The proposal

I'm down in Haiti and have been for 6 days now. It's still a little surreal to me that Eric proposed last week but I've loved wearing his ring this week, especially when I got some proposals from some Haitian guys when I was at the hardware store yesterday.

I got on a plane about 40 hours after I got engaged and haven't had a ton of free time but have a few minutes now and thought I would jot down the proposal story for you.

I'll confess - we did things way out of order. We picked a wedding date, booked our honeymoon, and I even bought a wedding dress weeks before he proposed. I knew he had a ring and I knew it was coming but I just didn't know when. And I also knew that my life is always crazy with coming and going and once the summer started rolling, I wouldn't have much time to do those things.

I honestly didn't think he would do it before I went to Haiti. I had hoped he would but had resigned myself to waiting until sometime in July when I was back and I was OK with that.

But he had something else in mind.

I spent Tuesday, June 18 up in Estes with Eric, his sweet daughter Anya, and his parents who were in CO for the week. They were staying in a little cabin with a beautiful deck right over the Big Thompson River just outside of town.

We (all 5 of us) spent the day picnicking in Estes, eating Dairy Queen ice cream cones, and taking a pontoon boat out on Lake Estes. Anya was ecstatic when her grandpa let her drive the pontoon. It was an awesome day, very relaxing and a good introduction to Eric's parents, who I hadn't met before.

We took everyone back to the cabin around 4:00 and Eric suggested we have some Robin and Eric time on our own. I was convinced he wasn't going to propose until July so I was completely oblivious and not suspecting anything. He suggested we go up into Rocky Mountain National Park and walk around Bear Lake. I thought that sounded like a great idea.

I will mention that I did watch him back at the cabin to see if he went into the bedroom to put anything in his pocket. I was secretly hoping he would propose :) But he didn't even go into the bedroom before we left for our alone time.

Little did I know he had been carrying the ring in his pocket all day!

We got up to Bear Lake and there were about a gazillion people there, but we still managed to break off from the crowds and as we starting walking around the lake, he motioned to a little side trail that went down to the water. There was a bench there so we sat down and just enjoyed the view.

I was resting my head on his shoulder, feeling grateful to have him in my life, when he gently slipped his arm out and started sliding down on one knee to the ground. He said, "I'm sure you knew this was coming," but I didn't! I was stunned as he took my hand in his hand and told me he loved me and asked me to marry him.

I exclaimed "YES!" and threw my arms around his neck before he even had a chance to get the ring out of his pocket. I will never forget that moment of anticipating seeing my ring for the first time. I had asked him for a pearl ring with small diamonds around it because I love pearls and pearl is my birthstone, and I think they are very classy and beautiful. Also, with as much as I travel to poor areas, I wanted a ring I could still wear that didn't have a huge diamond attached to it. I'm also a pragmatist at heart, and while I know Eric would have gotten me a big old diamond if I had asked for one, I also feel like there are more useful things that much money can be spent on. I wasn't comfortable having something super flashy on my hand when I spend time with people who struggle to know where their next meal is going to come from.

So Eric brought a beautiful pearl ring out of his pocket. It's sitting in a setting of white gold with 25 tiny diamonds encompassing it, so it still sparkles in the sunlight. My favorite flower is a sunflower and this particular ring was called The Sunflower Ring on the website he got it on, which confirmed to him that it was the perfect ring for me.

I love how he took the time to even find that kind of detail in this ring. It very much reflects his tender heart towards me and his desire to know and understand me. It's one of the many reasons I said yes without hesitation.

We spent a few more minutes at the lake, I cried a few joyful tears, and we returned to the cabin where his parents were making us all a delicious steak dinner. They were in on the proposal and did an amazing job not letting on.

Anya is pretty excited we're getting married, as evidenced by the picture she presented to me when we first met, a picture she drew of me as a bride and her as the flower girl, although she wasn't sure who the groom was in her picture at that time. She's been anticipating this news for weeks and is ready to be the most important flower girl in the wedding (there are several others in addition to her.) She was dismayed that we hadn't already gotten married in the two weeks that went by when she didn't see me.

I let her try the ring on and she squealed and jumped around when we explained to her what it meant. I am just as excited to have her in my life from now on as I am to have Eric.

We've picked October 12 for our wedding day, because that will be the one year anniversary of when we were introduced to each other on eharmony. We're still figuring out the details of the day but most likely it will be a small wedding in Nebraska.

I continue to be humbled by how God has so graciously granted this desire of my heart that I had long given up hope of happening. Eric matches me in ways that no one else ever has and even though we are also very different in some ways, it's undeniable that God is joining us together.

I'm so grateful for him and eagerly anticipate spending the rest of life with him, and I love the wonderful and beautiful surprise his proposal was!

A post for Marta

I'm grateful for the people who wistfully remember that I use to blog with some regularity and then entreat me to try again. That happened just yesterday with my friend Marta, and so today I will write, with her particularly in mind.

