A Halloween fright

This morning, I went to take Duffy out for a walk.

He paused on the threshold of the front door.  Looking down, I tugged at his leash, stepped out ahead of him to set a good example, and then slowly began to close the door, easing him forward.  All the time, I was watching him and talking to him, encouraging him.  Finally he hopped forward.  I finished closing the door and glanced up, only to see a gigantic cat, curled forebodingly in the nearest porch chair.

It was a huge cat with gray stripes, massive back legs, and a long, long tail.  Startled and shocked, I gasped and began screaming.  The cat did not move.  I gripped Duffy's leash and ran, dragging him across the street, screaming all the way.  On the far side of the street, I was able to gather myself and do a deep breathing exercise while I surveyed my situation.  The cat remained contentedly curled up in the chair, thwarting me from any hope of re-entering my home.

Shawn was upstairs in his study, holding an online meeting with a group of people who were assembled in Nevada.  He'd been preparing for this meeting for days, possibly weeks.  Even if he heard me scream, I didn't know if he could break away.

There I stood, in the street, chilly and windblown, shaking, grasping the leash at whose end was my tiny, four-pound puppy, wondering if the twenty-pound cat on my porch was ever going to be finished with her nap in my chair.

Then, like a hero, or an angel from heaven, Shawn opened the door and called out, "Just a minute!"  A few moments later, he appeared with a clear spray bottle, which he sprayed in the cat's face.  The cat rose from its lounge and dashed off, towards me actually, but I ran in a circle down the street and back towards my house.

Yes, it is Halloween.

If this post does not make sense to you, you can read about my cat phobia here.

Humility and polite words

Manners are fading from our culture, which is a shame.

Manners are training that teaches us to put the interests of others ahead of our own interests.

Fairly recently, somebody blew me away with the comment that you should teach your children always to hand someone a cup or a pitcher with the handle extended, so the other person has an easy time taking hold of it.  I had never been taught that, nor had I ever done it, or even thought of it.  Yet, it makes perfect sense.

Think of others.  Care for others.

Here's the thing:  When everyone is humble, caring for others, it frees people not to need to protect their own interests.  When all the people are grasping for their own individual rights and privileges, it is terrifying to think of being the first to let go and lay down your own rights for the good of others.

What are our rights, anyway?

The United States of America has given unprecedented rights to her citizens.  Never before in history have the people of a nation been granted so many rights and freedoms.  However, along the way, we have become accustomed to our rights.  We take them as a matter of fact.  I can vote.  I have the right to a fair trial.  I have the right to a free education.  I can own property, travel basically anywhere I wish, and express myself freely.  I can even run for political office, if I am so inclined.  These things are a matter of assumption, and in the case of the free education, many don't even appreciate it.  They see the blessing as a burden.  I'm not sure how it is in Western Europe, but here in the USA, the prevalent attitude is one of assumed entitlement.  We do not tend to be thankful for our freedoms; rather, we assume that we deserve them.

As this attitude becomes more habitual, we forget to guard our freedom, because we forget that it is precious and that it was won at a cost, at the price of many who died in battles to attain it.  We do not remember life before the Bill of Rights.  We somehow become deluded into assuming that freedom has always been.  We think freedom is simply the natural way, and everyone knows that everyone is free and equal, and everyone automatically ought to be able to do whatever he wants to do, so long as he isn't killing or stealing, and actually, it's okay to kill or steal, too, as long as you are only doing these things to those who don't count because of certain factors, like their belief system or their income level or their age or their abilities (or, more accurately, disabilities).  I hope that you can see that I am saying that these assumptions are crazy and dangerous.

I long for a return to humility.  We used to be ashamed to be selfish and prideful, but now we revere selfishness and admire proud people.  I long for a return to humility.

Humility listens.  Humility wants to know what others think and feel.  Humility cares.  When there is a conflict, humility rolls up its sleeves, enters into the muck, seeks resolution and says, "I'm sorry," for whatever part it played in the problem.

