Dear Lily Willow,

Mashed potatoes and macaroni and cheese. Neither of these foods are frequent in my diet, but the week I conceived you, that’s all I ate. For an entire week, Daddy took me out for mashed potatoes and macaroni and cheese. I was too nauseated to cook. After four weeks of symptoms similar to ovarian cancer, I was certain I’d developed late stage ovarian cancer. Mommy has PCOS. You’ll learn a lot about that as you grow up, especially because you have an increased risk due to genetics. But, that night, after dinner out, I desperately asked Daddy to take me to buy a pregnancy test on the way home. I didn’t expect to be pregnant; I just wanted to rule out everything before seeing a doctor. Back at home, I went into the bathroom, closed the door, and nervously completed the test. Anxious, I covered the test to keep me from staring at it. Daddy knocked on the door and asked if I was ok. Finally the three hours, er, three minutes was up, and there were two thin pink lines. Pregnant. Positive. I was stunned. After I recovered from the shock, I screamed, “Rudy!!! It says positive!” We were so happy we cried.

Those symptoms weren’t ovarian cancer, but you, Lily. God placed a beautifully perfect little miracle girl inside me. And we loved you deeply before we even knew you. Except we knew that even in utero, you had a taste for mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese, cheeseburgers, and milkshakes.

I remember everything about your birth, your journey into this wide, wonderful world. I’d made veggie burgers that night. Sitting where you sit to eat now, I felt this strange, jarring pain. After feeling the tight cramp twice more with increasing length and frequency, I was fairly certain you were getting ready to be welcomed to the world. I called Nommy, and she came down, and I called my doctor. I remember feeling calm as Nommy was getting ready to drive us to the hospital. Daddy, though, was not calm at all! He was so nervous, Lily. You’d laugh if we could go back to that night and see Daddy! He was in such a hurry and so anxious that he forgot his shoes!

I remember contractions so intense I’d vomit with every one. And you know, I still can’t eat veggie burgers! I remember being exhausted with the long hours of laboring, but being unable to sleep because I was so excited to meet you. And I remember having to hold that last push until Dr. Moon could get to our room. And, finally, finally, I remember pushing the final time, pausing so Dr. could untangle your cord, and feeling you, my precious baby, skin to skin on my chest.

I remember the unrivaled joy I felt as I held you and whispered, “my baby” in sacred wonder. We were so happy we cried.

We wanted you so badly. We prayed and prayed for you. And, today, you’re four years old. You’ve made these four years some of the best of our lives, and, really, it’s almost impossible for me to remember life without you. You’re growing into such a kind, thoughtful little girl. And, it’s my honor to teach you, but I’m humbled by all that you teach me. I admire your generous heart, your passionate soul, your zeal for learning, your kindness, your thoughtfulness, your love of Jesus, and your wild-tender spirit.

Lily, when you lived in my belly, I dreamed of having a little girl to follow me around the garden, pick flowers and catch butterflies, and splash in puddles with me. You are even more than all my dreams. Even at your young age, you already understand in the simplest ways about Mommy’s and Daddy’s struggle with infertility; I want you to know that even though we’re sad sometimes, you are enough.

You are more than enough. Don’t ever forget that, little honeybee.

And don’t ever forget that I love you bigger than the whole sky and more than all the stars in that sky. You are so loved, precious one. For those who never make an effort to get to know you or who make you feel uninvited, never let it hurt your heart or bruise your spirit. It’s their loss. You are an otherworldly delight.

I so dearly love your sense of wonder and imagination! Your humor is charming. One day, I hope you read this and smile–today, on your fourth birthday, I told you that you were my present. Confused, you said, “I am not a present!” I explained that when God put you in my belly, you were the best present ever. You asked, “when I popped out, did I come in wrapping paper?” Oh, life with you is a marvelous adventure, Lily Willow, and I’ll always have mashed potatoes and macaroni and cheese just for you.