As always, I have a plethora of reasons why I haven't blogged, and yet many of them are reasons that I should have continued to blog, even in the midst of the busiest season I've ever experienced.

I should have blogged after Jessie and I went to Puerto Rico together right before a Lifetree Adventures mission trip there back in February. We enjoyed four glorious days together, full of plantains, rich conversation, and maybe a pina colada here and there. It was a much needed time of connection for both of us, a recalibrating and looking with anticipation to all that the future was brimming with in both of our lives, sprinkled with a twinge of sadness that we are now separated by 1200 miles and not able to be more closely involved in all that's going on in life.

I should have blogged about my time in Haiti at the end of March, about the countless miracles we witnessed, and the raw closeness of life and death that go hand in hand each day there.

I should have blogged about seeing Farah again while I was in Haiti, and about getting to meet sweet Alora in Toronto the following week, a little girl whose life I prayed for while she was still a tiny little baby in her mama's womb.

I should have blogged about trusting God in midst of upheaval and change when my leader at work gave his resignation a couple of weeks ago, on the same day that I heard about the tragic death of a young man whose family is forever etched in my heart.

I thought about blogging about all of those things, but I've been trying to just stay afloat in the middle of way too much traveling, and blogging was a luxury I haven't quite been able to get to.

But mostly, I should be blogging about Eric. In His mysterious ways, God chose to give birth to a sweet and unexpected relationship during a time when I barely seem to remember where I live, in the middle of coming to terms with the likelihood that I would just be single for the rest of my life and feeling pretty content about that.

I even told Penny when she dropped me off at the Vancouver airport on Jan. 16 for my flight home that I loved my single life and that a guy would just wreck it.

10 days later, Eric changed my mind.

Let me back it up a little.

At the end of last summer, I realized God was clearly telling me to stay right where I was (I had been praying about moving overseas) and with that came the thought that if He was keeping me where I was, maybe He would let me fall in love.

The problem was that I had very little access to quality single men. With my traveling, I'm usually gone at least 1-2 weekends a month. I go to a super small church. I haven't clicked with any of the single guys where I work. These factors make dating a bit tough. I've tried eHarmony throughout the years, so I decided I would give it one last go. I had just seen two of my friends find their husbands through eHarmony, so it seemed like a reasonable outlet to try yet again.

Two months later, after countless mini-heartaches and dead ends, I remembered why I hate eHarmony and internet dating in general. It's an awful lot of investment of time and money with very little return. While it's a great idea in theory, it can be incredibly disappointing when you invest and then come up even more empty-handed then you did trying to find someone in person.

So I decided to quit trying. On a Thursday, I put a little note in my profile that said I love to play Words with Friends and invited my matches to start a game with me. I knew I wasn't going to renew my subscription and I didn't want to put my email address in my profile, so Words seemed like a good alternative to meeting someone. I gave my username and decided to just see what happened.

The next day, on a Friday, I was matched with Eric. A few hours later, he started a Words with Friends game with me. I was matched with dozens more guys after him, but he was the only one who took me up on the invitation to play Words. He was equally fed up with eHarmony, and even more than I was, because he deleted his profile the day after we were matched. He probably subconsciously knew he didn't need to look anymore after he found me :)

I look back on those three months where we played Words with Friends and got to know each other through the chat feature of the game as an incredibly sweet gift. We were both so worn out by the search for a romantic relationship that we just needed space to be ourselves and have a like-minded friend.

I learned about his job as a rural pastor in Nebraska and his 4 year old daughter from his first marriage, his thoughts on God and faith and the messiness of divorce when you're in full time ministry, and he got to learn about my new niece and all of the places I was traveling while playing Words with Friends with him (I've played games with him from four countries, one US territory, and five states over the last 7 months).

We had three months of no pressure, no strings attached time to get to know each other through the wonders of modern technology. And when he finally asked to meet me at the end of January, I was nervous but also felt like I was going to see an old friend. We clicked immediately, and while he had to wait 7 weeks between date 1 and date 2 because of my hectic travel schedule, we both agree the wait was worth it.

Eric far surpasses anything that I could have ever dreamed up on my own when it comes to a significant other. I told him on our second date about the guy who broke my heart just over a year ago and how much I felt used by him even though he was only in my life a couple of months, and Eric took me in his arms and whispered in my ear, "You are a treasure and you deserve to be cherished." And cherish me he does.

I have never once had to question or doubt his heart for me. He has made it abundantly clear from the beginning (when we finally met in person) that he was serious about dating and he was serious about me. He goes out of his way to do little things like open the car door for me and leave me little love notes around my house for me to find after he goes home. It's the little things that make a man great, and he is a great man.

I'm grateful that for the most part, I've been spared the landmines of premature romantic relationships. I haven't dated much and I have very little baggage when it comes to the opposite sex, but I still wish that I could go back in time and just tell my younger, impatient self to just calm down, that it would all be ok, that there are more important things in life than just finding a mate, and then when the time was right, it would be well worth the wait.

