Category Archives: heart

Feb16

The Key to the Heart

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The Key to the Heart

“Memories are the key not to the past, but to the future.” ~ Corrie Ten Boom

This mild winter day my husband and I went for an adventure to the countryside. We drove to Franklin County, Missouri where my paternal grandfather was raised and where early childhood memories have taken my mind these past few days. I have been remembering early experiences and words. Some are so vivid from my mother, father, siblings, aunts, uncles, and grandparents. I have gone back to photographs in an effort to see the fine details of their faces, their expressions, and mannerisms as well. But also, the memories and photographs capture a time capsule of more innocent times. I think for most people, many childhood memories represent a less intense and stressful time in life. For others, some childhood memories are of trauma, things a child should never experience. I am blessed to have had the influence of a village of good people during my formative years. I was probably a little bit sheltered as a child. But then again, I was working in a field every Saturday starting at age eight. Some people would say that was cruel. No, it was hard work and the way of life living on a farm and being a part of a farm family. I was also ready to retire early, at least from full-time work. My body and mind needed to slow down. Presently, I work hard on a part-time basis at my culinary and writing endeavors no matter the income, or lack of. The road to my future is influenced by my memories, but also by what I choose to fill my mind with. Like an empty jar. Are lovely words and thoughts being poured into it? Am I sharing a smile with all? My great-grandson sure knows how to smile!

“Smile, it is the key that fits the lock of everybody’s heart.” ~ Anthony J. D’Angelo

Feb5

A Conspiracy of Love

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A Conspiracy of Love

The month of February brings a plethora of events worthy of celebrations. Ground Hog Day, Valentine’s Day, President’s Day, and at least one if not five snow days that keep most of us home. Many experienced the snowstorm or ice storm of the millennium the end of January. Then this week the groundhog as well as the armadillo in Texas predicted six more weeks of winter because they each saw their own shadow, despite this little girl having an important message to Mr. Groundhog. Wow, if weather prediction could be that easy all the time. We tucker in our homes, sip on our hot tea and coffee, find great movies to watch, a pile of books setting on the end table for those evenings under a lamp and warm throw, as well as stocked pantries and refrigerators to bake bread, prepare homemade soups, and sweet goodies. What better time to make your sweetheart or neighbor their favorite dessert?

I am sharing a favorite sweet goodie amongst children and the children at heart. Below is a recipe for Stuffed French Toast Hearts found in Volume 2 of Strewn Words in the Stew: A Memoir of Recipes, Poems, Short Stories, and Sayings. Click on the book title to go to the page about my writing adventures and where you can purchase my books.

Stuffed French Toast Hearts

The ingredients are 24 slices buttermilk or sourdough bread; 6 ounces cream cheese, softened; 1/4 cup fruit preserves or jelly; 6 eggs; 1 cup milk; 2 teaspoons granulated sugar; 1 teaspoon vanilla or almond extract; 1/2 teaspoon salt; 1/4 cup butter

The instructions are:

  1. Using sharp large heart-shaped cookie cutter, but bread slices into hearts; set aside.
  2. In a medium bowl, combine cream cheese and preserves; beat until blended and creamy.
  3. Spread 1 tablespoon of the cream cheese mixture in center only of 12 heart-shaped bread slices.
  4. Top each slice with matching heart-shaped bread slice to make 12 sandwiches.
  5. In a large bowl, combine eggs, milk, sugar, extract, and salt; beat until blended and frothy, then set aside.
  6. Heat butter in a griddle or large skillet.
  7. Dip each sandwich in egg mixture, place in pan and grill on each side until golden brown.
  8. Sprinkle with powdered sugar before serving.

Makes 12 stuffed sandwiches.