I love you always. Happy Birthday.

Love, Mommy

I woke up this morning disoriented. Yesterday was a beautiful grey, drizzly day that made our verdant grass and budding trees look so much more vibrant. When God paints grey skies and blends that with spring green grass, the masterpiece is breathtaking. The Mister was home, rain day for lawn care. So, I woke at the foot of our bed, snuggled next to Miss Bentley, with morning sun filtering through the lace curtains, confused. “Isn’t it Sunday?,” I mused. No. Just Friday.

During sunrise yoga, I heard him boiling water and slicing lemons. What? He’s making our usual morning warm lemon water. But I always do that. It’s routine. How did I forget? Disoriented. After the last sun salutation, wide legged forward fold, and mountain pose, I stepped from the mat to the chair, ready to read about mountains.

My current morning reading is Kristen Welch’s Made to Move Mountains. Want to be challenged, inspired, moved, encouraged? Read this book. Kristen is the founder of Mercy House Global, a fair trade nonprofit that empowers women globally. I read all about not giving up, courage, and companionship this morning. I love Kristen’s thoughts that “there is likely going to come a day when you want to quit….when that day arrives, you have to stand on the mountain of your mess and remember that quitting isn’t the solution–but surrendering is.” My half awake, confused brain is trying to process this while I sip my honeyed lemon water, and you know, I kind of just wanted to give up, snuggle down into my handwoven blanket, and escape my mountain.

There’s this personal self-care rule that I keep for myself–no hard before the holy, meaning no email, news, or social media before physical and spiritual nourishment. After pondering all this good, good mountain-climbing advice while sipping my matcha berry smoothie, I glanced at social media long enough to see a challenge to get up and get dressed from a lady who has been climbing mountain after mountain. Lily’s sweet music teacher has faced frightening health battles; she could understandably stay in her pajamas all day and rest. But, no, this mountain climber got up, put on her jeans, did her hair and makeup, and posted a challenge for others to do the same.

We’re quarantining at home. All day. All week. All month. Who would know–or care–if I put on leggings or even just stayed in my pajamas? I would. And if I can’t take care of myself, I’m unable to adequately care for anyone else.

Caring for and respecting yourself isn’t selfish.

I headed back to the bedroom, determined this time instead of disoriented. I tugged on a pair of jeans, chose a pretty floral top, a mustard yellow cardigan, a necklace from Amazima, and did my hair in something besides a loose ponytail or top knot. It’s incredible how motivating the simple act of getting dressed can be. I didn’t stop there. I walked into the bathroom, washed my face, applied makeup, and perfume.

All for going outside to get dirty and sweaty. My plan for the day was to plant some seeds in a starter flat. Sweat erased the makeup, dirt clung to my jeans, Lily-girl soaked me with the water hose, but I got dressed and started facing and climbing one of my mountains. Just like I’d equip myself for a mountain hike, I equipped myself by preparing for my day. I got dressed.

The seeds are planted. A couple rows in the garden hoed and planted. Flowers planted. Herbs planted. Lily and I splashed and laughed. After planting and playing, we started laundry, made sweet tea, and Joanna Gaines’ chocolate chip cookies.

I’m dressed. I don’t want to snuggle down and escape reality. I’m ready to climb. There’s a big mountain and an even bigger God. I’m not to the top yet, but the perspective and view from where I climbed today looks a little bit of divine.

Kristen closed the chapter this morning with this quote from Mary Anne Radmacher: “Courage doesn’t always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying (whispering), I will try again tomorrow.” And tomorrow, I’m going to get dressed again. I’m going to climb a bit higher.

Oh my, y’all! There’s nothing like procrastination is there? You’d think with all this time in quarantine that I’d have plenty of extra time to write, but not so! Daily life during quarantine is much the same as usual, with the exception of taking sweet girl to her three weekly classes. Since I’m on an a indefinite leave from my nursing career to mother and homeschool our daughter, my days are mostly unchanged. So, here we are on the final day of March, and I’m just now sharing the homemade laundry soap recipe I promised earlier.

