thankful thursday #186

Gyah, my car has needed major TLC this week.

In preparation for our family beach week, I was happy to tackle the scheduled oil change.

The cruise control had been persnickety, so it seemed a good time to have that fixed.

The headlight blew on cue (never mind that it was for the third time in a year, for the love), so sure, might as well get that replaced too.

Flat tire on Sunday morning? Yes. Why not?

I'll tell you what's what: Triple A (AAA? Is that their preferred spelling?) is the greatest gift my dad ever got me. Since I was sixteen. Every year that awesome dad of mine mails me my new membership card.

I may not have ever changed my own tire, but I sure do love that AAA membership.

Within a short forty minutes, I had placed my call to AAA, the service gentleman came, conquered, and had me on my way.

Man, I was thankful for that.

And then somewhere amidst the slew of other servicing opportunities, I got the news that I needed four (four!) new tires. Have mercy.

Got those, and then got them aligned today. Because you know, it's about time to drain the car maintenance fund.

Car insurance due this month too? Yes. Outstanding.

Thankful today for a new set of wheels (well-aligned, mind ya), a fresh batch of oil, an operating cruise control, a shiny headlight, and car insurance for protection. 

And for AAA. For real, Triple A.

Do you have a well-running automobile these days? Go on, be grateful!

summer lovin'

The Summer of 2014 will go down as a good one, I think. Here are a few reasons for that, in no particular order:

the roo cup //  If you haven't already, go to your nearest Kangaroo Express convenience store, purchase a Roo Cup for $6.99, and spend the entire summer getting 25-cent refills of iced tea, fountain drinks, or Icees.

I'm obsessed with the Roo Cup, to the point that I've downloaded the free Kangaroo app and map every store on my summer road trips. I might need an intervention.

a splash of color in my living room //  When I bought my neutral living room furniture, the idea was to be able to change out throws and pillows seasonally, to keep some fun colors rotating through my world. I'm loving the pop of this pink-coral:

Home Goods, you are so very ... good.

the very best olive oil in the entire world //  While in Italy, the only item I purchased to be shipped back to the US of A was this olive oil, which I have received in-hand as of the weekend.

It is indescribably superior to any olive oil that has ever crossed my lips, and is likely better than any that ever will. It is from this gentleman's vineyard.

Could Paulo be any more authentically Italian, sharing about his olive oil from underneath his very own olive tree? I think not.

Every dip of bread into this olive oil will be treasured.

friends with netflix //  Summer television is for the birds, so I'm loving my lazy summer Saturday (and Sunday) afternoons (and Friday nights) of TV binge-watching. Last summer was Downton Abbey; this summer is a less respectable Scandal. Don't judge.

this face //  He is so darling.

I just can't even.

What are you loving this summer?

thankful thursday #185

Sometimes hidden in happy and fun, there are some hard conversations. Sadness. Bad, earth-shaking news.

And those hidden things can peek out and interrupt that happy and fun at the most inopportune times, can't they?

During our happy and fun company retreat this week, one of ours got some news that rocked her world. Some were around to hold her up when her body collapsed; others were around to listen and cry; a few sat and prayed with her; a couple tucked her into bed so she could rest.

The happy and fun was tainted, and for that one, it was a time she will always remember with a little pang in her heart.

Even when questions swirled, and hearts were broken, and answers eluded us, we could be grateful for supportive work family, and for a divine sovereignty we will never understand.

What tough moments have challenged your heart of thankfulness? Go on, be grateful!

thankful thursday #184

I've been to a spin class twice this week, after a hiatus. Of a year. So maybe that's less of a hiatus, and more of a falling-off-the-wagon.

Anyway. It's been hard. And it's hurt.

Tonight, our instructor Deb had two rules: 1) Have fun, and 2) Challenge yourself. I wish I were one of those people who feels awesome and "happy" when they're exercising and "challenging" themselves. But I'm definitely not.

That spin class -- the "climbs" -- they were hard, and they hurt.

At some point Deb asked the class if we were happy, and I only felt miserable. My legs were on fire, my heart rate was racing, and there was no graceful perspiring. Just straight-up, old-fashioned sweating.

I was a sight.

My mind had to take over. All I could think of was how I should be nothing but grateful that I could even be on that cycle. Grateful for two legs that can burn; a heart that can race; and energy to sweat.

That gratitude pushed me over that awful climb. Both of them, actually.

So here I sit, thankful for my bruised behind and sore legs.

And you? What climb will your gratitude conquer? Go on, be grateful!

you're owning me, quinoa

Quinoa might be taking over my life a little bit. And I don't mean to force this new love on anyone, but seriously, this one. This one is so good. I'd not forgive myself if I didn't share it.

