Once in a while I post a song here on the blog that’s meaningful to me. This is one of those songs. It’s on Amy Grant’s newest CD release called Somewhere Down the Road.

The song is called Better Than A Hallelujah and I keep playing it over and over because the lyrics are profound and so comforting to me these days. I hope you can take the time to read the lyrics (below) as you listen, and that the song blesses you in some way.

The song is sung by Amy, but written by Chapin Hartford and Sarah Hart.

God loves a lullaby in a mother’s tears in the dead of night
Better than a hallelujah sometimes
God loves a drunkard’s cry, the soldier’s plea not to let him die
Better than a hallelujah sometimes

We pour out our miseries, God just hears a melody
Beautiful the mess we are, the honest cries of breaking hearts
Are better than a hallelujah

A woman holding on for life, a dying man giving up the fight
Are better than a hallelujah sometimes
Tears of shame for what’s been done
The silence when the words won’t come
Are better than a hallelujah sometimes

We pour out our miseries, God just hears a melody
Beautiful the mess we are, the honest cries of breaking hearts
Are better than a hallelujah

Better than a church bell ringing, better than a choir singing out, singing out

We pour out our miseries, God just hears a melody
Beautiful the mess we are, the honest cries of breaking hearts
Are better than a hallelujah

¹ The LORD is my light and my salvation—
whom shall I fear?
The LORD is the stronghold of my life—
of whom shall I be afraid?

² When evil men advance against me
to devour my flesh,
when my enemies and my foes attack me,
they will stumble and fall.

³ Though an army besiege me,
my heart will not fear;
though war break out against me,
even then will I be confident.

⁴ One thing I ask of the LORD,
this is what I seek:
that I may dwell in the house of the LORD
all the days of my life,
to gaze upon the beauty of the LORD
and to seek him in his temple.

⁵ For in the day of trouble
he will keep me safe in his dwelling;
he will hide me in the shelter of his tabernacle
and set me high upon a rock.

⁶ Then my head will be exalted
above the enemies who surround me;
at his tabernacle will I sacrifice with shouts of joy;
I will sing and make music to the LORD.

⁷ Hear my voice when I call, O LORD;
be merciful to me and answer me.

⁸ My heart says of you, “Seek his face!”
Your face, LORD, I will seek.

⁹ Do not hide your face from me,
do not turn your servant away in anger;
you have been my helper.
Do not reject me or forsake me,
O God my Savior.

¹⁰ Though my father and mother forsake me,
the LORD will receive me.

¹¹ Teach me your way, O LORD;
lead me in a straight path
because of my oppressors.

¹² Do not turn me over to the desire of my foes,
for false witnesses rise up against me,
breathing out violence.

¹³ I am still confident of this:
I will see the goodness of the LORD
in the land of the living.

¹⁴ Wait for the LORD;
be strong and take heart
and wait for the LORD.

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The LORD is close to the brokenhearted
and saves those who are crushed in spirit.

Psalm 34:18

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I hope your Easter was a special day touched in some way by the love of friends, family, and God. Easter reminds me that with Jesus there’s always hope, no matter how occasionally hopeless things might seem. Not only did Jesus rise from the dead, but His resurrection power can bring other dead things to life. Dead hearts, dead relationships, dead people – nothing is too difficult for Him.

We went to church where we could hardly find a place to sit, so our family had to sit two here, three here, two here, etc. Then we came home and started the food preparation for our Easter dinner. Later on in the day the grandbabies had a good time searching the big yard for candy-filled eggs.

My son-in-law Chris was in charge of the ham. I’ve always been so ho-hum about ham (that sounds like the title of a book – Ho-hum About Ham) until I try the baked hams that Chris prepares. He rubs some stuff on the ham, puts it in the oven in a roaster for 90 minutes, and then it invariably turns out so scrumptious that I rave about how ham is my new favorite meat. Then in a few days I’m back to being ho-hum about ham, until the next time Chris makes a ham and I’ll be all wound up about it again.

My daughter Sharon made roasted fresh asparagus, which I had never eaten. I could have written an essay entitled Ambivalent About Asparagus, but after tasting this, I have changed my tune on a food once again. Sharon also made spring-like desserts: homemade lemon squares and made-from-scratch carrot cake, the latter of which I am enjoying while typing this blog post.

