Making Fruitcake

Yesterday was the perfect Christmas Sunday. After attending early morning church we joined our daughter and watched the snow flurry outside the restaurant windows. Feeling festive, we returned home to build a fire, watch football, and ... make fruitcake. I know - go ahead and laugh. Everyone loves to share their fruitcake jokes. People make fun of us brave souls who proclaim that fruitcake holds a fond place in our heart each Christmas. We don't mind.
My mother made a dark fruitcake and steamed it in a pressure cooker. She then wrapped and stored them in a cool place until time for giving or serving. Delicious. I never quite figured out the use of a pressure cooker, so I have moved on from that recipe. But my Aunt Bea has been making a lighter version of fruitcake that has become popular with my family. It's full of cherries and fresh pecans and has a light lemon texture. I gave it to our minister one year and he liked it so much he recommended that the congregation be more open-minded about fruitcake....among many other things that we close our minds and hearts to in this life.
Making Fruitcake is labor intensive, especially the final part where you combine all of the ingredients. Sometimes I talk myself out of the effort. But this year I was pleased and a little taken aback when my husband said, "I want to help you make the fruitcake." I knew there was no getting out of it. And so as I creamed the butter and sugar, Mike chopped. When it came time to fold the egg whites into the fruit mixture - it was nice to have my man in the kitchen! I held the bowl and he folded the whites and fruit to a beautiful mixture. We had just enough for two loaf pans and two mini-loaves.
When the cakes were done, I popped those mini-fruitcakes right out of the pans to cool. Perfection. I popped one of the large ones out to cool. Perfection again - and proud. But the third fruitcake did not want to release. We put it back in the oven for a few minutes, and trying again, the fruitcake split down the middle and fell out of the pan in three pieces. Now, I have had that happen before and if you are quick enough, you can stick a fruitcake back together and no one ever knows - hehe! But yesterday I was not so lucky. I just happened to be standing beside of the sink, and as the cake erupted from the pan, one-third of it fell to its death and drowned in a sink of soapy water. No fixing! All those beautiful cherries and fresh pecans down the drain!
I have heard of people throwing out their fruitcake disasters and starting over - working until they have perfected the process. I was just about to do the same when my assistant watching the disaster, stepped up, burst out laughing, grabbed the remains and said, "Not to worry, we will still enjoy what we have left."
At the moment of crises in a kitchen, laughter is good medicine. You've worked hard, bought expensive ingredients and followed the recipe. You did everything right and you are disappointed when things fall apart. Sometimes, there is no fixing it. Sometimes, you simply have to be content and enjoy what you have salvaged from the disaster.
This Christmas, are you enjoying what you have? Is there laughter and a spirit of love in your home? Is there an aroma of fresh generosity and a spirit of hope? Making a fruitcake is one way to find out.
Aunt Bea's Fruitcake
Divide: 6 eggs, beating the whites until stiff and set aside
Cream: 1 lb. butter
2 cups sugar
6 egg yolks from above, added one at a time
Combine: 1 lb. raisins
1 cup candied pineaple
1 1/2 cups red cherries
1 1/2 cups green cherries
1 cup coconut
1 lb. pecans
4 cups four (1/2 cup of this mixed with fruit)
Add: fruit and flour to creamed mixture
Add: 1 2-oz. bottle lemon extract
1 tsp. grated fresh lemon rind
Fold: egg whites into fruit mixture
Bake: 1 large tube pan - 3 hours at 275 degrees.
2 loaf pans - 2 hours 30 minutes at 275.
(if using loaf pans, you will have enough for two mini-loaves which will bake in
just under hour - when top is light brown and tester comes out clean)

