The Little Messenger

He was sitting in the front row on the first seat at church. He was the pastor’s son and my big brother’s best friend. I thought his freckle-covered face was adorable, and every time I looked into his beautiful, blue-green eyes, I would drown in a pool of bliss. I had a perfect view of him from my seat in the third row, on the opposite side of the church. His name was Daniel Mack Abbott, but we all called him Danny.
Every time he happened to glance behind him, my best friend Jacqui would nudge me.
"He's looking at you," she whispered. I giggled.
"How many times is that now?" I asked.
"Four,” she whispered.
I was about 14 years old and had the biggest crush of my whole entire life. I would do anything to get his attention and I was willing to fight any girl for him. I figured if I fought hard enough, he would be mine.

(My scrapbook was filled with his pictures.)

"Just wait, I would boast to everyone. “I'm gonna marry that boy some day!"

My boasting came to halt one day when my best friend Jacqui called.
"Hey girl, what's up?" I said.
“You are so not going to believe what just happened to me,” she said.
“Oh tell me, tell me,” I exclaimed.
“Danny just called me,” she said.
“What did he say?” I squealed. She paused…
"Okay, don't get mad at me," she said, but Danny asked me to the Valentine's Banquet, and I said ‘yes’."
"Uhhh, umm ..."shocked, all I could do was stutter. I couldn’t believe it!
"He just called a few minutes ago," she said. "You’re my best friend so I wanted you to be the first to know."
"Oh,” I managed to choke out. How nice of you, I though to myself! I didn’t know what else to say. So hung up the phone and started crying.
*
How could she do this to me? I wondered. She knew how much I liked him, and yet she still said “yes”. What kind of a friend was she? Little did I know I had a lot to learn about friendship.

*
“Just because you like him, doesn’t mean you own him,” said one of the older girls in my church,“Other girls can like him, too.”
“Whatever!” I thought to myself.

*
However, I did try really hard not to be mad at her for what she had done. It wasn’t her fault that he liked her and not me. I told myself no guy was worth losing my best friend.

Yet, when I looked at his handsome face, I wasn’t sure maybe it was.

*
This situation was really hard on our friendship. That’s when little Sarah stepped in. Sarah Nickels was 10 years old. Too young for Danny, too young to be my friend, but just right to be my messenger, and she was a very loyal messenger, too!

*
“Everyone thinks that you’re mad because Danny didn’t ask you to the banquet," said Sarah.
"I'm not mad!” I said. “But go tell Danny he should have gone with me!"
“Okay,” she said obediently, running off to do her job.

*
Another time at summer, Bible camp, in Prescott, little Sarah came running over to me.
"Mary! Mary! Some girl at choir practice said that she likes Danny." At 14 I was too old to be a camper, so I went as a staff member instead. Sarah would keep me informed on everything that was going on.
"WHAT! How dare she?" I said.
"I know," said Sarah. "I told her that Danny Abbott went to our church and that you liked him first."
"Good job!" I said.

*
That night Sarah was at my side in the dorm room as I yelled out the window.
"I like Danny Abbott!"
"Well I like Danny Abbott, too," yelled a voice a couple rooms down in the dorm.
"That’s her," whispered Sarah.
"Well I like Danny Abbott more," I yelled back.

*
One time I made a cookie for Danny, but I was to shy to give it to him.
"Sarah, will you go give this to Danny for me.” I kissed the cookie before I handed it to her. "Tell Danny I made this cookie for him. After he takes a bite of the cookie, tell him I kissed it. Then come back and tell me what he says.”
"He says it was delicious," she said after completing her assignment. (She left out the part were he spit it out, after he found out that I had kissed it.)

*And so the drama continued...

*“Let’s go find Danny and take a picture of him. Go tell Danny I like his shirt. Go give Danny this note. Go tell Danny I missed him. Tell me if you see any girls flirting with him.” And little Sarah kept doing her job…

*
That was all a long time ago, I am 25 now, and a lot has happened in the last 11 years. Jacqui and I managed to get over our petty squabbling and remained the best of friends. Little Sarah grew up, and we became best friends as well. Eventually, I got over Danny, and have liked a million guys since then. I have spent many nights up late, with both Jacqui and Sarah, whispering and giggling over cute guys.

*
Three summers ago there was a wedding, Danny Abbott's wedding. This was the wedding I had spent many hours dreaming about.

*

Although it wasn’t exactly the way I had planned it. It was still perfect, because, it happened exactly the way God planned it.