“Blessed is the season which engages the whole world in a conspiracy of love.” ~ Hamilton Wright Mabie

Dec24

Guide Me Where My Heart Shall Go

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Guide Me Where My Heart Shall Go

The holiday season starts so early for many of us whether you work in retail, entertainment, or you are an early decorator or shopper. The days blend together so quickly. Was that The Nutcracker ballet Dean and I saw this holiday season or last? It was this season, just saw it back before Thanksgiving. By-the-way, it was a fabulous show! On this Christmas Eve day while baking mini tea cakes, I listen to vintage Christmas songs, reminisce of my childhood Christmases, then my days as a young mother with my three. A song lyric includes these words “guide me where my heart shall go”. My thoughts can be a million places, but where my heart shall go is to the birth of our Savior Jesus and His Holy Family. This is home, where the heart is. Let the December stars guide you home to the baby Jesus. Home, sweet, home.

Mar30

A Simpler Time

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A Simpler Time

“Blossom by blossom the spring begins.” ~ Algernon Charles Swinburne

Seatherny overcomes the gloomy spring day. The birds chirp despite the gray sky. My heart lightens like the cherry tree blossoms floating with the wind similar to snowflakes. The warmth of the sun and the songbirds remind me it is springtime. I focus on this present moment.

“As cherry blossoms bloom and fall, they whisper to us the wisdom of impermanence, urging us to live fully in the present moment.” ~ Unknown

“Take me back to simpler times when daisies spoke, clouds formed pictures and ladybugs were lucky, when an hour was timeless and everything was new. It’s all still there inside. In crazy times, it makes this dreamer’s heart happy to close my eyes and remember.” ~ Jody Doty

Too many cares from the previous week. Disease, devastation, disappointments, and even death have dominated my thoughts. Today’s Sunday drive to the countryside provides more pleasant present moments to remember for this coming week. The grass isn’t necessarily greener on the other side of the fence, but stepping out of the muck can shed a lighter point of view that doesn’t weigh down my mind and heart. I am ready for a fairytale tea party.

“She wore her yellow sun-bonnet, 

She wore her greenest gown, 

 She turned to the south wind  

And curtsied up and down. 

She turned to the sunlight

And shook her yellow head,

And whispered to her neighbour:

‘Winter is dead.’  ~A. A.Milne

Dec14

For Goodness’ Sake

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For Goodness’ Sake

There is a children’s character named Pete, The Cat. And our youngest grandchildren like a story and sing a song that goes like this … “Pete the Cat was walking down the street, Ooh, it was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, the children were playing. He was feeling good. He was wearing his brand-new white shoes. Ooh he loved those white shoes. He loved them so much. He walked down the street singing this song. I love my white shoes, I love my white shoes, I love my white shoes, I love my white shoes, I love my white shoes, I love my white shoes. Oh, no! He stepped in a large pile of strawberries. What color did it turn his shoes? Red! Did he cry? Goodness, no! He just started singing this song.” Pete, The cat steps into blueberries and had blue shoes, then mud and had brown shoes, water and then had wet shoes. Each time “He just started singing his song.” Writer Eric Mark Litwin ends the story with “no matter what you step in, keep singing and walking ’cause it’s all good.” Despite what happens, good can be found.

“Prepare the way, prepare the way.” ~ Isaiah 40:3

The world seemed to turn upside down these past 2 weeks. On December 1 my brother, Rick had an heart incident which followed with many complications. He died on December 10. We had his visitation and funeral Mass yesterday. Much transpired those few days while Rick laid unconscious in ICU. A multitude of prayer warriors went to work, me included. The words that kept coming from my lips “prepare the way, prepare the way” as I laid hands on Rick’s body and prayed to his spirit. Yesterday family and friends came together to say our good-byes and surround Rick’s wife, their two sons, daughters-in-law, and four grandchildren. The word “goodness” resonated from my nephew’s eulogy and the priest’s homily. Rick wasn’t perfect as none of us are, but by the grace of God his life reflected goodness. And goodness has been and will be found even in Rick’s death.

“I would have lost heart, unless I had believed that I would see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.” ~ Psalm 27:13

During the eulogy my nephew exhorted each of us to do good as the world needs goodness. Father Chris left Rick’s family and friends with this word of encouragement. “As we think of Rick and his example of goodness in the coming days, leave a bit of goodness each day we live.” A bit of Rickness.