Humility says, "I'm sorry," when someone gets hurt.  Humility is more concerned about restoration and resolution than about defending its own position.  Humility is willing to examine whether or not it was right, and admit when it was not.  Humility says, "I'm sorry."

Humility doesn't presume to deserve things.  So, when humility wants or needs something, humility says, "Please."

"Please pass the salt."

"Please, can you help me find my glasses?"

"Please, could you put gas in the car today?"

"Please listen to me."

"Please forgive me."

When we say "please," we are not ordering or commanding. We are requesting that someone do something for us that we do not deserve, something that requires kindness of heart.  Some people misuse the word please.  They add it to a command, to promote additional obligation: "Please stop hitting your brother."  This is unfortunate, because it warps the meaning of the word.  "Please" means, I know I am asking for something I do not deserve, but if it would please you to do this kindness for me, I would be very grateful.

Speaking of being grateful, the last polite phrase I want to discuss is, "Thank you."  Humble people are much more thankful than prideful people, because they see life from a different slant.  Instead of raking in advantages as a matter of course, humble people accept each good thing as a blessing and a gift, unexpected and delightful.  Humble people recognize grace for what it is: undeserved.  Since humble people do not set out expecting to receive assets and boons at every turn, they respond to blessings with gratitude and joy, wondering why they, of all people, should gain such treasure, whether it be a cozy home, a caring phone call, a faithful spouse, an award, a soft blanket, a check in the mail or a glass of milk.  They are filled with gratitude.

In fact, I think a return to manners in our culture could possibly start with the cultivation of grateful hearts.  If we could learn to feel grateful and say, "Thank you," perhaps we would soon become more automatic at saying, "Please."  By the time we get those two truly ingrained into our hearts, perhaps we would find ourselves enough attuned to others that we would also say, "I'm sorry," when it needs to be said.

I'm sorry.  Please.  Thank you.  When spoken from the heart, these are hallmarks of humility and the building blocks of healthy relationships which, ultimately, form healthy cultures and civilizations.

First haircut

Our little pup is growing and growing.  Yesterday, he went for his first puppy cut.  They bathed him and trimmed his face, feet and hygiene areas.  He came home unbelievably silky and soft, with his eyes free from fur, able to peer up wistfully and melt our hearts yet again.

Here is a "before" picture,

with wild hair, uncut from birth.

And here he is "after"--

a little bit freaked out by the process,

but perfect in his pumpkin scarf.

End of the garden

Blogging and gardening have taken a backseat to puppy training.

A new puppy is a completely different ballgame from an old, settled dog who lives to nap next to you, or on your lap, while you blog or read or study to teach a Bible study.

Joy, chaos, frenzy, laughter, and aching bones as you bend down to put on your shoes, yet again, and take the puppy outside after he rings his potty-bells.  Skin chafing slightly from constant contact with tiny, testing puppy teeth (I know you said no bite, but is this too hard?  How about this?  Or this?).

So, with sincere apologies, the dregs of the garden in unremarkable format.  A day or two ago, I yanked everything out, and Shawn bagged it up for fall pick-up, and just like that the 2018 garden is over, except for some lovely dried hydrangeas that I probably should have photographed instead of what's here.  However, lacking as the pictures themselves might be, I think it is a grace that these plants have continued blooming for so long.  A grace, and a miracle.  I am thankful.

These day lilies have gone on and on, to my complete delight.

Wild cosmos.  They self sow.  I can't get the big pink ones to do anything, but these grow like weeds.  I think that they might, officially, be weeds, actually.  But I love the autumn hues, especially right now.  Well, until a day or two ago when I pulled them out.

The nasturtiums were long lasting, if droopy.  Yes, they were quite bedraggled by the end, but I enjoyed them all the same.