*
I felt like a princess that day, as I walked down the aisle holding on tightly to my beautiful rose bouquet. My Little Messenger Sarah did my hair and it was piled up on my head with beautiful curls flowing down. Little pink and red roses were in my hair and I felt like the most beautiful woman in the world, as I walked down the aisle, smiling happily. No, I wasn't the bride, but I was a bridesmaid.
*So who did Danny Abbott end up marrying?

It wasn't my best friend that went with him to the banquet or the girl from camp or any of the other girls I used to fight with. It was little Sarah. I don’t remember her ever doing foolish things to try and gain his attention, but one day he looked across the aisle at church and he noticed her. Danny Abbott fell in love with my Little Messenger.
*
“I can’t believe it!” I said to Sarah on her wedding day, as I buttoned the cuffs on her beautiful white dress. “My little Sarah is getting married.” I can’t help but smile at the way things turned out.*

You see, my little messenger gave me a message as well. Her message was about friendship and loyalty. She taught me that being a friend doesn’t mean you can’t like the same guy, but a true friend will stick by you no matter what happens. The world is full of handsome men. However, best friends are like a rare treasure, they're hard to find.

Are You Cheering?

A while ago I had the strangest dream. In the dream I was walking outside in my mother's neighborhood. As I was walking I saw the bridge that you can walk over the freeway and see all the cars below. As I got closer I noticed that there was a large group people standing around the bridge. Wanting to know what was going on I walked closer. As I got closer could hear chanting and cheering. People were screaming, "COME ON! DO IT! DO IT! DO IT!" I wondered what they were cheering about. Finally I got close enough, I saw that there was a man about to jump off the bridge and end his life. I gasped HORRIFIED as people continued screaming and chanting. "Just do it! Jump! Come on, JUST JUMP! JUMP!" I was SHOCKED! I couldn't believe that people would be cheering someone on to end their life. "NOOOOOO!" I screamed. "Don't do it!" But it was to late for my one little cry. It was overshadowed by the screaming and cheering throng of people.

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The cheering of the people in the crowd turned to whoops and hollers of joy as the man took his final plunge off the bridge and ended his life. "Oh yeah! He FINALLY did it!" The people shouted with enjoyment as they high fived each other. "That was AWESOME!" I woke up with a suddeness and just sat in my bed horrified by my dream. If only that man could have heard someone say that they loved him and that his life still had value! IF ONLY I had gotten there SOONER maybe, there would have been a different outcome!
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The WHOLE day a just felt an eeary feeling of gloom over me. While the kids were napping at work, I sat on the couch and just thought about the dream! It was sooooo CREEPY! I mean, to think that people were ACTUALLY cheering and encouraging someone to just end their life absolutely disgusted me.

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As I sat there and thought about it, I felt like God impressed something on me about the dream. Not like I had vision or anything, just a thought he put through my mind. I felt like God told me that sometimes thats what we do to each other within the church. Sometimes we see that our brother or sister in the Lord is falling. Often times there is that ONE person that we see making the same mistakes over and over again. They are weak...they are struggling. But instead of trying to help them up, we gossip and talk about them behind their back.

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So often a person leaves the church and we shrug our shoulders in nonchalance. I remember talking to a girl from another church one time on the phone. I asked her how a girl in her church was doing. She casually said that the girl had stopped going to church, but was now struggling to get back in and live for God. "Oh well," she said indifferent, you can't win them all." I was shocked. How could someone talk so carlessly about their friend losing out with God?

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There is a young man in my church named Sam Karlson. He stopped going to church in his early teens and got back in church at 18. When he got back in church, I wrote his testimony and it's pretty awesome some of the things that God brought him from. But, one thing I remember him tellin me about was that his mom ALWAYS prayed for him. He said that sometimes he would come home late at night, drunk from partying and he would find his mom praying for him. You know why? Because it was HER son. She loved him and she wanted above all else to see him saved.  What if Sam's mom had just been like, "Oh bummer, my son's not coming to church anymore?"  Do you think he would have got back in? But NO! Sis. Kathy Karlson got down her knees and did some heartwrenching praying. I don't believe Sam would be back in church is she hadn't!

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When someone leaves the church we need to make it PERSONAL!!! Think about how you would feel if someone you loved dearly left church...or perhaps you do know. Your not just like, whatever...bummer their not coming anymore, but Oh well! NO! YOUR on your knees, pleading the blood of Jesus over them. WELL, This is not just anyone, this is OUR brother, this is OUR sister!!! You say, well I just don't feel that way...ASK GOD to give you a burden!