December Deception

Two days ago, I worked at the computer, fine tuning talks I will deliver during December and January. All day long I looked out at the rain and the wind blowing against my window. All day long I felt cold and shivery. But it is okay because it is December. Christmas is around the corner. A little snow mixed in with the rain would be just fine with me. Tis the season, right? But when I opened the door I was shocked to feel the warm air. It's wasn't cold outside. It was warm - like spring. In fact, I looked around in the garden and saw daffodils sticking their heads out of the ground. What is going on? Will winter ever really arrive? Have I missed out on my very favorite season?
This morning, looking outside from my same view, the sun is peeking through the trees and it looks warm. But I am not deceived! I have opened the door, stepped outside and it is bitterly cold. The ferns have crispy frozen fingers and the birds are quick to gather their breakfast and take cover.
Oftentimes things aren't always as they seem. We sit in our climate controlled homes and look through a window, thinking we can tell what is going on outside. We don't bother to go out and read the thermometer or spend some time in the elements. We just think we know the temperature because it just simply looks cold from our perspective. We are quick to judge. We shudder and turn away. And we stay behind our glassed-in walls.
Don't we do that to each other in our relationships? We observe from a distance and assume that this or that is the case. We form our own opinions and we keep the glass between us so we don't have to take action. We say, "OH, I am not going around her - or him. She's in a bad mood or he's irritable or she's not even nice. I can tell by the look on her face." And before we even give the person a chance - step into their world - we walk away from what could be an enjoyable encounter - all because we thought our own thoughts were correct. No matter that the person was thinking seriously about a project. No matter that the person was a million miles from the present and needed time to reenter and put on her "happy" face, her approachable face.
This Christmas, don't be deceived. The longing that each of us feel in our hearts is a longing for relationship. The Christmas encounters we engage in can be meaningful or Scrooge-like. It is our choice. We can quickly make up our mind that others are indifferent and really don't have time for us, so we beat them to the punch by deciding for ourselves how it will be - protecting our own egos. And most times we are wrong. We become the losers. We close ourselves away behind the glass walls and focus on ourselves, our fears, our insecurities. We have lost out on what we long for - a relationship. When relationship is nurtured, it can change our perspective; it can become an hour of great conversation, an afternoon together, a trusting friendship, and ultimately.....love.
Love comes at Christmas. It is what Jesus teaches us. Someone said the other day that the song most requested by adults is "Jesus Loves Me, This I know." And we think it is a song for only children. Love comes as a baby - fragile, new, needing care and attention. Love reaches out. Love grows up and takes on responsibilities. Love demostrates the ultimate, taking on pain and suffering. Love dies and rises to new life so that we might love and live too - forever. Love says, "Joy to the World, The Lord is Come!" And Heaven and Nature sing. No deception. No false assumptions. No glass walls. Just love.

On Being Sedulous

I filled the bird feeders today. Not surprisingly, my feathered friends have not yet discovered them, but I know they will return. I take the feeders down in the summer and insist that they sedulously pursue their own food, reminding them that they are, in fact, birds - not garden guests showing up for tasty tapas throughout the day. They must work for their livelihood through the summer, I tell them. And when the temperature drops enough to build the first fire in the fireplace, I surprise them with their fresh, winter course of seeds. Then I watch and wait for their return. I find myself looking out the window, hoping to catch the first glimpse of those who have been great friends in the past, expecting their return and looking forward to their company again.
Yesterday was a great example of that. My church remembered all those people who have gone on to Heaven this past year. Their names were read aloud and a candle was lit in their memory. We sang For All The Saints and remembered those who had lived a Godly life, proclaimed their faith and lived it daily. I shared a moment of friendship with a couple whose young son was on the list this year and I thought back two years when my own child's name was called out. Every year, there will be a list. Every year people will leave us - some young, some old, some tragically, some mercifully. Every year we will stand in remembrance and work our way to the final verse of that hymn that proclaims a glorious day when all the saints shall rise and together we will all see the King of Glory. I fully expect this one day.
In celebration of All Saint's Day, I was honored to be invited to sign copies of When God Comes Near. As the people came with books in their hands, my heart silently prayed for the one who would soon be reading my story. As I talked to each person briefly, I learned that some were going to be mailed to parents, some were going to friends or children, some were for personal healing and hope. Each person trusted that the words written in When God Comes Near will encourage and lighten someone's heavy load. I pray for that to happen with every book that sells.
And more and more I wonder how it is we can carry those heavy loads. I think it must have something to do with bird watching! Did not Job say "Just ask the birds of the air and they will teach you"? I know I will see them at the feeder soon. But in the meantime, I must make preparations. I must wash that feeder, hang it securely, and fill it up with desirable food. I, like the birds, must be sedulous in the feeding of my own soul with reminders of God's love for me and others. I must be diligent through the ease of sunny days so that when the winter winds come, I will have the skills in place to survive. And God is a faithful "soul feeder" with an endless supply of love. I can always find Him ready and willing to feed me - winter, spring, summer, or fall. But why does God do that? We move through these seasons of nature and life and maybe even at times wonder "Moving to what? Moving where? And what am I doing to get wherever it is I am going? And does it even matter?" Why does God sustain me? Isn't it for that "day when all the saints shall rise and together we will all see the King of Glory?" And I thought it was all about me.