I wish I could talk to the Robin who spent many hours in tears, convinced that God had forgotten her, and just tell her that was so far from the truth that it's laughable now. God absolutely remembered her and had a perfect plan that He would unfold when the time was right. That God saw the unspoken longings of her heart, and in His time He would be faithful to meet them.

I think if I had had that understanding of God and His timing and understood how magnificent He truly is in all that He does, I would have lived the last 34 years with a bit more abandon. I would have been more daring with the free years and invested in those around me with greater depth instead of worrying about where I was going to meet my husband. I had moments and even weeks and months where I lived life like that, but for the most part, I didn't.

And now Eric is here and it seems as though life has blurred by very quickly and the one thing that I thought would never happen is going to happen and life will be forever changed. And I couldn't be happier at the thought.

I remember telling him in one of our first chat conversations during a Words with Friends game that I was really worried that a guy would wreck my life. He told me that you know you've met the right person when they enhance your life and help you to thrive instead of wrecking things. He was absolutely right. I wasted a lot of energy pining over guys who would have just wrecked things instead of getting to know the God who formed my heart and trusting that He had a good plan.

So what I would say to you, Marta, and to all of the other single women out there who may read this - I have no clue what God's plan for your life is. I don't even know what His plan for my life is, although He seems to be giving some fairly significant indications of what He's doing. But I do know this - He cares about your heart very much. He cares about it way more than you give Him credit for. He sees every tear you've ever cried about being single and He's been present at every moment as a single woman that you've loved and enjoyed. He is constant even when you go up and down. He is patient when you are impatient. He is steady when you are conflicted. He is worth your full devotion as a woman, single, dating, or married.

Trust Him. Take each moment that you have as a single woman and learn who He is. Invest in the people around you. Travel. Enjoy rainy and sunny days. Laugh. Laugh some more. Cry. Be fully present in each moment you're given and don't reach impatiently for a future that is not yet here. If it's meant to come, it will come at the right time and it will be well worth the wait. And don't give your heart away to someone who will not cherish it. The man you are meant to be with will come looking for your heart and he will win it. You don't need to throw it at someone who is not going to treasure it the way God intended for it to be treasured. You are much better off living your life as a single woman than you are living with someone who does not treasure you.

So, that's the tip of the iceberg of all that has been in my heart and mind these last few months as I have been traveling the world, savoring all that God has put before me, and falling in love. I'm slowly but surely getting caught up on life again and hopefully will be better at blogging. I love to write about life and life is finally getting back to a pace that I can follow.

Thanks for asking me to write. I pray that God touches your heart today in a way that reminds you of how precious you are to Him.

Words Without Friends

Some of you may remember my fascination with the game Draw Something. Erika and I played that game with gusto when we first got our fancy phones last year, as you can read about here. I still play this sometimes but my attention has been turned now towards a new game, Words with Friends.

For those of you not familiar with this one, it's basically Scrabble. I was never very good at Scrabble but I've got some mean Words with Friends skills and will gladly take you down on. My name is rac003. Try if you dare.

I've been playing this new magical game for about seven months now and I've learned a few things along the way, mostly that there are way more words out there that I had no idea were words than words I actually know. Words that I think shouldn't be words are and get sometimes 50 or 60 points for me.

More importantly, I've learned what words are not actually acceptable words, and that's what this post is about. I know a lot of you stay up at night pondering this, so without further ado, here are words without friends.

We'll start with what I think should be an obvious one. As an Android user, I wholeheartedly agree with this, but it's good to have the backup support from Words.

Sorry Iphone users.

I know we're only just at the beginning of this blog, but you already may be feeling the urge to laugh out loud. I'm going to caution you against that. Here's why.

I'm still going to LOL. In your face, Words with Friends!

As you know, I like to travel. In fact, this is my first Saturday at home since February 9. But Words with Friends has some things to say about countries and places of interest.

This probably comes as no surprise:

Au contraire, WWF, Cuba is a magical land filled with exceptionally acceptable cigars and rum drinks. 

But before you get too cocky about your own motherland, keep this in mind:

If only America and Cuba could realize how much they have in common. This simple realization probably could have averted the entire Cuban Missile Crisis. Too bad smart phones hadn't been invented yet. LOL.  

This next one might hit a little too close to home for some of you. It did for me.

I can almost see the hundreds of thousands of husbands out there fist pumping the air on this one.

The great thing about Words with Friends is that you can play it with your friends and also total strangers. However, there are a few people you should not attempt to play Words with Friends with, as they are unacceptable.

Sorry, ObiWan Kenobi, you're not my only hope.

We just lost the battle for Middle Earth with this one.

Name it and claim it, Words with Friends.

Yes, boner is acceptable. Barbie is not.

Next we move on to what I call the "it" words. I strongly feel that when playing Words with Friends, I should be able to add the word "it" to a verb to make a longer and better word. The game does not agree with me on this point, as evidenced by these failed attempts.

"What did you do with your stuff?"
"I boxedit."
"That's unacceptable."