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I understand that sometimes people have a bad spirit that is bringing others down and that sometimes it really is a relief when it's gone. However it should NEVER be our desire to see our brother or sister lose out with God. I think sometimes we see a peer getting ready to take that final lunge and leave the church. BUT instead of screaming...NOOOOOOOOO...STOP!!! We secretly are cheering them on in our hearts. Just go on now...get outta here...LEAVE!

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Then when they do, we turn to each other, "Aw, I knew they were gonna leave eventually. They never really had it in their heart all along." And we are pleased in knowing that we were really right about them ALL ALONG! And perhaps we are right to some degree, BUT WHAT IF, WHAT IF, WHAT IF, WHAT IF we had all gone to that person and told them that we loved them?! What if we had told them that we cared about them?! WHAT IF we told them that we believed in them?! WHAT IF we told them that it didn't matter what they had done, God would still forgive them. WHAT IF we had all gotten down on our knees and PRAYED AND WEPT FOR THEM?! Maybe there would be a DIFFERENT outcome.

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Perhaps your thinking, but you don't know what they did! They don't DESERVE our love. The truth is that they probabley don't deserve our love. Just like WE didn't deserve God's love, BUT he still gave it.

But God commandeth His love toward us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. Romans 5:8

THINK about it...

 Are you screaming NOOOOO?!

Or are you cheering them on?!

Do you ever wonder?

It was just one of those days at work as a nanny. I had spent all morning chasing the kids as they tore the house a part. Finally, it was naptime. I put the little one down first in his crib. Then I told Ella to pick out a short story for me to read to her before her nap. She handed me Max Lucado’s book called, "Just In Case You Ever Wonder." I rolled my eyes to myself, I had read this story several years ago and was not at impressed by it. However, I was tired and just figured I would get story time over with. I tucked the 5-year-old girl into her cozy little bed, then sat on the edge and began to read to her…

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Long, long ago God made a decision- a very important decision. One that I’m really glad He made. He made the decision to make you. The same hands that made the stars made you. The same hands that made the canyons made you. The same hands that made the trees and the moon and the sun made you. So I am just sitting there like blah, blah, blah, whatever, totally not any more impacted by this story. It continues…

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God made you like no one else. If you looked all over the world – every city in every house – there is would be no one else like you. No one with your eyes, no one with your mouth, no one with your laugh. You are very, very special. And since you are so special, God wanted to put you in just the right home. All of the sudden I felt something tighten in my heart…

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God wanted to put you in just the right home. Where you would be warm when it’s cold, where you’d be safe when you’re afraid, where you’d have fun and learn about heaven. I’m starting to feel choked up… So, after lots of looking for just the right family, God sent you to me. And I’m so glad he did. I could hardly contain myself as I continued reading the story. It wasn’t the story so much in itself that was causing the emotional response, but because I know some children, that can’t relate with this story. I know some children, that don’t always have a warm place to sleep at night. There are some children that aren’t safe in their own home.

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My voice began to get all funny as I continued reading to this little girl… As you grow and change, some things will stay the same. I’ll always love you. I’ll always hug you. I’ll always be on your side. And I want you to know that, just in case you ever wonder. I know that there are kids out there that ARE wondering…

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On dark nights when you hear noises in your closet, call me. When you see monsters in the shadows, call me. On hard days when kids are mean and don’t treat you like they should, come to me. If your grades are bad and your teacher is mad, come to me. ‘Cause I love you. And I always will.

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I think of a wild little five year-old boy. He is so loud and obnoxious. He drives everyone crazy. But I wonder, at night, when he is scared and all alone, does he know that there are angels watching over him. I wonder who holds him close and tells him everything is going to be all right? I think of a 12-year-old girl, she gets up in the middle of the night, to watch someone else’s baby. I wonder when was the last time someone tucked her into bed? There are so many things, I just can’t help but wonder…

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In heaven you are so close to God that HE will hug you, just like I hug you. It’s going to be wonderful. I will be there too, I promise. We will be there together, forever. Remember that. Just in case you ever wonder.

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As I finish the book, I can hardly hold back my tears. The little girl looks at me funny, not to sure what is wrong with her nanny. I smile a little smile. Tuck her in as we say her bedtime prayers. Then I go into their living room. I sit down on their floor and I cry.

