Something mysterious happened yesterday. Maybe those of you reading can come up with some plausible answers.

My husband Michael ran some errands with my son-in-law Chris. He then went out to lunch (at Coney Island, of all places!) with his lovely daughter Daphne from Red Wing, Minnesota, who was in town visiting her son Jordan, who’s a student at UMD. Then Michael, Daphne and Jordan went to take a peek at Sharon’s new yarn studio downtown. Then they all said their goodbyes and Michael came home.

Michael needs to take an occasional nap because of his PD, and he did that as soon as he came back. Like he always does, he laid down on top of the black and white toile comforter on our bed, and then forty-five minutes later was awake, refreshed and starting on another project.

I went upstairs to fold some laundry on our bed right after he got up, and I noticed a small something on the covers, on his side of the bed, right where his middle back would have been laying while he slept.

This is what it was:

A small clove of garlic. With a bit of the paper still on. On the bed where my husband had just napped.

I went through all the possible explanations. He had not been in a restaurant where fresh garlic was hanging, and even if he had, why would one clove have stuck to the back of his knit shirt and come all the way home with him as he drove in his truck and then laid down to take a nap?

I had not cooked with garlic recently and besides, a stray clove of garlic has never before attached itself to me and ended upstairs on our bed.

There was clean laundry on part of the bed waiting to be folded, but why would a clove of garlic have been in the clean laundry and rolled to the side on which Michael sleeps? It had clearly not gone through the washer or dryer, since the clove was firm and intact and showed no evidence of being washed in the whites cycle and tumble dried for sixty-five minutes.

Our dogs don’t like garlic (we know all the things they love: carrots, broccoli, grapes, ice cubes, cucumbers, and very expensive dog food) so I don’t think Edith or Millie would have delicately picked up a clove with their teeth — if there had even been one on the kitchen floor — and deposited it on our bed upstairs.

The children in the house can’t reach where the garlic is stored in the kitchen, so they aren’t the culprits.

When I showed Michael what I found he looked at it blankly and had no answer as to why he laid on a clove of garlic while napping.

Vampires? Does someone suspect that we need protection?

So there you have it. Garlic on our bed. Under my husband while he took a nap.

There are brilliant minds out there reading this, I know there are. Any thoughts?

My daughter Sharon used to go to library when she was a little girl and check out the books by Heloise on household hints. She used to pronounce the author’s name “HELL-loyz,” instead of “hel-lou-EEZ,” and we had a few good chuckles over that. Years later, my friend Kathleen and I wrote a song for Sharon (“You’ll Always Be HELL-loys To Me!”) and performed it at her bridal shower. It was a great blessing to her that she still holds extremely dear to this day.

Anyway, today I’m thinking about household hints. I have a few hints myself on keeping house (even though I don’t use most of them), but I could always use new ones.

Here are a few household hints I would highly recommend:

1.  Do not let paperwork pile up in your office.

2.  Do not let the dogs come in the house after it rains without washing their feet in the sink.

3.  Do not let your house get messy.

4.  Do not just throw random things into kitchen drawers.

5.  Do not eat in your car.

6.  Do not cook meals.

If you follow all of the above invaluable household hints, you will definitely have time for pursuing your other interests rather than being a slave to your house.  🙂

Seriously, I will offer one household hint that can work pretty well, and then I would like you all to share a few of yours.

Household hint: get a laundry basket for every person in your house and write their name on it in small letters with a Sharpie. Keep that basket in their room and have them throw all their dirty laundry (towels included) into that basket. Assign a day of the week to do that person’s laundry. Do that person’s laundry on that day of the week. As soon as it’s washed and dried, fold that person’s laundry (unless you can coerce them to fold their own) and put it away as soon as you have folded it. I’m guessing that unless the person you’re doing laundry for is a city sewer worker or works on a Texas oilfield, you would have only one-two loads to do each day of the week. And if you don’t have seven people in your family, you would even have days when the washing machine and dryer are silent.

I haven’t always done this, but doing Foster care has helped me stick to this most of the time. It makes laundry seem manageable, and only doing one to two loads in the morning seems less daunting. There are exceptions to trying this, I know. We have family temporarily staying with us right now until they move into their lovely new house, so we all just use the washer and dryer whenever we can, which works for us. Also, if you are the Duggar family, my method would not work for you.

Now if I could only follow my own advice regarding paperwork.

What household hints do you have to share? What things do you do in your home that save time, help things run more smoothly, or give you a sense of calm and order?