Ingredients:

• 1/8 bar of Fels-Naptha soap, grated
• 1/2 gallon water
• 1/8 cup borax
• 1/8 cup washing soda
• Essential oils, optional

Method:

• Grate the entire bar of soap. Set aside 1/8 of the bar to use. Store the rest for future batches. I go ahead and divide the remaining soap into 1/8’s so they’re ready to use immediately next time.
• Pour half of the water (1/4 gallon) into a large stock pot. Sprinkle in the grated soap. Heat over medium heat and stir until all the soap flakes are melted.
• Remove the soap/water mixture from the heat. Gently stir in the borax, washing soda, and remaining 1/4 gallon water until combined.
• Add in 25 drops essential oils. You may use your preference of oils. I usually use lavender.
• Cover the mixture with a lid, plastic wrap, or a tea towel, and let it sit 8 hours or overnight.
• After curing, the mixture will be thick and gelled. Stir well. You may divide into batches and use a mixer to mix well. Mister Burke puts my soap into a 5-gallon bucket and mixes it with power tools for me. It works quickly and is still clean!
• Once, it’s thoroughly mixed, you’ll pour the detergent into containers and fill halfway. I prefer using glass jars, but depending on your oil choice, plastic works as well. Fill the rest of the way with water and stir again to combine. And voila! Fresh-smelling, non-toxic, inexpensive laundry detergent!

I’m sitting here with a cold cup of coffee this morning. Sorry, tea, my migraine requires coffee. Coffee’s cold because it takes me a while to finish a cup of coffee. During this one cup, I’ve practiced yoga, did a guided meditation, spent time in prayer and journaling, put lavender in the diffusers, talked to Mister Burke, and played with Lily.

How are you? How are you finding calmness and joy in your time at home? Let’s interact! Comment below or on Tea With a Cup of Grace’s Facebook page with any fun, creative, active, or calming ideas. Share how you’re spending quarantine.

I’ll start. First, a confession. Confession’s always good for the soul, right? At least that’s what they say. But, really, who is “they?” Anyway, my confession. I’m an extreme introvert. I need and crave alone time and silence. Alone time and silence isn’t happening right now at Burke’s on Broadway. We’re all home–together–every minute of every day. There’s this wooden quote on the windowsill above the kitchen sink. It reads, “Love grows best in little houses.” And, I believe it; I really do. At least on ordinary days. But the incessant togetherness in this wee blue nest is tough and hasn’t always been so lovely. Three days ago, I made him cry. Because this isn’t a situation I can control or a situation of ideal perfection, I have to make the choice to make the best of this time. Embrace the imperfection. Create happiness.

Ways we’ve created happiness, sanity, and peace:

• Taking long walks–we make it into an educational scavenger hunt for Lily
• Getting Chick-Fil-A via drive-thru and eating at the park
• Watching Cincinnati Zoo’s At Home Safari
• Playing board games
• Creating art and crafts
• Painting inspirational rocks and placing them around town to inspire hope
• Searching for spring flowers–and picking some in our yard
• Making pot after pot of tea
• Playing music and dancing
• Reading–all kinds of genres
• Awaiting our little chicks to hatch (they’re due to hatch in a day or two!)
• Spending time reading Lent readings in candlelight
• Sharing humor
• Making mud pies
• Taking naps
• Watching Miss Bentley play with her enrichment treat toy
• Visiting our hen house–Gertrude is always a delight, but now there are 2 ducklings to visit, and a new rooster! They are such fun.
• Sending mail and care packages to brighten others’ day
• Journaling

Today, I inspire you to choose joy. Turn off the news for a while and turn on some music. Dance. Sing. Worship. Clean an area of your home you’ve been neglecting. Smile. Then, sit down with a cup of tea. Breathe long, slow, deep breaths. Write a letter (or craft a card!) and send joy to someone else. Call someone and be a breath of fresh air to that person. Read a few lines of a new book, or better yet, read the entire book. Cook a healthy meal using your creativity and enjoy eating together. And before bed, sit with a cup of herbal tea, add a drizzle of honey, and breathe. Reflect on your beautiful day.

