You Struggle...

Best of the Best

Shopping is an escape.

I will miss escaping to Norway. In my mind, I traveled there each time I visited Nordic Living – a local Scandinavian-lifestyle store and school.

Yarns, rugs, sweaters, fabrics, foods, tea sets, books, cards, music and a zillion other things displayed in cozy nooks transported me to my second home – without the flight ticket.

Whether shopping for a gift or on a trip to reminisce, I could hop in the car, drive through the forest and be there – in minutes.

Today everything in the store was 75% off. With one week to go until the doors closed forever, the owner stood at the counter welcoming patrons – many whom – she knew by name, including me.

"So what are you going to do with all the time on your hands once this is over?" I asked. She replied, "Look for gainful employment. We've still got to put food on the table."

I asked, "You mean – work for someone else?"

She nodded, "It'll be hard. We had five wonderful years. We worked with the best of the best. Our customers were terrific. But sales topped out a couple years ago. We tried things, like a catalog, to try and boost sales. But it just didn't work. Now we'll have to see."

"Right away? After all of THIS?" I pressed, motioning my hand around the emptying store. "Aren't you going to take a little time off?"

"Maybe a month," she said. "I'm going to weave."

I nodded and began to weave through the remnants of merchandise. For two hours, I paged through books, rummaged through fabrics, fingered ribbon, scanned CDs, browsed at cards, jewelry, sweaters, florals and porcelain. I needed nothing. (The vanilla sugar was long gone.) But I imagined projects: sewing, reading and relaxing.

I came to the counter with a bundle of fabric, a spool of ribbon, two children's books and a porcelain plate. The owner figured each discount and recited my cost.


Before I handed her the porcelain plate, I showed her the blue mark on the backside.


"This one is special! It's from Magnor – the glass factory in my home community in Norway. And, Per Spook is a well-known Norwegian designer."

I noted a couple other reasons. The pine cone-and-needle design befit our home decor; and at 75% off, it's still less than half the price of a platter. I figured cookies would serve up just as well on a dinner plate. The owner scanned the plate and surprised me with a further reduction: "Just $5."

I raised my eyebrows: "If that's the case, I'll take the cup and saucer too," I said. She rang up my last item: "That's also $5."


While she
took
payment,
I said,

"These
(books)
will be
great for
gifts."


Pointing to the cup and plates, she asked, "But these – are for you?"



I nodded,


"They'll be
perfect at
home in my
Norwegian
coffee
nook.


I can have a cup of coffee, think of Magnor and remember Nordic Living – The Best of the Best!