Or if you have a question on how to do something more efficiently, ask your question and maybe some readers will have answers for you!

Serious and funny comments are welcome…

My daughter Sara went to New York recently with two friends, Jenna and Jill. They were able to attend Easter services at The Brooklyn Tabernacle. While in New York, they were in another church that had many of Ron DiCianni’s paintings hanging in the foyer. One of his works called “Divine Healing” really touched Sara, and she came home and told me about it.

I looked it up online and as I studied it, my eyes filled with tears. I found a video of the artist talking about this painting and he said he intentionally made the woman in the scene look more like a modern woman. She has a current hairstyle and clothing, and if you look closely you can see she’s wearing a watch and a cross necklace. The message is clearly that the mercy and power of Jesus was present for those who saw Him walk the earth, and it is present for those of us who walk in faith without seeing Him today.

From Luke, chapter eight:

⁴⁰Now when Jesus came back [to Galilee], the crowd received and welcomed Him gladly, for they were all waiting and looking for Him.

⁴¹And there came a man named Jairus, who had [for a long time] been a director of the synagogue; and falling at the feet of Jesus, he begged Him to come to his house,

⁴²For he had an only daughter, about twelve years of age, and she was dying. As [Jesus] went, the people pressed together around Him [almost suffocating Him].

⁴³And a woman who had suffered from a flow of blood for twelve years and had spent all her living upon physicians, and could not be healed by anyone,

⁴⁴Came up behind Him and touched the fringe of His garment, and immediately her flow of blood ceased.

⁴⁵And Jesus said, Who is it who touched Me? When all were denying it, Peter and those who were with him said, Master, the multitudes surround You and press You on every side!

⁴⁶But Jesus said, Someone did touch Me; for I perceived that [healing] power has gone forth from Me.

⁴⁷And when the woman saw that she had not escaped notice, she came up trembling, and, falling down before Him, she declared in the presence of all the people for what reason she had touched Him and how she had been instantly cured.

⁴⁸And He said to her, Daughter, your faith (your confidence and trust in Me) has made you well! Go (enter) into peace (untroubled, undisturbed well-being). The Amplified Bible

The rest of the story is that Jesus healed this desperate woman, then raised Jairus’s daughter from the dead that day as well.

Jesus brought hope and mercy to women who had been disdained or given up on by their society. Prostitutes, empty, immoral women, ceremonially unclean women, poor, neglected women, demon-possessed women, widows. He was scandalous in the way He took time with them, sat at the same dinner tables with them, elevated them and restored their dignity, respected them, healed them and gave them hope and power to follow Him and live differently.

We can’t see His face here in this picture, but just the sight of His sandaled feet makes me cry. “Heaven is His throne and the earth His footstool” (Isaiah 66:1) — in this painting, those feet are now pausing on the way to Jairus’s house, turning slightly to see who had touched His hem and why.

No one else could do a thing to help her. Money couldn’t buy what she needed. But when she reached for the hem of His garment, everything changed.

I may not have the same needs that woman had. My culture may not dismiss me as hers did. But I believe we all need things that only Jesus can give to us.

In faith, I am reaching for His hem today. What about you?

“Everywhere I have sought rest and not found it, except sitting in a corner by myself with a little book.”

Thomas à Kempis

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My friend Jessica, whose blog is linked on the home page of my blog, gave me a blog award recently, and with it comes seven directives. Here’s what I’m supposed to do:

1. Thank the person giving you this award. Thank you Jessica! I’m glad you read my blog and I love it when you leave comments. I also love to read yours, and think you should write more often.
2. Copy the award to your blog. Here’s the icon:
3. Place a link to their blog. Check Jessica’s blog out here. She’s a really good writer and she makes me laugh and think. I actually own an electric broom because of her blog.
   
4. Name 7 honest tidbits people don’t know about you from reading your blog. Oh dear. I think I’ve done this a few times before. But maybe you’re all like me, with minds like sieves, and don’t remember any of it.
   1) I count my claps when I’m in an audience and the applause starts.
   2) I would really like to live in a little cottage in the Highlands of Scotland.
   3) I cry at least once a day. It’s not something I plan, just usually something that happens.
   4) I used to be an avid scrapbooker (when I had time to myself years ago) and I actually had some of my work published in Memory Makers magazine.
   5) I consider a yummy snack a spoonful of peanut butter and grape jelly.
   6) I used to be deathly afraid to speak in front of an audience, with uncontrollable trembling, and now I’m not at all.
   7) I hate, no, I loathe, tuna.
   