After publishing my last blog, which was a love letter to you, inviting you to embrace a sense of calm—intentional calm—in this overwhelming chaos, I thought I’d post a link here to my Etsy shop. This morning, I listed reusable cloths, good for cleaning wipes, face scrubbies, coasters, etc. They’re hand crocheted with 100% cotton, so machine washable! I thought they’d pair perfectly with the natural cleanser recipes I shared. Stay tuned; I plan to share more household cleaner recipes this month, including laundry detergent.

Happy cleaning. ❤️

If the cloths are out of stock, no worries. Just comment below or message me via Etsy. I’m happy to restock and customize to your color preference.

https://www.etsy.com/JuneLiliesandWillow/listing/772823288/bevs-peaches-cream-reusable-cloths?utm_source=Copy&utm_medium=ListingManager&utm_campaign=Share&utm_term=so.lmsm&share_time=1584200340905

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Dear Friend,

I’m a panicker, a worrier, and a bit of a hypochondriac. Coronavirus. The word is ubiquitous these days. The virus is causing mass pandemonium. And, strangely, this panic-driven-hypochondriac-pessimist is calm. Is this really me?

I’ve not bought cases of hand sanitizer or purchased cartons of bleach wipes. We haven’t stocked the hallway closet with toilet paper. We’ll probably run out soon with the shortage. But, we did venture out this evening for ice cream. Ice cream is a necessity, right? I’m not purposefully making light of those infected or in critical conditions, but maybe this is a call to slow down our hurried lives, take care of ourselves and our families, and get back in touch with our souls.

But, back to the ice cream. My Mister videoed his path through our local grocery shop to the ice cream freezers. On video, he caught a bit of a fight over some item between an unhappy customer and a stressed employee. It’s a little bit humorous and a whole lot sad. For me personally, fear creates anger. I’ve traced almost every bought of anger I’ve experienced to fear. Globally, we’ve entered a time of fear, and, unfortunately, that fear is causing anger, hatred, and selfishness. This is a time to love, to help, to pray, to give patience, to slow, and to calm.

I’ve been learning the past few months how connected we are as a human body. Really, we’re a whole global family. In previous blogs, I’ve shared some fair trade items and companies. I love how purchasing from these shops and ministries shrinks my world just a bit. I know the name and face of the lady who poured my candles and made my soap, the man who built my teak tub board, the women who crafted my home decor, and the artisans who carved my cutting boards and sculpted my kitchenware. We share, we trade, we love, we live together on this planet.

We are all Beloved by our Creator. We are all Beloved by our Savior. We are all Beloved by our Holy Spirit. And there is absolutely nothing that can separate us from that insanely vast love. Not even COVID-19.

I’m fascinated how this COVID-19 pandemic illustrates how interconnected we are as a human family. Maybe, just maybe, that alone can serve as a reminder and opportunity to live given and share love.

So, are you in panic mode? Beloved, as a nurse, let me share a secret with you: stress is one of the largest risk factors in nearly every single illness and major disease. Stress is right up there with smoking as a risk factor. Trust me, I’ve probably lost more than a few years of my lifespan because of stress and worry. Optimism is about as difficult as losing those stubborn pounds for me. So, why am I so calm right now when our world is chaotic? The profound answer is that I simply don’t know. I do know that I am deeply loved, and the One who made me and loves me holds me in His hands. All I have to do is trust.

Not panicking doesn’t mean that I’m unconcerned. My sweet little girl has a cold right now, so I’ve kept her home from her classes–partially because I would in normal circumstances anyway, and partially because I don’t want anyone freaking out on us. So, at the Burke home on Broadway, we’re doing everything we’d ordinarily do during cold and flu season.