"What did you do to your leg?"
"I strainedit."
"Oh no you didn't. That's unacceptable."

"What are you going to do with that Cuban cigar?"
"I'm going to suckit."
"That's unacceptable on so many levels. Haven't you been paying attention?"

Words with Friends can increase your level of enjoyment of your existing relationships, especially if you win against your loved ones on a regular basis. But here are some words to avoid when talking about relationships and dating, as they are unacceptable.

As in "That girl ain't nothin' but manbait."

And then there's this classic:

You got that right.

Let's switch gears and talk about something near and dear to all of our hearts - animals. Words with Friends has some strong things to say about what counts as an animal and how to best care for said animals.

Your seaclam may be your best friend but Words with Friends finds that unacceptable.

And what if your crab gets sick? Don't even bother trying to take it to the vet, because as you can see:

This one is especially dear to Paige's heart. She will probably never read this blog, but in the slim chance she does, she will feel justified to know this.

That's chicken to you, not chix.

Not surprisingly, Words with Friends offers some counsel on parts of the body and things related to its care and clothing.

That's right. I just indirectly used the word "tatas" in a blog post. So unacceptable.

Next time you're walking around and your toe feels like you strainedit, it's probably just a toejam. Put some Bengay on it. Oh wait...

After a long winter of staying out of the sun, I start to look like this.

So unacceptable. Get some sun!

And next time you're getting ready for a date with your manbait, make sure you don't put one of these on.

It was also unacceptable that Eric got 72 points on his move to jump into the lead. But I digress.

Finally, Words with Friends has some thoughts on how to handle holidays and other special occasions.

You all know the words to the classic tune, "We Wish You a Merry Christmas," and may even LOL when you get to the verse about figgy pudding. Here's what Words with Friends has to say about that.

I'm not going to go until I get some.

Feeling hungry? I know what would hit the spot.

Just kidding. That's unacceptable.

Gorge yourself at your last Hogfeast? No problem. Just go to CrossFit and do some of these.

Oh wait, that's unacceptable.

In closing, I'd like to give a couple of special shout-outs. The first is to Canada.

You'll always be acceptable to me, hosers.

And lastly, to my loyal and anonymous Russian fanbase:

The game said, I didn't. Don't kill me.

Other people's children

Everyone always says children are a gift. But to a single woman whose chances of having her own kids have pretty much gone out the window, other people's kids are maybe the greatest gift of all.

I have the blessing to somehow have the love of 6 children, and the honor of being able to invest in the lives of 4 more through organizations like Compassion International.

All in all, my 10 kids are in 6 different countries and only 2 of them live close enough to me that I get to see them about once a week. But they are constantly in my heart.

There's Rose who is 17 and lives in Haiti. I've never met her but I've been sponsoring her for about 6 years now. Sometimes I get letters from her thanking me for the goat I gave her for Christmas or her birthday. I get the sense that out of all of my kids, life is hardest for Rose. She is only in 5th grade and she implores me in all of her letters to pray that she will be smarter. I tell her in my letters to keep trying, to not give up, to not get pregnant and to stay in school. And I pray for her, probably more fervently than I do for the others.

Next is Graham. He's 16 and he lives in Canada. I'm visiting him this week. I've known Graham since his mom was 12 weeks pregnant with him. Yesterday I watched him drive a car, all the while thinking of the little baby who used to crawl after me wherever I went when I was 17. My bond with Graham is strong and I am so proud of the young man he's becoming and that he still lets me hug him.

After that comes Thomas, also Canadian. He's 14 and he has the unique distinction of also being my godson. I'm not totally sure what that really means, except that I try to stay on top of his life and ask him questions and pray fervently for him too. Not really a hugger at this stage, but he did let me hit his arm when I got here on Thursday. Thomas is creatively brilliant. He designs and builds things and has been that way his whole life. And he is always up for adventure.

After Thomas is Estrella. I think she just turned 12. She's one of my newest kids and she lives in the Dominican Republic. I started sponsoring her right before I went there in November and got to meet her when I was there. I don't know much about her yet, but my heart has never been so full as it was when she was playing the recorder for our group with the other kids and she kept popping her head out from the back row to make sure I could see her. Then she came and found me and stood snuggled against me for the rest of the time we were there. She's a bit sassy, I think, in addition to sweet, which make her a girl after my own heart.

Dylan is next. He's 11 and the youngest of the Canadian boys. When they moved here he was only a year old and I was convinced that any kind of relationship with him would be a long shot because he didn't have memories of me the way the older boys did. But Dylan has been a delightful surprise. We have been blessed with an incredibly sweet relationship that confounds all logic. Out of all of the boys, he is the one who wants to Skype throughout the year and the one who snuggles with me the most and who plays games with me and tells me he loves me about 20 times a day. He is my heart melter.