5. Award 7 other bloggers. Some of my favorite bloggers are: My daughter Sharon at Three Irish Girls, my niece Savannah, John and Sandy Halvorsen’s account of their current prayer walk across Europe and Asia, Beth Moore’s blog, and I love the design photos at Holly Mathis Interiors. That isn’t seven, but maybe I’ll put some more on soon.
6. Place a link to those bloggers. Check.
   
7. Leave a comment letting those bloggers know about the award. Will do that soon, but I have a basement floor to mop with bleach water since I came home from SAGs last night to find a flood from the sewer having backed up. We had to call several companies before we found one to come out at 11:00 at night. Now that spring is upon us, there were tree roots growing in our lines. How many of you might guess that these kinds of services don’t do that kind of thing at that time of the night for just a few dollars?  🙂
   

Anyway, thank you for tagging me, Jessica. I read your blog every day.

What blogs do all of you read often? I would love to know. Feel free to leave their names and/or URLs in the comments too.

Blessings,

Once in a while I post a song here on the blog that’s meaningful to me. This is one of those songs. It’s on Amy Grant’s newest CD release called Somewhere Down the Road.

The song is called Better Than A Hallelujah and I keep playing it over and over because the lyrics are profound and so comforting to me these days. I hope you can take the time to read the lyrics (below) as you listen, and that the song blesses you in some way.

The song is sung by Amy, but written by Chapin Hartford and Sarah Hart.

God loves a lullaby in a mother’s tears in the dead of night
Better than a hallelujah sometimes
God loves a drunkard’s cry, the soldier’s plea not to let him die
Better than a hallelujah sometimes

We pour out our miseries, God just hears a melody
Beautiful the mess we are, the honest cries of breaking hearts
Are better than a hallelujah

A woman holding on for life, a dying man giving up the fight
Are better than a hallelujah sometimes
Tears of shame for what’s been done
The silence when the words won’t come
Are better than a hallelujah sometimes

We pour out our miseries, God just hears a melody
Beautiful the mess we are, the honest cries of breaking hearts
Are better than a hallelujah

Better than a church bell ringing, better than a choir singing out, singing out

We pour out our miseries, God just hears a melody
Beautiful the mess we are, the honest cries of breaking hearts
Are better than a hallelujah

¹ The LORD is my light and my salvation—
whom shall I fear?
The LORD is the stronghold of my life—
of whom shall I be afraid?

² When evil men advance against me
to devour my flesh,
when my enemies and my foes attack me,
they will stumble and fall.

³ Though an army besiege me,
my heart will not fear;
though war break out against me,
even then will I be confident.

⁴ One thing I ask of the LORD,
this is what I seek:
that I may dwell in the house of the LORD
all the days of my life,
to gaze upon the beauty of the LORD
and to seek him in his temple.

⁵ For in the day of trouble
he will keep me safe in his dwelling;
he will hide me in the shelter of his tabernacle
and set me high upon a rock.

⁶ Then my head will be exalted
above the enemies who surround me;
at his tabernacle will I sacrifice with shouts of joy;
I will sing and make music to the LORD.

⁷ Hear my voice when I call, O LORD;
be merciful to me and answer me.

⁸ My heart says of you, “Seek his face!”
Your face, LORD, I will seek.

⁹ Do not hide your face from me,
do not turn your servant away in anger;
you have been my helper.
Do not reject me or forsake me,
O God my Savior.

¹⁰ Though my father and mother forsake me,
the LORD will receive me.

¹¹ Teach me your way, O LORD;
lead me in a straight path
because of my oppressors.

¹² Do not turn me over to the desire of my foes,
for false witnesses rise up against me,
breathing out violence.

¹³ I am still confident of this:
I will see the goodness of the LORD
in the land of the living.

¹⁴ Wait for the LORD;
be strong and take heart
and wait for the LORD.

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The LORD is close to the brokenhearted
and saves those who are crushed in spirit.

Psalm 34:18

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I hope your Easter was a special day touched in some way by the love of friends, family, and God. Easter reminds me that with Jesus there’s always hope, no matter how occasionally hopeless things might seem. Not only did Jesus rise from the dead, but His resurrection power can bring other dead things to life. Dead hearts, dead relationships, dead people – nothing is too difficult for Him.

