Garlic cheese biscuits revisited

I hate biscuits...well, not really, just the memory of the rock hard flavorless baking soda biscuits of my mother's creation.  I love the canned monstrosities made perfect with a plethora of ingredients one cannot pronounce or safely use outside a chemistry lab.  I've made a nice, fluffy, layered rendition of my own, which is tasty but a lot of work and messing around for a 'quick' bread.  But for everyday use, tastiness, and ease of making and clean-up, this has become my standard recipe.  I like to add a bit of parmesan to the dough and omit the butter/garlic drizzle but otherwise leave it pretty much as is.  After the recent holiday, I even used it as a topping for a leftover chicken pot pie: take the leftover chicken and gravy, add a bag of veg, and top with the dough in a cake pan, bake until done, and you have dinner!

The overlooked

There's a new movie out ('Instant Family') taking a realistic look at foster parenting and I'd kind of like to see it, but the preview shows a teenaged girl at a foster event telling the lady who eventually chooses to foster her and her siblings that nobody cares about the older kids who need a home, it is all about the babies and little kids.  Our community does a Christmas drive for some of the needy families in town, asking for gift ideas and then allowing community members to purchase the item.  Usually it is things like boots for a little boy or a sleeper for a baby, but something completely different caught my eye this year.  I hung back and let everyone else pick over the paper ornaments with the requested gift, curious to see what would be left.  It was the only one not chosen: a surprise basket for an 84 year old man.  Certainly not cute or adorable, but just as important as the little kids that steal much of our attention this time of year.  I'm rather excited to bring a little joy into the life of this anonymous gentleman when all others might well overlook him this holiday season.  Is there someone in your life or community that could use a little kindness, a smile, a kind word this holiday season?  Someone who nobody else is likely to notice or care about?  Let's make it a merry Christmas for everybody!

Anticipation

Anyone currently waiting for anything important (a proposal, to adopt, to conceive, on approval for a house or The Job or graduate school...) will likely tell you that it is not a pleasant experience.  I've been there, especially in the area of adoption, which has comprehended years of my life in total, but strangely of late I've found myself reading the blogs and stories of others on the same journey, whether currently in the wait or in retrospective reminiscence thereof.  Why would I want to relive what some might call a sort of mental torture?  I just reread 'Pride and Prejudice' and was reminded of my teenage angst as I watched the 5 hour miniseries (Colin Firth!), wondering how any of the characters could endure so long in the miasmic stew of not knowing, save that all their future prospects were certainly blasted into nothingness.  Why am I now, in looking back, a little wistful that the waiting is over?

It taught me patience in a world of instant fulfillment.

It taught me trust in a society full of disappointment.

There was something to anticipate, something to look forward to, no matter the frustrations of the moment, there was a joy to come that must make it worthwhile.

It taught me that I could live and even flourish without the hoped for blessing, I could go on living even if the hope was never realized.

And strangely, in the moment that joy was realized, it seemed rather anticlimactic, like Christmas after the last present was opened: months of waiting and hoping for this?

So did the ancients hope for their Messiah, their coming King who would save Israel from its political and cultural enemies.  For thousands of years they waited, and many observant Jews wait still.  But during this season of Advent, though some people count down to Christmas with dog treats or bottles of wine, we remember that waiting, that ancient longing, fulfilled in a way no one anticipated, that none expected, that many could not or would not accept.  Something so anticlimactic it is still considered the greatest scandal of all time: something to be mocked, laughed at, ridiculed.  And it is a reminder that we wait still, for a second Christmas as it were, one that will not leave anyone disappointed or dismayed or wondering if 'this is it?'  Perhaps that is why I get a little nostalgic during this particular season for things that seemed quite painful and interminable at the time.  I've that same longing, we all do, and it isn't for an adoption to go through or graduation day to come, save that greatest of all Adoptions and Graduations.

Were I to do it differently, I'd try to enjoy the wait more, to focus more on the anticipation and less on my current lack.  To wait with more excitement and patience, if those two are compatible, as I believe they are.  To not look down on the present in the light of what might be.  Mayhap I could even glean a little wisdom in that greatest of all waits, for which creation itself verily holds its breath.

Let the story begin

There is something of a debate about whether having your first child is harder or having your second and then having two kiddos to keep track of.  But I disagree with both ideas, infants, especially your first, are rather life changing, but I don't believe that it is the hardest part of parenting.  I get tired of people comparing parenting to having a dog.  A baby is sort of like a dog in that you must attend to its most basic needs at the first and must guide and shape its behaviors and growth, but there the comparison ends.  You can sell, kennel, or even kill your dog without legal ramifications for one thing.  For another, you shape the dog's attitudes and behaviors, whether intentionally or not, and it becomes what you shaped it to be.  There is some hard wired behavior, preferences, and individual quirks of course, but much of this can be shaped, guided, and influenced with proper training and environment.  The same cannot be said of children.

The first five years were a breeze, feed him, change him, make sure he gets sleep and learns manners; we have aced this parenting thing!  But then he became a person, a real person with his own opinions, ideas, fears, doubts, hopes, dreams, and ideas about how things should work.  Some kids get it at two (the terrible twos!), some kids are born that way, some are late 'bloomers,' but they are all individuals and all unique persons and their will will eventually exert itself.  A dog may be stubborn or slow about house training, but he won't sit there and argue with you, negotiate, manipulate, make excuses, break into tears, yell at you and otherwise try and convince you that his way is the only way to do something.  It was rather a shock, literally overnight, that our usually compliant son decided he wanted to be in charge and do everything his way.  Ugh!  And I thought I was clueless when I brought him home from the hospital.  Maybe boarding school is an option?

That's parenting.  It's tough, it often isn't pretty, it is never easy, but I've never done anything so wonderful either.  It means something.  It will influence the world for generations to come.  It can change the destiny of an immortal soul.  It wrings your heart but fills it too.  And it isn't just being a parent or spouse, it is any close, social interaction with our fellow men: an act of kindness, friendship, comrades in arms, teammates, a church family, school fellows...  A dog just can't do that.  Dogs are safe.  Dogs are simple.  They offer companionship and company and fun without the risks of heartbreak and sorrow that accompany all human relationships, yet neither can they fulfill you the way a great friendship or having a child can.  They can make you momentarily happy but they won't give you Joy.  You can love your dog and he you, but you can never know true Love save from another person.  Relationships, especially parenting, are dangerous and hard, but nothing worth doing is ever easy.  But to experience great Joy you must first walk through the dark and winding vale of Sorrow and Toil, leaving behind the safe and sunny suburbs of Me First.  A dog will sit happily by your side wherever you abide, while the child will dart headlong into the swirling mists of uncertainty, demanding that you follow or abandon him to his fate.  But the journey is well worth it, for there is no story else.