Afton Rorvik's Blog, page 6

Ginger

All about the Shoes

Something about a pile of shoes by the front door just makes me grin. Maybe you feel that way too.

The pile reminds me that people have come into my home and decided to relax and enter into whatever happens within our walls. They have chosen connection over a myriad of other options.

It also tells me that my “tribe” has gathered. These are my “peeps.” We belong together whether by blood or by choice. We have chosen to take the time to talk and listen and laugh together. We know each other and stand as witnesses to each others’ lives.

The random pairs of shoes tossed on top of each other also illustrates that life lived together can look and feel messy. As we pop into each others’ spaces, we don’t always do it with perfect manners or precise, kind words. (And sometimes, let’s face it, just like a pile of shoes, we do carry with us a certain, well, odor.)

Connection is still worth it, don’t you think?

Hope you find some kick-your-shoes-off-and-connect time this summer.

And speaking of connection, don’t forget that we are celebrating friendship here on the blog in August in honor of International Friendship Day on August 7. Every Monday in August I will share with you a Storm Sister story from a reader.

If you have a Storm Sister and want to tell me about her, even in just a sentence or two, I would love to send you both a FriendChips calendar and tell your story in August. Just reply to this blog in the comment section.

 

And Then We Hung the Chandelier

Every spring we put together our outdoor, screen porch, but this year we did it twice. The fire in our backyard that destroyed our fence and several shurbs also burned little holes in the roof of our porch. So over the weekend we took off the old top and replaced it with a new one. We also decided to shift some of the screens with fire holes to the back wall against the fence. Simple, right?

We thought so. We undid and redid lots of plastic hooks and rehung screens, but when we stood back to look at them we realized they were just a smidge off. Turns out our porch is not an exact square.

ME: “Something’s wrong here. These screens just don’t line up. I think we did this wrong.”

JOHN: “Yep. I think you’re right. Let’s take them down and try again.”

At that moment, my shoulder hurt a bit, and I thought of a lot of other things I wanted to do on this beautiful weekend day. I almost said, “It’s okay. We can live with it.” Then I realized that if we did that, we would see that error every time we sat on the porch, and our irritation would grow.

Isn’t that also a picture of marriage? Sometimes it seems the easiest thing to do is just ignore those little missteps and “live with it.” By “it” I mean a communication pattern that involves shouting, silence, assumptions, or even threats. Or bad habits such as not saying please and thank you—taking each other for granted. Or letting other people or hobbies or vocations step into the #1 attention-getting spot. It takes great courage for someone in a marriage to say, “Look, I see us making a mistake.” And it takes great grace for a partner to say, “You’re right. Let’s address this.”

After we took the screens down again and readjusted them, they looked so much better–the way that were intended to look. Then came the moment I had been waiting for since May: we hung our outdoor chandelier.

I’m glad now that we didn’t just try to cover up the old, fire-burned roof or live with the oddly-placed screens.

We talked it through, leaned on each other’s strengths, admitted our weaknesses, and ended up in a happy chandelier-hanging place.

And one evening soon we will pull out mom’s old CD player and put on Frank Sinatra–just right for celebrating twenty-nine years of building a life together. Grateful!

 

P.S. Don’t forget—I still have FriendChips 2017 calendars to give away. Just send me a line or two here in the comment line about your Storm Sister (for use in my August 7th blog). I’ll mail you both a calendar.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Recipe for You

Dear Readers, my friend Linda Baker sent me a recipe this week that I just have to share. I tried it and love it. Quick, delicious, and fabulous with coffee. I used the Costco brownie mix with chocolate chips in it and frosted the biscotti with Dollop all natural frosting, as seen on Shark Tank Then I drizzled them with some melted mini chocolate chips. After serious quality control, John gave them an enthusiastic thumbs-up!

Linda often brings me homemade biscotti when she comes for a visit. (This is a simpler version). I shamelessly refuse to share them and savor them with a cup of coffee. So . . . enjoy!

 

Also, I still have 2017 FriendChips calendars I would love to give away. Perhaps writing a whole story about your Storm Sister is too daunting. I would be happy with just a sentence or two. Then on Monday, August 8, the day after Friendship Day, I will make a collage of all the sentences and post them on my blog and Facebook and Twitter to celebrate the gift of connection.

You can leave your sentences as comments to this blog, and then I will contact you to get your address and your Storm Sister’s address.

 

                                                                      Brownie Mix Biscotti

Makes about 2 dozen

Ingredients

1 box (18-20 oz.) brownie mix—any brand. I like Pillsbury and Duncan Hines.