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What about these kids God? The Sunday School kids? The bus kids? I can't help but wonder...Who encourages them when they are sad? Who holds them when they can’t fall asleep at night? Who tells them to sleep with the bible under their pillow when they have bad dreams? Who will fill in the gap of their parent’s? Who will tell them that they are loved? I just can’t help but wonder…

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As I sat there pondering, God told me, “That’s your job Mary!” He impressed upon me that, that’s us. That’s the church’s job. Our churches are the place where they will fell safe and warm. After lots and lots of looking, God chose our churches to be their home. A place where he knew they would be loved and taught about Him. I believe, that every child brought to church, is brought there on purpose, by God.

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I think about my little niece Mary Jo. God brought her out of such a horrible environment. She calls her old home, “The mad home” and our house is her “Happy home.” And I’m so glad that God brought her out of the horrible life that she was in, but still thinking about it, I can’t help but feel a sense of sadness. Because not every child gets “There happy home.” There are so many children that are stuck in their “Mad home” till adulthood. But then I think, if only for a moment, we can give them that happy home. Church can be their happy home. Church can be the place where they can feel loved and taught the truth. Even if it’s only for two hours a week, we can make a difference.

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Often times these kids are NOT the easiest kids to love, I know that! They are wild and hyper and not used to discipline. Often they are dirty and sick with runny noses. Chances are they may smell and you will more than likely hear inappropriate things coming out of their mouths. These kids are NOT like our church kids. They are not naïve and innocent. By four-years-old, most of them have already been violated and corrupted by the sin of this world. It is an overwhelming feeling, to hold a child in your arms and know that at 26-years of age, you are more innocent, more naïve than that little child. Sometimes, it seems like there is just too much, to work through. Perhaps it would be easier to just give up. But, God called us.

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One night, my brother and I were dropping kids off at their homes. The last boy in the van was about 6-years-old. When we get to his apartment, he proudly walks to their front door holding the big, 3-dimentional, paper snowflake he had made in his class that night. I watch as he sets the snowflake down on the ground and reaches into his pocket for a key to unlock the door. There are no lights on and I don’t even have to wonder, I turn to my brother, “He is on his own tonight.” He finally gets the front door open, but a gust of wind starts blowing his snowflake. I watch as he goes chasing after his beloved snowflake and my heart breaks just a little. Here is a little boy torn between to worlds. Still enthralled by his little craft, yet the responsibility of an adult on his shoulders.

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On dark nights when you hear noises in your closet, call me.

When you see monsters in the shadows, call me…

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I think of one of a four-year-old in my mom’s class at church. She has a special prayer request along with the other kids in class. One little boy wants to pray for his Pa Pa. One little boy wants to pray that he finds his lost key. Another child wants to pray that one of the older ladies in our church feels better. This little girl just wants to pray that her mom will stop beating her sister. That’s the kind of home they these kids are coming from.

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Another part of the story says…

Most of all I’ll be here to teach you about God. He loves you. He protects you. God wants you to know about heaven. It’s a wonderful place. There are no tears there. No monsters. No mean people. You never have to say goodbye, goodnight or I’m hungry. You will never get cold or sick or again.

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Who will tell them about Jesus? How will they know about heaven? That’s our job... Just in case your wondering...they need you...they need me...they need us...Just in case your wondering. As cried at work that day, I told God I’ll do it. I’ll hold them my arms no matter how bad they smell. I’ll dry their tears and wipe their snotty little noses. I’ll discipline them when they are bad and I’ll teach them about you every chance I get. I’ll be here God. Call me, whenever, wherever, I promise. Just in case you ever wonder.

Your Dream

Have you ever wanted something? I mean really, really, REALLY wanted something!? The desire for this thing is so strong and so deep you don't think you could be whole without it. With each and every passing day the desire for your dream seems to intensify even more. You wait and you wait and you wait but it never happens. Your dream never comes true...but still...YOU WAIT!

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Eventually, you sorta put the dream aside. It's NOT that you have stopped wanting this dream to come true. It's NOT that you have given up ALL hope! Your just getting on with your life...living life to the fullest...AND you THINK it's ok...you'll make it...but then you see it AGAIN...YOUR DREAM!!!

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It's right there in front of you. EVERYTHING you ever wanted...It's REAL!!!Only...It's NOT for you. It belongs to someone else. You can't believe it! You don't understand! You waited SOOOOO long for this...and now they have it...YOUR dream!