Sharon and her middle child Mrs. Nisky made their famous Nisky’s Biscuits as well. Nisky’s Biscuits have two ingredients, two, and they are the flakiest, tastiest biscuits ever. Have you ever made delicious biscuits with 1) Self-rising flour and 2) whipping cream? Neither have I. I will be making them soon, however, because Nisky’s Biscuits are easy and yummy.

I made my favorite salad, Panzanella, that’s the most wonderful salad I’ve ever tasted and that is no exaggeration. If you want to make something that everyone will rave about and will require you to have printed copies of the recipe nearby each time you serve it, go to the Food Network’s site and check out The Barefoot Contessa’s recipe for Panzanella.

I also made a staple that I’ve been making for at least twenty-six and a quarter years: Stuffed Baked Potatoes. Many of you probably make your own version of these, but I’ve been surprised lately to hear of enough people who’ve never made these, so I thought I’d share. Stuffed Baked Potatoes are easy and most people think they’re fancy and delectable. I make them at least twice a month – they’re a nice change from regular baked or mashed potatoes.

Sharon took the photos of my Easter journey through Stuffed Baked Potatoland, and I hope you’ll try them and let me know how they turned out for you.

You will need large baking potatoes, cheese (I used colbyjack but you could use cheddar, jack, pepper jack, whatever), blue cheese dressing, parmesan cheese, butter, green onions, and McCormick Salad Supreme.

First, bake your potatoes. I have two ovens, which comes in very handy on holidays. I baked my large baking potatoes in the smaller upper oven (you can see the pizza stone I store there) while the not-so-ho-hum ham was cooking in the larger oven below.

While your potatoes are baking, take some green onions and chop them up pretty fine. I used about 4-5 onions. One nice thing about this recipe is that you can just put in as much or as little of everything as you like. Experiment with the flavors and adjust as you go. You’ll see how I did that later. I use the green and the white of the green onions. Some people call them scallions but I never have. Maybe one of you can tell us why they’re called scallions – is it a regional thing? I don’t care as much for that name because it reminds me of the word scallywag, and the word scallywag reminds me of a certain person that I would prefer not to be reminded about when I’m making Stuffed Baked Potatoes.

This next part is important. Have all your ingredients ready in a bowl while your potatoes are baking, because it’s the heat of the baked potatoes that will cause everything to melt together nicely. Below you can see that I tossed in about two heaping cups of grated colbyjack cheese. We were feeding a lot of people on Easter.

Next, I added about 3/4 cup of blue cheese dressing and about 3/4 cup of Parmesan cheese. You could use less or more of either ingredient. I happen to love blue cheese dressing so I put in a lot. Maybe it was even closer to a cup of blue cheese dressing.

If you look closely now, you can see that the first potato is in there (I’ll get to that in a minute) and I also threw in about 3/4 of a stick of butter. This is Easter, so don’t worry about fat grams. You could worry about that the day after Easter. Oh wait – Easter is already past. Well, don’t worry about things anyway.

Now I just started to mash things together a little bit. My potatoes were done baking. I smooshed things around with the fork while my daughter took photos with her very nice camera that she uses on her very nice website for her very nice yarn business.

When the potatoes are done, I take them out one by one, hold them in an oven mitted hand, and gently cut them in half, taking care not to ruin my beautiful oven mitts.

I take a large spoon, and while cradling the hot potato in my mitt (please try not to notice the holes in my mitt) I gently scoop out the very hot potato innards.  I try not to ruin the skin, but sometimes it happens. See how there’s very little left of the innards? Then you can just set these forlorn looking skins on a baking sheet.

And they will look like this. Sort of like sad spudwaifs.

Because I have made this recipe hundreds of times, I can tell by looking if it’s what we’ll like. I could see after smooshing and mashing that for the number of people we were going to feed, we needed to add another handful of cheese. Just stir and mash with a fork until the hot potato innards have melted most of everything, and until you don’t have any clumps of unmashed potato left. If you do, that’s okay though. Potato clods never hurt anyone.

Now you can take your holey mitts off and start to fill the empty potato skins. The mixture will be cooled off enough to use your hands. Grab a few globs of cheesy goodness and press them into the potato skins.