Ironically, for me, and many others, this is Spring Cleaning season. If your local stores are anything like mine, the cleaning supplies aisles are wiped empty! Where the sanitizing wipes should be, there’s a posted sign apologizing for the inconvenience of being out of stock. If this is the same where you are, don’t panic! Cleaning supplies are items that are rarely if never on my shopping list. What?!?! Sounds crazy–and filthy–right? Just hear me out for a moment. These harsh cleansers actually disrupt our endocrine systems. So, unhealthy holistically in the normal household. To stay clean and physically (hormonally) balanced, make your own natural cleansers. This month, I’d planned to share some recipes I use for the cleaners in our home, and it’s perfect timing as stores are having to back order these supplies and sanitizers. Rudy BurkeRudy BurkeRudy Burke

Before sharing recipes for home cleaners, I want to write to you from my heart, in love, always with love. If you’re scared, it’s okay. I get it. My family members can tell you that I worry obsessively over everything, and I always think the worst is what’s going to happen. So, I understand the fear. And, gently, as gently as possible, may I suggest a slight shift in perspective? It’s chaos-central right now. Stress and chaos lead to decreased immunity and illness. How about instead of being fear focused, let’s be faith focused? Wait! Don’t roll your eyes just yet–keep reading, please! Let’s have faith in the One who loves us to do what’s best for us. Let’s have faith in humanity. Let’s have faith that we can and will heal. And, this, maybe just this will sound like the craziest thing you’ve heard yet: how about viewing this frightening time as a time to slow down, breathe, decrease stress, and nurture?

Believe that you’re going to be okay. You are. Focus on calm. I’ll share some ways that you can find calmness and healing.

• Stay hydrated with water and herbal teas
• Eat healthy, balanced meals
• Take vitamins, probiotics, and zinc
• Move your body
• Enjoy staying home
• Turn off televised news!
• Listen to music
• Read (want reading suggestions? Ask me!)
• Journal
• Play games
• Spring clean your home
• Take long walks
• Practice yoga
• Soak in the bathtub
• Diffuse lavender and citrus
• Take naps
• Pray
• Dance
• Do that thing you’re always putting off
• Cook homemade soup
• Sit down and call an elderly friend or relative
• Write a letter
• Craft
• Give yourself (and your spouse) a facial, pedicure, and massage
• Make love–lots!
• Light candles
• Deep breathe outside
• Spring clean your yard
• Keep teapots filled with steaming tea
• Discover a new hobby
• Begin a gratitude journal
• Sleep in
• Start seeds indoors
• Plant an indoors herb garden
• Play
• Camp out in the living room, especially if you have children
• Nurture your family as you would during any other time of illness: wash your hands, eat healthy meals, stay hydrated, sanitize you’re home, rest, up your vitamin intake, take elderberry syrup (recipe in previous blog), use a humidifier, diffuse healing oils, moisturize, relax

Wherever you are in our huge, but interconnected world, I’m sending you a hug. A hug and a cup of tea. Relax, friend; you are okay.

So much love,

Lalia

Recipes for Household Cleansers:

Hand Sanitizer

In a small bowl, mix 2/3 cup isopropyl alcohol with 1/3 cup pure aloe vera gel. Add 1 teaspoon jojoba oil and 1/8 teaspoon vitamin E. Stir in 20 drops essential oils of your preference.

Multipurpose Cleaner/Sanitizer

Fill a commercial spray bottle 1/4 of the way full with white vinegar. Add 25 drops of a protective blend essential oil (I use DoTERRA’s OnGuard, which is similar to Thieves). Add 1 Tablespoon Castile soap. Fill the rest of the way with water. Shake.I use this to clean everything– sinks, tubs, shower, counters, toilet, doorknobs, light switches, cabinets, car interior….