Smoky Mountain Season

The drive from Kentucky to Georgia offers several routes. One is mostly interstate, cities, trucks and traffic. One is a scenic four-lane highway through rolling countryside. And if you are not in a hurry, one is through the majestic Smoky Mountains, touristy, and worth the congestion. That is the route we took returning to Atlanta. We counted as two of the 9,000,000 people who visit the park every year who: picnic beside the rolling, chilly streams; hike on trails padded by pine needles and flanked by woodland ferns; and gaze at smoky vistas that take your breath away. No wonder it is one of the most visited parks in the country.
In 1900, nearly 70 percent of the current park had been devastated by the logging industry. Seeing that a beautiful part of our country was about to be destroyed, great efforts were made by individuals to buy and preserve the land and in 1920, the government started making efforts to buy up the land. In 1934 Congress established the Great Smoky Mountain National Park, and now almost 100 years later, the park encompasses over 500,000 acres of land - always in transition, always under the watchful eye of forest rangers and environmentalists, and always returning with new growth, new splendor, new life.
We stopped only long enough to get a sandwich for our picnic before heading into the park to find a roadside stop. Everyone else had the same idea, so we backed our car in, put down the tailgate and sat, munching on our lunch, admiring the view. I offered to take a picture for the people next to us. They were locals and I asked them about the huge volume of dead evergreen trees in the forest. They explained that a little bug had infested the Firs and Balsams and was destroying the forest. They said they would probably all be gone in the next 10 years. I wanted to cry.
As we drove out of the Smokies, I cherished those tall remaining trees, standing majestic among their fallen neighbors. I could not help but wonder what was being done to save them. I have learned that since the discovery in 1963 of the trouble maker insect - the balsam woolly adelgid - studies are ongoing to monitor and preserve the forest. Researchers are discovering that some of the firs are resisting the trouble-maker and saplings are re-appearing. Lush ferns are replenishing barren soil where the trees formerly prevented light. New life is appearing.
I remembered an earlier trip to Wyoming after some devastating forest fires and one scene comes back vividly. The forest beside of us was burned black. But if you looked closely, you could see a moose with her calf among the tree trunks. They were feeding on lush green growth at the base. Around them were vibrant wild flowers. New life and growth was bursting forth.
Our lives are very much like a forest. In a perfect world, we would have just the right amount of rain and sunshine and something like a balsam wooly adelgid would not exist. We would co-exist with others in a friendly environment where we complemented and nurtured those around us. Nothing would fight against us or seek to destroy. Our lives would be lush and productive. We would all live like The Three Bears in the forest, happily ever after.
Oh, how I wish it were so. Oh, how I wish there were remedies for deadly insects, deadly diseases, forest fires, and disasters of every kind. Today's falling leaves remind me that it is all for just a season. New growth will occur. One day disease and death will be no longer. We must wait. And while we wait, we can live in the hope of it happening. This is just a season.
My friend gave me a pie plate that quotes Ecclesiastes, " To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven." She lives daily with Multiple Sclerosis, waiting in the hope of a disease-free world. I wait with her. This is just a season.