¾ cup flour

¼ cup baking cocoa

2 eggs

1/3 cup of oil (or up to half cup) I do what the box recommends.

Optional: Instant coffee or espresso powder, about 2 teaspoons, or orange zest, or anything else you like to use to flavor chocolate.

Water—optional, if needed

Directions

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Combine all except water. You should have fairly stiff dough. You can add a little water if you need it to get a homogenous black and shiny, not crumbly dough.

On a large, greased cookie sheet, divide and pat the dough into two logs, about 2½ to 3 inches wide, running length of sheet, with space between the two logs. Try to make the logs about the same width as each other, and relatively even in length.

Bake the logs at 350 degrees for about 20-25 minutes, until they are cooked through. (They start to crack a little.) Put pan on the counter. Slice the logs carefully with a knife into about ½” slices.

You should try to push the slices apart so there is room for the sides to get heated and crunched. Depending on the size of your sheet, you may need to put some slices on another cookie sheet.I usually remove the ends of the logs, as they are already crunchy.

Bake again for about 5 minutes more. You can bake less if you want a chewier cookie, or not at all if you want. Keep this in mind, if you bake them much more than 8 minutes, they will harden as they cool and be good dunkers but otherwise difficult to eat. In my oven, 8 minutes is about right for crunchy but not hard. I’d start with 5 minutes and by trial and error, you can see what you like.

Let cool and store in airtight container.

Note: You can add chocolate chips, nuts etc., or you can glaze one side with melted chips and a small amount of oil. Really, you can do whatever sounds good to you, I think including just baking them up as cookies. They taste like brownies, but are not nearly so messy and crumbly.

Happy In(ter)dependence Day

Perhaps you will attend a parade today or a block party or family barbecue. Interesting, isn’t it that all the activities we typically participate in to celebrate July 4 involve people?

For several years now I’ve wished we could rename this holiday and call it National Interdependence Day—seems, really, to describe the day more accurately. Those early settlers needed each other to draw up and execute their plan for a life in America.

When I think of the word independence, I think of a sturdy, determined two-year-old proclaiming, “Do it self!” But no single person among us is smart enough, strong enough, capable enough to do life alone. Maybe we know that deep-down and that explains, in part, why we celebrate Independence Day surrounded by others.

If you read my blog last week http://ow.ly/yK7n301UajB, you read my musings on playing second clarinet and friendship. I talked about the idea of playing a supporting role in friendship and letting others shine. I think I missed a piece of the puzzle, though, the idea of working together for the greater good of the whole no matter what your role—first clarinet or second clarinet. My clarinet-playing friend, Roberta, commented on the blog and beautifully explained this.

As you think this weekend about independence and interdependence, let me leave you with the wise words of my friend Roberta. (Oh, and she found a yearbook photo of us holding our clarinets—too funny!) And I also leave you with a short sentence that has become my favorite: “Let’s do it together.”

Roberta writes:

If given the choice, I, too, like to hide in the back. It was a challenge to be “first clarinet” sometimes. But it was so much fun to be a part of something “bigger,” like a “music team.” God calls us to use our talents to support each other, just like the Body of Christ. My favorite part of our musical journey was playing clarinet duets with you. Loved the harmony. We can challenge ourselves to be our best, whether it be in the lead or a supporting role. Together we are more than the sum of the individual parts. And I am glad that you had the opportunity and challenge to be first chair our senior year. You have grown and blossomed from the experience.

Thank you for your continued friendship!

Roberta

 

Second Clarinet

 

Back in junior high I met a lifelong friend in the clarinet section—Roberta.

We both took private lessons. We both went to music camp. We both practiced diligently. And yes, we did goof around now and then and drive our band teacher just a little nuts.

Every year Roberta and I auditioned for chairs within the clarinet section, and every year, all the way through high school, guess who won first chair? Roberta.

You probably expect me now to talk about how discouraged I became and how it affected our friendship. Sorry to disappoint, but I really enjoyed being second chair clarinet. Roberta handled solos better than I did and had more confidence than I did.

Our senior year, Roberta and I both also played in the high school orchestra. Our director decided that year to have Roberta play the bassoon, and I became first chair clarinet. Eek! I had to work and work on a solo for the state competition, and I had to talk myself into being confident enough to play said solo.

Truth be told, I preferred second chair. I didn’t like the spotlight—still don’t.