Foaming Hand Soap

Pour 1/4 cup Castile soap into your foaming soap dispenser. Add 1 teaspoon jojoba or sweet almond oil. Add 25 drops of your preference essential oils (I love citrus for the kitchen and evergreen + lavender for the bathroom). Fill to top with water. Shake.

Furniture Polish

Pour olive or avocado oil in commercial spray bottle to 1/3 full. Add 20 drops of lemon essential oil and 20 drops orange essential oil and 5 drops peppermint essential oil. Fill to top with water. Shake. You’ll need to shake bottle before each application. *The peppermint freshens, but also is a pest repellent.

** Remember that white vinegar is an effective natural cleanser and sanitizer. You can mix 1/2 vinegar and 1/2 water to clean mirrors, glass, floors, etc. Lemon juice is also a marvelous multipurpose cleaner. Oh, and lemon is also lovely in tea. ❤️

Enjoy your sparkling home and days of rest, precious one.

Last night, he took me back to the tiny Moroccan restaurant where he asked me to be his wife. We’re not new there; the owners know our faces. The owner-chef is comfortable about teasing us and asking us about “baby making.” Succulent Mediterranean cuisine is made in house. It’s delicious, a love affair for the taste buds. Might I recommend either the Almond Chicken Tajine or the Stuffed Grouper with Saffron Couscous? But, my favorite, a must-have item, is the uniquely refreshing Pomegranate Hibiscus Tea. Tea. Always tea.

This marvelous honeyed tea is a deep, sensual, ruby color with both fruit and floral notes. Both slightly tart and perfectly sweet, it’s, well, perfect. Complete. Palate satisfying. And isn’t that a bit like love? Two opposites, two pieces, two flavors swirling into one complete, beautiful dance? The tart is still tart. The sweet remains sweet. But, together, neither diminishes it’s own liveliness, but each compliments the other. Together, they’re magnificent.

This cozy Moroccan nest is dear to us. Besides being significant because it’s the place I promised to be his forever-bride, Saffron is insanely sensuous. It’s lavish in its Mediterranean sensual romance. So, this is where we spent Valentine’s night. Of course, I ordered the tea–two glasses of tea and one to bring home. For the coffee lovers, they have an incredible kahwa, Moroccan style coffee. It’s strong, served with a sprinkle of cinnamon. Saffron Cafe’s kahwa is the only coffee I can drink black. It’s just that good.

Lily girl has been there before, but on the night we celebrate love, having her join us was precious. She wanted to hold my ringed finger in the very spot her Daddy put the ring on my finger. Together with tea + love. What could be better?

It was a Thursday. Thursday, December 4, 2014. I was impatient and frustrated with him. He wasn’t bringing by the screwdriver I needed to hang curtains in the guest room quickly enough. He’d been working all day, providing late fall landscaping cleanup for some clients. Ordinary. Normal. Usual.

Until it wasn’t. He called me at work, said he was sweaty. I’m a nurse, and he was wanting my “permission” to take an aspirin. Instead, I advised him not to take anything and visit the ER. Being the somewhat frugal and stubborn man he is, he went to the nearest Walgreens clinic. He reported they found his temperature too low, but he was sweating profusely. I employed my critical thinking skills to determine a possible cause. He then went to urgent care, where I later heard he staggered in demanding an aspirin. Staff immediately knew something horrible was wrong, and recommended EMT transport him to a local ER. I was still at work, knowing nothing of this–only that he was sweating and “hypothermic.” My stubborn-ish then fiancé blatantly refused ambulance transport and drove himself to the hospital.

We tried to communicate, but neither his words nor his texts were making sense. All I could understand was that his mother and brother were there and tests were being taken. What felt like hours later, his mother called me. She calmly stated that he was having a CT scan, but doctors felt he had a pulmonary embolism (lung blood clot). Mama Burke relayed the doctor’s suggestion that I should come if possible. I can still remember the calm stillness of her voice. I wasn’t alarmed. Pulmonary embolism–treatable. All was well (as much as it could be.)

