Worth Sharing: October 5 - October 11

I'm adding this up top as I know that you all will willingly join me.  Bess' mom had an accident Tuesday night.  Please pray for her healing.  She is not in ICU, praise God,  but has had surgery to repair a badly broken ankle, and has other broken bones.  It's going to be a long haul for her and for Bess, too, who is the nearest relative and will need to be there for her mom, etc.  So lift Bess in pray as you pray for  Jenny, please.

Winding Wool by Alfred Hamacher

Do any of you ever read Jenny of ELEFANTZ blog?  Her posts are filled with worthwhile reminders of  domestic life, creative tasks (she's a first class needlework designer by profession), and a gentle faith life that she shares in a wonderful way.  I really enjoy her blog.  These past few months she's also been sharing a book by Jane Brocket, Gentle Domesticity,  and I've really enjoyed the snippets she's shared.   Included in this past week's sharing was this poem, which just embodies a sweetly domestic task.  I found the artwork above to go along with it.

"Winding Wool" by Robert Service (1874 - 1958)

She’d bring to me a skein of wool

And beg me to hold out my hands;

so on my pipe I cease to pull

And watch her twine the shining strands

Into a ball so snug and neat,

Perchance a pair of socks to knit

To comfort my unworthy feet,

Or pullover my girth to fit.

As to the winding I would sway,

A poem in my head would sing,

And I would watch in dreamy way

The bright yarn swiftly slendering.

The best I liked were coloured strands

I let my pensive pipe grow cool . . .

Two active and two passive hands,

So busy winding shining wool.

Alas! Two of those hands are cold,

And in these days of wrath and wrong,

I am so wearyful and old,

I wonder if I’ve lived too long.

So in my loneliness I sit

And dream of sweet domestic rule . . .

When gentle women used to knit,

And men were happy winding wool.

This from Dame Helen Mirren:
"Try to find joy in your life wherever you can, and be optimistic as far as is possible...Because I think this wonderful thing called beauty...has many different forms, and only one form is the outward form of our physicality.  There are many other ways of being and feeling beautiful."

From Christie Purifoy's essay on letting go:
There are some losses we have no call to mourn.  Some losses are a kind of gain.

Of what must we let go in order to walk through each new door?  What loss will transform itself before our eyes into something shimmering and golden?

…beyond every loss and every grief, is a good and green country. It is the land our tears have watered.

Christie Purifoy's essay was published at The Cultivating Project.   It's a lovely site and has fresh content each month.

From lovely words to lovely things to create.  I found these on Pinterest and followed the link to the lady's website,  My Retired Life on the Prairie.  She said a fat quarter is enough to make a pumpkin.    Her's are of velvet and just lovely aren't they?

Love love love love!  I have to grant this woman high scores on her skills as a stylist as well as her lovely handicrafts.  Her photography is just beautiful and richly elegant yet when you break down the elements nothing is extraordinary except her ability to put them together and create such a lovely vignette.

The following recipe was a most delicious meal for our dinner on the day we went off to the market in Macon.  I prepped this on Friday, and it sat in the fridge over the weekend and then was put into the crockpot.  I think it's a lovely thing to walk through my own back door and smell a good dinner waiting upon me.  I kept dinner simple that day since we ate later than usual, serving only with mashed potatoes.  I didn't make a full recipe as it says it will make 24 rolls.  I never use a whole head of cabbage but generally tear off as many outer leaves as I can reasonably get loose from the cabbage in it's natural state, including the green tougher leaves on the outside of the cabbage.  In this case, I had about ten leaves, since I found my head of cabbage was tightly put together.  The leaves became nice and tender.

I shall,  however, copy off the recipe as it was written out.  The seasonings are what makes this.  Cinnamon is generally a 'sweet' spice but it works as a 'warming' spice in this recipe, and the raisins, too, become something different than you might think,  so don't skip these two ingredients though they do sound odd.

                                            I can't credit the photo... I found it on the web.

Russian Cabbage Rolls

1 whole head cabbage, cored

1 cup  cooked rice
1 pound ground beef
1/2 large onion, minced
3-4 tsps. minced garlic
1 tsp sea salt
1/2 tsp black pepper
1/4 tsp. chili powder ( I increased to 1 tsp and I was very pleased with the results)
1 tsp. cinnamon powder

1/4 cup olive oil
1 quart beef stock
1 15 ounce can diced tomatoes with juice
1/2 cup raisins

Boil cored cabbage 5-7 minutes.  Carefully pull off outer leaves and drain.  Place the leaves in the same water and boil for 20 minutes or until tender.  Drain well.  When cool enough to touch, remove the tough spine. (I'd slice and dice the remaining cabbage and have it with the meal if you are using the whole head).

Mix rice, beef, and the seasonings.