We went to church where we could hardly find a place to sit, so our family had to sit two here, three here, two here, etc. Then we came home and started the food preparation for our Easter dinner. Later on in the day the grandbabies had a good time searching the big yard for candy-filled eggs.

My son-in-law Chris was in charge of the ham. I’ve always been so ho-hum about ham (that sounds like the title of a book – Ho-hum About Ham) until I try the baked hams that Chris prepares. He rubs some stuff on the ham, puts it in the oven in a roaster for 90 minutes, and then it invariably turns out so scrumptious that I rave about how ham is my new favorite meat. Then in a few days I’m back to being ho-hum about ham, until the next time Chris makes a ham and I’ll be all wound up about it again.

My daughter Sharon made roasted fresh asparagus, which I had never eaten. I could have written an essay entitled Ambivalent About Asparagus, but after tasting this, I have changed my tune on a food once again. Sharon also made spring-like desserts: homemade lemon squares and made-from-scratch carrot cake, the latter of which I am enjoying while typing this blog post.

Sharon and her middle child Mrs. Nisky made their famous Nisky’s Biscuits as well. Nisky’s Biscuits have two ingredients, two, and they are the flakiest, tastiest biscuits ever. Have you ever made delicious biscuits with 1) Self-rising flour and 2) whipping cream? Neither have I. I will be making them soon, however, because Nisky’s Biscuits are easy and yummy.

I made my favorite salad, Panzanella, that’s the most wonderful salad I’ve ever tasted and that is no exaggeration. If you want to make something that everyone will rave about and will require you to have printed copies of the recipe nearby each time you serve it, go to the Food Network’s site and check out The Barefoot Contessa’s recipe for Panzanella.

I also made a staple that I’ve been making for at least twenty-six and a quarter years: Stuffed Baked Potatoes. Many of you probably make your own version of these, but I’ve been surprised lately to hear of enough people who’ve never made these, so I thought I’d share. Stuffed Baked Potatoes are easy and most people think they’re fancy and delectable. I make them at least twice a month – they’re a nice change from regular baked or mashed potatoes.

Sharon took the photos of my Easter journey through Stuffed Baked Potatoland, and I hope you’ll try them and let me know how they turned out for you.

You will need large baking potatoes, cheese (I used colbyjack but you could use cheddar, jack, pepper jack, whatever), blue cheese dressing, parmesan cheese, butter, green onions, and McCormick Salad Supreme.

First, bake your potatoes. I have two ovens, which comes in very handy on holidays. I baked my large baking potatoes in the smaller upper oven (you can see the pizza stone I store there) while the not-so-ho-hum ham was cooking in the larger oven below.

While your potatoes are baking, take some green onions and chop them up pretty fine. I used about 4-5 onions. One nice thing about this recipe is that you can just put in as much or as little of everything as you like. Experiment with the flavors and adjust as you go. You’ll see how I did that later. I use the green and the white of the green onions. Some people call them scallions but I never have. Maybe one of you can tell us why they’re called scallions – is it a regional thing? I don’t care as much for that name because it reminds me of the word scallywag, and the word scallywag reminds me of a certain person that I would prefer not to be reminded about when I’m making Stuffed Baked Potatoes.

This next part is important. Have all your ingredients ready in a bowl while your potatoes are baking, because it’s the heat of the baked potatoes that will cause everything to melt together nicely. Below you can see that I tossed in about two heaping cups of grated colbyjack cheese. We were feeding a lot of people on Easter.

Next, I added about 3/4 cup of blue cheese dressing and about 3/4 cup of Parmesan cheese. You could use less or more of either ingredient. I happen to love blue cheese dressing so I put in a lot. Maybe it was even closer to a cup of blue cheese dressing.

If you look closely now, you can see that the first potato is in there (I’ll get to that in a minute) and I also threw in about 3/4 of a stick of butter. This is Easter, so don’t worry about fat grams. You could worry about that the day after Easter. Oh wait – Easter is already past. Well, don’t worry about things anyway.

Now I just started to mash things together a little bit. My potatoes were done baking. I smooshed things around with the fork while my daughter took photos with her very nice camera that she uses on her very nice website for her very nice yarn business.

When the potatoes are done, I take them out one by one, hold them in an oven mitted hand, and gently cut them in half, taking care not to ruin my beautiful oven mitts.

