My Recipes

I am a person with vast interests.  I think Life is all about learning and living it fully with Passion. I am passionate in all I do, be it my family, the children in my  childcare, defending a good cause, art, food etc.   I love to learn new things, meet new people and experience life and all it has to offer.  One of the things I enjoy doing is Cooking.  I love being creative and experimenting with new flavors and techniques that I learn either  on TV from professional chefs or On You tube from home cooks.   Even More than Cooking, I especially love eating.  That is my favorite part haha  I did post some of my recipes online and you can visit my Recipe Blog anytime by visiting this link:  http://jolevaa.tumblr.com/
I plan to add more recipes as I have time :)

GRANDMA'S HANDS Art by Jubik 


 

Grandma, some ninety plus years, sat feebly on the patio bench. She didn't move, just sat with her head down staring at her hands. When I sat down beside her she didn't acknowledge my presence and the longer I sat I wondered if she was OK.

Finally, not really wanting to disturb her but wanting to check on her at the same time, I asked her if she was OK. She raised her head and looked at me and smiled. "Yes, I'm fine, thank you for asking," she said in a clear voice strong.

"I didn't mean to disturb you, grandma, but you were just sitting here staring at your hands and I wanted to make sure you were OK," I explained to her.

"Have you ever looked at your hands," she asked. "I mean really looked at your hands?"

I slowly opened my hands and stared down at them. I turned them over, palms up and then palms down. No, I guess I had never really looked at my hands as I tried to figure out the point she was making.

Grandma smiled and related this story: "Stop and think for a moment about the hands you have, how they have served you well throughout your years. These hands, though wrinkled, shrivelled and weak have been the tools I have used all my life to reach out and grab and embrace life.

"They braced and caught my fall when as a toddler I crashed upon the floor. They put food in my mouth and clothes on my back. As a child my mother taught me to fold them in prayer. They tied my shoes and pulled on my boots. They held my husband and wiped my tears when he went off to war.

"They have been dirty, scraped and raw, swollen and bent. They were uneasy and clumsy when I tried to hold my newborn son. Decorated with my wedding band they showed the world that I was married and loved someone special. They wrote my letters to him and trembled and shook when I buried my parents and spouse.

"They have held my children and grandchildren, consoled neighbors, and
shook in fists of anger when I didn't understand.

"They have covered my face, combed my hair, and washed and cleansed the rest of my body. They have been sticky and wet, bent and broken, dried and raw. And to this day when not much of anything else of me works real well these hands hold me up, lay me down, and again continue to fold in prayer.

"These hands are the mark of where I've been and the ruggedness of life. But more importantly it will be these hands that God will reach out and take when he leads me home. And with my hands He will lift me to His side."

I will never look at my hands the same again. But I remember God reached out and took my grandma's hands and led her home.

When my hands are hurt or sore or when I stroke the face of my children and husband I think of grandma. I know she has been stroked and caressed and held by the hands of God.

-- Melinda Clements

WHEN I WAS YOUNG
written by Joleva (c) 2001


When I was young I had a beauty untold. Vanity was my middle name. The hearts I have broken were many. I had love only for myself. Selfish and cruel I did not realize how hurtful I was. People turned away and did not look back, I did the same. I was young and strong. I did not need anyone. I could do anything I set out to do. Or so I thought. The years soon passed. Beauty faded. In vain I tried to stop it from happening. It happened just the same. My golden hair turned grey, my vision dimmed. I walked slower and my strength had waned. Where did the years go? With each passing day a new problem arose. Why is this happening to ME? I who was the most beautiful thing to look at and look at me now. No beauty and no one to share life with.

One day on a park bench I sat and cried. I pitied my fate and cursed at the gods. "Why all the tears?" I heard someone say. Who dared speak to me in my moment of weakness? Go away I thought, angered at this intrusion. I turned to look and there sat a woman much older than I. Her hair white as snow, her back stooped, gnarled old hands clutched a crooked cane. She stared straight ahead and asked me again. What possessed me to answer back, I do not know. I told her my plight and my woe. " I am blind, yet I see." she stated. "What do you see?" I asked. "I see a woman lonely and sad. No joy in her heart or her voice, pining for things that matter not on this earth. True beauty lies in your heart. It is love that shines through. With love lies the true beauty of the woman."
"How wise you are, who are you and where were you when I was young?
"I was always there, sadly you pushed me away,
my name is.... love."

Field's of Bluebells

There in the distance, stands the old farmhouse,
the home my daddy helped to build;
sitting gracefully under God's blue sky,
among the bluebells, way out in the fields,

It was a time of love and laughter
a time of being young and free.
A time of running throught the bluebells;
Oh! What joy it brought to me.

As daddy worked in the heat of the day,
and momma hung the quilts out to dry
I'd lay out in the bluebell's flowers
at peace, while fluffy clouds rolled by.
Momma would call at 11:00 sharp,
"It's time to come and eat"
Then dad would pump some water for me
and we'd go in and have a seat.

The food was all spread out upon the table
that was covered in a cloth of lace
but it wasn't time to eat just yet,
my daddy hadn't said grace.

We would bow our heads as he thanked the Lord,
for the blessings from his hand
and mom in agreement, would say "Amen"
and thank him for this beautiful land.

I'd head outside when I was finished,
once more to frolic in the open field,
I loved this place with all my heart,
so many memories it did yeild.

Dancng fields of pretty bluebell's
still stand there yet today.
Arrayed in all their finest beauty;
God's wondrous creation on display.

Written by Barbara Henson
8-7-2001

Welcome friends, my kitchen door is open. Come and warm your soul and spirits by the stove. Enjoy a cup of tea with me. I just baked some buttery scones. I have some of my homemade strawberry jam to go with them. In my kitchen you will not only find tea, but an inspirational and encouraging word to make your day a more pleasant one. In my kitchen you will also find a friend.

When I was young and life was simple, my favorite place in the home was the kitchen. It was and still is to this day the heart of our home. Any problem that arose in the family would be resolved at the dinner table. My mother is always baking or cooking something delicious that keeps us coming back to that room to take a taste. Today I have a family of my own and I try to follow my mother's example.

The world is hectic and harried, it is imperative that we take the time to stop and enjoy the simple things in life. Our life is what we make it. Take the time to make yourself happy. Settle back and enjoy my meanderings.

I started this blog to share the things I love with people of similar interests, be it Stories, Poetry, Recipes or some interesting tidbits. I also want to share links to blogs I enjoy and inspire me and I hope they will inspire you too....