Dear Free Spirit,

Life isn't always about floating around, sometimes we need to use our own feet to walk.  Sometimes you have to know where you're going beforehand so that you don't fly headfirst into a brick wall.  And sometimes you have to acknowledge that you're not entirely "free".  Keeping your independent side in balance without losing your sense of honesty nor your humble heart may require the hardest form of self discipline while accomplishing the tasks of life.

The Gift of Life

To watch a movie, in a theatre, just the two of us, alone, is a rare occasion. The rare priviliage presented itself last night. A movie that has trickled into my daily email news-feeds that had touched on a particular passionate topic of mine. I'm acknowledging the movie not to make a political arguement but an excuse to explain my moral stance.

My husband and I took advantage of the limited available viewing of the unfortunately controversial, pro-life movie; "October Baby"................

I am constantly aspiring to find those hidden lessons in life. Aspiring to grow spiritually, closer to God. This film offers a lesson; a raw perspective from an innocent victim. She was never asked her life's value from the one who attempted to steal it. The thief happened to be her birth mother. The value of life is a constant challenge in our crumbling society to defend and debate. It's hard to look life in the eye and defy it. I dare one to try. Without first acknowledging who gave you the gift of life in the first place, you're left with doubting the importance. While incorporating life's importance, the story confronts the truth of consequences and reveals the awards of applying these truths to our lives while applying the power of forgiveness.

I walked away from this movie with a lesson; "If you can forgive, you can let go and can move forward." and to "judge the sin and not the sinner".

If you step away from selfishness and pride, this will enable you to step toward clarity and insight. An open and forgiving heart can also provide you with peace and acceptance. Sin can do many things. Some short lived things and some life changing. But to acknowledge the sin, forgive the sin, and move forward (or work through it) with God on your side.  Attempting to do it any other way would be impossible.

May we all keep our hearts open to lessons, preserve the gift of life, stay true to God, and to his guidance.

"Saturday Shoo Fly Pie"

It must be winter...those comfort foods tend to deafen my appetite's ears to fruit and salads. After being invited to a special family dinner, I thought it would be nice (for me) to use the excuse and try out a recipe. Shoo Fly Pie is one I've only heard about. This was not a dish I've ever tasted nor was ever interested in. It doesn't sound very appetizing but, you've got to admit the name strikes a cord with my creative nature. Known as a common pie used in Pennsylvania Dutch households, it's been used as even a breakfast dish. Yeah, I know pie for breakfast? Well, it should be good right? One of the top ingredients is molasses (my sister's nemesis), which admittingly, my nose buds are NOT fond of the smell. Despite the all of it's deterrring points, the combination of my husband's love of my renown crust, and my passion for baking, this project came forth with no reason at all other than a wild hair let loose on a Saturday......

First on the pie agenda...bring on the pie crust!!

Tools of the trade; crisco, ice water, a skill for accurate measuring, parchment paper, and an eye for those little combined balls of shortening, salt and water. A non-stick rolling pin is a bonus too. These also come in handy when trying to keep your husband in line!!

You're ready to roll!! Parchment paper has become a staple of mine while making a pie. I'm reminded of how much so when caught in the middle of pie-making with only inches of paper left on the roll. It's a must when rolling your crust and transferring it to your pie dish.

Other than a lot of molasses, an egg, some hot water, and baking soda there's not much to the bottom layer of this pie. The crumbly sweet mixture of shortening, flour and brown sugar tops the "molasses mountain" complimenting the unique goodness.

The end of the story? I brought it as my offering plea for being invited to dinner and it was welcomed with curiousity and compliments. Though not a big hit with the youngins' the bigger youngin' appreciated the not-so-traditional pie that mom made.

You live, you eat, you learn. No regrets on this one.

Dignified

How do they do it?! Head held high, wearing heeled shoes, wheeling a stroller down the mall isle...they do it so perfectly....You know the ones. You can't help but wonder how they ever found time to put their outfit together let alone shop for it. Even the stroller doesn't have old food grounded into it's creases - where did they find time to clean it?

I could have half of a day to prepare for an outing and still inevitably have a button missing on my shirt or forget the baby wipes. I'd like to think that I'm all about preparation and keen in anticipating the unforeseen. I guess I'll accept that it's impossible to hide every little flaw. Maybe others have flaws easier to look over. I'll accept that life throws blow-outs (yes, even the poopy ones) and it is full of surprises - ones that couldn't have been prevented or controlled. Through it all, concealed or obvious, I will hold my head high with the un-noticed stain on my shirt and milk spilled in my purse. I'm determined to look dignified in my well meaning attempt.

