Four Figs ~ Bites of Life

Lily’s New Friend the Beast

Something extraordinary happened to Lily that morning as she stepped into the bathroom to brush her teeth before school. Suddenly her arms and legs started to tingle and the room went fuzzy. Was she about to faint?

The sensations increased until suddenly she heard a pop and felt herself drop to the floor. When she looked down she saw her body had morphed into a bright green jelly bean! W h a a a t?

In the next instant, her jelly bean body, with a mind of its own, flew up onto the edge of the toilet and plunged head first through the hole in the toilet bowl.

It all happened so fast Lily didn’t have time to be scared or grossed out, and found herself actually enjoying the slide. It carried her down, down, down, until finally the tunnel spit her out onto a soft green patch of grass. She skidded to a stop on her jelly bean bum, caught her breath then looked around. No animals, no other people, and no other jelly beans!

Either she was dreaming or there was some kind of magic going on. She looked at her round green body, stick arms and legs, and was enourmously relieved she could still see. Then she tested her voice with an extended h e e l l o o o and was glad she could still talk. Then giggles took over and she settled down enough to check out her surroundings just a little more closely.

Off in the distance she spotted an enormous black-haired beast with a mouth as big as a hippopotamus. Lily smelled him coming before he was clearly in sight. As he lumbered further into view she thought how easy it would be to be swallowed whole, yet for some strange reason, Lily was still not scared.

She sat very still as the beast slowly crossed the meadow. She noticed his head hanging low and wondered if he was hurt, or maybe sad. The thought made her heart clench.

Right on cue, the beast opened his mouth wide and bellowed a cloud of the grossest breath she had ever smelled. There were gooey long globs of greeny-yellow slobber swinging off its chin, and the few teeth left seemed rotten.

It was disgusting!

Lily’s usually sensitive nose went into overdrive, and once again, she thought she might pass out. At home if her sister peeled a banana she ran from the room, and this was unimaginably worse.

Since she wasn’t afraid of the beast, Lily’s first thought was how she might help. The beast seemed to sense her kindness so continued slowly towards her. When she thought he was close enough Lily put her hand out in the stop position, and stop he did.

So far so good.

She wiggled her eybrows and gestured, trying to see what the beast needed. He seemed to understand and waved his head towards the nearby forest like he wanted her to follow.

Soon they arrived at his cave. The beast dropped down onto it’s back with such a thump it felt like an earthquake. When the walls stopped shaking Lilly peered into the beast’s mouth. She could see how infected it was. Maybe she could clean it out so the rest of his teeth might last a bit longer. How would a beast feed itself with no teeth?

What Lily didn’t know was that the beast had no friends because he smelled so rotten and was cranky all the time, and that was also why he was so sad.

Lily had an idea. She ran out of the cave to harvest branches from a mint tree she spotted on the way to the cave. In fact, now as she looked around she noticed mint trees everywhere, as big as apple trees, and they smelled heavenly.

She harvested bundles of branches with juicy fresh leaves and dragged them into the cave. One of the smaller branches might work as a tooth pick. Lily also needed water, so used all her ingenuity to collect some from the nearby stream.

While she was gathering supplies she wrapped two large mint leaves around her own mouth and nose to make a mask, just like the one her dentist wore. It made her think she was a Beast Dentist. That was hilarious!

The surgery went well but took a while. She gingerly chipped out bugs, and rot, and leftover meat, and more than once changed her mask and scrubbed her hands. Once she poked too hard and the beast’s bright purple blood spurted out all over her!

The beast trusted Lily to do whatever she needed to without budging or complaining. He wrapped a long curled claw around her waist like a seat belt so she could lean right in from her perch on his huge lower lip. Lily was so happy she had found the courage to work through this very smelly and gross job, and it kept her going.

The last steps were to squish some mint leaves and water into a paste to rub into the beast’s gums. Lily showed the beast how to swish and spit, which he did several times. Then when its beastly mouth was as clean as it could be, Lily stuffed in handfuls of mint leaves and set her own mouth to chewing so the beast would copy her. When she was all finished, Lily pointed outside to all the mint trees the beast could use to keep it’s mouth healthy and fresh all the time. Once again the beast understood, and nodded gratefully. It seemed like they could read each other’s minds.