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They are holding it in their arms. Rocking it slowly...back and forth...back and forth.They cradle your dream to their heart as they whisper sweet I love you's. You wonder if they know just how blessed they are to have your dream.

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You try NOT to be jealous. You try to be happy for them. You try to push away the envy that is overwhelming you...but it's still there. Once again your aware of the empty, gaping whole in your heart...The aching in your arms.You try to hold back the tears...but you can't. When no one is looking you let the tears fall...Your body shakes as you cry...you sob.You don't understand...it's NOT fair! HOW DID THEY GET YOUR DREAM?

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But then...Then they hand it to you...The dream. You hold the dream in your arms...and it's PERFECT! Better than you could have ever imagined! You feel every teeny, tiny breath as it peacfully sleeps. SUDDENLY it begins to move...stretching...then it opens it's eyes...AND it looks at you...and you can't help but smile... just a little. The dream raise it's little eybrows...crinckling it's forhead...you smile a little bigger. It raises it's arm and yawns...you can't help but giggle...It moves it's lips...you laugh...you just have to! It just looks at you and you laugh some more.

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You hold it to your heart and cuddle it....the dream.You put your cheek on it's cheek...and your dream quickley falls back asleep. You can't help but feel so happy.The joy of the dream overflows your heart. It's still not your dream...so you hand it back...smiling...envy washed away. It's not as if you don't still have the desire for your dream...it's still there...burning in your heart...

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But your learnin...

Learnin as you wait, to enjoy someone else's dream.

Thats what I call CONTENTMENT.

Godliness with contentment is great gain.

Titus 6:5

Broken hearts

Shattered. Seperated. Crushed. Smashed. Ragged. Uneven. Tattered. Like an old forgotten teddy bear that had lost all its stuffing, thats how I felt. On the outside, I apeared the same, but on the inside I was different. Broken. Even though it had been over a year and a half since my big break-up, I still felt heart broken. I really couldn't understand why I still felt this way. I didn't even want to be with him anymore. I had liked a million guys since then and yet I couldn't deny the fact that there was a sadness inside my heart. For two years he had been my best friend. We talked every night before I went to bed. I had shared all my hopes and dreams with him. No matter how hard I tried to push that feeling away, it remained intact. I still had a broken heart. I didn't think I would ever be the same again!

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Several months after the break up, I found myself starting an outreach with an African refugee community. Even though I had become very passionate about what I was now doing, it didn't take away the sad feeling inside my heart. There was still many nights that I cried myself to sleep. I remember l feeling so upset. I just wanted to "get over it" but I couldn't. I called my pastor one day, crying, asking him for advice. He listened to me as I sobbed to him on the phone. Then he gave me some very simple words of wisdom. He told me to just get on with my life. He said that I had already been doing a good job with that, especially, with the African children and that I should just keep doing what I was doing. He said to just let that be my testimony. Despite the compliment, his advice really wasn't what I wanted hear. However, I did take it heart and I continued on with my life.

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I stayed involved with my church. I emerged myself into outreach and teaching Wednesday night bible class. I had good times with my family. I had fun with my friends and went to as many youth activities as possible. Slowly I began to let things go. One by one I said good bye to the things he had given me. The hardest to let go of was this one soft, white teddy bear dressed like a cowboy, but finally I gave it to one of the little African boys. I continued going through stuff. I pulled out wedding decorations and donated them to my friend's baby shower and some more stuff for our ladies tea. As I went through more stuff, I pulled out the wedding dress. The layers and layers of white tulle piled up on the ground. "I should get rid of this!" I said to my sister, "I don't need it anymore!" "Well you could just save it," said my sister, "for one day when you do get married." I looked at it again, "Naw," I said, it doesn't really seem nearly as pretty as it used too." So we packed it up and dropped it off at the Saver's down the street from our house.

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Then one day while I was at work, one of my friends texted me some dreadful news about him- he had a girlfriend. I sat there and cried and cried and cried. That day when I came home from work I was ready to tell my family. I'll never forget the OBNOXIOUS whoops of joy from my brothers when they heard this news. I rolled my eyes and couldn't help but smile, I knew it was only because they loved me and wanted to see me move on. I went to my room and pulled out my scrapbook of us together. I brought it out to my mom who sitting at our kitchen table, "I guess maybe I should get rid of this now," I said. She agreed that it was time. My brother's were ready to build a bonfire in the backyard to throw it in, but my mom said NO!  Then she just sat there and gently pulled each picture of us off the pages. As she did this she talked to me...

