I posted this recipe a few years ago, but since we’ve been enjoying a fresh batch of yummy homemade granola lately, I thought I’d share the recipe again.

This granola recipe is for people who love granola, and for people who aren’t crazy about granola at all. If you love it already, you need to try this recipe. I’ve tried various store-bought granolas, and a few homemade recipes over the years, but have never found a granola better than this one.

If you’re not a granola fan, I encourage you to try this recipe too, because it’s just different. I got this recipe long ago and honestly can’t remember who gave it to me or I would gladly give him/her credit. I’ve very slightly altered a couple of things and just always call it granola. But since I like alliteration and needed a title for this post, I thought I’d call it Grandma’s Great Granola. Because I am a grandma. And because this granola is great.

I’ve baked huge batches at a time and given small bags of granola as Christmas gifts. Everyone always asks for the recipe. Try it and let me know if you like it!

Grandma’s Great Granola

Preheat oven to 250 degrees

Stir together in very large bowl:

2 cups whole wheat flour
6 cups rolled oats
1 cup raw sunflower meats
1/2 cup wheat germ
1 cup grated, unsweetened coconut
1 cup raw cashew pieces

Add:

1/2 cup warm water
1 cup oil (I like sunflower or safflower best but canola can be used too)
1 cup honey
2 teaspoons vanilla
1/2 teaspoon salt

Stir well and spread out evenly over two large, greased cookie sheets (or even three sheets)

Bake for one hour at 250 degrees.

After thirty minutes I take out the cookie sheet, carefully turn the granola with a pancake turner so it browns evenly, then return it to the oven for the last half hour of baking.

Cool and store in air-tight container. This freezes well. This makes a lot and tastes wonderful with milk poured over it, or just eat it plain as a healthy snack.

Enjoy!

Yesterday was our youngest daughter Sara’s 30th birthday. I think that means I’m old now. Anyway, the whole family got together for dinner at the place of Sara’s choice, and we had a great meal. Sharon and I had Cobb salads, Sara had cedar plank-cooked salmon, Michael had a turkey dinner with smashed potatoes, Chris had a breakfast skillet with a huge buckwheat pancake, Carolyn had a burger called the Grand Royale, Jeremy had a bison burger, and the seven children had various mac-n-cheese like things off the kid’s menu, with fresh fruit and steamed broccoli.

We had a little surprise for Sara planned, and I tried to carry in our small CD player/stereo without her seeing, because we were going to sing. Over the years our family has rewritten famous songs, putting our own words in them and ridiculously performing them with a karaoke CD as accompaniment in the background. We did it at Sharon’s wedding shower, at Jeremy and Carolyn’s wedding reception, for Chris’s 50th birthday, and also for various friends over the years. It was Sara’s turn to have a song written for her.

If you aren’t familiar with music from the 1960s, you may not know the song. But most of you should remember it. I’ll wait quietly while you click here to see what song I’m talking about. Do you remember that one? And hasn’t popular music changed a bit since then? Yikes.

So before the server brought the fourteen meals we had ordered at the restaurant, we closed the doors to the private room where they seated us, plugged in the CD player, and sang “Mrs. Brown You’ve Got a Lovely Daughter” to Sara.

Only these were the words we used (since my name isn’t Mrs. Brown, and my husband’s name isn’t Mr. Brown, but our last name does begin with B):

Mr. B. you’ve got a lovely daughter
Girls as sharp as her are somethin’ rare
Yes, it’s true, with flowers she’s “white-hot”
Some day she might just have a business of her own

She was quite a picky little toddler
Her Osh-kosh cuffs had to be just so
When she was 12, she used to clean a lot
She had a business she called “Sara’s Spic and Span”

When she was young, Mom prayed for a cardinal
Now their whole house…is filled up with…red birds!

Mr. B. your daughter sure loves doggies
She lets Edith lick her on the lips
But her mom, she doesn’t like such things
But Sara’s 30 now, so nothing can be done

She’s workin’ out, she’s obsessed with fitness
Goes to the gym, kettlebells and squat jumps!