Make sure you delicately lift your little finger as you do it, as a polite Englishwoman would do when sipping her afternoon tea. I’m not sure why this important, but just take my word for it.

When you have enough in a skin, it will look like this:

Not too much – just a little mound of the potato/cheese mixture will do.

You can find this product in the spices aisle at your grocery store. I’ve used it for years for just this one dish, and it adds color, great flavor and interest. It’s supposed to be for salads and pasta and I’ve never used it on either. Just on my Stuffed Baked Potatoes. (When McCormick comes out with a new product called McCormick Stuffed Baked Potato Topping, maybe then I’ll try it on my salads and pasta.)

Here are all the potato halves, stuffed with that delicious cheesy mixture, sprinkled conservatively with the Salad Supreme, and lined up ready to go back into the oven. If you lean to the left politically, then you could be a liberal sprinkler. For the most part I’m a conservative sprinkler.

I then bake them at about 375 or 400 degrees (I can’t remember which) until they get hot all the way through, maybe about fifteen minutes or so. Then about five minutes before I’m ready to serve my Stuffed Baked Potatoes, I turn on the broiler and begin to watch them carefully. I want them to get just a little bit darker and start to bubble. You could let them get browner than this if you like – just keep an eye on them.

Above, I took them out and thought they needed another two minutes under the broiler. Here’s the final result below:

And they are all gone.

These also freeze really well, reheat really well, taste good the next day for leftovers, and some people even like them packed in their lunches.

How do you fix your Stuffed Baked Potatoes?

Sharon and I were talking about all the variations that would be good with these – bacon bits, broccoli, rosemary, and a few other things I can’t remember now. What else would you add to your Stuffed Baked Potatoes?

Let me know if you try them.  Have a wonderful week…

Michael and I flew to Nashville last week to visit my older brother Larry, his wife Christy and their daughter Savannah. I hadn’t seen my big brother for a couple of years, since my father’s funeral in California, and it had been several years since I’d seen Christy and Savannah, so I was very excited about being with them all again.

After landing in Nashville we rented a car and drove to their five-acre spread outside of Camden, TN, not far from the Tennessee River. Even though it was in between seasons and most of the trees were leafless, we could see how gorgeous their acreage is and how meticulously Larry keeps it. He has planted so many fruit trees, half of their land looks like an orchard that Anne of Green Gables would love to stroll through. They have well-placed cedars on the front of the property, and it takes Larry two whole days on a riding lawn mower to cut the grass. They have grapevines and cranberry bushes. Christy spends months picking, canning, preserving, drying and freezing the bounty of what they’ve planted. I could tell this is the kind of life my husband would have loved if we had owned more acreage ourselves.

Below is a photo (all the photos can be enlarged by clicking on them) of Larry, Christy and Savannah:

My brother Larry is fifteen years older than I, and by the time I was four years old he had moved out of our home in Southern California. So my memories of him are sparse, but good. He treated me like a cute little sister he was happy to dote on, and I remember being so proud of my big brother when he would take me riding in his candy-apple green, fast Corvette. When I was about five, he took me to the beach a few times on brother and sister dates, and along the way he would stop at a favorite roadside stand where they made date milkshakes. I used to think that if I sat up high on my folded beach towel in the bucket seat next to him, people would think I was his girlfriend rather than his little sister. It didn’t occur to me that my five-year old face would give me away. 🙂

While we were in Tennessee, Larry decided he would take me on a brother/sister date, forty-seven years after our SoCal beach dates. He showed me around the little town where they live, and our first stop was here, at the tiny US Post Office where they get their mail.

After we drove around the beautiful, hilly Tennessee countryside, seeing the wide river and the great places to camp and fish, Larry took me to their local Sonic Drive-In, a blast-from-the-past kind of drive-in I had never visited. Larry and I sat in the car and had lunch together, talked over the last years of our lives, and then I had a yummy Strawberry Limeade.

Below is a picture of one of my favorite people on the planet. This is my sister-in-law Christy, hardworking, steadfast, hysterically funny, warm and loving, prayerful, nurturing and trustworthy, and she truly feels like the sister I never had. (I have another sister-in-law in California named Debbie who fits this same description, and hopefully someday I’ll be able to spend some with her too).