Next up is Mariceli. She is 10 and she lives in Peru. I met her about a year and a half ago while leading a mission trip. She's the girl equivalent of Dylan when it comes to heart melting. She only speaks Spanish but that doesn't stop her from calling me every few months and chattering to me about her life and her dog and her family. She told me to never forget her when I was leaving and so far I haven't. It is a unique privilege to have been given the gift of her love and I've been touched to see how her parents also recognize the sweet bond we have and they make the financial sacrifice to let her call me every once in awhile. She was a sweet surprise to my mix.

Next up are Laurette and Farrah. They aren't twins but they look like they could be and they are both 8 years old. Laurette lives in the Congo and Farrah lives in Haiti. I am helping both of them go to school. They are still young and full of hope but both face incredibly overwhelming futures and obstacles. More than anything, my prayer for these baby girls is that they will be spared rape and molestation and AIDS, even though the odds are not in their favor. My heart often feels heaviest for them.

Gwennie comes next. She's 3 and hands down the light of my life. Her mom texted me yesterday to share with me that Gwennie had just announced that , "I love Daddy, I love Mommy, I love myself, I love Robin, and I love my doctor." What an honor to have made that list! Gwennie lights up the room and it is no small thing to have been blessed with a secure place in her heart. She also is the chief recipient of lots of international toys. It's good to have a child to buy things for when I'm out of the country.

Last but not least is my new niece Sophie. She will be 11 weeks on Monday and she doesn't have a clue yet who I am but she is quite content to sleep in my arms. Her birth defined me in a new way. She made me an aunt, something I have never been before.

My friend Candace got to meet Sophie the other day and she remarked that it's so important for children to have an adult in their lives who adores them and thinks they're awesome and who is not one of their parents. But I think it's even more important for that adult to have those kids.

I'm pretty sure I would be a lousy parent. I'm impatient and selfish and independent, and it's possible God has not been amiss in not giving me my own. But I love that He has given me other people's children to love and know and invest in. And I love that other people let me love their children.

"He raises the poor from the dust and lifts the needy from the ash heap; he seats them with princes, with the princes of their people. He settles the barren woman in her home as the happy mother of children."  - Psalm 113:7-9

Because "Jeff" told me to

Somebody - we'll call him "Jeff" - recently complained about my lack of blog posts in the last few weeks. I wish there was a good reason for it, like that I'm off doing something amazing for the benefit of humanity, but mainly it's because I've recently discovered the tv show Fringe and now spend any free time I have at home watching it. I just started season 3 last night. Olivia is stuck on the other side and her mind has just been infiltrated with Olivia from the other side's memories while Olivia from the other side is back on our side pretending to be the real Olivia and Peter doesn't know! Oh my!

Anyway, I'm sorry, "Jeff," and everyone else, that I care more about watching tv than blogging. I've also decided to refinance my house to a 15 year mortgage, and this has taken up about 1 hour of my life as well. It's possible "Jeff" has been helping me with this. Here are some snippets of conversations that we've had over the last 10 days:

Jeff: "Give me your social security number."
Me: "Ok."

Jeff: "Give me your credit card number."
Me: "Ok."

Jeff: "Sell me your soul."
Me: "Ok."

Wait, that last one hasn't happened yet, but the day is still young and full of soul-selling potential, and I wouldn't put it past him to slide that one in on the side.

We also had this conversation:

Jeff: "Go see The Hobbit with me and some other people."
Me: "Ok."

So I went to see The Hobbit on Saturday with "Jeff" and some other friends. I don't see a lot of movies in the theater, probably because I'm at home watching Fringe all of the time. In fact, The Hobbit is only the 3rd movie I've seen in the theater since May. Don't tell "Jeff", but I kind of liked The Hobbit, only because I haven't read the book in 14 years and couldn't tell you where Peter Jackson strayed in accuracy. But "Jeff" can, and he disapproved.

Here is where today's blog post takes a sudden, unexpected, dark turn. I warned "Jeff" that this might happen.

About halfway through the movie on Saturday, I looked around the dark theater at all of the people sitting there enjoying the show (or not) and eating their popcorn (or spilling it on the ground, like I did) and the first thing that popped into my mind was, "Please don't let anyone come in here and gun us down."

It was an awful thought, and yet it being the day after the shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary School in CT and five months after the shooting in the Denver movie theater, it also wasn't an entirely unrealistic thought. And that grieves me.

And after the movie, I went to the mall to get a couple of things and as I walked into the mall, the same thought hit me: "Please don't let anyone gun us down in the mall." And it grieved me even more that I would have the same thought twice in one day and that it's real things that have happened that triggered the thought in the first place.

It's heartbreaking to live in a world where elementary schools, movie theaters, and malls are all of a sudden targets for angry, hurting gunmen. It's unfathomable to see the sweet faces of six and seven year old children on the news whose lives were snuffed out way too soon, and know that there are presents under Connecticut Christmas trees that will not be opened this year and families who will spend their holiday together amid many tears.

But it's also a reminder to me of why we even celebrate Christmas in the first place, because the world is a dark place in need of light.