Exhausted, Lily crawled up into the cozy crook of her new friend’s arm and the two fell fast asleep.

As sunlight beamed into the dark cave, the beast gathered Lily up, still asleep, and carried her back to the grassy patch where she appeared the day before. He hoped she would return some day. But for now he knew he would be welcomed back into the clan, and no longer lonely. He wondered if Lily had heard his bellering cries for help and vowed to pay more attention to that hillside in the future.

The beast kissed Lily lightly on the top of her hairless green noggin. Then, pressing his lips into a loose circle, blew her softly back into the hole in the hillside.

Not long after Lily arrived safely back into the toilet bowl then gasped for air as she sailed onto the tile floor and skidded to a halt. Another pop and she was back to herself again. She didn’t remember much after feeling dizzy earlier. And what was she doing on the floor soaking wet?

Right, no time! Now she needed to find some dry clothes on top of brushing her teeth. She loved Kindergarten and didn’t want to be late, so brushed quickly and more vigourously than usual. Hmmmm. She had a sense it meant something, but what?

As she left the bathroom Lily spotted a green smudge on the floor by the doorway and vaguely recalled turning into a green jelly bean. Since none of it made any sense at all, she promptly decided it must have been a dream. But still, she hoped she would have that dream again, and this time she would try her best to remember it.

The story is dedicated to Vivian and Chloe, my darling granddaughters and fellow creators of hilarous stories. This Jamma has never had so much fun!

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Family Life Love

7 Love Stories ~ from my heart to yours

We are all bound by an invisible field of energy, & that connection is called love. Dr. Joe Dispenza

The ancient Greeks had 7 words for love. With them they laid a framework to explain more clearly the different kinds of love available to us so it is easier to understand.

By contrast the English language offers one word for this complex emotion. It can easily be misunderstood, and with potentially tragic consequences. Many times the subtlties need explanation.

In love we discover the deepest and most tender parts of ourselves, exposing our hearts to the ultimate risk or reward. Somehow we find the courage to take a leap into the possibility that lays beyond human imagination. Sometimes we plug our noses and go for it.

I was intrigued and inspired by this concept and decided to reflect back on my own life. Here are 7 of my most life-changing love experiences based on the wisdom of the Greeks.

PHILIA – authentic friendship

THE CRISIS

By some act of divine intervention he arrived home alive. The kids, after gathering their dad up from a hospital in Palo Alto, drove him hell bent home to Vancouver with all the heart and determination one might expect of a close family.

A week before he suffered a severe stroke while on a solo road trip to California. When it happened, as luck would have it, there was a cardiac hospital across the I-5, so he left the gas station, drove across the freeway overpass, and managed to pull up to Emergency before it was lights out.

Days passed before he was coherent enough for the doctors to track down his family, and make tracks they did. He was too fragile to fly.

I had no idea what to expect when I tip-toed into the bedroom a day later. He was awake, propped up on some cozy pillows, crazy still, and looking more vulnerable than I was comfortable with.

As soon as he caught sight of me, he flashed his trademark smile and drew me over with weary eyes. Instinctively I laid down on his chest, heart to heart, and together we cried tears of sorrow, grief from the horror of it all.

As the sobbing eased, I pulled up slightly and we held each other’s gaze. His eyes told of pain he could not yet process and a future for which he had no vision.

All I could do was send him streams of loving energy, meant to assure him he was not in this alone. I knew his wife and her friend were on the way back from a vacation in Australia, and in the meantime he would not be alone.

For almost forty years our families had shared a whole lot of living, and inside my head, worst fears shrieked fearful thoughts. He was just too young to leave us.

It felt like it wasn’t his time, and I knew he was surrounded by the kind of deep and steadfast love that works miracles. Besides family and friends his angels were crowded around.

LUDUS – playful and flirtatious love

FIRST CRUSH

Was that drums I just heard from the house next door? I was visiting my aunt in Seattle and asked her about it. She agreed I could go over to their rental property and say hello to the tenant, who was attending a local university.

