An Open Christmas Letter To My Family/Friends & The World For That Matter...

Tonight, I was out walking Shaq, the white-haired dog, a perfunctory task at best. That is, until I realized, as I prayed my way long, for Paris, that this simple act is profound. To be a dog owner in Kelowna, or North America, for that matter is normal. So normal, in fact, that we take completely for granted that dogs, as a whole, the world over, are not the domesticated pets we so dearly love. They are not fed a diet of exacting proportions, do not sleep on the foot of the bed in a temperature-controlled room, or have a human being caring deeply for them. Before you get too worried that this years Christmas letter is going to be the petition of an animal activist, fear not!! Because this, sadly, would describe thousands & thousands of human beings, at this very moment...


So, tonight, to be out alone, walking my dog, in the dark, is huge!! I know my thoughts & prayer pathways are significantly fixated on the terrorist attack in Paris only 2 nights ago. However, I just can't bring myself to sit down & pen a letter that is only about the joy & accomplishment, of our family, this year. When I reflect on the year gone by, of course all the wonderful, engaging, exciting, fun-filled moments overflow my heart. And without similarity, but with the same consistency, come the the remembrances of babies washing up on foreign shores, terrorist attacks less publicized but prolific, be-headings of innocent people & acts of terror so grotesque that our modern world shudders, human beings displaced in numbers so magnificent that world leaders are reeling for answers, plane crashes, sinking ships, wild fires...and on & on goes the list of lives lost or void of hope!


I am not a political person. I'm not proud to say my understanding of Canada's political system is shallow at best. I certainly pray that those in political office, in these days, are men & women of the highest intelligence, and strongest morals, judgement & character. They are leading in trying times. The pastor at church this morning ended the service with these words. He said, “Remember that greater is He that is in you, than he that is in the world...” Though I believe those words to be true, with every fibre of my being, they are hard to grasp, in these days. I think even the least devout among us wonders about some form of religiosity right now. I am a Christian. With Christmas fast approaching, this year more than ever before, I am holding onto the truth & hope that the story of baby Jesus holds. I am firmly grabbing onto the leg of that donkey in the stable & not onto Rudolph's rein from Santa's sleigh. That baby born in Bethlehem, Christ incarnate, is something. He is hope. Hope for a world that sure could use some.


It's easy to sit back in our armchairs, turn off the news, & tune into Netflix. Post statuses about how we are not going to let this terrorism change our lives or our homelands. About how letting refugees into our countries will be like letting ISIS in. But if I, for one minute, try to imagine myself & our family tonight in Paris or Syria, I know I could not be so trite. I would be scared, horrified or paralyzed by sadness.


So for this year, our family will hold silent our triumphs & joy and take these few words to reflect on the lives of others instead. This is unprecedented for me, & goes without saying, to all of you that have shared life with us, in some form, in 2015, you are deeply appreciated & loved...


May the true joy & hope that is Christmas flood our hearts & homes...


We remain the healthy, happy, beyond-blessed Liski Family. Our love to you all!!

He Walks With Me & He Talks With Me…Thank Goodness!!

Today our little truck needed to be taken in for a tire rotation, so I thought this a good opportunity to get in my morning walk & cover some new terrain.  On the short trip to my friendly neighbourhood Kal Tire, I had the radio on.  The disturbing talk, on the morning show, was of a very graphic picture printed by the Globe & Mail, of a child's body washed ashore in Turkey today…  Though I could barely stand to listen, I had absolutely no desire to assault my senses even more by actually seeing the pictures.  I simply carried on, as is so easy to do…too easy somehow…

I handed my keys over to the attendant at Kal Tire & was briskly on my way, walking back home.  I had my ever present 4-legged walking companion, very unattentively, in tow.  New walks are but an adventure in sniffing & wetting to Shaq, the white-haired dog.  His mere 22 pounds nearly but pulls my shoulder from its socket when he decides to do the death stop, detecting a new spot unsniffed or unmarked for his kingdom.

I was not only a little frustrated with Shaq's antics but also becoming annoyed with the morning traffic & shear noise disrupting my exercise.  I was slowly but certainly spiralling downward, in my mind, as unpleasant memories & thoughts made their way in.  And suddenly, if not almost audibly, my soul cried out, "Reg, you ungrateful woman…!"

