A Sacramental Vision of Being

Sitting in the corner of the porch under the ceiling fan, I could smell the grass being cut next door. The hum of the lawn mower was unusually low and therefore allowed me to hear the birds in the trees on the farm behind my house. Even the silly rooster that crows at all hours of the day seemed unaware that he had competition in the lawn mower.

What I was supposed to be listening to was my granddaughter Paige. Ever since she heard the story of the guinea fowl feather, she has been telling me stories. We sat beside each other rocking in over-sized rockers circling an open pit fire at the Animal Kingdom Lodge while a woman from Africa told us the story. Her African accent thick, at times, so thick I could barely understand her, but the beauty of words, her hands as they moved, and the rapture in Paige’s eyes as she watched was all that I needed to stay alert to the teller.

Today’s story from Paige was one of her with her three cousins, Lexi, Hayden and Emery Kate. Together the four of them danced and played games, rode horses, had a sleep-over, and swam at the beach. Every once in a while a red car would drive down the road behind my house. It would go far down the road and turn south and disappear into the woods on the other side of the farmer’s pasture. It is a mystery to us where he goes and so Paige suggested we follow it one day. And before I knew it, Paige was elaborating on her story adding a mystery or two as the story was told.

It would have been easy to focus on the everyday issues of my life, but I made a conscious decision not to do so. Instead I saw the spiritual in the moment. I looked at the farm, the animals roaming through the fields, the lamb crying out for its mother, the lawn mower humming next door, and my precious granddaughter entertaining her Mimi with her charming stories. Everywhere I looked I saw God.

Hot Tamale Pie for Dinner

Historically speaking, my roots are not from the American Southwest, but my daughter-in-law’s are and it pleases me to cook for my friends and family. So I decided to try a recipe from a tiny little cookbook I found when I unpacked a box marked “Good Cookbooks.” Entitled, A Little Southwest Cookbook by Barbara Karoff, from Chronicle Books, I decided to try the Tamale Pie.

Although authentic tamale pie calls for cooked chicken, I chose to use ground meet (because I had it in the refrigerator.) For me, cooking is way to express myself. I love the smell of onions sautéing in the skillet; add some garlic and the aroma is delightful. This particular recipe did not call for garlic but it did call for black olives which I omitted because some in the family cannot tolerate them. After frying the onions and bell pepper, I added the cooked ground meet, creamed corn, green chilies, and tomatoes.

I also took pleasure in chopping and seeding fresh tomatoes as well as grating fresh cheese. But the most rewarding effort called for was making my own cornmeal mush. This required soaking the cornmeal in water then cooking it in boiling water with chili powder for five minutes stirring constantly.

According to the Arizona Highways Heritage Cookbook, published in 1988 by the Arizona Highways magazine, tamale pie came to the southwest with wagon trains in the late 1800’s. Left-over food mixed with the cornmeal mush and served with salsa made this an easy recipe for travelers. Another recipe I found was in a column “From the Kitchen of Sister Mary,” by Sister Mary on the Society page of a 1931 issue of The Meriden Daily Journal, Meriden, Connecticut. Ingredients are similar but it called for 2 cups of potatoes, but then said the potatoes could be omitted. Key to this recipe and the others I found is that the tamale pie is an adaption of the southwest’s hot tamales and although a little bit time-consuming in prepping, once the cooking starts, it’s a breeze and so delicious in the end.

I have a little plaque my daughter gave me that says, “Like mother, like daughter – the nicest compliment there is.” My daughter does not cook (yet.) My mother was a great cook, however. And like me she used cookbooks and followed the recipe to the T. And like me she always forgot something. In this case, I forgot to serve the Salsa with my tamale pie. I don’t think it mattered. It was the thought that counted.

My joy in preparing the meal; my family’s pleasure in eating it; and another opportunity for me to use God’s power to do good in my life made this hot tamale pie delicioso!

A Time Capsule to Remember

The city of Cordele, Georgia is the “watermelon capitol of the world,” according to its official website www.cityofcordele.com . Conveniently located 140 miles south of Atlanta and 100 miles from the Florida state line on Interstate 75, it is the county seat for Crisp County Georgia. And although its history is rich dating back to the Civil War and for a few days serving as the capital of Georgia, in truth it is a pit stop for Northerners on their way to Walt Disney World or at least it was for us.



It was 4:30 in the afternoon when we reached Cordele after leaving Chattanooga for the land of “where memories are made.” We stopped for gasoline at the intersection of I 75 and state highway 401. Downtown Cordele is located approximately eight blocks west and four blocks south and is located on US Highway 41, which as those of you who live in Tennessee know, US Hwy 41 is the old highway that tourist took to get to Florida before the Interstate system was built.


Because of that, we did not see downtown Cordele but instead were greeted with a Titan Missile which according to the town’s website came to be in 1968. Today it is a time capsule. I asked Paige if she knew what a time capsule was and she explained that it is a box that people put things in and then opened up years later. I was impressed. I asked her where she learned that and she said, “Sponge Bob Square Pants.” (A cartoon show on Nick Jr.)


Of course the reporter in me wanted to know more. So I asked the attendant at the gas station, a young man who was eager to tell me the story. It seems the truck that was hauling the missile from somewhere in Florida broke down on the Interstate there in Cordele. Instead of hauling it to its final destination, which he did not know, towns bid on keeping it and he was proud to announce that Cordele out bid Atlanta. Even more amazing he added that two years ago they realized the missile was still armed. This was backed by the manager/owner who repeated the story to another customer. I’m not sure that I want to believe that an armed missile has been sitting 500 miles from my hometown, but it is a good story and it is an amazing impressive sight to see.




Of course for Paige more amazing was to wonder what the citizens of Cordele placed in their time capsule.