Mr. B. you’d better keep your doors locked
Guys from match.com are keen to call
Just so no! No to the pond cleaners!
No to the guys who think that bike repair is fun

Mr. B. you’ve got a lovely daughter (3x)

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So now you know why you would never go wrong by saying a prayer for our family. 🙂

There are a few little jokes in the song that our family would understand, and I don’t think Sara would mind me telling you about them, but I don’t want this blog to be a sedative, so I’ll think about that another time.  I am happy to say that Sara laughed at our performance and we had a nice dinner.

In other news, I have begun packing! Because on May 31st, we are moving to a new house. At the 11th hour, we found a place that might just suit us well, and a new (young) family of three will be moving into our house.

I will post photos of the new place once we get settled, of course, but the best two things about it that I’ll share right now are: 1) it is one block from Lake Superior and the view is gorgeous, and 2) it’s all on one level, which is what we need in this phase of our lives. We are very grateful, and I’m getting used to the idea of going, and am looking forward to the new place.

I decided that I would try to pack one room per day. Ha. I guess I have to lower the bar a little bit. Yesterday I packed the books just in our living room book cases, and here they are:

This is roughly one-third of our books, and I’m frankly stunned that one-third of our books fill twelve boxes. Another third are in the bookcases in the den, and the rest are in bookcases in our bedroom. I guess I had no idea that we have close to forty boxes of books. And I have already weeded them out, and given many away!

We have a welcome, soft rain falling as I sit here in my office and type this. The grass is finally turning green and big fat robins have returned to our area and are hopping around the yard, cocking their heads sideways, to hear the worms underground. At least that’s what I’ve always been told about robins. Maybe that’s a euphemism we need to add to our speech, you know, like “faster than a rabbit” and “slow as molasses in January”? We could now say something like this, “His hearing was sharper than a robin’s!”

Well, maybe not.

I am off to fix some dinner now, so will close this disjointed post with wishes for a blessed weekend to all of you. I’m running a little late, so I hope I’ll be faster than a muskrat!

For a change I don’t have many words swirling in my mind this morning. So I’ll post my photo of the fourteen things that are being donated (I didn’t put up last week’s seven) this week, as I part with at least 365 items during the year 2012.

There are fourteen CDs, all good works, but they haven’t been listened to in years, so I thought it was time for them to go someplace where they’d be enjoyed.

We had a really nice Easter with a wonderful message at church, sunshine in the sky, family present, and peace.

There are lots of changes coming in our lives…I hope to be able to write about them soon.

Have a wonderful week, and have I thanked you lately for stopping by?

Blessings,

When I got up this morning and came downstairs, this was the centerpiece on our kitchen table:

Sara made it as a surprise for us, and I love it. If you click to enlarge the photo, you can better see the stone rolled away from the empty tomb. It’s the One Thing that our lives hinge on.

From our home to yours, may you have a very blessed Easter.

He is risen!

Good Friday is the day when you can do nothing. Bewailing and lamenting your manifold sins does not in itself make up for them. Scouring your soul in a frenzy of spring cleaning only sterilizes it; it does not give life. On Good Friday, finally, we are all, mourners and mockers alike, reduced to the same impotence. Someone else is doing the terrible work that gives life to the world.

Virginia Stem Owens

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Last night four sevenths of my grandchildren came over for a little visit. Jeremy and Carolyn’s little ones always know how to make themselves comfortable when they’re here, and it’s fun for me to see what they gravitate toward after they fly in the back door.

First there are hugs. Audrey runs to me with a loud and high-pitched “Grandmaaa!” and she throws herself at me for a hug. Clara puts her arms around me, smiles and quietly says, “Hi Grandma. I’ve missed you.” Elijah waves and gives me that dimpled grin of his, and Vivie just sort of lights up with delight in general.

The older ones usually grab books. I try to buy one or two new books each month so there will always be something new to discover when they come over. They also return to their old favorites, reading them over and over again. Last night, Clara and Elijah plopped themselves on the living room couch and plunged into the Tintin books that they love and I don’t really get.  🙂

Vivienne and Audrey set up camp on the floor and began building cathedrals and birdcages with our Magformers. Vivie went back and forth between the building and the books — she’s pictured above looking over Elijah’s shoulder as he reads. (That sounds like a book title: Between the Building and the Books…) Clara is in the pink on the left.

If anyone asked me what they should have in their house for grandchildren to enjoy, here’s what I would answer:

1.  Lots of drawing paper and colored pencils and crayons
2. Things to build with, like Legos and Magformers.
3. Books, books and more books.