He greeted me with a big smile, and gestured for me to sit down. I stumbled to the chair as if in a trance, and couldn’t understand why I felt suddenly hot and unsteady.

Several minutes passed before he stopped playing and offered me a cheery hello.

“Would you like to try?” But I had never been that close to someone so amazing, and I wasn’t sure I could speak never mind operate the drum sticks.

I waived him a weak no. At sixteen, my experience with boys was limited to the occasional motorcycle ride and pizza and a movie on Friday night.

That summer I went to Seattle more than once, and he made the short trip up to Vancouver a few times. We kissed and kissed and kissed. It was passionate but our relationship remained innocent.

He graduated that year and returned to his home in New York, but not before asking if I would come for a visit on summer break. I was flabbergasted when my parents said “no”. Couldn’t they see how mature I was?

But there was no looking back.

EROS – romantic and passionate love

FIRST LOVE

Three years later I met my first true love. We bonded over beer and blue cheese, oblivious to our friends and other pub activity. His laugh was deep and resonant and I couldn’t get enough of it. And the way he looked at me?

At some point he must have asked me for my phone number, but I have no recollection. Somehow I knew we would see each other again.

The attraction grew quickly into an intensely romantic one with all the loving making we could make happen. Since we both still lived at home, that required some creativity.

For four years we grew up together, loved and cared for each other, and shared moments of great beauty and connection. We were completely in love.

Then one day, inexplicably, we started to grow apart and a certain restlessness settled in. The great love we once shared started to slip away.

Twenty-five years later he told me if it made me feel any better, he didn’t get married til he was 38. Timing is everything.

We’ve kept in touch over the years and our once deep and passionate love turned to affection. I married, he married, but the golden thread of our romance did not entirely fade.

The truth is we still don’t know why we broke up. There were just too many strong feelings about the future that neither of us was ready or able to express.

In a recent email he said “how grateful he is that we knew each other in the springtime of our lives.” Oh yes, and he once gave me a book of Shakespeare’s sonnets. He set the bar high.

STORGE – family love

KIN

When my daughter returned home from the hospital with her first baby, the baby was two days old. She was also my first granddaughter. I felt a kind of love for this little one that made me gasp and left me speechless. Even when my own kids were born it was not like this, beyond earthly comprehension.

My role was to help, so I went about the house, busying myself with laundry, cooking, bringing water, snacks, a clean diaper, whatever was needed. I was good at hovering and so grateful to be included in this most precious and fleeting of times.

My daughter, already the best and most beautiful mother in the world, was sitting up in bed completely disheveled with a tragic look on her face. When I heard her crying I went straight in, and couldn’t imagine why she was so distressed.

Following her gaze to the baby, I could see the baby nestled in the dip between my daughter’s legs, all topped up and sleeping blissfully.

Trying to stay calm, I asked

“What’s up, my sweet?”

She paused to look up at me, and then said, almost as if in pain,

“I just cannot handle how lucky I am to have this little human in my life”.

Her awe and gratitude were palpable and so heart wrenching, in that moment I wondered if my own heart was going to need a jump start.

PHILAUTIA – self-love

ME FIRST

A nasty rear-ender several years back unleashed all the trauma I had carefully stashed in my body since I was a little girl. While I tried to deal with the anxiety attacks I set myself on a mission to understand what the heck was going on and heal make it better.

What I discovered is, once the central nervous system becomes disregulated, anxiety keeps it activated just below the surface until the next event sets it off again.

Over time resilience to relatively normal events weakens, and relatively usual life occurances are able to easily hijack health. It’s starts with an emotional response, but what’s important to understand is that the sickness that follows is biological, and makes recovery a two pronged approach.

It’s easy to feel like a loser at this point, but there must be no shame. Life just happens, and we all do our best.

What did I do when I hung up the phone that night? As soon as I felt the hot poker going up my neck and across my shoulders I acted immediately

Repeat: I am safe, until your spirit accepts it.

Ask for help: My son gave me a strong neck and shoulder massage. He kept going until he noticed my muscles respond as he could feel they resisted at first.