When my publisher told me I had to develop a presence on social media and talk about myself and my book, I struggled. Still do. Social media just doesn’t feel comfortable to a second-chair clarinet player.

But I have learned that I can use social media to draw attention to other people.

Nothing makes me happier than promoting a young or undiscovered writer. And I love posting a funny video or poignant article that I know one of my readers (you) will appreciate. I love giving a thumbs-up to friends and family members doing brave, fun, normal things.

Recently, as so often happens, I sat down to spend time reading my favorite book, and came across one short sentence in Romans 12:10 that speaks directly to this idea. I particularly like the way the verse reads in The Message: “Be good friends who love deeply; practice playing second fiddle.”

Don’t you think that verse could also be paraphrased this way: “Be good friends who love deeply; practice playing second clarinet?”

That semi-colon tells me that the the two parts of this sentence carry equal weight. Good friends who love deeply also play second fiddle (clarinet). Hmm . . .

I wonder what would happen in our friendships, and on social media, if we adopted the “second clarinet” mentality. What do you think?  

 

 

 

 

 

Thinking of Shrubs

A backyard fire a couple months ago severely scorched some of our shrubs, and we thought we had lost them. But last weekend we took a closer look and noticed some green leaves sprouting.  We pruned them and decided to let them be and see what happens. (That is a royal we—John did the hard work of pruning.

I know this regeneration process happens; I’ve read about it books and articles. But seeing it happen, day by day, in my own backyard has so surprised me.

After enduring the trauma of such a hot, intense fire, I expected these shrubs to wither. I expected them to say (if they could talk), “I’ve had enough. I’m exhausted. I just can’t keep going. I’m just going to fold into myself and wither. I gave you myself and my beauty for a period, but now I just have nothing left.”

Perhaps I imagine those words coming from my shrubs because these same words have rattled in my mind and heart after traumatic events in my own life. I just feel so tired, so useless, so defeated.

Trauma does that, doesn’t it?

I know many of you have experienced traumatic events that pale in comparison to a backyard fire. The event has left you feeling broken, depleted, rejected, frozen in time . . .

May I encourage us all to take a lesson from my shurbs?

Don’t give up and fold into yourself. Trim back your expectations a bit to give yourself the energy to embrace new growth. And remember, your life brings a one-of-a-kind beauty to this world, a gift to those around you.

Let me leave you with a beautiful song about trees that takes me back to my junior-high days. This is a song by Ken Medema (copyright 1976 Word Music LLC.) sung by Evie Karlsson with addition of dozens of tree photos. Enjoy!

  https://youtu.be/Z6vFWmLXl3g

 

 

Storm Sister Giveaway

Did you know that August 7, 2016 is Friendship Day? I read it on the internet so it must be true.

Apparently, Friendship Day was originally promoted by Joyce Hall, the founder of Hallmark cards in 1930, but by the 1940s the number of Friendship Day cards available in the US had dwindled and the holiday largely died out.

Then in 1998 Nane Annan, wife of UN Secretary-General Kofi Annan, revived the holiday and named Winnie the Pooh (!) as the world’s Ambassador of Friendship at the United Nations. The event was co-sponsored by the U.N. Department of Public Information and Disney Enterprises, and was co-hosted by Kathy Lee Gifford.

Gotta love a day that features friendship and Winnie the Pooh!

So . . . I want to celebrate friendship, specifically Storm Sister friendship, on August 7th and throughout the month of August. But I could use your help.

Would you be willing to share with other blog readers a story about your Storm Sister?

You have heard my stories. Now I would like to hear your stories.

You don’t have to be a professional writer or even a professional friend. Oh, and I have prizes. For the first five stories I receive, I will send you a 2017 FriendChips calendar and include one for your Storm Sister. (You can learn more about these delightful calendars here: https://youtu.be/ilQo5CQRQ.

Let’s celebrate Friendship Day together the whole month of August!

P.S. I’ll need your stories by mid-July. Use the contact section on my website to send in your stories: http://aftonrorvik.com/contact/. Happy writing!

 

 

 

Storm Sister Living: Compassion

 

 

Join me in welcoming my friend Carolyn Larsen to the blog today. She loves to laugh, read good books, watch football games, meet friends for a cup of chai tea, watch old movie musicals, and encourage other women in their faith walk. She has spoken many words of encouragement into my life.

 

 

Not long ago I was talking with a friend, and I quietly mentioned that something was lying heavy on my heart. I didn’t tell her what it was. I hoped she would say, “Tell me about it” or “How can I pray for you?”