I'll confess - I hate Christmas songs. It annoys me to no end that my favorite radio station decides to play Christmas songs 24 hours a day starting in mid-November. I ban the station from my car during those 39 days. I'm really not ready for Christmas songs until about 3:30 PM on Dec. 24, unless it's Amy Grant's "Tender Tennessee Christmas." This one is on my iPod year-round, because who's not ready for a tender Tennessee Christmas in the middle of August?

I talked to someone last week who had just returned from the predominantly Buddhist country of Myanmar. She said it was such a stark contrast to be in a place where there are very few Christians and most surround sound she heard while there were Buddhist chants and then to come back to America and be bombarded by our extreme love of all things Christmas, especially Christmas songs.

It is, after all, the one time during the year that people don't seem to mind being reminded of Jesus and singing songs about Him for 39 days straight. It's like this 6 week window where light is allowed to shine mostly unhindered and it's a beautiful thing.

This Christmas is going to be a hard one for a lot of people, maybe even for you. There are many heavy hearts both right here in Fort Collins this week and around the nation. If that is you, I will be praying for you. There are never perfect words to say to someone who is grieving or hurting or broken. You simply have to keep living each day, one moment at a time, until the pain lets up enough that you can start to breathe normally again. And that day does come.

But be reminded that there is light in your darkness. We celebrate Christmas on Dec. 25 because it's the day that Christians picked to acknowledge the day that God entered into our world as a human baby. It was the brightest day in the history of the world.

 

In Him was life, and that life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not understoond it...the true light that gives light to every man was coming into the world....the Word became flesh and made His dwelling among us. We have seen His glory, the glory of the One and Only, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth."

 

- John 1:4-5, 9, 14

 

My prayer for all of the families who will be hurting this Christmas is that somewhere, somehow they will find a little bit of light in their darkness. And if you are blessed to be healthy and safe and at peace within your family this year, think about how you can be a little bit of light to someone who is not.

 

Christmas blessings to you.

 

P.S. No, "Jeff," I will not sell you my soul.

 



Sneak Peek

This is going in the Lifetree Adventures newsletter tomorrow, but you, loyal blog reader, get to read it here first. And you get the better version, since this one has pictures. Don't say I don't love you.

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Thanksgiving meant a lot more this year to our team of 15 who served on Lifetree Adventures’ final 2012 mission trip, to the Dominican Republic, the week before the holiday. For most of our group, our week in Santo Domingo distributing Operation Kid-2-Kid backpacks and Spanish New Testaments to needy children was the first time most of our team members had traveled outside of the United States or Canada.

We spent most of the week visiting Compassion International projects and one day visiting a World Vision project, and interacted with close to 1,200 Dominican children throughout the week. We were impressed with the work that both of these organizations are doing within Santo Domingo communities but humbled by some of the things we heard during the week:

“Some people in this neighborhood have electricity for just one day a week.”

 

“For many of the children in this [Compassion International] project, the meal we give them is the only meal they will eat all day.”

“This neighborhood has almost no access to clean water. To buy bottled water costs more than some people make in one day, so they just don’t buy it and the drink water that is bad for them.”

 

Coming from a country where we can walk into virtually any public facility (hospital, library, grocery store, etc.) and get a drink from a drinking fountain and losing power usually only happens during a really fierce thunderstorm, and even then it’s usually restored within a couple of hours at most, and none of us have ever lived a day without food, it was an eye-opening and, at times, hard week.

But we also came home with hearts full of good stories of hope and healing.

Three of our team members got to meet children they sponsor through Compassion International. For these children, the bond that they have with their sponsors, now cemented even more from getting to meet their sponsors in person, will give them the motivation to stay in school, learn about God, and rise above the circumstances they were born into. At least one other person on our team came home with the name of a child that she will begin sponsoring later this month.

 

We learned that for every New Testament we gave out, it’s estimated that at least 5 people in that child’s life will read that New Testament. That means almost 3,000 Dominicans will have the chance to read the good news about God’s love for them because of this trip!

 

We discovered that two of the seven sites we visited have already begun clean water initiatives to provide their community with clean, cheap water, which will drastically reduce the number of water-borne illnesses currently affecting these areas.

 

So there is hope in the midst of darkness and reasons to be thankful. Thank you to everyone who financially supported, prayed for, and encouraged our team of 15. This trip could not have happened without you. And we know that the hundreds of children we met and shared God’s love with are thankful for you too.

 

We are excited to see all that God has in store around the world in 2013! Would you consider praying about joining one of our teams?

Hope

It's Sunday, December 2. There are so many noteworthy events that occur today that it's hard to keep track of them all!

First of all, it is Erika's 6 month wedding anniversary. And Robert's anniversary too, I suppose, since he's married to her. Happy 6 months to you both! I was honored to be part of your wedding and to continue to be part of your married life, even though we don't live as close to each other as we used to. Thanks for throwing your bouquet at me, even though it hasn't worked much magic yet. (To read the pre-Erika wedding blog post, click here)

Second, since it's Erika's anniversary, it is therefore also my half birthday. I am 33.5 years old today, which means you only have 6 more shopping months until my birthday. I like giftcards to Amazon and Starbucks. And sunflowers are my favorite. And as always, checks can be made out to Robin Clark.