Have a hot bath: With empsom salts. Lay a hot facecloth over your eyes and forehead. Add your favourite essential oils. Stay there til the water cools off, or refill if not ready to get out.

Go to bed: No matter what time it is. Turn off all media, don’t try to read. Sink into the mattress and let morfeus do his job. There is no guilt. You will discover that silence is indeed golden.

Call a trusted friend or counselor the next day: don’t be afraid to talk out what happened. There is also emotional repair. Good grounding brings one out of fight or flight and back into the body, the only place recovery is possible.

Effective self care is needed long before life falls apart of course, and in fact can prevent it from happening. Back in the day we used to laugh about needing a mental health day in order to stay home from work unless we were throwing up. I think each subsequent generation is getting smarter.

We must give ourselves permission to rest and love ourselves enough to know we are worthy. I don’t recommend learning this the hard way.

Changing automatic thoughts and old habits doesn’t happen overnight. But as I practiced, I found calm and confidence, and my big heart found balance.

PRAGMA – long-standing love

THE LONG GAME

Best laid plans. Even with the best of intentions my marriage did not achieve stated intentions uttered sincerely at the alter. It had some longevity, 22 years, produced 2 wonderful kids and lots of good memories before the talking stopped and holes sunk the ship.

Bad communication is a critical flaw in any type of partnership.

Of course I might be able to offer advice on how one might avoid a mismatch to begin with, my only area of expertise, but I think even that is best sorted out between the two lovers before signing a contract. Every situation comes with different strings.

The Greeks considered pragma to be longstanding love. A couple entering into this arrangement knew they were expected to make a lifelong committment. In doing so they were vowing to offer each other grace, respect, tolerance, forgiveness, and perhaps some freedom, in order to grow old together and reap the benefits of all the hard work. A tall order with the best of matches, and I do admire those able to accomplish this with a level of happiness.

Now “in the autumn of my life”, knowing myself better, it’s possible life may yet deliver me the one love that has eluded me. At least I have a lifetime of loving to know myself better and what I want. And I have no regrets.

AGAPE – the unifying love for all people, all living beings, and beyond

THE KINDNESS OF STRANGERS

At 7 pm the church was sweltering hot, almost 100 F, and humid. Except for the odd empty space, each bare wooden bench was lined with adorable, mostly older women, dressed in simple black dresses with matching kerchiefs.

I felt warm smiles follow us as we entered and found an empty spot somewhere near the middle of the sanctuary. The happy chatter and laughter carried on until the priest appeared to settle us into silence.

There we sat, my tall friend and I, taking in the energy, the culture, and the stunning architecture, waiting with anticipation for the ritual to begin. This was my first experience with a Greek Orthodox service.

After a few minutes I was overcome by the temperature and humidity and every pore in my body simultaneously opened up. My light summer dress was quickly drenched. Luckily I had a face cloth in my purse having already discovered my body was not adjusting easily to the mediterranean climate. Still, it would not keep me cool for the next hour or so.

Unexpectedly, I felt a light tap on my shoulder, and turned to look. The tiny Greek mama behind burst into a brilliant smile, and turned to point at the back of the sanctuary. There, floating above the congregation, hand over hand, came a fan, obviously intended for me. It was perhaps not the first time they had rescued a tourist.

These kind beings could see how uncomfortable I was. One was prepared to sacrifice her own comfort for mine. I noticed the fan was slightly faded, with a hand painted picture of the city on it. It was black with black lace trim and obviously well loved.

At the end of the service I tried to find the owner to thank her and return it, but an excited group of hands gathered to push the fan back into mine.

I was stunned by their kindness and so honoured to receive this expression of love for a complete stranger. As my holiday continued I came to know further, the generosity and loving spirit of the Greek people, and knew I would be back.

We each have our own love stories, dreams and desires. I enjoyed reflecting on some of my own golden memories and could see how heart was at the centre of each. I hope you enjoyed these 7 love stories as much as I did sharing with you.

My wish for you is that the gift of love graces your lives in all its forms, and continues to warm your hearts.

