History

M and I have recently gotten in to learning more about our families and their history.  As a student of history, what others before us have experienced has always been fascinating to me; sometimes when I think about what my grandparents or great-grandparents saw in their life, I'm blown away by how privileged we are to live the life that we live.

In this case, I'm particularly thankful I wasn't around in the time of M's great uncle.

Robert Laird, Jr. was 24 when he was (according to the Pensacola Journal) murdered by a mad Italian barber (who may or may not have been in the mafia.)  According to reports, Robert had accused said Italian barber of shaving him out of a dirty cup.  Holding a grudge, a week later, the barber murdered him.

Oh, but it gets more bizarre.

Arrested a few weeks after the murder, the Italian barber set himself on fire, placing a burning blanket over his head and burning himself from the waist up.  He did not actually succeed in ending his life, however, and suffered on another three months before succumbing to complications from his wounds.

Ah, family history.

The Coming Spring

On days like today, it's hard to not be discouraged by the continual gray of February.  Rain, sleet and snow seem to be nearly a daily companion, causing headache-inducing traffic, short tempers and angry mouths (or fingers).  I know that spring is around the corner, and yet sometimes I cannot see it for the dreariness that seems to surround the city.

And yet there is reason to hope.  New grass, a day of sunshine, temperatures that reach into the 50s.  Just little tastes of what is to come, a glimpse into the land of the living, a promise that the dead of winter is not a year-round reality.

We've had little glimpses of our own "spring" in the last few weeks.  A good meeting here, a positive conversation there, reconnection with old friends and the excitement of travel and relaxation soon.  All little encouragements of what is hopefully to come.

And so we will continue to watch and pray, looking for more positive signs of the coming spring.  And at the same time, I will continue to pray that I will treasure the winter for what it is good for- contemplation, reconnection, quiet.  Even in the dreariness of winter there is still purpose.  I don't want to miss what is here, now, because I can only think of what is to come.

There is purpose, even in winter.

The best brussels sprouts you will ever eat

Quite a statement, right?  But friends, believe me, these are some dang good brussels sprouts.  (And who knew it was "brussels" and not "brussel"?)

I was first turned on to brussels sprouts from a friend who told me about the amazing sprouts she had at another friend's house.  Then last night, I consulted Mark Bitman's How to Cook Everything Vegetarian- a gift from another friend (did you know M was a vegetarian until he suddenly started eating meat on our honeymoon?  True story) added some bacon and came up with this.

1 lb brussels sprouts, trimmed and cut in half.
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 slice uncooked thick-cut bacon (you can add more), diced
olive oil
salt and pepper to taste

1.  Coat a large oven-safe skillet with olive oil.  Heat oil on the stove top on medium to medium-high heat.
2.  When oil is heated, add brussels sprouts, cut side down.  Sprinkle with garlic, bacon, salt and pepper.
3.  DO NOT TOUCH THE SPROUTS.  If you're anything like me, this will be extremely hard.  But just let them be!  It's better for them, and for you.  Trust me.  If you have to do something, you can shake the pan a little.
4.  After approximately ten minutes, remove sprouts from stove top, stirring.  Do you see their golden beauty?  Yep, that's because you left them alone.
5.  Place skillet in 450 degree oven for 30 minutes, stirring occasionally.
6.  Enjoy the best brussels sprouts you will ever eat.

The Intruder

"What is HE doing here?"

I looked up from my fried chicken and noticed a man who had stepped just inside the doors of the fellowship hall.  He cautiously moved forward, as if even he was unsure of what he was doing.

"What could that black man possibly want?"

His pants were worn, his boots had some paint on them and he wore a Gators sweatshirt.  He seemed slightly uncomfortable, but almost as if he was looking for someone.

I looked away.  I figured he probably had a meeting with someone, and whoever had said those comments just must not have known he was here for an appointment.  Right?

Until five minutes later, when he was still standing there, and the whispering (in groups at this point) had gotten louder.  Looking back over at him, there was something in his face that struck me deep inside.  As the groups of whispering grew ever louder, something inside me snapped.  And I walked over to him.

"The Gators weren't so hot this year were they?"

A smile spread across his face.  He replied, "I know, they sure were missing Tebow."

"I would too if I were them!" I laughed.  And his smile grew.