Until it wasn’t. Again, my phone rang. The voice on the other end was strained. His brother. His brother told me the diagnosis while I was standing there by my patient’s kitchen island. My sweet patient was sitting in her chair, questions in her eyes. My heart stopped for a bit. Aortic aneurysm he said. Panic swiftly overcame me, and I couldn’t stop the tears. They were transporting him to another hospital; if I could make it by the time the surgeon arrived, I could see him. There are these times when being a nurse is a curse; you know too much. You know statistically survival rates for aortic aneurysms are low. And by this time, I didn’t even know how bad his was.

I made it. Barely. Remember, I’d been upset with him. I only had mere minutes with him before the surgeon arrived, and I needed hours, days, to let him know I loved him. And when you may be spending your very last moments with one you love so much, those moments pass ever so quickly. Dr. Robison, he told us he wasn’t sure he could repair the ruptured thoracic aortic aneurysm. I remember him, shivering, pale, confused, asking, “What happens if you can’t repair it?” And the surgeon, he didn’t skip a beat or sugar coat, “You won’t survive.”

And I had to say goodbye. Kiss goodbye. I remember standing there in the hallway, watching his stretcher until it was gone from sight. Dr. Robison offered to let us see the scans. There was the evidence glaring at me, mocking me, killing me, the dissections (ruptures, tears) leaking his blood and suffocating him. No, it wasn’t his temperature that was too low; it was his blood pressure. His aneurysm was thoracic, so he was bleeding out, but bleeding out into his pericardium, drowning in his own blood, so to speak. Hypotensive. Surgeon wanted us to see how great the damage. He said, “I want you to see what I’m dealing with.” He asked for prayer, then left to try to save my love’s heart, his life.

We were taken to a private conference room. There wasn’t much hope for a miracle. An hour passed with no news. Then two, then six. I couldn’t eat, drink, sleep, or do anything. Except pray. I begged and bargained. I pleaded and promised. And I wrote him a letter, a long letter. A chaplain stopped by. “They’re trying to repair a valve,” she reported. That was my first glimmer of hope. Logically, if they were going to attempt repairing a valve, then there was hope for survival!

Seven long, dark, terrifying hours later, a nurse informed us that the surgeon was finishing up and would soon speak to us. I can remember everything about Dr. Robinson’s and his anesthesiologist’s conversation–their words, gestures, clothing, posture, expressions. The aneurysm was one of the largest they’d seen and had dissected in several places. Repair was successful, valve repair was complete, but there was possibility of complications. Because the new valve was mechanical, he’d always need to take warfarin and be extremely mindful with eating leafy greens. A small price to pay in exchange for your life.

February is heart month–cardiac awareness. It’s also heart month in that we celebrate love. Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day, our sixth to celebrate since his aneurysm survival. Our love journey hasn’t been and isn’t perfect. There were complications and bumps in the road during his recovery. And there have been countless bumps in our road together. Love isn’t always easy. Actually, most of the time it’s so hard. Remember that long letter I wrote during his heart surgery? I made a lot of promises that I’ve forgotten from time to time–

Because day to day loving is hard. We don’t always feel euphoric in love. Some days, love looks like cooking breakfast or bringing a load of laundry in from the cold. We don’t always have to feel ecstatic in love. Some days, love looks like getting up in the middle of the night to turn on a heat lamp for the pet hen or dropping off the forgotten lunch. Some days, love looks like apologies and forgiveness.

He became known as “the miracle man” with the surgeon and staff. And, he is quick to share the One who gave the miracle, gave life. Dr. Robison later told him, “There’s a reason He wanted you around–to marry her.” We did marry almost 6 months later, and God gave us a precious little girl 19 months after his life was saved. There was a reason.