I sort-of made it up, and sort-of combined a couple of other recipes to land here. It lacks a creative name, but when you eat it, you won't care.

Grilled Chicken and Cranberry Quinoa Salad
Serves 4-6

1 c. pre-washed quinoa
2 c. chicken broth
1 lb. boneless, skinless chicken breasts
2 heaping handfuls of dried cranberries
2 heaping handfuls of golden raisins
2-3 green onions, chopped (green and white parts)
1-2 handfuls of sliced almonds
2 handfuls of crumbled blue cheese
3 oz. extra virgin olive oil, plus more for drizzling on chicken
1.5 oz. balsamic vinegar
salt and pepper to taste
honey, for serving

1. Cook quinoa according to package instructions. (I use chicken broth instead of water to give it a richer flavor.) Allow to cool.


2. Drizzle olive oil over chicken breasts, and season with salt and pepper. Grill until done. (Of course you can cook the chicken however you like, but I loved dicing up the grilled chicken into perfect bite-size squares.)


3. To assemble the salad, combine quinoa, chopped chicken, cranberries, raisins, green onions, almonds, and blue cheese.


4. Make the dressing by whisking (or shaking, if you have an awesome salad dressing shaker) olive oil, balsamic vinegar, and salt and pepper to taste. I use a 2:1 ratio here, but you can make yours however you like.


5. Drizzle salad with balsamic dressing, and toss to combine.


6. Before serving, drizzle with honey.

* I kept the salad in the fridge without the dressing, and then dressed it before I ate each serving. If you're eating for one, I think it's best to do that so the balsamic vinaigrette doesn't soak it too much and steal the show. And don't even dream of skipping the honey. It's the perfect sweet to balance the tang of your vinaigrette.

Maybe I won't share any more quinoa recipes. But I probably will.

thankful thursday #183

Little Man took a tumble this week.

When his dad was about four years old, he split his forehead open and bled buckets on the way to the hospital. He has an excellent scar from that fall. My baby bro had his share of stitches, too, and earned one scar in almost the exact same spot as Little Man. I have my own scars, but mostly from falls, scrapes and burns.

Goodness gracious, those times can be scary -- the falls, the blood, the tears -- but the scars we earn tell stories, don't they? A book I read recently -- The Light Between Oceans -- called scars "just another kind of memory."

I imagine by the time that child is ten, he'll have a slew of stories to tell, and memories to share.

Today I'm feeling thankful that Little Man is fine and good, that his bumps and bruises will fade, and that his scars will tell good stories one day.

Do your scars tell a good story? Go on, be grateful!

i heard the gospel in italy

While I traveled through Italy, it was hard to feel the Gospel at work. I might be wrong, but I sense that despite its deep Catholic roots, there's a lot of room there for a little Light (which could be said for my very own neighborhood, frankly).

One day in Florence, we took guided tours through both the Uffizi Gallery and the Academia, both of which housed some of the most complete collections of Renaissance art in the world. For a girl who does not get overly excited about museums, the artwork in these places was truly breathtaking.

As Italian artists began to explore the human form during the Renaissance, they remained devoted to depicting that humanity in scenes from the life of Christ, an artistic tradition shored by the heavy influence of the Catholic church. We saw so many of these beauties, showing passionate interpretations of the birth, death, and resurrection of Jesus.

The curators glided with ease through the gallery halls, sharing eagerly about painting techniques, or sculpture inspirations, and we followed behind like herded cattle with other tourists from all over the world. 

In the Academia, we saw one painting in particular depicting the crucifixion of Christ. Judi, our guide, spoke fluently of this Christ, who had taken on the sins of the world in that moment, so that mankind could be reconciled to God the Father following the fall of man.

What just happened?

The message of the Gospel fell on me like a breath of fresh air, and simultaneously like a ton of bricks. Refreshing and heavy, all at once.

Judi may have simply been sharing the subject of a painting as she had learned in art history, or even in her own Catholic church. Maybe she lives in the Light of the Gospel; maybe she doesn't. I don't know.

But people accompanying us on our tour -- people from France, and Holland, and Japan, and who knows where else -- heard the Gospel as it was illustrated seven hundred-some-odd years ago. Maybe they heard the story from an unbelieving source. Maybe they heard it for the first time ever. Maybe it sparked questions for them. Maybe it affirmed what they already know.

Let that sink in.

This is how beauty and art and journals and letters and music and poetry can be a powerful legacy. Generations from now, those seeds might be nurtured by unexpected people, and might one day grow into a salvation story.

God will use anything, anyone, and anytime to advance his kingdom, and I think he particularly loves doing it through creative and unexpected means.

I'm so pleased I got to be reminded of that in a gallery in Italy.