What Do Women Want in a Kitchen?

Our beautiful Victorian home with 6 bedrooms and 4 full bathrooms has been for sale for almost 2 years.  Real estate agents tell us that everyone who looks at the house thinks it is beautiful, but they think the price is too high when they take into consideration changes they would want to make.  Ignoring the fact that if they were really interested, they could make an offer lower than the asking price, this brings me to the question, "what is it they want to change?"  Number one answer:  the kitchen.


The kitchen is actually very attractive and functional.  I have served meals for 70-80 people from that kitchen.  I have baked and decorated fairly elaborate cakes in that kitchen.  It also has some unique features.  The main chimney of the house goes up through the kitchen.  When we moved in decades ago, we had the outside surface of the chimney sandblasted and coated with polyurethane.  The oven, a microwave shelf and a shelf for cookbooks are built in between the chimney and the adjacent wall creating a very pretty and unusual feature.


About 2 years before the house went on the market, I thought of completely remodeling the kitchen.  All of the research I did indicated that this was not wise.  The experts said that you will never get your money out of a kitchen remodel.  So, I sanded down and refinished cabinet doors that didn't look up to snuff.  I had the kitchen painted and papered and had laminate flooring installed.  I loved my "new" kitchen and joked that maybe I wouldn't move after all.


But.....I did not change the counter-top.  I am now thinking that everyone expects granite or similar counter-top.  What???  Why on earth?  Given the amount of eating out that occurs, and the prevalence of convenience foods in the grocery store, and the shrinking of grocery store shelf space designated for basic ingredients, it sure looks to me like the modern woman doesn't actually use her kitchen much.  It looks like a coffee maker, two burners, and a microwave would almost do it for lots of women.  However, apparently all of the appliances need to sit on fancy gleaming counter-top.


I guess I will make a trip to Lowes and Home Depot and check out model kitchens to see what young women want their kitchen to look like.  It must be that kitchens have gone the way of lots of other things in our world and appearance trumps function.


Oh, Wow....I'm older than I realized!

The Cost

A decision can be made so quickly…

With no thought to the cost.

Payment may be deferred…

Days

Weeks

Months

Years

But, when the bill comes due…

Who will pay it?

Will it be…

You

Your parent

Your child

Society?

And, when the bill comes due…

How will it be paid?

Will the currency be…

Time

Money

Tears

Pain?

We can’t always calculate….

The cost in advance.

But should we not be…

Frugal

Careful

Thoughtful

Prayerful?

A Toddler's View of Horticulture

From the time my children were born, I thought it was important to talk to them about anything and everything, so that they would learn about their world and expand their vocabularies.

When my son was growing up, we lived in a house which had a large dining room window with a bench running along under it on which I had numerous houseplants. One day when he was between 12 and 15 months old, my sweet little fellow toddled into the dining room as I was watering the plants. He seemed to be focused on my activity, so I said, "Do you know what I am doing?  I am giving each of these plants a drink of water.  You know how sometimes you get thirsty and need a drink.  Well, plants get thirsty too, so I am giving them a drink."

He made no comment, and I didn't think about this brief conversation or have any reason to believe he had gleaned anything from it until the next day.  As I walked through the dining room, I stopped in my tracks and burst out laughing.  Each plant had a Ritz cracker tucked into its leaves.

If plants got thirsty like little boys, they must get hungry like little boys too.

I had been totally unaware of the box of crackers disappearing from the cupboard.  He must have put them back when he finished "feeding" the plants. I was fascinated by the fact that a child so young understood what I had said and attempted to apply the concept.  He obviously didn't get it quite right, but the very fact that he had attempted to adapt this new piece of knowledge, encouraged me to continue my chattering about anything and everything.

His curiosity and desire to adapt what he learned continued....he started college at the age of 13.

Letting the Music Carry Me

I love music and have from my earliest memories.  I still remember songs my mother sang to me when I was a toddler and songs I learned in kindergarten.  When I awaken during the night, I often find that I am in the middle of a song that is playing like background music in my mind.  I sang my first solo at church when I was 7 or 8.  I still remember the words to "I'll Be a Sunbeam."  I sang so many solos throughout my life that I couldn't possibly guess at the number, nor could I tell you my favorite song.


I lost my singing voice about 10 years ago.  By that I mean that my voice has become so unreliable that I have no idea what will come out when I open my mouth in an attempt to sing.  I might be able to sing a few lines almost as well as decades ago, but then the sound may deteriorate into a shaky old lady warble, or no sound at all.


I don't know how to explain the sense of loss this creates.  There used to be a connection between what I knew in my mind and felt in my heart and my vocal chords, so that the expressions of my soul flew out of my mouth and filled up a room even without amplification.  The connection is broken.  While it is true that a bit over 10 years ago, an experience crushed something at my very core, it is also true that age and a degenerative condition inherited in my family are probably the major contributors to this loss.  Whatever the cause, I now stand in church wishing I could lift my voice, but unable to do so.


When my daughters were teenagers, one Sunday we were traveling in another state and visited a church we had never been in before.  We were a few minutes late and the service had already begun.  The congregation was attempting to sing, but no strong voice led them.  The singing was tentative and spiritless.  I knew the song and began to sing before I picked up the hymn book.  An immediate change occurred.  I could feel the impact my voice was having on the group.  People began to sing out confidently following my lead.  After the service, one of my daughters asked me if I realized what happened when I began to sing.  I did.  I'm sure some would think this made me proud, but that is not what I felt either on that occasion or others when I was aware of this phenomenon.  I could help other people express themselves.  My voice could carry them along and allow them to worship as they would desire to worship.  I delighted in being able to help a group in this way.  Now when my own congregation falters on a new song, I feel as though I am letting them down.  I want to help.  It is in my heart to help, but my vocal chords no longer cooperate.