In that moment, those negative vibes were erased & replaced with other images & thoughts.  I cannot, however, say that the negative was replaced with positive.  That is not exactly how it came to me…

The first was the image of the the small child lifeless on the beach in contrast to the beautiful vistas, that I was looking over, of clear, safe waters.  Next came the thought that I should dare complain of the noise from a productive society.  I walk amongst people going off to work, making honest livings in safe & successful business environments when hundreds of people in Calgary are out of jobs, livelihoods have been lost to fires, this summer, all over Canada & the US - & worldwide, my mind can't imagine it… Then to how I was outside, in fresh air & walking of my own accord. This very day, even that, to several people that I know & love, is a pipe dream. Some are fighting disease, others shut in by the loneliness of aging, & yet others lack the energy to get outside, after the hard day's work required of them.   And my legs still carry me although my knees are not the lovely, knobby structures they once were. Now, always a little inflamed & puffy, they still get me about to adventures yet unseen.  Others have joints that have already failed them & keep them from walking, climbing & seeing nature up close.    And finally…I walk in safety. I walk alone.   I walk on streets that are not corrupt or filled with gun fire, I walk & do not run or flee dangerously from an environment so unsafe & hopeless that I would risk life itself to leave.  And as I walk, I breath in clean air & feast my eyes on a land so beautiful, it overwhelms my senses.

And so, once convicted by my own heart, I sang out this Psalm, in my soul, as I carried on.  I began to pray instead of greedily feasting on all the selfish thoughts I had begun with. I'm so thankful for a God that gently teaches me, time & time again, instead of spanking me with the consequences that I so deserve for my thanklessness & insensitivity.

Though I don't know what to do with it, I pray to never become desensitized to ALL that goes on in this crazy, mixed-up, wonderful, hope-filled world.

Writing: It's Actually as Simple as...Anyday Anytime Frittata

Sometimes I feel like this lost soul at sea.  My sea is not of a nautical form, but rather, a sea of words.  Words forming themselves into sentences & paragraphs in my mind; recipes formulating, from last night's supper, into recipe cards of thought, blogs & journal entries that never make it to the page.  It's not as if the encouragement to write doesn't exist for me.  Just this morning, my husband pretty much insisted that I sit down & write as I rambled off my twisted & turning thoughts to him.  I have a drawer full of journals with lovely insistence from friends & family to write.  Sometimes, in my boldest moments of thought, I think I have a book up there in the conclaves of my mind.   Today, crazy as it may seem, it was the simple request, from a friend, for a recipe that sat me down.

I had just returned from another eye-filling, bodily-enriched hike along my much-loved Okanagan shoreline.  Neither my husband or I had eaten more than the mouthful of banana that is, so often, the start to our day.  I loaded up Shaq, the white-haired dog in the Raviator (the affectionate name of our aging Toyota Rav 4) & set off to our little corner store.  That lovely little nook just blocks away in our residential area, that saves my bacon, on a regular basis.  And it is just that which I was after this morning…turkey bacon to complete the frittata that was, of course, formulating as words in my mind, & would soon be scrambled into a pan atop my stove.  Unfortunately, I can't brag it up to be much of a recipe but below I shall try…

Anyday Anytime Frittata

Olive oil - 1 tbsp or so
Cooked Potato - 1 1/2 - 2 C (I used whatever I have on hand whether that is leftover potatoes or sweet potatoes (or both!) or a tumble of frozen shredded hashbrowns that I keep in the freezer for days such as this)
Red (or any color of bell) Pepper - 1/2 C, chopped
Grape tomatoes - 3/4 C, sliced in half (I use these cs I always have them on hand - any tomato will do)
Green onions - 1 - 2, chopped
Turkey (or regular) Bacon - 5 slices, chopped  I always pre-cook a whole lb while I am at it.  Preheat oven to 400 degrees.  Put parchment on a baking sheet(s).  Cook for 5-6 mins per side.  Is really a great method if you have an convection oven cs you are done in a snap & bacon turns out flat & crisp! X 3 baking sheets at a time!
Feta or Goat Cheese - 1/4 - 1/2 C, crumbled (or this cow/goat feta that we recently stumbled on at the above-mentioned little local store) *any cheddar cheese is fine too
*Eggs - 5 (Please buy the most ethically raised eggs that you can afford - that plea will need more explanation in another blog…)
**You can pretty much adapt your frittata to use up any cooked veg, you may have in your fridge, too. It is def our norm to add a palmful of cauliflower, broccoli, asparagus, or fresh spinach.
Salt & Pepper

Heat non-stick pan over high heat briefly!  Reduce heat to medium, once your pan is nice & hot, & add oil.  Begin with your chopped peppers, & cook for just a min or two.  Then, add your potatoes & cook until they are heating thru, especially if you are using frozen hashbrowns.  (You may need to add a drop or two of water here & put the lid on your pan, for just a bit)  Then add bacon, onion, tomatoes & any other chopped veg you have decided on.  Continue to heat for a min or two.  Crack eggs over top, starting with one in the center of pan.  Then, poke yolks & make sure egg is distributed evenly over potato mixture.  Sprinkle with a dash of salt & pepper. And, last but not least, sprinkle on your cheese.  Now, the magic!!! Pour a tsp or two of water into the sides of your frypan, in a couple of spots, & cover.   Leave the lid on while your toast cooks or for just a min or two.  Keep an eye on it & cook to a desired doneness.  Finally, lift the lid to find a nice, big, fluffy frittata.  There you go - simple as that!