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"You know Mary, she said, "Sometimes people's feelings just change. She explained that love and relationships can be a very complicated thing to figure out. We think we know what we want, but then you aren't sure or you change your mind. She said that his breaking up with me didn't mean that he was a bad person. Sometimes these things just happen. Then she told me about a time before she was married to my dad. She was dating a really nice man. She said he was really smart and very kind-hearted. He wanted to marry her, but she said she just didn't love him like that. And even though she didn't want to hurt him, she broke up with him. There was something about hearing it from my mom, knowing that she had to do the same thing to someone, as what my boyfriend had done to me, made me realize that he really wasn't a bad person. We just weren't right for each other, but still it HURT!

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Finally it was a year and seven months since our break up. It was the end of 2007 and it was time for the Conqueror's Conference youth convention our church always goes to in Tuscon Arizona. I wasn't sure if i really even wanted to go. By this time, his girlfriend had become his finance and I knew they would be there together. I a part of me really wanted to stay home, but I knew that wouldn't be the best way for me to continue getting on with my life as my pastor had advised. So I went, bringing two of the African girls with me.

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I remember seeing them together was a little weird and akward, but it didn't really bother me like I had thought it would. However, I still had a broken heart. It's hard to explain but I just felt betrayed. A promise had been broken and I felt like something inside of me had been lost. I remember a preacher got up, and he was talking about healing. He said there were people at the conference with physical ailments in their bodies and that God wanted to heal them. I remember at first just thinking ok whatever, I'm fine and I just kinda sat there in my pew. As I sat there I began to think, I said, "God there is nothing wrong physically in my body, but  I am so sick of feeling hurt the way I do. Could you please heal my broken heart? I don't remember feeling anything instantly. It was just a simple prayer and then I went on with the conference.

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I entered 2008 refreshed and renewed. I began making all kinds of new friends and really started just enjoying being a young person again. All of the sudden one day I realized, I was OVER IT! I didn't feel the hurt anymore and I had no desire to even try and get him back. In fact I was even enjoying my life so much  I was even glad that it had all happened. "Hey Theresa! i said to my sister. "Guess what?! i am OVER IT!" She just kinda looked at me and said, "are you sure?" I said, "yes! Absolutley positivley without a doubt in my mind, I am OVER it!" She said "Well it's ABOUT TIME!"

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At the end of the year our church ladies have a cookie and gift exchange. Sis. Abbott had us all sitting in a circle and we were going to go around  and when it was our turn we were supposed to say what God had done for us that year. When it was my turn I said that this year God had healed my broken heart. I said that I don't what happened but things were just different. It felt like something inside of me had just blossomed and I began meeting so many people, developing new friendships. I started taking extra care with how I looked, just for the fun of looking good. I started writing again and I felt my life beginning to flourish. I said, "I just feel so happy!"

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My friend Jacqui says that a wound and a scar are a lot alike. They both come from hurt and pain and they both tell a story of something that happened. The difference between the two is healing. I hear a friend at my church singing a song called, I Believe In Miracles. I know that what my friend has been through is a million times worse than my heartache. So I can't help but stand up to worship when he gets to the part, "He healed my broken heart, he dried those tears from my eyes..." Because thats what Jesus did for me. When I was hurting, I didn't think I would ever be the same again.  The truth is, I'm still not the same, but I am better.  Because in the place of the wound on my heart is a scar. A scar that tells the story of how Jesus can heal a broken heart.

 The LORD is nigh unto them that are of a broken heart...