Instead she responded: “Oh, you don’t know what real problems are!”

Now, this woman is a kind, compassionate woman who truly does care about others, but in this particular moment . . . well, that didn’t come through. I walked away from that conversation feeling dismissed, uncared for, alone.

But I learned a couple of things that day.

First, everyone is dealing with something.

I know my friend had some pretty heavy things on her heart that day, too. (We had talked about them at length earlier.) Perhaps she couldn’t see beyond those things enough to have any empathy for me.

You know what?

That’s okay because I know her heart. She cares for me and if she knew that I left that conversation feeling dismissed, she would feel terrible.

What I realized that day is that sometimes I need to push my own cares aside just a little in order to show compassion to a friend, regardless of what is weighing on my own heart. Sure that’s hard sometimes, but it is important so that others know I do care about them, regardless of what is weighing on my own heart.

And, as I’ve discovered so many times, caring about someone else’s pain takes the focus off my own cares and actually may make my heart cares seem a bit lighter.

Second, friends don’t diss friends’ concerns.

Looking back at that conversation, I realize that my concerns and fears may NOT have been as big or serious as those my friend was dealing with, but they did still matter. They mattered to me.

And because I know I matter to my friend, I also know I’m not crazy to think that she should care enough to listen.

Now I know it is not my place to decide what’s worthy of someone else’s concern. I know I can’t micromanage my friend, but I can determine the kind of friend I want to be. I can decide that the next time I sit down for tea with a friend and she starts to talk about her concerns, I will care and not dismiss.

That is being a Storm Sister, right?

A Storm Sister listens to your heart and cares about your pain, worries, fears and stresses.

A Storm Sisters radiates compassion.

To be sure, a Storm Sister may not know what to say in a situation but the reality is that she doesn’t have to say anything. She can just give a compassionate hug, a listening ear, or even a casserole or pan of home-made something. Maybe all she needs to do is just sit for a while and just BE THERE FOR A FRIEND.

Compassionate, Storm Sister living—let’s do it together.

 

Carolyn Larsen is a best-selling author with more than 50 books in print for children and adults, including one of my favorites: The Little Girls Bible Storybook for Mothers and Daughters: http://www.amazon.com/Little-Girls-Storybook-Mothers-Daughters/dp/0801044073 You can read more about Carolyn on her website: http://www.carolynlarsen.com

 

 

Remember or Forget?

 

On this Memorial Day, many of us remember those we have lost this year: friends, mothers, spouses. . . .  Losing people feels so sad, especially when we lose them to death. And especially, as with my mother or my father-in-law, when we just didn’t have the time together we thought we would have.

Grief.

You have probably read about the five stages of grief as explained by Elisabeth Kubler-Ross in her 1969 book, On Death and Dying. Maybe you had to study it for a college psych course. It sounds so neat and tidy, doesn’t it—five stages? The word stages implies a progression from one step to another. And the word five makes the whole process seem so doable—almost minimalistic. I can do five! And I can keep at my grief work if I know that I will leave one step behind and move on to another.

I know that those of you who have grieved have discovered that the process cannot be wrapped up with simple words, such as five and stages.  Messy, crazy grief seems a more apt description. (I wrote about that in a blog post last Memorial Day: http://aftonrorvik.com/blog/2015/05/25/messy-crazy-grief/

For the first few years after Mom died, I remembered that date and time vividly. In fact, I seemed to have an internal body clock that went off every year in January to remind me. But then the years passed—ten this January—and that internal body clock stopped going off.

I feel guilty about not remembering the date sometimes, just as I sometimes feel guilty about not visiting a grave on Memorial Day. I know that for some people going to the grave and talking helps them remember the lost loved one. And I know that for some people remembering the date of a loved one’s death and marking it with a ceremony of some kind helps them grieve and let go.

But, here’s the thing: visiting graves or memorializing dates doesn’t help everyone who grieves. Grief just isn’t a one-size-fits-all hat we can all wear well.

Truthfully, rather than visit a grave or memorialize a date, I would rather revisit a conversation in my head or read a book that the person I lost loved dearly.

So, my friends, and especially those of you who think today of one so recently lost, give yourself grace to feel what you feel and remember the way you need to remember. it will not look the same for you as it does for your grieving sibling, friend, child, or even spouse.

In my own journey with grief, I return again and again to some words that give me courage and perspective. Perhaps they will do the same for your today: “. . . because of the LORD’S great love we are not consumed.”