But then, one of the whisperers walked up to us.  "What do you want?" she said, a fierce look on her face as she approached him.  Immediately his face changed.

"Is the pastor here?"

"No."


"Well are there some members from the church that I could talk to?"

"I'm a member of the church.  You can come in the kitchen and talk with some of us."





And with a solemn look, he followed the woman into the kitchen.
_______________________________________________


I don't actually know what happened to the man.  I don't know if he was looking to talk to someone, or was asking for money or food or a ride somewhere.  But whatever it was, he was bold enough to walk into a church- a church, imagine that!- and look for help.  And I know he was turned away.



When he walked through those doors, he wasn't greeted with the arms of Jesus.  He wasn't even greeted with a smile.  He was greeted as an intruder, an outsider not just of the literal church and its members but an outsider in respects to race and, judging solely on his clothing, probably economic class.  The man's situation- that he would walk into a church he doesn't know and ask for help- hit me deeply. 

But even more heartbreaking was the church's response.  I don't think the church necessarily should have given him money, if that was even what he was asking for (though I do believe that we should most often err on the side of grace).  But the man wasn't even treated as a man, but more like an annoying fly that needed to be swatted away.  He was interrupting our meal, afterall.  His humanity forgotten, there was no reason to talk with him, to welcome him in or to show him even one bit of dignity.

And I wept.   

Forgive us, Lord, we pray.

An unexpected trip to Florida

Tomorrow morning- 6am to be exact- we head out to Pensacola to celebrate the life and mourn the passing of M's grandfather.

Pop has struggled with Alzheimer's for a while now; I remember meeting him just once a couple of years ago when he was still cognizant and living at home.  But M and family have shared quite a few stories with me, making his passing just a little bit more bittersweet.

And with his passing, I've been thinking a lot about his generation- The Greatest Generation- and all that they experienced.  Pop himself fought (and lost an arm) serving in Europe in World War Two.  He raised and loved four children and 4 grandchildren and worked hard all of his life.  And from what I gather, he was pretty darn funny, too.  The Greatest Generation strikes me as a generation who understood sacrifice, knew the realities of and importance of family and knew how to kick back and relax with a good beer.  They didn't need the internet, they didn't even need cell phones.  And while I know it's always popular to look back with a nostalgic glance that often doesn't see clearly, I can't help but think theirs was- and is- a generation to be respected and emulated.

2011: The Year of the Spreadsheet

I have a weird love for Excel spreadsheets.

Chalk it up to my three years in monitoring and evaluation (also known as that time in my life when I was surrounded by people much, much smarter than me). Or maybe it's the simplicity they afford, with all the magic formulas out of view.  Or maybe it's all the colors you can use to color code things.  Pink for economic analysis!  Green for financial!  If/then statements!  Pivot tables!

Even now, as a Volunteer Coordinator, my love for spreadsheets is pretty evident.  Good Lord, if you had seen my Christmas Store matrix.  4 tabs of spreadsheets, y'all!  What can I say, I love them.

But I have to be honest.  Beyond listing out info on schools M was going to apply for (two years ago now), I've never really used spreadsheets in my personal life.  They've always been relegated to that area also occupied by suits, 7am alarms and sack lunches.

Until now.

Just yesterday, I realized that spreadsheets are a great way to create a family budget.  And they're great for calculating a "desired salary" for the job M will hopefully be getting in the next few months.  (Sidenote: his desired salary is that amount at which we can live in a small apartment and pay bills.) And they're also great for planning meals, creating an easy shopping list (and remembering if you had stuffed peppers three days ago) and tracking what you're actually eating.  Yippee!  My love can now come home!

So hear ye, hear ye!  I now pronounce 2011 the year of the spreadsheet!

I'll be sending you a template with all the appropriate formulas later.

 

It's the season of giving. Even for political candidates.

 

Whatever your political persuasion, I think what Bill, Breakthrough's Chief Operating Officer, says is key: it's important for people in our community (and any community) to feel that their voice matters, that someone will be thinking about them when they cast a vote or make a policy.  I know the reality of politics.  But I also know that good policy matters, even- and especially- in urban communities like East Garfield Park.

And let's be honest...the video is a pretty great advertisement for the work of Breakthrough!