The Homecoming

I mentally envision it being something like the old-fashioned Homecoming that I would attend with my family in Kentucky. The date would be set and everyone was invited who had moved away. It would be a day to return to rekindle special friendships, share a meal, sing some songs, and remember those who had gone on to Heaven. Children would be more grown-up. Newly weds would have babies. Some would look older. Some never changed. My father especially loved the fact that the best dishes from every home would arrive for the noonday meal. One year was special - my parent's church celebrated their 100-year anniversary. My mother made herself a long, turn-of-the-century dress with a hat to match. She labored over pictures and displays with other women of the church so that all who returned to celebrate could look at their lives with a fresh glimpse of the past. They would be glad that they had attended.
This Sunday, I will return to the church in Atlanta where Mike and our family attended for 20+ years. It is not "Homecoming" at the church - I guess those have gone out of style. There won't be picture albums or my mother's lemon meringue pies ( I wish!), but it will be a homecoming for me. I will walk into the beautiful sanctuary where my three children were baptized. I will admire the beautiful crystal chandelier and the serene white of the entire sacred place. I will see people I know and love. It will be like home. And I will share with those who attend the beautiful story of Megan, our oldest daughter who is one who has already "gone home."
I find it so appropriate to be invited to return to the church that taught her so well. Through Sunday School and mission trips, youth group and worship, Megan fell in love with Jesus at Second Ponce de Leon Baptist Church. Who could not fall in love as Miss Connie, an elderly, beloved Sunday School teacher would greet every child on Sunday by taking their hand and holding each finger spell out L-O-V-E- love? Who could keep from loving the antics of those crazy youth group directors? And who could not feel loved by the many who came alongside my child to encourage her to grow in God's love?
It is out of gratitude for all that was done for my children and our family that I return to speak this Sunday. Oh, it might be a little emotional for me to walk through the doors again - remember all the special times we shared as a family of five. Maybe it will be a closeness I feel - of knowing that those who have gone home are waiting for us to come to them. I don't know, but I would like to invite you to be there with us as we launch the book, When God Comes Near.
Second-Ponce de Leon Baptist Church
2715 Peachtree Road in Buckhead at the corner of Peachtree and Wesley
4:30 p.m. in the Sanctuary
This event is open to the community, so please come and invite a friend to join you!
When God Comes Near will be available for purchase ($16 per copy). Marcia will speak, read excerpts from her book, and answer audience questions in the Second-Ponce Sanctuary starting at 4:30 p.m., followed by a book signing and reception in the Fellowship Hall.

The book arrived last week. I can hold it. I can turn the pages. I can look on Amazon and see it advertised. It is all very solemn. I look at my name on the cover and wonder about the author. I admire the beautiful jacket cover. No, the figure is not Megan or me. The path is not Megan's Path. But it is symbolic of a path we all must walk one day - a path that is long and just wide enough for one, maybe two.
When God Comes Near - Waiting in the Miracle of His Presence is the name that took hold and stayed the course of the writing. It is a name put together from thoughts of friends, ideas from books, and personal reflections of the journey. It is what we did - we waited and waited on God. He came near, stayed with us, said "no" to our pleading for Megan's miracle of healing, gently loving us through her untimely death. That "no" is not easily accepted. That "no" is still painful. That "no" has to be dealt with every day in our minds and hearts.
Had I stayed with the "no" of God's answer, there would be no When God Comes Near because I would never have seen the life He offered me as he allowed Megan to come to Him. I guess now I can say God intended for me to write about it. As I mentioned a few weeks ago, I could have stayed with my grief, consoling myself, angry, miserable, and unable to see any of the light that was always shining through my pain. That would have been me saying "no" to God. Had I stayed with the "no" there could be no transformation of suffering into honey. There could be no movement through grief, experiencing the stages, stumbling, moving, backsliding, crawling on through.
As I write in the Acknowledgements, it takes more than one person to write a book. I could put so many names above mine. As I look back, every time I was about to give up on the project, someone would come forward, take it out of my hands, offer their contribution, and hand it back to me, pulling me up from the "sea of despair." I now look at the finished product and marvel at what great people surround me! I am the luckiest woman in the world. I am grateful and blessed.
And now, you can purchase this book that you lived. Although, many of you have read my journal entries, I think as you read the 12 chapters, you will read an important story told from start to finish. It takes on new dimension in story form. It is for sale on Amazon for $19.99. You can order it from me for $16.00 plus tax and shipping. The easiest way to do that is to email me at marciagaddis@gmail.com and we will do business. I won't be working until next Tuesday, so give me a few days to process orders. Just be sure to provide the name of the person who will be receiving it. The book is also for sale at the Dogwood Shop at Peachtree Road United Methodist Church in Atlanta. Signed copies are available for $19.99 and a percentage of that sale will go to outreach ministries.
My website (www.marciagaddis.com) designer read the book and said, "You took me to your darkest places and brought me through victoriously."
I never wanted to go to those dark places. That we could be brought through victoriously is a miracle. I am living proof
I hope you will read it and let me know what you think.