“Oh give thanks to the Lord, for he is good, for his steadfast love endures forever! Oh, that men would give thanks to the Lord for His goodness, and for His wonderful works to the children of men! For He satisfies the longing soul and fills the hungry soul with goodness.” ~ Psalm 107:1

Nov19

November’s Remnants

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November’s Remnants

Amidst the earth preparing for winter with its blanket of fallen leaves, summer has left a couple of remnants in our front yard. The ketchup & mustard rose bush has a single bloom in mid-November. Spider plant shoots I planted in a ceramic planter hung in our dogwood tree still have green life lingering even through these cold autumn mornings. Dean and I left these summer remnants behind to drive 11 hours to the mountains in Asheville, North Carolina. Packed in boxes, we toted winter clothes and blankets donated by friends and family to be given to the hurricane survivors in Asheville. The desire to help the Appalachian folks and to see the Great Smokies coincided. It was a fast trip. We saw much devastation as well as heard heart-warming stories of humanity. These people are taking care of each other. Like the mama bear that lives in the woods behind the Airbnb home we stayed at. She takes care of her 2-year cubs who are getting big, closer to her size now. It doesn’t matter, it is instinct to care until the cubs are ready to go on their own. That day will come soon enough.

“And yet there is Someone, whose hands infinitely calm, hold up all this falling.” ~ Rainer Maria Rilke

Dean and I delivered the goods to the folks in Asheville during the 4-day weekend. A staff member from an organization called BeLoved Asheville directed us to the best location for delivery. Our Airbnb host let us know about another organization called Hands On Asheville to get set up for volunteering on Sunday afternoon at an area supplies, water, and food distribution center for hurricane survivors. We took on sorting thousands of bottles of hand sanitizer and children’s books in the garden center of a local grocer in the small community of Black Mountain. Just down the road we witnessed major flood destruction. In Asheville’s River Arts District where much destruction can be seen at the riverfront, there still stands a metal art sign inscribed with these words, “All feet stand under the stars.” It felt good to take care of another’s feet with the warmth of socks, clothes, and blankets. Thank you to those who donated. We all stand together under the stars God has created for each of us, remnants pieced together for purpose.

Autumn by poet, Rainer Maria Rilke … “The leaves are falling, falling as if from far up, as if orchards were dying high in space. Each leaf falls as if it were motioning ‘no’. And tonight the heavy earth is falling away from all the other stars in the loneliness. We’re all falling. This hand here is falling. And look at the other one … It’s in them all. And yet there is Someone, whose hands infinitely calm, hold up all this falling.”

Jul28

What The Heart Knows As The Summer Blooms

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What The Heart Knows As The Summer Blooms

Summer can bring a frenzy of activity like the hummingbirds with their multiple flights to the sugar-water feeders. Dean is filling those feeders with his homemade recipe every 7 – 8 days. The finches and sparrows are the same with the suet blocks we put out. Fattening up, those birds of song. Summer blooms and songs all around. I read about blackberries, bees, and honey. I sit, observing from our cottage’s windows, taking it all in this week while recovering from COVID. This morning, I am feeling well enough to walk outside in the midst of the sights and sounds. Sunday’s sermon will be given courtesy of Mother’s Nature. The biscuit & gravy chef made a plate for me this morning. My last day of quarantine will be a beautiful one. How blessed I am.

While the rains water and the sun warm the earth, this is what the heart knows as the summer blooms: it is good to sit awhile to reflect and pray. I pray for my children and grandchildren. My disabled daughter who lost their house in a fire 1-1/2 years ago is living in a huge travel trailer on her husband’s family farm. Not quite the 3-bedroom house they were accustomed to. A final insurance settlement is almost completed. “Please God not another day of delay for them and give them wisdom on the best ways to spend these provisions.” My other daughter who fought and beat breast cancer in her early 30’s still struggles with brain fog after treatments. “Please God, clear her thoughts to see the next steps to take and the fortitude to walk those steps.” My son, who struggles with mental health challenges, like so many of us do. “Please God bring clarity and assurance of Your love for him. and each of us”

Take a walk in your neighborhood gardens and snap some green beans with your grandma today. I guarantee you will feel better.