To read more about the 7 ancient Greek loves, you might enjoy:

Greek words for love include 7 types you can experience | Well+Good (wellandgood.com)

I would love to hear from you. Please scroll to the bottom to leave a message.

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Family Grandparents Life Parents

An Angel’s Christmas Wish

If we’re lucky, we’ve witnessed the tenderness alive in the hearts of little children; before the real world wedges in and before their spirits become cautious. It’s a beautiful time of innocence with the ability to take our breath away and almost change our DNA.

My granddaughters give me this every time we are together. The eldest has only been on earth for five years and the youngest three.

This year Covid put a halt to skin to skin contact. No kisses, no hugs, no warm flesh. Thankfully, we had technology to make connection possible.

One golden moment captured me a couple of weeks ago as I FaceTimed with my little ones, and it went a long way to healing some of the longing.

I heard their giggles before they came into view as their mom walked me, in her phone, down the hallway and into the bathroom. There my two angels were entirely in the moment enjoying the warm water and bubbles, in the midst of a hilarious sister game. When they heard my voice their heads swiveled and I was greeted with brilliant smiles and an enthusiastic “Jamma!”

We sat for a while, chatting away and catching up on just what had snagged their curiosity the previous week. Sometimes there are questions for me, like do I make my bed every morning.

At a break in the conversation I asked, “So ladies, what would you like for Christmas?”

With shining eyes, the oldest sat thoughtfully imagining her deepest desire. While she pondered, the little one bounced out of the tub landing squarely on the bathmat like she was sticking a gymnastics vault. It was a 10 for sure. No three-year-olds were injured in the process.

With that, her squishable little body, soaking wet and covered in bubbles, began to spin around, arms spread wide, face to the sky, eyes a twinkle.

Still twirling, she declared breathlessly, “All I want for Christmas is this house, my mom and dad, my sister, my dog, my bedroom, my sister, my Christmas tree, my sister….”

Bam! I wondered if my heart would ever to re-start, and suddenly felt drenched in the most precious and sought after elixir of life.

Pure love with a measure of gratitude.

What a gift to this pining Jamma, who must languish across a closed international border until the Pandemic lets up. And what a lovely demonstration of her parent’s loving nurture.

When I came back down to earth I was reminded that life is good, that I am very lucky, and that all I need to do to feel blessed is rekindle the love in my own heart. Angels are everywhere ready to help, some right there in our midst.

Very best wishes to all this holiday season. May love warm your heart and ease whatever ache may be causing sadness in your life.

And with this, may joy multiply.

If you would like to share some thoughts please scroll down to the comments. I would love to hear from you.

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Life

Above and Beyond

a call to action

Fight for the things that you care about, but do it in a way that will lead others to join you. RBG

At this moment in time we are asked to go above and beyond our normal resources in order to manage multiple global challenges that simultaneously threaten our survival; Global warming, devastating political (lack of) leadership in the US, and the Covid-19 pandemic. They are a triple threat above and beyond what we have seen before. What to do?

We are asked to hold faith and hope for our future, while day by day doing our very best.

Of course, I know I’m not alone. We’re all suffering relative to our individual circumstances. I’m grateful my world turns without too much distress, yet some days I`m overwhelmed by sadness, even grief.

My heart goes out to those already suffering anxiety and depression, or who have lost a dear one. You may need to reach out. And my eternal gratitude goes out to everyone who bravely holds us together at great personal risk, from the ER staff to the grocery store clerk.

We are asked to stay present and do what we can. The only way to envision a future is to let go and not lose hope.

If you are American and able to vote, DO IT! Rise up and vote for change. Blind fealty to the current Fascist will only bring more of the same mind bending destruction. I’ m not American, but have family and friends in various states trying to navigate life safely under current leadership. It’s frightening on the ground.

As a citizen of the world, I’m stepping up to be even more proactive with my efforts towards the existential crisis of our times: the climate crisis. Can I find more ways to reduce waste and lower consumerism? If I park my car and walk when I can, it will also benefit my health and I vow to pay more attention to what can be recycled and reused. There are exciting advances being made around the globe so I try to keep informed and find consolation knowing gifted and dedicated minds are on the job.