Tribute To Megan

The following was sent to me yesterday. It was Megan's birthday and this was written three years ago by an 18-year-old friend of Megan. With her permission, I share with you:


"There is a person who has been a part of my life since I was born. Her name is Megan. Megan is 26 years old and has been my neighbor, my babysitter and my friend all of my life. I have been thinking a lot about Megan lately, despite the hectic pace of my life as I begin my senior year in high school. As I run during Cross Country practice each day, as I make college visits, start college applications, do my homework – whatever I am doing, often, my thoughts are on Megan.

Megan has recently been diagnosed with Creutzfeldt-Jakob Disease (CJD). Last Spring, while Megan was at our house, she told us that she had been unusually forgetful lately. She had recently been involved in two minor traffic accidents and, as she left our house that day, realized that she had locked her keys in her car. Since I have known Megan, she has always had an amazing work ethic. At that time, she was teaching elementary school full time, working on Saturdays in a book store and was house sitting and babysitting many evenings and weekends. Like her family doctor, we all thought she was doing too much and needed to take a vacation. As her symptoms progressed, Megan was tested for brain tumors, Multiple Sclerosis and other diseases. Everytime we got word that the tests were negative, we breathed a sigh of relief. We did not know that we would look back and wish those tests had been positive because, in most cases, there is some kind of treatment for those conditions. There is no treatment for CJD. The website says it plainly: “The disease in invariably fatal.” The typical time from onset until death is twelve months.

It is hard to face the fact that Megan may not be here on this earth when I graduate next Spring. Or she may be gone when I enter college. I have always thought the word “heartbreaking” is a melodramatic, outdated, useless word. I don’t feel that way anymore.

Sometimes when I think about Megan, I realize how lucky I am to be alive and healthy – something I never thought about before. Especially during this year of my life when my friends and I are all focusing on the next step in our futures, we never consider that the next years could be taken from us. We never stop to think that we won’t graduate, go to college, graduate again and go on. As busy as we all are getting ready for the future, who has time to enjoy a single day, an hour, a moment?

Other times, I think about all of the prayers I have said for Megan, all of the ones I continue to say. I have asked God for Megan’s full and complete recovery. From what I have learned about CJD, “invariably fatal” means that my prayers will not be answered. There is no one I know that deserves to live more than Megan. She is young, kind, intelligent, compassionate. She doesn’t drive fast, drink, take drugs – she teaches little kids in a low income school and asks us and all of her friends for donations of used clothes, books, computers for her students and their families. Why can’t our prayers for her be answered?

My family has spent some time these last months remembering all of the fun we have had with Megan over the years. When my sister and I were little, Megan would get every blanket and sheet out of the linen closet and build forts for us in our basement, despite my mom’s grumbling about the mess. She would create board games for us on poster boards, bake cakes with us, watch movies and play make believe with us. My parents would always call Megan on their way home when Megan was babysitting because Megan never got us to go to sleep when she was with us. My parents wanted a break from putting us to bed when Megan babysat but they never got one because we were having too much fun to go to bed.

As I grew older, Megan would come and stay with me whenever my parents went out of town. We would still bake cakes and watch movies, we would do something creative like paint pottery or bead jewelry. While we were together, we talked. Megan is a great person to get advice from. She really listens and she relates to what I am going through. She is not the person to take things too seriously or too lightly. Through the years, she has shown me that everyone has problems at times and most of them work themselves out if you do your best to be a good person. Megan told my sister and me about the times she embarrassed herself, the times her friends seem to turn against her, the times her sister and brother were annoying her, the times her parents didn’t have a clue about her life. All of those experiences had a very familiar ring to them.

I’m not sure I can identify all of the things I have learned from Megan. I think I will probably be discovering ways she has affected me for the rest of my life. There is no question that the diagnosis of her CJD has changed me. I will pause now and then during this busy year and be grateful that I am alive as I pray again for Megan. Problems that come up this year will be put in a different perspective. I will do my best to be a good person and try to be patient as problems work themselves out or fade in importance. As I continue through life, I will try to be creative and helpful like Megan has been throughout her life. I will try to be an example to a younger person as Megan has been – and will be my whole life – to me.

The last time I saw Megan, she hugged me and gave me a huge smile. She couldn’t remember many words so she didn’t say much, but I showed her pictures from my week at a Young Life camp in Colorado. She smiled and nodded her head and listened to me, as she has all of my life. I hope I showed her how much she means to me. I hope she knows."