“So it is with children who learn to read fluently and well: they begin to take flight into whole new worlds as effortlessly as young birds take to the sky.” ~ William James

I love that quote, and I love watching it happen right before my eyes even more.

I sliced up several ripe pears last night and while my four grandbabies were reading, drawing and building, they snacked on those.

I read this book out loud to the two little ones and they loved it. I would really recommend Jan Brett’s books, especially for any child who has a penchant for drawing. Her illustrations are so detailed and amazing, it seems like an art course just to study one of her delightful books.

Spending time with my grandchildren always makes me feel like the most blessed woman in the world. I just cannot wrap my mind around what treasures they are, how lavish God has been with our family, to entrust us with these seven, soon-to-be-eight little lives.

What favorite things do you have on hand for the children in your life?

My friend Ember went on a family trip recently to a place Michael and I fell in love with when we visited England in 2007 — Yorkshire. As he and I drove the back roads and visited some of the villages, and as we walked in awe through the York Minster, we dreamed of living in northern England. Silly dreams, I guess, but we dreamed them anyway.

Recently Ember sent me a beautiful carved wooden cross from Thicket Priory in Yorkshire. Its soft, rounded edges and diagonal slant make it perfect for holding in the palm of one’s hand. I keep it on my nightstand near our bed, and love to hold it in my left hand and ponder what it means to me.

Of course this gift makes me think of a caring friend who prays for and encourages me. She makes me laugh and blesses my life in many ways.

I also think of what the cross of Christ means to followers of Jesus. I read this quote recently and gratitude welled up in me once again, for how truly astonishing the love of God is…

“For the essence of sin is man substituting himself for God,
while the essence of salvation is God substituting Himself for man.

“Man asserts himself against God and puts himself where only God deserves to be;
God sacrifices Himself for man and puts Himself where only man deserves to be.

“Man claims prerogatives that belong to God alone;
God accepts penalties that belong to man alone.”

John Stott, from The Cross of Christ

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Ember also sent three cards with words representing what I need right now in my journey. Courage for whatever difficult, beautiful things might be ahead, hope for the sale of our house and possible move to a new home, and love.

I am blessed.  🙂

I woke this morning to flashes of lightning and hard rain hitting the windows of our bedroom, and I couldn’t get back to sleep. So I came downstairs, turned up the heat a little, and read my email and a couple of my favorite blogs.

Today will be a full day of appointments and appointment-making. And even though it’s Michael’s 63rd birthday, I will be driving one of our gals south so she can spend time with a family member this week.

Last night our family gathered at Michael’s favorite Vietnamese restaurant to celebrate his birthday a day early, and it was noisy and sweet. My seven grandchildren seem to change and grow before my very eyes, and in a little over three months I will meet my newest granddaughter when she is born. Sharon and Chris are calling her Baby Shamrock right now.

I think of all the things I dream about for my children and grandchildren, and I guess these three words really do express my deepest prayers for them all.

I know they will all face hard times, and I want them to take courage when those times come. I want them to be brave, knowing that challenging times will pass, that courageous, good decisions really will change the course of their lives, and that they can trust in the Lord when their own courage fails them.

I want my peeps to have hope. I want them to hang on when things seem hopeless, and wait patiently for the God of all hope to make Himself known in whatever circumstances they face. I will remind them that I’ve felt hopeless in my lifetime, and God has always come through and given me hope just when I’ve needed it most. My family knows that cardinals are a wondrous sign of His hope for me.

And I want my loved ones to know love. Not love as the world so falsely portrays, but real love. The kind of love that is patient and kind, and not envious or boastful or proud. The kind of love that honors people whether they seem to deserve it or not. I want the kind of love that causes people to lay down their selfishness and anger, to permeate their lives. The kind of love that doesn’t tally up all the wrongs done, but is truthful, protective, loyal and persevering.

I certainly didn’t always model this kind of love in my life. It’s this very sobering confession that makes me want something different for my own kin. Of course they knew I loved them and would give my life for them, but I have a memory or three that I would give anything to do over.

I believe that true courage, hope and love were spectacularly displayed by Jesus, all during His life on earth and especially on the cross. So when I ask Jesus to give my husband, my children, my grandchildren and me courage, hope and love, I know I’m going to the One person who has a limitless supply of all three.