But the most imminent threat is the pandemic. Individually most of us follow accredited health guidelines, because it’s not a question of personal rights to live without restrictions. If we want to survive and see the end of Covid, there are certain things we must do whether we like it or not.

Unfortunately there are young souls amongst us who just don’t get it, and for them I pray for a shift in consciousness. By the way, a young soul can be of any age, 5 or 95.

It’s not brave to behave recklessly. It’s delusional. Maybe these people have not been directly affected, or believe the US president when he says it’s no big deal. There’s such ignorance in acting this unconsciously and displays an entitlement that goes beyond humanity.

After more than six months, we know more about the virus itself and how to treat it. But Covid exhaustion has become real. Some people are tired down into their bones by trying to manage all aspects of their lives. For young families with children to care for, it’s heartbreaking to realize their children are so vulnerable, all the while trying to keep them happy and their education on track. People are trying to work, or worse, have lost jobs and wonder where the next meal will come from. The constant question “Am I doing everything right?” becomes a haunting companion and can easily lead to burnout.

Most of us are doing our best and it has to be enough. Yet there is a level of risk we must accept to just go about living. We wear the mask, wash our hands, and social distance. Invitations to gather with friends indoors are declined even though it’s so hard to say no. This will be even more important as winter closes in.

For the elderly in care homes, lockdowns turn their small rooms into prison cells. To say they are incarcerated is not an exaggeration. My 90 year-old mom in assisted living knows just what that means. She has already endured six weeks of solitary with four more weeks added because of another case yesterday. Drastic measures? Not at all, but so disheartening.

The Health Authority responds with eyeball flattening speed to control each event. Confined to quarters, residents take all meals alone in their suites, some go without baths and hair washing, there are no exercise classes, and no chatting with friends in the hallway. They are truly alone. The mail person is even denied entry into the building. Since the beginning of Covid visitors have been limited or denied entry. That’s a long time to go without a hug and kiss.

Worse, try to imagine coping with the daily fear of infection, as well the possibility of dying alone.

Then imagine there is no end in sight.

But some people feel invincible, or believe they’re so special they don’t need to use precautions. It is after all uncomfortable to wear a mask, and annoying to have activities restricted. Maybe they think if they cannot contract Covid they wouldn’t be a threat to anyone else. Or maybe indulging in fun is more important than being a responsible adult.

It’s this small-minded and selfish behavior that has resulted in the rapid increase of Covid cases all over North America, as well as hundreds of thousands of unnecessary deaths. Now that we know what we can do, what will it take to get through to them? I just don’t get it.

The media keeps us up on latest curves and trends. I read recently a shocking statistic that 40% of the population is asymptomatic. If you know this, wearing a mask should be a no-brainer.

I feel compelled to lift this anger and frustration off my heart onto these pages to express how helpless I feel. To those who wholeheartedly accept the necessary sacrifices and who do so without complaint, there is enormous gratitude. My hope is that by sharing these words, some will be inspired to right action and others feel proud they are part of a great healing.

I ask myself what more I can do to go above and beyond, to help ease some suffering, to fully cooperate and be part of the solution. Seemingly small efforts like a phone call, count big time.

This is my call to action.

What we do, or do not do, matters now more than ever. Past all of this, we’ll once again be able to raise our hands to embrace this magnificent world for which we are the hapless custodians; to once again breathe freely on our streets.

Be well friends and thank you for stopping by. If you would like to leave a comment, click on the thought bubble at the end of the post, then scroll down past comments already submitted.

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Family Life Parents

CHEF JAM ~ and the culinary caper

Dinner prep was underway in the Lane’s kitchen. “Jamma, is this how chefs peel carrots?” Molly’s earnest desire to do it right weighed heavily in her question.

Jamma glanced over at her four year old granddaughter, who was running her peeler enthusiastically back and forth on the same spot, right down to the core, and offered some guidance.

“There. You are doing it perfectly!” she replied, and was rewarded with a brilliant smile.