Recently I had the experience of being at a concert with brass instruments.  Brass instruments are not quiet...they are overpowering.  The audience was invited to sing along on some of the familiar pieces.  It was actually wonderful not to be able to hear the sound of my own voice because of the blaring brass.  I did not know if I was singing well or quavering or if no sound was coming out at all.  Perhaps I was only mouthing the words, but my eyes filled with tears as I let the music carry me along.  I pictured myself standing on the sidelines in heaven as a procession passed by.  Jesus Himself was the focus of the procession and my voice or my silence melding into the triumphant sound.  


I don't have any reason to expect to die soon, and I would not do anything to hasten it, but I do look forward to the day when the expression of my soul will fly out of me again.

Who was Sheerah?

I have read through the Bible several times.  Sometimes I have skipped over the genealogies rationalizing that they are long lists of nearly unpronounceable names of obscure people, and they are irrelevant to doctrine or my life.


Recently I read the list of Ephraim's descendants in I Chronicles 7:24:  His daughter was Sheerah, who built Lower and Upper Beth Horon as well as Uzzen Sheerah.


Many times biblical genealogies only include male descendants.  Only occasionally are the names of wives included.  But, here is a daughter who is not only mentioned, but who is credited with building three communities.


Who was Sheerah?  She lived thousands of years ago in a middle eastern land where women were supposedly  thought of as property.  How did she rise above the accepted role for her gender?


Exactly what does it mean that she built these three communities?  She must have been assertive and resourceful, a person of intelligence and organizational skills who was both knowledgeable and wise.  Did she offend people...especially men...in the process of exercising her gifts?


I like strong women. I have been accused of being a strong woman. I have good friends who are strong women.  I would have liked to have known Sheerah.  It is probably lucky for my daughters that I didn't happen on this fragment of a story before they were born.  One of them might have ended up named....


SHEERAH!

What's wrong with being an enabler?

I am seriously miffed with the psycho-socio disciplines for hijacking a perfectly good word like "enable" and giving it a negative connotation.


If you provide more assistance to someone than a practicing member of one of those disciplines believes is appropriate, you are (gasp!) an "enabler."  The implication is that you are crippling the person you mean to help and causing them never to be able to function on their own.


How does any compassionate person stand back and watch someone fall on his face over and over until it becomes quite clear, he simply can't function without help?  Refraining from assisting is particularly troublesome when there are children who are going to suffer because of a non-functional or marginally functional adult.  When does "tough love" become cold-heartedness?  Is fear of being an "enabler" ever a cover for fear of having someones needs negatively impact my own pleasant life?


I choose to think of enabling as providing the assistance a person needs to survive in this world.  I am not talking about providing a cushy lifestyle to someone who is just lazy.  I am talking about helping with the basic needs of life....food, clothing and shelter...for someone who just can't seem to acquire the basics on his or her own.  I don't see this as optional.  I think offering assistance is an obligation.  If God places a need squarely in front of me, and I have the means to meet that need, I think I am in the wrong to look the other way.


So...
Have I purchased a meal for someone begging on the street?  Yes
Have I purchased and delivered baby formula to someone who was begging on the street?  Yes
Have I loaned money knowing full well that it was actually a gift, rather than a loan?  Yes
Have I at times provided family members with a vehicle or a place to live?  Yes
Has this including paying someones rent for them?  Yes
Purchasing a vehicle for them or giving them my old one?  Yes
Have I purchased a refrigerator for a single dad with two kids and no way to keep milk from spoiling?  Yes
Have I anonymously slipped money to someone in need?  Yes
Have I provided someone with a ride to the grocery store or to the jail to visit a friend or heaven only knows where else?   Yes


Have I every had someone tell me with a grave expression that I might just be an enabler?  Yes


Do I care?   
NO NO NO


But, I hasten to add that I will not lie for someone.  I will not ignore bad conduct.  I will not "enable" someone to keep doing what is wrong by covering up their past misdeeds.  I do attempt to mitigate the negative impact of poor choices on innocent people who are caught in the quagmire caused by someone else's faulty decisions.  I know some people who can create more messes than I can clean up...but I keep trying to provide protection from the fallout for innocent bystanders.

Who Has the Next Line?

Last night I dreamt that I was in a stage play.  In the middle of the performance with about six actors on stage, a long and dreadful silence occurred.  Someone had forgotten his or her line.  I was fairly sure that it wasn’t I, but I was unsure who was responsible for the break in dialogue.

I tried so hard to remember what the next line was, so that I could whisper it.  I wondered why the prompter wasn’t feeding the line to the actor.  I tried to think of something to say that fit in with the scene and would help us get back on track.  I feared that if I said the wrong thing someone would pick up with a line from the next act and the situation would be irretrievable.

I was holding a very old book in my hands.  The book was small and narrow…taller than it was wide.  The cover was thick and stained.  The pages were yellowed and ragged.  I tried to search through the book without being obvious to the audience.  I thought maybe the next line was in the book.

The on-stage silence dragged on and on.  The audience remained quiet.  Eventually the entire scene drifted away without resolution.

When I woke up this morning, I kept thinking about the dream and wondering if it had meaning.

Which actor has forgotten the line?

If he or she waits too long to speak, should I say something? 

What if I say the wrong thing and life goes off in some crazy unintended direction?

Where is the prompter?

Is there an answer in the ancient book?

Who has the next line?