Psalm 34:18

Grandpa's Cookies

Red and white dough twisted together, infused with peppermint flavoring and little pieces of peppermint candies- Grandpa’s Candy Cane Cookies. Shortbread dough dipped in milk then rolled in sesame seeds, cooked until golden brown. Best served while still warm with hot chocolate- that’s Grandpa’s Sesame Seed Cookies. As one takes a bite of this next cookie their mouth will be filled with a variety of delightful goodness. This cookie is crusty on the outside and chewy on the inside. It is filled with the sweetness of almond paste and yet salty from the taste of pine nuts- these are Grandpa’s Pinoli Cookies. The all around favorite cookie is a 3-layered, Neapolitan-Italian-flag cookie. In between each layer is a filling of fruit preserves and topped with a thin layer of melted chocolate. Once the chocolate is hardened they are cut into tiny, bite-size squares. We simply call these- Grandpa’s Three-Colored Cookies.
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Every year, at the end of November, my Grandfather, Joseph Mangino, a retired New York City Policeman, would begin his holiday baking. Grandpa was a big man with broad shoulders, a loud booming voice, chubby cheeks a big smile and a twinkle in his eye. Everyone loved his baking and looked forward to it. Then one year everything began to change.
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“I don’t know Franny,” my grandpa says to his daughter who is my mom. “I don’t think I am going to be able to send cookies out to everyone this year.”
“Why not?” Asks my mom.
“I just don’t feel up to it,” he says with a sigh. “I don’t think I could get it all done.” I couldn’t imagine Christmas without Grandpa’s baking. It was a part of who he was and a part of what made Christmas.
“We’ll help you make them,” says my mom. “You can teach the girls. They need to learn anyways.”
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So the baking lessons began…
The thing about Grandpa’s baking lessons was that it didn’t matter if you already knew how to bake. When you were in HIS kitchen, you did things HIS way! I remember standing in the kitchen one day after putting all of the dry ingredients in a bowl; I got out the hand mixture to blend it real well. I plugged it into the wall then stuck it into the bowl, which was on the kitchen counter.
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“Uh, uh,” said Grandpa. “Stick the bowl in the sink and then begin mixing it. This way if any of the flour comes out it will go in the sink.”
“Okay Grandpa,” I said. Next I got out the eggs and began cracking them into the bowl.
“Uh, uh,” said Grandpa. You gotta get a separate bowl and crack each egg individually to make sure the egg is good. Otherwise if one egg is bad it will ruin the whole batter.”
“Okay Grandpa,” I said. I began rolling the cookies out and putting the lumps on the cookie sheets.
“Uh, uh,” said Grandpa. “Those cookies are way to big. Make them smaller.”
“Okay Grandpa,” I said with a sigh.
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When I would get something right Grandpa would nod his head in approval.
“Atta girl Maria, atta girl.” Then when I would take the cookies out of the oven and they were just right Grandpa would smile. “Beautiful, beautiful,” he would say taking a bite.
So became our tradition, each year at Christmas time, my mom, my sister and I would take turns on different days baking cookies with Grandpa.
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“You gotta get this right Mary” Grandpa said to me one year as I baked. “I might not be here next year to show you how to do it.” I was startled to hear him say this.
“Don’t say that.” I said looking up from what I was doing. I couldn’t imagine him not being here.
“Well you never know,” said Grandpa. “Everyone dies some time.”
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We all knew that Grandpa was getting weaker with each passing year. His body was deteriorating from Parkinson disease, but we didn’t want to think about it.
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Then one day it happened. Grandpa died. I remember sitting in his recliner in the living room watching as early in the morning two men from the mortuary came to take his body away. A soft blue blanket covered him as the men rolled his stretcher down the hallway, through his kitchen and out of his house. It took a while for the reality of the situation to really sink in. Grandpa was gone.
However the things that he taught us still live on...
As Christmas time comes around my family and I begin our baking. It’s a family thing and my brother John has picked up the role of BOSSING everyone around now. Through the laughter and teasing of who broke the cookies and who cooked them too long, I remember Grandpa’s words to me;
“You gotta get this right Mary, I might not be here next year.”
“ Don’t worry Grandpa. I promise, I am going to get it right!” I start mixing the ingredients in a bowl on the counter. Then I remember and put the bowl in the sink. I pull out a separate bowl for the eggs and hope the cookies aren’t too big. As I take the cookies from the oven, I know Grandpa would be smiling, nodding his head in approval, satisfied in knowing that his cookies are still being baked. If I listen closely as I take a bite of a cookie I think I hear Grandpa. “Atta girl Maria, atta girl.” I take another bite and savor the taste. “Beautiful, beautiful!”