Not only is it my half birthday it's my stepsister Diana's birthday and my oldest friend John's birthday. Oldest as in longest lasting friendship, not oldest in years, but you can read more about that here.

Finally, today is the first Sunday in Advent. In church this morning, we lit the first Advent candle, which stands for hope.

Hope. It's a small word with big expectations, sort of like the entire season of Advent itself. Advent is a short period of time in the church calendar but full of anticipation as we await the birth of Jesus, the moment when God did the impossible - entering into the confines of time in the limitations of a human body.

There is something about new life that brims with hope. My sweet little niece Sophie was born five weeks ago. She has a head full of dark brown hair and is on the verge of smiling any day now. She is just about as perfect as she can be and I can't help but be filled with hope every time I'm near her. I know she will someday have to face sickness, heartache, disappointment, and sorrow, because you can't live through life and not experience those things. But at the same time, I have hope for all of the joy and blessings that will come into her life as well.

Webster defines hope as "to cherish a desire with expectation of fulfillment." I hope that Sophie's life is full of joy, happiness, promise, and big dreams. And I don't just vaguely wish these things for her - by hoping for them, I long to see them actually happen and will do my part along the way, as her trusty aunt, to help them come into fulfillment. And I also promise to smack the first boy who tries to kiss her. And every subsequent boy after that.

I was reminded of hope through a different child earlier this week. Some of you may remember my blog about baby Joseph, the sick little boy our Peru team met in the jungle a few months ago. If you never read that story, you can read it here.

I found out on Wednesday that Joseph died in September from pneumonia. The reality is that out of the probably 1500 children I have come into contact with in Peru, Haiti, and the Dominican Republic over the last 18 months, there have most likely been several others who have died too. But Joseph was a hard to one to hear about, mostly because we all had so much hope that he would make it. We had hoped that we had helped him in time. We hoped that he would have a better life once he got that help. We hoped so much for him, and to hear that he died only a month later was very hard and seemed so unfair.

So much so that I woke up in the middle of the night on Wednesday and couldn't go back to sleep as I thought about his frail little body and how unfair it was that his life was cut so short. Being born in the jungle lowers your odds of thriving after birth anyway. Between lack of clean water, parasites, dangerous animals, and disease, any child who makes it to age 5 is a walking miracle. Joseph in many ways was probably the norm rather than the exception.

As I lied in bed thinking about how unfair it was that he died so young and wondering why God didn't honor our hopes for wholeness in his life on earth, I sensed God's gentle and quiet voice reminding me to think beyond the confines of my human body and think about eternity instead. And in the quiet stillness of the night, I realized that Joseph is healed now. His earthly body was too frail to support him and he never walked on his little legs in this life. But now, in heaven, he is not only walking, but running and jumping on legs that are strong and able to hold up his body. In his earthly life, he never had enough to eat and he never had clean water to drink. But now, in heaven, he is feasting at the table of the King and he is drinking from the river of life.

Every Sunday in church, whether it's Advent or not, we say the Nicene Creed together. I was struck today by the last sentence of the creed and it made me think of Joseph. It says, "We look for the resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come."

I am hoping for the life of the world to come. Joseph is already living in it.

And that's the whole point of this first Sunday in Advent, to remind us of what we hope for, to remind us that without a Savior who makes us clean and whole, we have no hope for the life of the world to come. We don't deserve the life of the world to come, and yet, when Jesus was born into human time, that hope presented itself to us.

My hope for this Advent season is that by the end of it, each of us will find ourselves closer to the One whose birth we celebrate in just a few weeks. If you think of it, please pray for Joseph's family. Even though death is a normal and expected part of jungle life, it is still hard and sad, just like it is here in America. Pray for their comfort and healing.

 

"We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time.

Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies.

For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what he already has?

But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently."

 

- Paul, in his letter to the Romans (8:22-25)



 

It's Thanksgiving and I'm not in Canada. What do I do?

It's Thanksgiving Day. Normally I'm in Canada on this day being part of normal Canadian life and not gorging myself on turkey and pumpkin pie, but this year I'm here in Fort Collins and looking forward to the feast to come this afternoon.

I don't always stop and think about what I'm thankful for when I'm in Canada on this day so it's a change to have reflective moments of thankfulness today. Really, it's something I should do every day, not just on the 4th Thursday in November when I happen to be in America, but I'm still grateful for the deliberateness of a day that reminds me of the good I know.

I saw Runaway Train again. Not just once, but four days in a row. It's probably the oddest thing to be thankful for on this day and yet it's what is most present in my thoughts this morning.

