Meat, and Other Joys of Fall

It's nearly that time of the year again--leaves turning the color of pumpkins and pomegranates, the smell of cinnamon and spiced cider in the air, and unusual meat items.

Yes, you read that correctly. Meat. Along with being a weather weenie, my husband is a meat junkie. When we moved to England for a couple of years, we chose our house based on the fact that it was around the corner from a butcher's shop ("A real, live butcher--right here in the village! Brains, liver, tongue--anything!"). The butcher, by the way, became one of his favorite people, but more about that in a moment.

You see, I grew up with a frozen Butterball at Thanksgiving, a ham at Easter, a ham at Christmas (both of which were those oblong shaped red-wrapped hams that I'm pretty sure are first cousins to balogna), and hamburger or pot roast in between holidays. So, you can imagine my curiosity when last week I saw an E-bay receipt for a 35-pound bottle of peanut oil, only to find out it is for deep-frying a turkey (and anything else that has a surface, apparently). Fine. I'm pretty happy with most things with a greasy, crispy coating. At least it's an actual turkey, unlike the great "turkey loaf fiasco of '98" as I've come to call it.

My grandparents had kindly taken in a woman who, conveniently was a nurse and could help take care of them, and had no other place to live. Since before I can remember, my grandmother had hosted Thanksgiving dinner for all my cousins--turkey, stuffing, yams with apples and marshmallows, candy corn--the whole spread. Well, in an effort to help my grandma, this lady convinced her to simplify, and to cook something simpler. That something turned out to be a loaf of turkey parts, probably mostly meat shaped into a brick. Grandma died a few years ago, but I'm guessing she still hides behind the post of the pearly gates every time Thanksgiving rolls around and we remember that day, it's shock, it's horror, it's gnashing of teeth, and maybe even a little bit of fainting. We can laugh now whenever we tell the story.

We laugh too about the "Turducken." Yeah, that's pretty much what it sounds like--a turkey stuffed with a duck stuffed with a chicken, each with a layer of dressing in-between. Something my husband read about in the Wall Street Journal. "Did you know you can order these, and they'll ship them too your doorstep in dry ice?!" That they will. And there's nothing like dry ice in a pot of water to entertain your kids for the afternoon.

But to entertain my husband, meat is usually part of the picture. There's something about it that helps create memories--like our memories of England. At Christmas when the butcher posted a sign to order your Christmas goose early, you can guess who was first on the list. "It's like having a real Charles Dickens Christmas in England!" I had to admit, an English Christmas goose did sound a bit romantic. Until it came.

"Do you have any cash?" my husband asked when he walked in the door from the butcher. "I didn't actually ask how much the goose would cost--he said I could pay him the rest the next time I went in." About $120 later, we realized our Dickensian Christmas goose wouldn't fit in our tiny British oven. So, as any red-blooded American would do, we barbecued it on the grill. And you know what? That was the tastiest meat I've ever had! And a great memory, too.

So, while the rest of us are planning Halloween costumes and trick-or-treating routes, and maybe getting a jump on our Christmas shopping, my husband is conjuring up his next great meat feast. Let's just hope it doesn't start with "SP" and end with "AM." I'll keep you posted.

I Believe in Christ--Can't You Tell?

I sat in my car in my garage and cried this last week. I couldn't help it (and it wasn't because of the scattered balls and nerf guns and catapults and sawdust and Halloween decorations and popsicle wrappers all over--I let go of that a long time ago). It just became so personal when a prominent pastor proclaimed, in an attack against Mitt Romney, that Mormons aren't Christian. Now, if you've read my Moms for Mitt blog, you've seen me before defending his values and goodness as a person, not just his intelligence and expertise. But this time wasn't just about Mitt. It was about me.

I was struck again, not only by the misconceptions of so many people, but by my own example. I had to ask myself again, "Is the way I live a testimony of what I truly believe and to whom I am truly devoted?"

I'm adding a little excerpt from my other blog about some of these ideas:

"I can’t help but feel that when people say Mormons aren’t Christians it is just expressing their own ignorance. “Mormons” is just a nick-name. The actual name of the Church is The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, and if the name doesn’t give it away, all one has to do is look up LDS.org or Mormon.org on line, or better yet, ask a church member what they believe, to find out.

Ideally, the members’ belief and devotion to Jesus Christ is demonstrated in the way they live.Whether through the countless volunteer hours of Mormon Helping Hands service projects cleaning up neighborhood parks or building shelters and new homes after natural disasters, or through simple acts of kindness like making a meal for a sick neighbor or canning fruits and vegetables for the hungry and needy, these people strive to be Christ’s hands here on earth.

Along with donating 10% of their income for tithing, “Mormons” give a fast offering monthly to help those in financial need; they believe in the sanctity of marriage and family and practice sexual abstinence until after marriage; they don’t drink or smoke; they read scriptures daily and have an evening set aside every week for Family Night. “Mormons” attend church each Sunday, and as part of that they partake in the sacrament, renewing their covenant to take upon them the name of Jesus Christ—that means they always remember Him and try to do the things He would do if He were here.

Now, having said all that in an small attempt to clarify whether or not members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, “Mormons,” are Christian, I think about many of my neighbors and friends who are not Christians, but rather Jews, Muslims, Sikhs, Buddhists, etc.Many of these people are also very kind and generous. They give service whenever they can. They pray. They do things to strengthen their homes and families and the neighborhood. I don’t think it’s news to anyone that “Mormons” do not have a monopoly on “goodness.”Christians are not the only people with good, moral values.

So can we say that feeding the hungry is only worthwhile if a Christian is handing out the bread? Will a drink only quench thirst if offered by a Christian? Is clothing the naked only useful if a Christian gives the clothes? Would it be true that caring for the sick, the stranger, those imprisoned only counts if done by a Christian?

Goodness benefits everyone in society, no matter who offers it or who receives. Christ himself was no respecter of persons, meaning he loved all, no matter their religion, their culture, their spiritual status. Can we not do the same?"

I am determined, however, to take this latest misunderstanding and use it as an opportunity to re-commit myself to following my Savior, and stand as His witness at all times, in all things, and in all places. I want there to be no question in the way I live that I believe in Christ.