Month: January 2022

It will be a while before I’ll be able to make anything this adventurous, or spend time in the kitchen smelling these spices, but I’ve thought of this recipe several times in the last year. I was happy to discover I’d saved it and recorded my shortcuts here. 

Adapted from this recipe here.

1 10 oz bag spinach

1 Jalapeno pepper

3 T pureed ginger

Pour spinach into boiling water for 2-3 minutes  (I also experimented with putting in the steamer to retain more of the water soluble vitamins B and C, and that worked well)

1 T butter

1 small onion

2 Garlic cloves

2 t cumin

2 t chili powder

1 t turmeric

1 t cinnamon

1 8 oz can chopped tomatoes

1/4 cream

I also did try making the indian cheese, or Paneer, which turned out to be very simple.

This draft from March 2017, as I began to volunteer with women in pregnancy help centers.

The first rule of triage (prioritizing in nursing) is to start where you are and move outward. I feel this can apply to the faith life as well. At least that was what I thought when I encountered a woman at the well.

Some days, when I hear what someone has been through, I look at my feet, I don’t know what to say. I’ve been sheltered, privileged. Obviously the right thing to say isn’t, drugs are bad for you why don’t you stop them? He is not treating you right why don’t you leave him?

I remember the words of Christ, “You have had five husbands”. So direct, naming, yet no blame attached. Knowledge of the other so powerful that it could change a heart.

I don’t know how to do this, but I know I have to not draw back before the sin without reaching for the soul.

This four year old post is especially poignant as I realize it was the first glimpse of my current calling. As a brand new RN, I knew how to identify problematic and dangerous behaviors when I saw them. I also understood the slow surrender of freedom that comes with any unhealthy relationship, whether this is with drugs, alcohol, or a man. The last six months I have found a career where I can focus on direct, healing communication. Words that do not draw back from evil, hesitate to name it, or blame or shame. I believe this post shows the first seeds that grew into my work with victims of assault and human trafficking. 

I knew it would be a good day when I caught myself in contemplation of my earrings, crowding each other in two rows on my bedside table. I didn’t make it as far as putting any on but I haven’t thought about anything more than my wedding ring for the last three months. So that’s progress. First trimester really has changed my perspective on ‘productive’.

It did end up being a good sign because now my hair is braided to match the Nordic style on my sweater dress. Sweater dress sounds very stylish, but really it’s now my only option because this is the week most of my pants stopped fitting. I suppose no one else needs to know that and I will own the most stylish ensemble I’ve worn this month.

Original post from April, 2017

For the first time, I was able to choose one of the songs that I would perform for my vocal juries, a brief performance critiqued by the entire Augustana music department.

Narrowing my selection, one of three pieces I’d perform, down to just one selection seemed impossible. Rogers and Hammerstein selections topped the list.  I love to sing in the minor key, the unexpected tension conveys profound feeling.

“On Fridays, after work, [Walt Disney would] often invite us into his office and we’d talk about things that were going on at the Studio. After a while, he’d wander to the north window, look out into the distance and just say, ‘Play it.’ And Dick would wander over to the piano and play ‘Feed the Birds’ for him. One time just as Dick was almost finished, under his breath, I heard Walt say, ‘Yep. That’s what it’s all about.’  The song was also played at his funeral in 1966.

I think there is a lot of wisdom in this, as the song’s main point is to take time to do small things for others. This song has a lot of meaning for me, given that this (senior year of nursing) has been a year of eye opening experiences. Through service learning opportunities at my school, I have been exposed to the homeless in temporary shelters, those who cannot afford lunch at the local food bank, and the mental health hospital. I know these experiences have permanently changed my outlook and priorities in life.

Settling in Space and time- draft from August 2016. Part of a series to post raw, unfinished musings that never grew up into posts. 

This post is fragmented thoughts and feelings I jotted down during the stretching transition out of my childhood home. 

gardening

settling

Space

My desk moved in last week. little by little, I have been organizing, moving, adjusting. A few knick knacks from home, but not many, due to space concerns.

I list tasks, beginning is hard. It’s easier to do a task once started. I’ve learned to make small commitments.

There’s always someone to visit with over coffee, a sibling’s scratchy crayon drawing to praise, or baby to entertain. The chore list is never-ending, and the laundry, dishes, and sweeping always need some attention.

No routine exist in my new surroundings. Every minute spent is deliberately decided, rather than home where I would usually travel along the familiar tracks of routine. Aside from regularly scheduled work, I’m not sure what to do. 1030 am, and I have taken a walk, practiced voice, made two dishes, washed two dishes.

Free time young orioles down by the river. I have not honestly had a time where I was disappointed with the results of something I was working on, and not looked back and realized that it was not a lack of skill that caused it. Other things took priority I appreciate having a schedule filled with activities, and next year I have more blocks of time open. This is a little unnerving to me, and I would like to rush to fill the hours. Without I have new respect for the value of time. Prioritizing.  I had to spend nearly two hours a week just organizing my coursework.

OVERHEARD – draft from August 2016

Dad: and if you get the hole dug, the sidewalk cleared and power washed, and the fenceposts put in before win tonight, then we can all go and get ice cream.

John to the boys: Run, you fools. (Only funny if you have seen LOTR)

Original Draft from August 18, 2016. Part of a series to publish unfinished musings in a raw state.

Maria and I have been on a Jane Austen marathon this summer. Since may we have gone through Emma, Sense and Sensibility, two renditions of Pride and Prejudice, and Persuasion.

This early 1800’s form the backdrop for these books, an era which is well known for long dresses and even longer winded manners. Of course, Maria and I enjoy contrasting these mannerisms with our own casual habits, and we enjoy watching snippets like this from our family’s favorite band of actors, Studio C.

Of course, Jane Austen was a critic of her time, not a proponent! This was also the same time period also was the home to the child labor, crime, pickpocketing Charles Dickens wrote of in novels like Oliver Twist. Americans may have reason to be proud for throwing off English fascination with manners.

However, I have noticed something interesting, in a favorite word on the street. Awkward. “That was awkward.” “I am so awkward.” “It was a very awkward meeting.”

Contrast that with the recent surge in interest in Downton Abbey and Jane Austen’s works. Just comic relief for the day? Or an indulgence of an unfulfilled desire for stronger roles and rules in day to day life?