I take a large spoon, and while cradling the hot potato in my mitt (please try not to notice the holes in my mitt) I gently scoop out the very hot potato innards.  I try not to ruin the skin, but sometimes it happens. See how there’s very little left of the innards? Then you can just set these forlorn looking skins on a baking sheet.

And they will look like this. Sort of like sad spudwaifs.

Because I have made this recipe hundreds of times, I can tell by looking if it’s what we’ll like. I could see after smooshing and mashing that for the number of people we were going to feed, we needed to add another handful of cheese. Just stir and mash with a fork until the hot potato innards have melted most of everything, and until you don’t have any clumps of unmashed potato left. If you do, that’s okay though. Potato clods never hurt anyone.

Now you can take your holey mitts off and start to fill the empty potato skins. The mixture will be cooled off enough to use your hands. Grab a few globs of cheesy goodness and press them into the potato skins.

Make sure you delicately lift your little finger as you do it, as a polite Englishwoman would do when sipping her afternoon tea. I’m not sure why this important, but just take my word for it.

When you have enough in a skin, it will look like this:

Not too much – just a little mound of the potato/cheese mixture will do.

You can find this product in the spices aisle at your grocery store. I’ve used it for years for just this one dish, and it adds color, great flavor and interest. It’s supposed to be for salads and pasta and I’ve never used it on either. Just on my Stuffed Baked Potatoes. (When McCormick comes out with a new product called McCormick Stuffed Baked Potato Topping, maybe then I’ll try it on my salads and pasta.)

Here are all the potato halves, stuffed with that delicious cheesy mixture, sprinkled conservatively with the Salad Supreme, and lined up ready to go back into the oven. If you lean to the left politically, then you could be a liberal sprinkler. For the most part I’m a conservative sprinkler.

I then bake them at about 375 or 400 degrees (I can’t remember which) until they get hot all the way through, maybe about fifteen minutes or so. Then about five minutes before I’m ready to serve my Stuffed Baked Potatoes, I turn on the broiler and begin to watch them carefully. I want them to get just a little bit darker and start to bubble. You could let them get browner than this if you like – just keep an eye on them.

Above, I took them out and thought they needed another two minutes under the broiler. Here’s the final result below:

And they are all gone.

These also freeze really well, reheat really well, taste good the next day for leftovers, and some people even like them packed in their lunches.

How do you fix your Stuffed Baked Potatoes?

Sharon and I were talking about all the variations that would be good with these – bacon bits, broccoli, rosemary, and a few other things I can’t remember now. What else would you add to your Stuffed Baked Potatoes?

Let me know if you try them.  Have a wonderful week…

Michael and I flew to Nashville last week to visit my older brother Larry, his wife Christy and their daughter Savannah. I hadn’t seen my big brother for a couple of years, since my father’s funeral in California, and it had been several years since I’d seen Christy and Savannah, so I was very excited about being with them all again.

After landing in Nashville we rented a car and drove to their five-acre spread outside of Camden, TN, not far from the Tennessee River. Even though it was in between seasons and most of the trees were leafless, we could see how gorgeous their acreage is and how meticulously Larry keeps it. He has planted so many fruit trees, half of their land looks like an orchard that Anne of Green Gables would love to stroll through. They have well-placed cedars on the front of the property, and it takes Larry two whole days on a riding lawn mower to cut the grass. They have grapevines and cranberry bushes. Christy spends months picking, canning, preserving, drying and freezing the bounty of what they’ve planted. I could tell this is the kind of life my husband would have loved if we had owned more acreage ourselves.

Below is a photo (all the photos can be enlarged by clicking on them) of Larry, Christy and Savannah:

My brother Larry is fifteen years older than I, and by the time I was four years old he had moved out of our home in Southern California. So my memories of him are sparse, but good. He treated me like a cute little sister he was happy to dote on, and I remember being so proud of my big brother when he would take me riding in his candy-apple green, fast Corvette. When I was about five, he took me to the beach a few times on brother and sister dates, and along the way he would stop at a favorite roadside stand where they made date milkshakes. I used to think that if I sat up high on my folded beach towel in the bucket seat next to him, people would think I was his girlfriend rather than his little sister. It didn’t occur to me that my five-year old face would give me away. 🙂

While we were in Tennessee, Larry decided he would take me on a brother/sister date, forty-seven years after our SoCal beach dates. He showed me around the little town where they live, and our first stop was here, at the tiny US Post Office where they get their mail.