There's something about zuchinni bread.

There's something about two loaves of zucchini bread baking in the oven. The sweet luster of a hot day - it's aroma seeping from the oven's door. A counter signifying an hours worth of preparation. A used grater, a flour-dusted kitchen aid mixer, and an assortment of measuring cups needing to be washed. Usually in the middle of summer, a favorite time of mine, I find myself in zucchini's midst. Years ago I started the habit of creating zucchini bread with summer's bounty not knowing at the time that it would only aide in the comfort of the season's tradition years later. I've changed my recipe up a bit - adding whole wheat and cacao chips but it still requires a couple of hours in the morning or afternoon, some basic ingredients, a garden's gem, and a dash of reminisce.

Tick - 2010

Drilling one instant, and surrendering the next
This underlying sound annoys the soul.

Attempting to interpret, we still lack in comprehension
Suffering silently with the denial of it’s toll.

For it hides it’s identity in our passion
And enlightens our path like a candle’s wick

We plug through with drive and determination
Fueled by whatever makes us “tick”.

Infallibly Perfect

Perfect. She was a perfect, sweet, little dog that managed to squeeze into my heart of denial.

Her story was undeniably heart breaking. She was a drop off. Her puppy was hit by a car. She had drug her poor, dead puppy off the road to safety. She guarded it pathetically until I buried the lifeless body that had cemented her to one spot for two days.

She was just an other stray passing through. At least that's what I told myself, hoping all the while that she really did belong to somebody. But when I discovered her pup, I put all the pieces together. It was when I cried in that very spot of discovery that I admitted to myself she was going to need my help.

She became my "project". I had her spayed, I printed fliers, I placed an ad. I sent emails; anything to get the word out. I tried to keep my distance. During this duration, she followed me, she "talked" to me (hence her name, Whinney), and promised me with her eyes, she'd do anything if I asked her. At first she was reluctant to trust me, she had gone through a lot. But, her confidance grew. Over time she grew content and then happy; her true personality began to shine. She always came when I called even when in the middle of a rabbit hunt. And if I was outside, she was always three bounds away.

I gave up after the third attempt of trying to keep her contained. After the dog run and the chicken wire, I realized she wasn't going anywhere and her preferred spot was the welcome door mat. Her eye would always be on the window, or her ear on the sound of the front screen door. Waiting for me.

Torn between claiming her as mine and wanting someone to claim her, I felt she was mine, I relished her devotion. For over a month it went on like this. I got a couple of interested callers but they never followed through. This only made it easier to tease myself into thinking that maybe she would be here all summer. Maybe she could end up being our "front yard dog". But, I had three dogs. She couldn't stay. Yet, her imprint grew deeper.

She developed a "skip" when she was excited, always pleased when we were outdoors. Twice daily I'd round the corner to feed the sheep and I'd hear her bounding just behind me or jumping up to wet my hand with her nose - just to let me know she was there.

And then I received a phone call. Someone sincerely was interested in her. Someone who was looking for a dog, a friend for an older, lonely gentleman. I got off the phone ashamed I wasn't more happy.

Before meeting them, I was skeptical and critical. In fact, I told the lady on the phone that; "it would have to be a perfect fit". What was I doing?! Here I had been working over a month to find this dog a home and I was jeopardizing her chance. Yet, somehow I let my guard down and my heart was doing the thinking.

I brought her to her new home on a Friday morning. The man was genuinely hooked on her. He had the fenced yard, the dog bed, the dog kennel...the works. I couldn't argue the situation. It was perfect.

I cried the whole way home. I told my husband; "I feel like I just gave my dog away." It took me two days to let go of the heaviness I carried inside. What dawned on me was that she wasn't my dog to begin with. I served as her stepping stone to her real home, her new chance. My role wasn't insignificant nor irreplaceable. This all helps with the ache that still lingers.

I still hear her bounding up behind me. It took me a week just to not turn and look for her. She was just a mutt, passing through but I'm glad she passed through. I got to be her "friend" from May 2nd until June 10th. I helped her heal and got her ready for what was to come. Her purpose now is to be a devoted friend to someone who needs her. I believe she will serve that purpose wholeheartedly

I've learned that my heart directs well...most of the time. And even though it may not think entirely with clarity, I'm glad that it has felt what it has felt. I'd do it all again.