God bless your week, dear ones…

A couple of weeks ago we received a call from our realtor asking us if we were still interested in showing our house, even though our six month contract to list it had expired and we had taken it off the market. We told her we were interested, so we tidied and vacuumed and I actually made our bed and straightened the paperwork Alps in my office. Many living beings had to fit in our Pilot: Michael, me, Sara, our three Foster gals, and Edith and Mildred the schnauzers in their kennels because they’re allergic to drives in the car and we do like to protect our legs and necks from deep, bloody gouges. As we drove off, I thought all that was missing was Granny on the top of the car in her rocking chair, and a few pots and pans roped to the sides, and we could have honked as we departed and sung loudly for the neighborhood to hear, “…so they loaded up their truck and they moved to Beverly…Hills that is…swimming pools…movie stars…”

We drove up the north shore of Lake Superior to a small town with a Culver’s, and we ate there. We took our time, and wondered aloud if the people going through our home of four years would be interested in it. And a day later I learned that they were. They offered us an acceptable price, with a closing date of April 27, which made my innards twinge and my mind race. We countered their offer by asking for a later closing date, and for five business days to find a suitable house of our own to purchase. Through our communications through our realtors, our potential buyers seem like very nice people, but they’ve been renting and they are anxious to move. They were not keen on giving us five business days to find a house, but our realtor explained to their realtor that we provide foster care in our home for women with developmental disabilities, and could not just move to any house. We would be moving several people, and since there aren’t a glut of one-level homes on the market right now, we asked for a few days to find one. They agreed, and told their realtor to tell our realtor that it was with great reluctance and considerable frustration that they did so.

So we began looking, and it was discouraging at first. We need a smaller house than we have, in good condition and with three-four bedrooms, with a master bedroom and bath on the main floor. And we hoped for a basement that was either finished or finish-able. And I wanted to be fairly close to my daughters. Our city is 27 miles long from east to west, and I wanted to stay in the eastern part, near Lake Superior if possible. We weren’t finding anything suitable and the two houses we toured that would have worked, just felt wrong to me. I don’t know how to explain that, but logical and analytical as I am, I also have a deep feeling side, and a house has to feel right. I trust that the Holy Spirit within me is powerful enough to get through even the densest person, so we prayed before we looked at each house, and I waited for peace to come when we would go inside, and no peace was coming.

We had to give our buyers an answer by last Saturday morning. We scoured our MLS listings, looked at houses for sale by owner, put an ad of our own out there, and even asked around. On Friday morning we saw three houses — all nice homes but not the ones. On Friday afternoon we saw a house we had seen before (and crossed off our list due to the seller not being able to come down on the price as much as we wanted), and decided to make a low offer on it. The house had everything we needed, but felt a little iffy because the decor is very Swedish/modern, and every stick of furniture and dish and doodad we own is more traditional. The owners of this very beautiful modern home accepted our lower offer, and by 9:00 p.m. on Friday, we had entered into a purchase agreement — just under the wire.

The house has beautiful views of Lake Superior, which Michael and I just love. It’s considerably smaller than what we have now, which will feel odd at first, but makes me very happy. Everything is on the main floor (except the basement — the basement is not on the main floor, the basement is on the basement floor) and has been lovingly cared for. The house passed inspection with flying colors, and now our current home will be inspected tomorrow. We’ll have to do the Clampett thing again, but this time for threeeeee hours. What are we going to do with all those people and all those dogs in the car for three hours? I’m open to suggestions, but if anyone suggests getting out of the car for long it won’t work. I’ll explain why another day — it has to do with being The Dog Owners of Shame.

If our house passes inspection, it looks like we might be moving at the end of May, but I’m not counting my chickens before they’re hatched. We have a good buyer for this house, we have a good house to move to, and we’ll know for certain if we’ll all be moving after the inspection on Friday.

It has seemed like such an eventful few weeks in other ways. I’ve been observing Lent, and have given up using my iPad during this time. I have occasionally missed playing Words With Friends, but I’ve been quite content to have my iPad rest in my underwear drawer for a season. I’ve been drinking in the Lenten readings from this book each day, and spending time meditating on what it means that Jesus bore my sins on the cross. My selfishness. My harsh words. My idolatry. I want the darkness of the days before Easter to envelop me, and I want the hope and triumph and amazing Love of Easter to shoot through me like never before. I am full of awe for His love these days, and the words thank you Lord seem so feeble and pale compared to what He deserves and what He has done.