Finished with the carrots, Molly grabbed the parsnips. Since they looked like white carrots she knew what to do and set about peeling them with the surety of an experienced line cook. Her little sister Greta was busy placing cut up pieces of vegetable carefully on a baking sheet.

“What’s next Chef Jam?”

For about two years Molly had been in training as her Jamma’s sous- chef. She loved her role and was always excited to learn something new. Her confidence was growing with each new job and it showed. Jamma’s heart fairly boomed out of her chest when she heard Molly call out Chef Jam. It didn’t get any better than that!

“Our next task is to cut up a whole chicken.”

With that, Molly’s lips formed a perfect circle and her eyebrows shot up.

Jamma remembered the last time Molly laid eyes on a raw chicken she was afraid to touch it. Now a year older she didn’t even cringe. She ran her hand slowly and thoughtfully down the cool, rubbery carcass as if reading braille, then triumphantly declared,

“That’s not as creepy as it looks!”

Chef Jam’s first concern was always safety, and she realized since they were about to cut up a chicken, it was time to talk about it. She knew Molly would be eager to learn what it meant.

“Food safety means always being clean when you’re preparing food so nobody gets sick when they eat it. You must wash your hands before you start and in between each preparation and the work station must also be kept clean. This keeps the germs and bacteria away.”

It made perfect sense to Molly, who, along with her sister, and without further prompting, dashed to the bathroom to scrub up. They were back just in time to see Jamma pull out a fresh cutting board and clean knife.

So to the chicken. Jamma showed the girls how to find the joint for the easiest cut, and helped Molly place the blade so she would understand what it felt like to find the soft spot.

Next Molly arranged the chicken pieces on a baking sheet, and was ready to add some flavor. She remembered what seasoning was from a previous lesson and in a blink dipped her hand in the salt bowl and grabbed as much as her little fist could hold, then with a flourish, doused the entire dish.

Now it was time for Jamma’s eyebrows to shoot up, and there followed a lesson on how much salt is actually needed for food to taste good. Molly took it all in, without taking offence, and they set about rinsing off as much as they could. The pepper grinder was much easier to manage.

“Chef Jam, I think we need to add some herbs.”

With that Molly skipped out the kitchen door and returned with some fresh thyme and rosemary. Jamma handed her a small knife and it wasn’t long before the herbs were chopped and the chicken ready for the oven. Then turning to the girls, Jamma said,

“Perfect! Now we have an hour to play before dinner is ready”.

Sure enough the chicken was still too salty and barely edible. With the first bite they looked at each other’s scrunched up faces and burst out laughing. Even peeling the skin off was only a slight improvement, but at least they had some delicious roasted veggies to fill up their tummies.

Molly and Greta were both pooped after such an action packed day and eager to relax into a few stories before bed.

And Chef Jam? She was pooped as well, but the evening was such a pleasure she went to bed right after the girls, completely delighted. As she laid waiting for her eyes to slam shut, an alarming thought creeped out.

What was she thinking when she called their work perfect?!!

She certainly wasn’t expecting perfection, and she didn’t want the girls to think that was the goal either. The last thing they needed was to think they weren’t good enough if their work wasn’t perfect. What they needed was encouragement, guidance, and to be inspired to always do their best. And the whole experience should be fun not stressful. Simple as that.

Jamma wanted to be a good example for the girls, so laid there in the dark thinking about what she might want to say instead. She decided to replace perfect with wonderful, and vowed to start using it the very next morning. With a big exhale, she felt the powerful influence a single word could have, especially on precious little minds. Thank goodness she was paying attention to her thoughts.

Time spent with her girls was a chance for Jamma to mingle with their bright spirits; to play, to create, to laugh, and to make memories. Even in the slip-ups there was fun to be had, and today was a fine example.

Later that evening when Mom and Dad came back from their date night, Jamma was already fast asleep, pleased for what she had shared and learned, dreaming of the next culinary caper.

Thanks for checking in. I recommend finding some young people to play with and see what they can teach you! The joy is indescribable.

Here’s a recipe for granola bars that are easy for kids to make, with thanks to www.allrecipes.com

I would love to hear from you. Just scroll to the bottom to leave a comment or share your own stories.

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