Sweet Berry Kisses

Off to the blueberry bushes and blackberry brambles I am sent,

into the strawberry patch squishing overripe berries between my toes.

A painter’s palette smeared like rouge onto my cheeks

and all phalanges match my berry-stained face, lips, and tongue.

These delicious delectables satisfy my tummy’s rumbles

while the morning’s sun seals the sweet berry kisses to my lips.

Picking berries, berries, and more berries is my morning chore,

so, most make their way into Auntie’s heavy handled shiny bucket.

Pies, crisps, cobblers, buckles, and biscuits smothered with berry jams,

these Auntie anticipations as she twiddles her thumbs awaiting.

Down the garden path Auntie comes with a rabbit behind and bees a buzzing,

to lend a hand at picking plump berries into her long-handled metal pan.

Before noon into her kitchen baking oozing, finger-licking berry hand pies;

Oh, these juicy jewels create the sweetest berry kisses to my lips.

Anna Gall

May 4, 2024

Mar25

When The Heart Aches

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When The Heart Aches

“I’m fixin’ to get into some trouble. You comin’?” the meme says. When the heart aches, sometimes there is the temptation to escape it all and bring company along with. Get into some kind of trouble while having fun. Anything is better than this pain. Truly, my heart is aching, but I am not aiming to get into trouble. I love my Lord and Savior Jesus too much to go that route. Ready to have happy times again. It had been 4 weeks since Dean and I’s mental and body rejuvenating vacation to the southeast coast. A baby shower for a beloved niece brought some joy, and for Dean guy time at the shooting range with his brothers, sons, and father this past weekend. My heart still aches for the loved ones whose mental illness leads them astray. My heart aches to witness painful steps, one after the other of a faithful mother. My heart aches to see poverty rob a person from becoming all they can. Do you see and feel that kind of heart ache, too?

Then there is loneliness sometimes even in the midst of all the family and work obligations. I have done this thing called family life for so many years. Not always a good wife, mother, daughter. But tried to make family my priority. To be honest, family and friends fall short like I do. We are human, and all need Jesus. Go down memory lane, I realize decisions I would have made differently as a young adult, wife, mother, grandmother, adult child, employee, and neighbor. “You can’t go back and change the beginning, but you can start where you are and change the ending,” wrote C.S. Lewis.

Jesus, heal my aching heart. Comfort those who my heart aches for. Bring them through another day. Let them know Your love. God, show me what You want me to spend time on today, in this winter season of my life. I may be getting older, but I am still willing to do Your will. Good works do not replace home life. Family and friends do not replace Jesus. Jesus. We need You.

The recently deceased country singer Toby Keith presented this song before his passing. Words so eloquent…

Don’t let the old man in
I wanna leave this alone
Can’t leave it up to him
He’s knocking on my door

And I knew all of my life
That someday it would end
Get up and go outside
Don’t let the old man in

Many moons I have lived
My body’s weathered and worn
Ask yourself how would you be
If you didn’t know the day you were born

Try to love on your wife
And stay close to your friends
Toast each sundown with wine
Don’t let the old man in

Many moons I have lived
My body’s weathered and worn
Ask yourself how would you be
If you didn’t know the day you were born

When he rides up on his horse
And you feel that cold bitter wind
Look out your window and smile
Don’t let the old man in