I think Christy and I would be the best of friends if we lived closer to one another. I think she thought this was reasonable…if she didn’t, she hid it well.  🙂  On the dog bed is their sweet pooch Pinocchio, whom they mostly call Pokey.

This is me and Christy, joined at the hip. And the head.

The noble Pokey.

One of many cats on their property (two inside cats and several outside cats). This is Big, Beautiful Faith.

I was quite struck by many of the houses in rural Tennessee. It’s an area of much poverty where the median annual income doesn’t reach $20,000. Even though many of these buildings look dilapidated, they each had their own form of dignity, silently speaking of the years of history they held.

An old barn down the road from Larry’s, still in use.

Another barn.

A family home near the above pictured barns.

My dear niece Savannah is twenty-one and a Junior at Murray State in Kentucky. She was home for the days we visited, and just endeared herself to me all the more. She is an award-winning dulcimer player, and as she played I could have fallen asleep, the music was so soothing and peaceful. She loves the Lord and has a passion for Him and for people that I have no doubt God will use mightily.

Savannah and her mama have a close relationship and I heard several funny stories of their “slap wars,” (don’t ask) and of how years ago Christy told Savannah that her name wasn’t Savannah Kate as she had thought, but Savannah Gate. Poor Savannah was stunned, and called her friend up and told her that all these years she had thought her name was Savannah Kate and it was really Savannah Gate. Christy let her think that for a day or two. You would have to know them to see how funny this is. I couldn’t stop laughing.

In teeny, tiny Tennessee towns, they apparently hold their rabies vaccination clinics in church parking lots. If you look closely enough, you can see people with their dogs, lined up for their shots at reduced rates, without the hassle of a vet clinic visit. See the beautiful blooms on the trees?

We were also privileged on this trip to spend time with Larry’s son (and my nephew) Eric, who flew from Washington state to be with us all. It had been over thirty years since we’d seen him, and his visit was a much-anticipated event, a huge blessing to us all. In the photo below, from left to right, is my husband Michael, my niece Savannah, my nephew Eric, and my almost-sister Christy. The Tennessee mornings were full of birdsong, soft breezes and warm sun. I can’t even tell you how restful it was for us.

In northeastern Minnesota where we live, cardinals are few and far between. You feel like you’ve been kissed by God to even lay eyes on one. In western Tennessee, flocks of cardinals can be easily seen, and here is one in a cranberry bush of Christy’s.

The Three Stooges. Michael, Larry and Eric.

Another glimpse of history:

While we were there, we were fed frequent and abundant meals fit for a waddling king. One night we had a great time playing Apples and Oranges, and yours truly won by a long shot. Simple memories are often the best, don’t you agree?

On our last day there, we all met for breakfast in the motel Michael and I stayed in. Aside from scrambled eggs, sausage links, various juices, bagels, toast, muffins and coffee, they had a crockpot full of cream gravy and fresh fluffy biscuits to smother. Very southern! Very yummy. Larry bought flowers for “the three women in his life,” and below you can see me, my big brother, and my beloved husband.

Michael, Savannah and moi.

Here are the three women in Larry’s life:

I was surprised by the depth of my emotions when it was time for Michael and me to drive to Nashville to catch our flight home. I hugged everyone goodbye and just bawled. These dear ones are all a part of my family, and I don’t know when I’ll see them again. We are hoping that Savannah (and maybe Grandma Dorothy!) can come visit us this summer. I’m so thankful we were able to make this trip.

On another note, today is my husband’s sixty-first birthday and I’ll be making him a Bundt pound cake with my mom’s peanut butter and chocolate frosting on it – his request. Then tonight he and I will go to The Texas Roadhouse for dinner, just the two of us.

Today is also Good Friday, and my mind is on what our Savior experienced centuries ago, for anyone who will see their need and believe. I wish you all a blessed Easter.

He is risen indeed….

“I wish you would make up your mind, Mr. Dickens. Was it the best of times or was it the worst of times? It could scarcely have been both.”
(oh yes, it could….)

New Yorker cartoon caption

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I am short on time for updating my blog decently, but I will jot a few highlights from the month of March. Some are good, some a bit challenging, but isn’t that life?

Michael and I flew to Tennessee to spend time with my oldest brother and his family. Photos and details to follow sometime soon.