The zinnias were prolific, as usual, and added a whimsical touch to the yard for the better part of the season.  Something about them makes it hard to photograph them satisfactorily.  I think it's because they have such charming details, but you lose the details if you pull out to show how many there are.  I always get drawn in by the detail, and then I don't have any pictures to document the big-picture effect.

The four-o'-clocks were also charming, and they were even all volunteers!  Oddly, I can't get the color.  These flowers are red, not pink.  The pink ones are a pretty, pale pink.  I do not know why my phone turns all the red four-o'clocks into fuchsia.  I can capture a red zinnia . . .

The cleome, also a plant that readily reseeds, was unremarkable this year.  I used blossom booster too early, and the foliage suffered.  I think plenty of seeds were set for next year, notwithstanding.

A bonus blossom on my obedient plant, long after the main bloom had finished.

A totally unexpected rebloom of snapdragons!

A stunted white petunia in a pot.  Even the simplest things can be so pretty, can't they?  It is an encouragement to all of us, that we should bloom wherever we are, and someone will be blessed.

The cosmos might be weeds.  These are definitely weeds, but I appreciate how they brighten the shade under a grove of trees.

Now for some photos I actually like:

I had no idea hibiscus would continue so long!

Here is the furry fluffball who keeps me out of my garden.  Did you know that four-o'-clock seeds are very bad for dogs?  And did you know that small stubborn dogs are wont to hunt four-o'-clock seeds at every possible opportunity?

A rose from my husband, to keep the joy going indoors, even as it fades outside.

Pumpkin Streusel Cake: GLUTEN-FREE!

Back before I had to avoid gluten, I used to make a fabulous pumpkin streusel cake.  This year, I set out to create a gluten-free version of it.

I've made so many pumpkin cakes this month, I think we will go through withdrawal when I stop.  It is the most delicious breakfast, moist and nutty and fragrant with cinnamon.  The coconut flour in it makes it high-fiber as well!  So, I tell myself, this is healthy cake.  (Hmmmmm...)

Through my experimenting, I discovered three things:

First, there is a lot of leeway in this recipe.  I never had a failure.  Different versions had different benefits, but all of them were tasty.  We've eaten every last bite, happily.

Second, in the last version I made, I added cocoa and chocolate chips to the streusel filling . . . and I didn't care for it.  This surprised me.  I read an article about how adding cocoa powder to your food adds antioxidants and makes everything healthier.  I thought, Hey!  I could stick some into my next pumpkin cake!  Yum!  But, in my opinion, the cake is better with a mixture of pumpkin pie spices and no cocoa.  Although, we are enjoying this chocolate filled cake, too.  It will not go to waste.

(This is the version with chocolate filling.  

When it was warm, the filling collapsed, 

but after it cooled, there was no longer

a hole in the middle of the cake.)

Third, and pretty important, this cake improves with time.  It's a heavy, moist cake, and something about a night or two in the refrigerator blends the flavors and settles the texture into a luscious loveliness.  So, if you make it and eat a slice while it is still warm, and you think it's kind of ho-hum, let it finish cooling.  Put it into the refrigerator overnight. Then heat up a slice for 20 seconds in the microwave the next morning, and see if you don't change your mind.

Gluten-Free Pumpkin Streusel Bundt Cake

1.  Prepare the streusel for the streusel filling:

• 1/4 cup almond flour
• 1/2 cup chopped walnuts (or pecans!)
• 1/2 cup packed brown sugar
• 2 tsp. cinnamon
• dash of nutmeg
• dash of ginger
• 2 Tbsp. butter (or coconut oil)

Pulse in food processor until mixed to a streusel consistency.  Set aside.

2.  Grease the bundt pan:  This cannot be overemphasized.  Take your time and be sure to grease every last crevice.  Be generous with your grease.  It's so frustrating when a bundt gets stuck in the pan.  Settle in and grease the pan thoroughly; maybe listen to a podcast while you work.  I use hydrogenated vegetable oil.  Greasing finicky pans is the only thing that hydrogenated vegetable oil is good for.