Sara and I also decided to give up eating sugar together, and doing it with a buddy has been so helpful. It hasn’t been as intolerable as I thought, and I’m so grateful that the Lord has shown me yet again, that I can indeed live through something I thought might kill me. Woman Dies from Sugar Abstention will apparently not be a headline in our local paper any time soon.

Michael and I drove down to the Twin Cities recently for his appointment at The Struthers Parkinson’s Center, the best place in the Midwest for Parkinson’s treatment. Parkinson’s is a progressive disease and is not for cowards, and the news we received wasn’t the kind that gave us a warm and comfy feeling all over. His very compassionate and direct neurologist told us some things that were hard for us to hear. Some medication changes were prescribed, along with another medication for memory issues, and a stern warning about Michael driving was given. He isn’t driving right now, and will have to take a test soon, which will determine if any changes will come regarding his license.

After his appointment at Struthers, we checked in to our downtown Minneapolis hotel, and then walked several blocks in the blowing wind to Zelo’s Italian restaurant, which was excellent. I knew he needed time to process the changes that have to be faced whenever he sees the doctor. I asked Michael what he was feeling about his visit and he replied quietly, “I hated it.” But he is also one of the most gracious, patient men I know, and I know he will bear whatever comes with humility and trust in his Savior.

We held hands across the table and I told him again the things he already knew. I told him I would never forget what a faithful husband he has been, how he’s never even spoken of leaving, during the off and on challenging times in the early years of our marriage. I was (and guess I sometimes still am) a woman whose middle name could be Bossypants, Tina Fey notwithstanding. Michael has been steadfast and has loved me like no other person has ever loved me. So I looked into those huge, kind eyes of his and told him again what we both promised to each other in June of 1981, “I will never leave you. I will be here for better or for worse. In sickness and in health.” I assured him that whatever was ahead, we would deal with it together, and in the strength and love of the Lord. We would face whatever comes to us, with the grace that Jesus promises us for that day. I told him that just because we’re getting older and our earthly lives are being whittled down, doesn’t mean our lives can’t be rich and full of love. I told him how much I needed him. And I do. I need my husband. I need the unconditional love he has lavished on me for over 30 years. I need his warm presence beside me. He is part of me and I am part of him.

There’s more to share — there always is. But I’ve just looked at the clock and need to run upstairs and get ready for another drive to the Twin Cities today. One of our gals has a longish dental appointment and we’ll be leaving in a few minutes.

That’s what’s going on in our lives. What’s going on in yours?

I didn’t have a chance on Monday to post the seven things I’ve given away this week, as part of my efforts to donate 365 things in 2012, so here they are, a little late:

Five candles, some dusty fake roses in a vase of dusty fake water, and a tray from an old cash box I had years ago to use during garage sales.

It hasn’t been difficult at all to donate one thing per day, and I would highly recommend it!

Thank you for reading…

Having a daughter who’s a floral designer definitely has its perks. Every once in a while Sara will spend her own money and bring home an armful of flowers, and within an hour there are little pops of color and beauty in different parts of the house. She never tells me she’s done it, and I often find out after I’ve come home from errands and then notice the simple gatherings she’s placed here and there.

The grape hyacinths below are on our kitchen table, and were Sara’s recent gift to Michael, who loves flowers more than any man I know. Last week these were just green shoots, but in the last three days the blooms have come up are getting ready to burst open, and we get so much delight sitting at breakfast and inspecting the growth that takes place in just one day! (You can click the photos to enlarge them if you like.)

Carnations sometimes get a bad rap, and they aren’t used much at the shop where Sara works, but I’ve always loved the smell, and this big bunch of them is in our living room.

And here’s a smaller bunch in my office…

Boronia heather on a kitchen windowsill:

More carnations on the mantel…

And in the downstairs bathroom…

In the master bathroom is this peperomia plant with its odd blossoms poking upward…

I think if I were a flower, I would be a peperomia. Weird, not very colorful, sort of prickly, and always aiming upward.

I’ll bet there are some readers out there who might say they’re like daisies or roses or peonies.

If you were a flower, which one would you be, and why?