My daughter Sharon’s yarn business is up and running in our neck of the woods, after she and her family moved here from Maryland four weeks ago.

I hurt my back hefting luggage and it’s bad enough to put me in bed several times a day. 🙁

March is our snowiest month and as of this writing there is no snow on the ground and will be in the fifties and sixties this week.

My daughter Carolyn comes over to cheerfully help me twice a week and I don’t know what I’d do without her.

I have a meat loaf in the crockpot.

Our Girl Scout cookies were delivered last night.

I’m reading Same Kind of Different As Me out loud to Michael.

Michael sees a surgeon this week about a rotator cuff tear in his shoulder.

Sara is on her way to Minneapolis with two friends where tomorrow they will catch a plane to New York, New York.

I have Minnesota Public Radio playing softly on the house intercom.

I bought a book at the Nashville International Airport that boasts, “once you have read it, you’ll want to tell your friends about it.” So far, not so much.

They make Birkenstocks big enough for men with size 14 feet.

I expect to feel improved enough to go to Community Bible Study tomorrow.

I saw almost a dozen cardinals all together in one Tennessee tree last week.

Our monthly SAGs meeting is tomorrow night at a new Japanese restaurant downtown.

I am flying to Dayton, OH next week.

I am going to try to tackle my paperwork by doing one hour per day.

I need to go make rice pilaf, dish up dinner for the multitudes, then bring out the Ibuprofen again.

Soon I will have a wonderful guest blogger writing a post for you all.

I need to update my blog.

What are a few of your March highlights?

Sometimes old hymns say best what the soul needs to proclaim.

My hope is built on nothing less
Than Jesus’ blood and righteousness.
I dare not trust the sweetest frame,
But wholly trust in Jesus’ name.

On Christ the solid Rock I stand,
All other ground is sinking sand;
All other ground is sinking sand.

When darkness seems to hide His face,
I rest on His unchanging grace.
In every high and stormy gale,
My anchor holds within the veil.

His oath, His covenant, His blood,
Support me in the whelming flood.
When all around my soul gives way,
He then is all my Hope and Stay.

When He shall come with trumpet sound,
Oh may I then in Him be found.
Dressed in His righteousness alone,
Faultless to stand before the throne.

On Christ the solid Rock I stand,
All other ground is sinking sand;
All other ground is sinking sand.

Words by Edward Mote, Music by William Bradbury

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“God does not give us overcoming life; He gives life as we overcome. The strain is the strength. If there is no strain there is no strength. Are you asking God to give you life and liberty and joy? He cannot, unless you will accept the strain. Immediately you face the strain, you will get the strength.”

Oswald Chambers, My Utmost for His Highest

What can almost thirty years do to a person? I’ll tell you.

Almost thirty years can line the face and sag the skin. Almost thirty years can dim the eyes and thin the hair. That many years can wear away at the joints and stiffen the back. Almost three decades can steal the sense of smell, shrivel up the estrogen factories and turkey the neck. Almost thirty years can make sounds seem softer, turn stretch marks to silver, pad the hips, flap the thighs and build the butt. The passage of time can crook the fingers, flatten the feet, disturb the sleep and make the memory a sieve.

1981 - our wedding day in CA

2009 - on a weekend trip in Grand Marais

 But I’ll tell you what else almost thirty years can do.

Almost thirty years can bring marital comfort, especially if one of the people in the marriage is patient and faithful and an example of Jesus’s love.  The passage of time can result in adult children who turn into wonderful friends. It can bring grandchildren who almost burst the heart with love. That many years can refine friendships and remove petty misunderstandings, bringing joy and encouragement.

Almost thirty years can put a better set of lenses in front of the eyes, giving one a more eternal perspective. The passage of time can devalue things that we used to think were necessary, and make priceless those things we used to pay almost no mind to.

Nearly three decades can loosen the grasp on mammon, weaken the clinging to this earth, and sharpen our longing for heaven. The passage of time can fling open the doors of giving and bring contentment with very few possessions. Almost thirty years can fill the heart to the brim with love for all the people in your life, and wrench the heart with agony when those you love are hurting. The passage of time reduces the things you think are crucial to happiness to about five things.

Almost thirty years can bring about a lot of change in a life.