After we drove around the beautiful, hilly Tennessee countryside, seeing the wide river and the great places to camp and fish, Larry took me to their local Sonic Drive-In, a blast-from-the-past kind of drive-in I had never visited. Larry and I sat in the car and had lunch together, talked over the last years of our lives, and then I had a yummy Strawberry Limeade.

Below is a picture of one of my favorite people on the planet. This is my sister-in-law Christy, hardworking, steadfast, hysterically funny, warm and loving, prayerful, nurturing and trustworthy, and she truly feels like the sister I never had. (I have another sister-in-law in California named Debbie who fits this same description, and hopefully someday I’ll be able to spend some with her too).

I think Christy and I would be the best of friends if we lived closer to one another. I think she thought this was reasonable…if she didn’t, she hid it well.  🙂  On the dog bed is their sweet pooch Pinocchio, whom they mostly call Pokey.

This is me and Christy, joined at the hip. And the head.

The noble Pokey.

One of many cats on their property (two inside cats and several outside cats). This is Big, Beautiful Faith.

I was quite struck by many of the houses in rural Tennessee. It’s an area of much poverty where the median annual income doesn’t reach $20,000. Even though many of these buildings look dilapidated, they each had their own form of dignity, silently speaking of the years of history they held.

An old barn down the road from Larry’s, still in use.

Another barn.

A family home near the above pictured barns.

My dear niece Savannah is twenty-one and a Junior at Murray State in Kentucky. She was home for the days we visited, and just endeared herself to me all the more. She is an award-winning dulcimer player, and as she played I could have fallen asleep, the music was so soothing and peaceful. She loves the Lord and has a passion for Him and for people that I have no doubt God will use mightily.

Savannah and her mama have a close relationship and I heard several funny stories of their “slap wars,” (don’t ask) and of how years ago Christy told Savannah that her name wasn’t Savannah Kate as she had thought, but Savannah Gate. Poor Savannah was stunned, and called her friend up and told her that all these years she had thought her name was Savannah Kate and it was really Savannah Gate. Christy let her think that for a day or two. You would have to know them to see how funny this is. I couldn’t stop laughing.

In teeny, tiny Tennessee towns, they apparently hold their rabies vaccination clinics in church parking lots. If you look closely enough, you can see people with their dogs, lined up for their shots at reduced rates, without the hassle of a vet clinic visit. See the beautiful blooms on the trees?

We were also privileged on this trip to spend time with Larry’s son (and my nephew) Eric, who flew from Washington state to be with us all. It had been over thirty years since we’d seen him, and his visit was a much-anticipated event, a huge blessing to us all. In the photo below, from left to right, is my husband Michael, my niece Savannah, my nephew Eric, and my almost-sister Christy. The Tennessee mornings were full of birdsong, soft breezes and warm sun. I can’t even tell you how restful it was for us.

In northeastern Minnesota where we live, cardinals are few and far between. You feel like you’ve been kissed by God to even lay eyes on one. In western Tennessee, flocks of cardinals can be easily seen, and here is one in a cranberry bush of Christy’s.

The Three Stooges. Michael, Larry and Eric.

Another glimpse of history:

While we were there, we were fed frequent and abundant meals fit for a waddling king. One night we had a great time playing Apples and Oranges, and yours truly won by a long shot. Simple memories are often the best, don’t you agree?

On our last day there, we all met for breakfast in the motel Michael and I stayed in. Aside from scrambled eggs, sausage links, various juices, bagels, toast, muffins and coffee, they had a crockpot full of cream gravy and fresh fluffy biscuits to smother. Very southern! Very yummy. Larry bought flowers for “the three women in his life,” and below you can see me, my big brother, and my beloved husband.

Michael, Savannah and moi.

Here are the three women in Larry’s life:

I was surprised by the depth of my emotions when it was time for Michael and me to drive to Nashville to catch our flight home. I hugged everyone goodbye and just bawled. These dear ones are all a part of my family, and I don’t know when I’ll see them again. We are hoping that Savannah (and maybe Grandma Dorothy!) can come visit us this summer. I’m so thankful we were able to make this trip.

On another note, today is my husband’s sixty-first birthday and I’ll be making him a Bundt pound cake with my mom’s peanut butter and chocolate frosting on it – his request. Then tonight he and I will go to The Texas Roadhouse for dinner, just the two of us.

Today is also Good Friday, and my mind is on what our Savior experienced centuries ago, for anyone who will see their need and believe. I wish you all a blessed Easter.

He is risen indeed….