3.  Start the cake:

Measure out your dry ingredients:

• 1 cup oat flour
• 1 cup almond flour
• 1/2 cup coconut flour
• 2 tsp. baking soda
• 1 tsp. salt
• 1 Tbsp cinnamon
• (opt) 1/8 tsp. clove

Whisk together thoroughly to break up any lumps, especially in the coconut and almond flours.  Set aside.
In your large mixing bowl, place:

• 1 cup butter or coconut oil (softened)
• 2 cups sugar

Beat together until fluffy.  Add (one at a time):

• 5 eggs

Beat well after each addition.
Gently beat in:

• 1 - 15 oz. can pumpkin
• 1/2 cup applesauce (unsweetened)
• 2 tsp. vanilla

4.  Preheat oven to 350 degrees!!!

Add the flour mixture to the mixture in the mixing bowl and beat together gently but thoroughly (since there is no gluten, you won't make it tough by overbeating, but you will knock the air out of the eggs if you overbeat, so still be cautious).

Spoon approximately half of the cake batter into your greased bundt pan, and spread up the sides, forming a valley.  Using a normal spoon ("teaspoon") from your normal silverware, spoon the streusel filling into the valley.  Spread the rest of the cake batter over the streusel filling.  The streusel should not touch the sides of the pan; the batter should touch the sides of the pan.

5.  Bake the cake:

Bake at 350 degrees for 65-70 minutes, until cake tests done with a toothpick.  Cool in pan on rack for 30 minutes.  Turn out and continue cooling.  You may not be able to resist having a slice while it is warm and fresh, but it will be better after it has spent a night in the refrigerator.  Because of the number of eggs, this cake really needs refrigeration.  You can dust it with powdered sugar or glaze it with a glaze made from apple cider and powdered sugar (approximately 1/3 cup powdered sugar, 2 Tbsp. apple cider, 1/2 tsp. cinnamon, tiny pinch of clove).

Falling

Shady, rustling, green overhead,

at the tip of a branch, a flicker of red.

Laughing and careless, not looking ahead,

Eat, drink and be merry, is what they all said.

So they played and worked and risked and splashed,

they earned and spent, they cried, they crashed.

Some of them lingering, some of them gone,

and the ones who were left wondered how to go on. 

The leaves on the trees turned to colors of flame

As everyone realized life isn’t a game.

Some gain it all and discover thin air,

some attain nothing and faint in despair,

while everyone wonders if anything’s fair.

Why, we ask, when we cannot see,

and the leaf at the end of the branch of the tree

falls, but not down, as the wind blows free,

its dance through the sky is a mystery.

The depth of the sorrow, the height of the pain,

is something we never could clearly explain.

The world is broken—we cannot repair it,

the burden is crushing, with whom can we share it?

God knows how brokenness dampens our eyes,

He cares for us deeply—He does sympathize,

despising the damage, the wounds and frustration,

results of the curse that has ravaged Creation.

Thus He entered our mess in the form of a man,

tasted our troubles in full, so He can

completely relate to the anguish we face—

He sees us, He loves us, He offers His grace

through Christ who astoundingly died in our place.

Immortal, He died, but how can it be so,

The Source of Life buried with death down below?

We can’t understand, but in faith we believe,

He died and He rose so that we can receive

Life—mortal souls gain eternal reprieve.

Green leaves turn crimson and orange and gold,

then fall to the ground as the air becomes cold.

Bare branches spread their frail twigs like black lace,

between them the stars flicker starlight from space,

and secretly, quietly, God pours out grace.

The trees will again bear new leaves and new life,

and one day we all might find freedom from strife,

because of a tree that was stained with His blood.

Flowing red was the color of hope, peace and love,

falling down from the heart of our Father above.

(I wrote this poem as a favor for a friend.  It came together yesterday.)