Look out your window and smile
Don’t let the old man in

Feb4

In All The Details

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In All The Details

We have been staying indoors the majority of these winter days. It has been either bitter cold or a damp cold most days. Dean and I both have been under the weather. Dean fought bronchitis and strep throat. I have had a month of a sinus infection and hoarseness of my voice, on 2 rounds of antibiotics with a steroid added this week to take care of the inflammation and excessive drainage. This is my body’s allergic reaction to the subzero and single-digit temperatures even if out in it for 2 minutes to get to my preheated car. Yes, Dean warms my car every weekday morning, before I drive for 8 minutes to senior center so I can prepare lunch for the area seniors and disabled. The groundhog didn’t see his shadow, so he promises an early Spring. I surely hope Phil is right; otherwise, this leap year February will be an extra-long month for multi reasons. This morning, I write from the inside my in-law’s lakeside home in Lee’s Summit, Missouri. The lingering rain clouds cast a mist on the bare landscape. No sunrise to view other than the black becoming various shades of gray with a tinge of blue. The Canadian geese “honk-honk” greetings have not happened yet this morning. 

Dean’s family packs and purges items from this 50-year residence. We will empty its contents in hopes in sell the lakeside house by summer. After dividing up the heirloom pieces, maybe an estate sale before it is all said and done. Already have a willing buyer approach us yesterday. This house is one big dossier, collections of papers, documents, and photos. The stories we could tell from these piles of overseas love letters written while our father served, bank statements, grocery lists, receipts, advertisements, books, keys, keys, and more keys. They kept everything! We sort through to decide what is pertinent and what is junk. The photos are priceless, but so many! Many have years marked on them, and some without names. In all the details, we hope that the important matters like faith, love, and people were indeed their focus, and for the generations they leave behind also be our focus today. 

This month of February is the month for love. Not just romantic love, but God’s love for humankind. How can we share the love God freely gave us with the person we meet today? I pray a shower of God’s love comes down on you this month, one that warms your heart. Dean and I will end this month on the warmer southeastern coastline for a much-needed reprieve. Until then, keep sharing God’s creative love. I will be, too.

“In the winter she curls up around a good book and dreams away the cold.”  ~ Ben Aaronovitch

Aug20

Nostalgia

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Nostalgia

“Memories, pressed between the pages of my mind. Memories, sweetened through the ages just like wine…” Elvis Presley

The week started with watching the recorded Grand Ole Opry’s show with Vince Gill’s rendition of Ray Price’s “Danny Boy”. Now I love Vince Gill. And his version of this timeless classic was so sweet. But thoughts about the one-and-only singer, Ray Price continued throughout the week. On Friday while celebrating August birthdays at the senior center, the guest singer shared Ray Price’s song “For The Good Times”. Funny how a song can bring you back 50 or 60 years ago. I was brought back to the mid-1960’s watching my parents’ tender moment while they listened to Ray Price’s album playing on the turntable. I believe it was their favorite song.

As this memory lane week went Dean and I had planned to remove the dead refrigerator from our rental house’s garage. While loading the old frig Dean found in its insulation my Girl Scout membership card from 1968. This refrigerator was bought in the 1960’s by my parents. It was their primary refrigeration for a few years in my first childhood home and became the secondary cooler for soda and beer when we moved to the cedar ranch house built by my father on the tree farm. After my parents retired, the refrigerator followed them to their Pike County house, again stocking beverages in the basement. After Dad passed away, my mother moved into a villa in St. Peters. The 50+ year-old refrigerator needed a new home. It lived its last years in the garage of my St. Peters home once again as a beverage cooler. That Girl Scout card was another reminder of my childhood. Seems so long ago. It is long ago, but the memories so clear like it was yesterday.

The nostalgic week ends in the St. Peters house going through boxes of old papers. Some set aside for burning, others thrown away in the trash bin, and others boxed again. I stumbled upon several poems I wrote in the 1990’s. One poem melted my heart. It was about the teddy bear gifted to my oldest daughter, Rachel. As an expectant mother I had unwrapped it at the shower. The brown little fella sat in the baby nursery, came to the childbirth classes, and witnessed Rachel’s birth. The poem continued to talk about my other two babies. Those young motherly feelings were felt so vividly once again. What a beautiful week of nostalgia, sweet memories relived in my heart.