Enjoy alongside some lovely, fresh tomatoes & a spoon of creamy cottage cheese.

*We use 5 eggs - 2 for me, 2 for Darrell & 1 for Shaq, the white-haired (& very spoiled) dog :)  If you are cooking for a crowd, I suggest using more than one pan.  If you have a very large fry pan, you can adjust your quantities up.  Try not to get your frittata too thick.  You will be happier with the outcome!*

A Sparrow's Message

Last night, after arriving home late from a wedding, I quickly had a look at my Facebook.  There, I found that I had been nominated, by my cousin, to share a Bible verse per day, for a week.  These nominations are now quite common with social media & I don't always comply.  I went to sleep knowing that I would, however, partake in this one.

I was awakened early this morning by the birds, sparrows to be exact, briskly chirp-chirping outside my bedroom window.  And it is only now, as I type this, that I realize how fitting that is.  God is magic.  I couldn't fall back to sleep because closely followed by the chirp-chirping of the sparrows was the less pleasant, & much more bothersome, caw-cawing of Mr. Crow.  The latter & incessant annoyance led me to compose this blog repeatedly, in my head, so I eventually gave in to the fight & just got up to begin.

I lay there pondering what scripture verse to begin with.  It crossed my mind to use my favorite verse, & then for whatever reason, it came to me to start at the very beginning.  Julie Andrews says, "that's a very good place to start."  It's very early & who am I to argue with Julie, so here goes:

Matthew 10: 29  "Are not two sparrows sold for a penny?  Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father's care."

My faith story began in my farm home & in my small-town, Saskatchewan, United Church.  It is very sad that the little church no longer exists.  I cannot remember if it was moved or torn down. However, the corner where it once stood, with its shiny steeple pointed toward heaven, now sits vacant.  At least it did, the last time I passed by.

It's funny how big & ostentatious buildings seem to you when you are a child.  I remember the stairs up to the main doors being so many & so high.  The vestibule that greeted you was large & always inviting with a fluffy-handed grandma or grandpa waiting there to shake hands or invariably squeeze your chubby cheek.  If you only arrived a little early, or on time, the church bells pealed loudly, as you entered, with Mr. Cowles manning the rope.  The gold-colored wooden pews stood at attention lining both sides of the sanctuary.  The plush red carpet ushered you in over the squeaky wooden floors beneath.  In front, was all that seemed the "business" of the place; the pulpit, the piano, the communion table, what I thought was a big wooden throne for the minister...and on the walls; the large cross hanging front & center, the slotted frame filled with numbers representing the hymns we would sing that week, & on the side wall, a photo of Christ in a gilded frame.  That photo, the iconic vision that is still Jesus, in my mind's eye, to this day.  But...that which is most important, from my vivid childhood memory, is what sat on the corner of that communion table.  A simple plastic piggy bank moulded into the shape of a church. I thought, it then, to be a replica of the very church in which I sat.  And...on your birthday, you got to go up to the front & drop pennies into the slot, equal to your years, while the congregants sang. It was a special birthday song too, something about pennies dropping, if memory serves me.  In all reality...the stairs were few & the vestibule small, but to the best of my recollection, the rest is fact.

It wasn't long after the birthday ritual that the children got to go downstairs to Sunday School.  I began as a very shy & timid little girl & this was cause for much anxiety for me.  Were it not for one lovely lady, I would have never ventured beneath, without my mother.  Her name was Mrs. Beaunice or Beauller - oh how I wish I could remember for sure.  She came to our pew, & coaxed me out from under my mother's wing with her smile & her kind authenticity.  Honestly, I didn't even know she had a snack for us til much later!  She led me down those frighteningly narrow stairs to what seemed the cavernous basement below. The smells of wax crayons, Sunday School papers & coffee, for later, overwhelmed my little senses.  I sat down with a few other children, of whom I have no recollection, & heard this sweet story of the sparrows & of God's love for the birdies & for me.  It was a simple message, followed by a snack of a purple plum.

I have never forgotten her (though of her name, I am unsure) the sparrows, or the plums.  My Mom often sang a little song to me about the sparrows, after I told her what I had learned that day.  It went: "God sees the little sparrow fall, it meets His tender view,
If God so loves the little things, I know He loves me too."
You say, "How can one Bible verse awaken so many memories?"  I say, "It's just how I'm hard-wired."
I'm wired for words.  You see a recipe, I see a completed dish shared with friends & memories made. You hear a familiar song, I hear words that shape a treasured memory & board me on a mind train to events both recent & past.  You read a scripture & are moved, motivated or convicted - as am I, but those "words" are fortified with the memories attached.

I am not alone.  I know there are many others like me.  Others, who know the God of the universe, the God who sees the sparrow fall & sees you & me...