Place a small amount of filling on each leaf, wrapping carefully, so all meat is covered.  ( I found this step easy enough and would estimate each leaf held about 1/4 cup or so of meat mixture).

Heat the oil in a frying pan or dutch oven.  Brown cabbage rolls, a few at a time, turning once.   Pour in stock and tomatoes and raisins and then simmer for about 40 minutes.

my notes: I completed the recipe up through browning the rolls.  When cooled, I put them in a Ziploc bag with the last few ingredients and let sit over the weekend.  I had leftover meat mixture which I'd browned in the pan I sautéed the cabbage rolls in and put that in the bag with the cabbage rolls.  I cooked  in my slow cooker for about 5 hours  on Low heat.    John is iffy about new recipes I try on him but he has asked me to make these again and I will.

This is one of those recipes that is inexpensive and incredibly delicious in a homey sort of way which always makes a wonderful combination for a budget meal.  It's hard to believe it's an economy meal when it's this tasty.

I had the boys one afternoon for a little while on my own.  I was out of the things they really like to eat and wasn't keen on another pancake dinner, though Josh does love them mighty well.  I decided we'd have pizza and this time I let the boys make their own.

 If Isaac's mouth appears full here it was.  He was busy snatching dried tomato bits from me and popping them and frozen pepperoni slices into his mouth, lol.

For all that Josh doesn't really care about eating, he LOVES to cook.  He was telling me how his Dad lets him help cook sometimes.  I find cooking with children is generally fun.  I enjoyed teaching my younger ones to cook and have enjoyed time in the kitchen with several grand children.

From @sarahwanders on Instagram:  "Loving a child well seems to me to center a great deal on the discipline of hospitality.  Motherhood is an extended act of welcoming Lilian, not just into my home, but into my time and space, my attention, my habits, my joys."

I must admit, I had never before looked at my openness to anyone, husband, child, or stranger as an act of hospitality but the essential truth of this statement resonated deeply within me.  We might even go further and relate it to our willingly opening up to God.

I watched a lovely movie the afternoon after the boys went home.  It's not exactly the 'happy ending' sort but it was pleasant.  No nudity, little profanity and lots of lovely scenery.  One of the final scenes actually featured one of the author's books.  I plan to look for more of her novels.

There was a really lovely scene that was sweet and gentle and reminded me of a short passage in my own life.

When I worked at the nursing home, I met a patient I'll call simply "J".  Gracious he was a sort of odd fellow.  He'd spent his life living rather hard.  He'd been in airplane crashes and car accidents and fights and had been badly burned in a housefire. Despite his rough physical appearance, he was always nicely dressed.  He had a certain pride of self that was attractive.  J was also intelligent, well traveled, well read and sociable.  He was courtly and polite,  forever holding doors open for us females, complimenting us sincerely.    Over time I came to know him quite well.  He was a terminal patient but the cancer that was his enemy was slow.

He made it his habit to come into my office near the end of my work day and we'd talk as I cleared my desk before I left for the day.  I came to see him as a friend and genuinely enjoyed our daily talks.  

On this particular day I was struggling with so many things and at the root of it all was my great fear that I'd never be loved nor in a loving relationship. Perhaps J picked up on that  feeling.  We were often attuned to one another's thoughts.  And it was this day that J very sweetly and gently told me that he wished with all his heart that he was 15 years younger and that I was 15 years older.  "We," he said quietly, "could have really had a wonderful life together.  I'd have been a better man with you in my life.  One day, there will be a man  who will show you your true value.  How I envy him!"  Tears trickled down my face.  "Thank you.  I've never had anything so lovely said to me.  I will forever hold it dear."  He clasped my hand in his  and with that he rolled his wheelchair from the room.

J had spoken to the woman's soul in me. I needed exactly that sort of chaste and lovely romance he'd offered me.  I think every woman  needs a man who looks at her with rose colored glasses, who appreciates her as an intelligent creature and as a woman, too.   Someone who is convinced she is altogether the very essence of a woman  who'd make a good life companion.  He hadn't long to live and he wanted to speak the things on his mind and heart.

The lovely thing about J was that once he'd shared his feelings, he never again mentioned them. He'd spoken his heart and that was enough.   He continued to visit me each afternoon until he was no longer able.  At that time, I went to him at the beginning and end of each work day.  I'd take his hand in mine and we'd gently squeeze one another's hand, very often saying nothing at all.  And then one morning, I went into his room and found it empty, which is a peculiar heartache you know is coming when you work in a nursing home. It's always a matter of coming to love someone and then losing them...But I will confess that J's death hit me rather hard.  I walked into my office, laid my head upon my desk and wept.

J gave me the gift of hope.   I'd remember his words about my future, my one day.  And when John came along, I was  ready to accept that being well loved and treated well was not impossible but something I had already known and deserved to find once again.

And here I shall end for another week.  Have a lovely weekend!