Thank God for my laundry! ;)

Laundry. Laundry, laundry, laundry, laundry! Sometimes it seems like that’s all I ever do! I look at the pile of dirty clothes on the chair in my room; it seems to be growing quite rapidly. Then my eyes fall on the overflowing suitcase that still has not been unpacked from the last church conference. Didn’t I just do laundry like last week or something? I sigh; it looks like I am going to have to do laundry again this week too. I scoop up as many clothes as I can carry at one time and head to the wash machine. As I work I can’t help but talk to myself...
“Your such a hard worker girl, people should just start calling you Cinderella.” I give myself a little pat on the back as I open the lid of the wash machine and start putting in my clothes. The whole scene is seriously like right out of the Cinderella Fairytale. I even think I hear my evil stepsisters screaming in the background. “CinderMary! Hem my dress, tie my sash!” Oh but wait, I don’t have any stepsisters and I don’t know how to sew. It must be my wonderful big sister reminding me NOT to use half the gallon of detergent and to remember to take the clothes out to dry, so they don’t sit in the wash machine for a week growing mildew. I head back to my room to reload my arms, sighing dramatically. Just how much longer is this princess gonna have to wait for a rich prince to come along and hire her a housekeeper?
As I am complaining my mind suddenly goes back to a conversation that took place quite a few years ago…
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“It’s recess time!” Says our teacher Mrs. Martina to my fourth grade class at Black Mountain Elementary School in Cave Creek Arizona. “Everyone line up at the door.” As I stand in line waiting, one of the kids turn to me,
“You must really like that skirt Mary, you wear it EVERY day. I look down at my worn, cotton, navy blue skirt.
“Uh, yeah,” I say, “It’s my favorite!”
“Oh, do you have a lot of them?” asks another kid?
“Umm,” I hesitate not sure what to say. The reason I wear the same skirt everyday is not because it is my favorite, but because it is the only play skirt I have. My black skirt is reserved for church on Sundays. I hesitate, then, instead of telling them the truth, I lie.
“Oh yeah,” I say, “I have a lot of skirts just like this one hanging up in my closet!”
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My cheeks burn because I hate lying, but I am too embarrassed to tell the truth. The truth is that every night after I take a shower, put on my pajamas and go to bed, my mom is up late doing laundry. It’s not because she wants to keep up on the laundry, but because if she doesn’t, my siblings and I won’t have any clean clothes to wear to school the next day.
Sometimes my shoes would get so worn the sole would be flopping off of the shoe. Instead of throwing them away my mom would hot glue the sole back on, because new shoes just weren’t in our budget. I can still feel the excitement I felt one day as I was given a new skirt to wear. It was one of the ugliest skirts I have ever seen. It was an old blue granny skirt with little green whales on each side of the pockets. The pockets on the skirt were so huge you could fit a sack of potatoes on each side. Yet I loved that skirt, not because I thought it was cute, but because now I had TWO play skirts. I remember packing for a 3-day youth conference and hoping that no one would notice that I would be wearing the same thing twice.
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I think about my closet now. It is filled with an abundance of beautiful clothes. Clothes that I like and are my own style. Sometimes I wish that these youth conferences were longer because there just isn’t enough services to show-off all my outfits. Hanging on my bedroom door is a shoe rack filled with shoes. Instead of one pair of play shoes and one pair of church shoes, I have the privilege of being able to choose from a variety of shoes whatever I think matches best. Above all this, I even get to accessorize, which I absolutely love to do! ;) I have hooks on the wall filled with cute purses and a drawer full of headbands, flowers, ribbons and clips that add just the right touch to my outfits.
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One Sunday night some of the girls from church and I are in the ladies bathroom excitedly discussing the next youth rally our church is hosting. Of course we are discussing the usual stuff, what guys we hope will show up and all that fun stuff when all of the sudden I gasp.
“Oh no!” I say placing my hand on my heart. “Oh no, oh no!”
“What’s wrong?” the other girls ask worriedly. I sigh,
“What do you guys think I should wear to the youth rally? “ I ask dramatically. Everyone immediately busts up laughing at my crazy antics. It may seem silly, but inside I really am wondering, because I really do have so many beautiful clothes to choose from.
I look down at all the clothes I am piling into the wash machine and I feel a bit shameful for complaining about washing them. I know by the world’s standards I may not be rich, but I am extremely blessed! I am learning to have an attitude of gratitude. Yes, there are a lot of people that don’t have to do their own laundry and too often it is because they don’t even have any laundry to wash.
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As I get back to my laundry I think I can hear the birds singing and I hum a little tune as I work. Ok, ok, lets be honest, THIS IS CinderMARY we’re talking about. ;) It’s more like I hear the music blaring from my playlist and I dance a jig as I sing off key at the top of my lungs, “I feel the joy of the Lord falling fresh on me!” As I dance, I readjust my tiara, pour in the soap, put down the lid and listen as the wash cycle begins. It may seem weird but I smile as I think about washing clothes again next week. This princess thanks God for laundry!