The Sunday morning following his heart surgery, I had another frightening phone call. Someone wanted to warn me that she’d talked with “someone close to God,” and God “told” the person that Rudy wasn’t going to make it. Doubt flooded me, so much that others noticed something troubling me. I waited for the inevitable. And, 1:00 pm that Sunday afternoon, he began having a-fib and other complications. More tests. More scans. I couldn’t help but hear that earlier phone conversation over and over and over. Sitting by the bed, incessantly watching the monitors, a new track started playing in my mind.

Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on thee.

The phrase repeated over and over until the other noise was quieted; it was like a mantra, a breath. I didn’t know where I’d seen it, read it, or heard it. I had no idea where those words came from. Days, or even months later, someone sent me a scripture verse: Isaiah 26:3 “Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on thee.” So, that’s where the words came from. I do not remember ever memorizing or even reading that scripture, but God breathed those words into my soul that Sunday afternoon that my heart felt hopeless and distressed. In her book, Becoming Brave, Tracey Mitchell writes, “what we hide in our hearts during secure seasons will make our hearts strong and our words sound during stormy seasons.” No, I don’t remember learning Isaiah 23:6, but I know that I hid God in my heart during the secure seasons, and He strengthened my spiritual and emotional heart and Rudy’s physical heart during those uncertain, stormy seasons.

There’s this painting that hangs in our home. Not in the same place, but the beautiful painting hangs always visible. To me, it’s a vivid illustration of Isaiah 23:6, held “in perfect peace.” When God (Love) holds us, how can we be anywhere but peace? Five years have gone, and he’s here, alive. Angry words hurl unchecked. Kisses are rushed. We sleep miles apart (it feels) with a child and doggie between us. We are polar opposites. We’re messy. Love is messy. But, consider the painting. Some days, love looks messy. Some days, love is holding the mess, embracing the messy, tenderly kissing forgiveness. Some days, love looks like moisturizing dehydrated lips or steeping a cup of tea. And that’s okay. That’s a love worth celebrating.

~Painting by Jen Byler Hines

Have you ever wondered how the fluid, milky, blue sky would taste? No? I must just be a bit quirky. Yes? Then we are kindred souls!

A few weeks ago, I saw the most serene colored milky pale blue beverage on my friend, Evangeline’s Instagram page. Immediately, I asked her the identity of this peace-in-a-cup. She responded that the latte was Blue Matcha. Keeping up with my teas, I was surprised I’d not heard of this cup of beauty. Evangeline went on to tell me that blue matcha is made from butterfly pea powder. A ha! I remembered the butterfly pea tea, but wasn’t aware it could be accessed in powder form to make matcha lattes. My brother had the actual flowers and tried to grow plants from seeds last summer. I asked him if he had any left I could have to try and to send Evangeline as butterfly pea flowers and powder is pricey. No luck.

Just a few days later, Evangeline would celebrate her birthday, so I wanted to surprise her with the powder. Then, Rudy ordered some blue matcha for me! And now, I want to share the Milky Blue Sky recipe with you.

Boil a few ounces of fresh water.

While waiting for the water to boil, place 1/4-1/2 teaspoon of butterfly pea powder into a teacup or mug.

Put 8 ounces milk of your preference into a saucepan with a Tablespoon of maple syrup (honey, or sweeter of your choice) and 1/2 teaspoon of vanilla extract. Steam milk, but do not boil. *If you prefer your tea less sweet, definitely reduce the amount of sweetener!

When the water reaches boiling, pour 1 ounce into the butterfly pea powder. The liquid will be a cerulean color. Set aside until milk mixture is steamed.

Carefully pour the steamed milk over the blue matcha tea.

Whisk until blended and foamy.

Take a sip. Feel the fluffy, foam-clouds. Taste the sweet, clear, sky. Slip into tranquility. Savor. And, cue, “Somewhere over the rainbow…..”

Thanks to Timothy and Evangeline for introducing me to the sumptuous world of blue matcha lattes. Thank you to Rudy for making my dreams come true. And thank you to YOU for taking tea with me. 💙