For anyone joining my blog since more or less February, Runaway Train is the nickname I gave to a man who had a very brief yet destructive place in my life. A completely unexpected diversion, someone who took my heart by surprise and then dropped it almost as quickly as he had snatched it up in the first place as he ran off to the next woman.

I have a tendency to take things to extremes. This combined with a tender and loyal heart means that when my heart breaks, it breaks hard and takes a long time to heal. I envy the people who seem to be able to bounce back from heartbreak in a brief amount of time. I have never been one of those people and doubt that I ever will.

I was almost healed when November finally appeared. Almost, but not quite. And I think it was the "not quite" that made seeing RT an unwelcomed necessity, sort of like how sometimes a bone needs to be re-broken so that it can be set correctly for healing to take place. Sometimes a cast isn't enough to heal the original break and more breaking is the only option to make straight what is crooked.

I recently read a book written by one of my colleagues - Sifted, by Rick Lawrence. There are books that come into our lives that seem to have been written just for us. That was Sifted to me. It's brilliant and I'm not just saying that because we both work at Group and sometimes I loan him my stapler. Rick takes a very short verse - "Simon, Simon, Satan has asked to sift you as wheat. But I have prayed for you, Simon, that your faith may not fail. And when you have turned back, strengthen your brothers." (Luke 22:31) - and tackles the hard subject of what it means when Jesus gives Satan permission to mess with our lives, to sift us as wheat.

It's one thing to believe in a God who allows hard and painful things to happen, like meeting RT in the first place. It's a whole other thing to believe in a God who doesn't stop - in fact, gives permission to - the enemy whose only purpose is to destroy.

I knew for about a month that the time with Runaway Train was coming. In hindsight, I'm both grateful and resentful of that month. Grateful because it gave me time to let the crazy, unfiltered, raw emotions run their course privately instead of publicly and it gave me lots of time to pray and talk through it with others. Resentful because of the heavy burden it brought into my life and the resulting stress and angst that threatened to take over what should have been a fun and exciting event.

I knew for a month that permission had been asked to sift me and the request was not denied. It is a very hard thing to look at the One you love, the One who has given everything on your behalf and understand why He would give permission to let you be sifted.

The sifting part is what we notice first in that verse in Luke, because that's the part that hurts and disrupts life. But the part that comes next brims with power - "I have prayed for you, that your faith may not fail."

I had lots of people praying for me during the week that I had to see him again, but the most important person praying for me that week was Jesus Himself. My faith is of great worth to Him. It is a treasure that He cares for and died for and so He prayed that His treasure would not fail and I think it's reasonable to say that when Jesus prays, things happen.
So I survived my week of sifting. I realize I'm leaving a lot of details out, and that's deliberate. But I will say that through the sifting, I was given closure and the freedom to finally leave him behind with no more questions, no more longing (it's crazy how much you can still long for someone who shattered your heart), and no more reason to ever talk to him again. For real this time. The bone has been reset and is no longer crooked and it no longer needs a cast.

I keep thinking about what I should have done differently a year ago when he first appeared in my life, but I think that's a protective mechanism more than anything. If anything, I think the lesson is to keep living life exactly the same way. I wasn't looking for love when I met him. He was unexpected but I think that is the best way for love to start. I would rather be taken by complete surprise and have to re-route my life, even around heartache, then to spend all of my time running after love that may never come. I think that is where the greater heartache comes - when you invest everything in trying to get and find love only to be let down if you never find it and realize how much you missed out on along the way. I would rather live each day to its fullest rather than spending my brief moments here on earth seeking something I may never find.

So as I have the rare opportunity to be in America on Thanksgiving Day, I am thankful for the hardest week of my life, the week spent with Runaway Train, for the growth, the closure, the strength, and the beauty that it brought. I'm thankful that even though Jesus sometimes gives Satan permission to try and wreck our lives, He prays for us that our faith won't fail.

I'll eat pumpkin pie to that.

Quiet

I'm still on Santo Domingo time as I write this at 6:20 AM. I've been wide awake for about an hour and a half, knowing that it's after 9:00 AM on a small Caribbean island and that traffic is crazy, the morning school shift is underway, and life is going on three hours ahead of me as I sit in the still dark (and cold) early Fort Collins morning.

I savor these first few days after getting home. It's like holding a newborn baby - so quiet and sweet and precious, who in just a few short weeks will grow and change and never be that newborn again.
There is a stillness in my soul and a gentleness in my heart that I don't seem to find anywhere else except after spending 8-10 days outside of my own country, surrounded by those with much less than me materially but so much more relationally and spiritually.

I think a lot of people want to go on a mission trip because they truly believe they can save the world in the course of seven days. People who have maybe never stepped foot in a soup kitchen in their own community or shared their faith with the neighbor across the street. To be honest, I've never done either of those things either. And I know for sure that my week in Santo Domingo didn't result in any great changes in anyone's life except maybe my own.

But this trip more than any other taught me some important things. I learned how to walk slower, how to listen without needing to speak, how to care for those with needs far greater than my own. I learned that forgiveness sets one free but that there is wisdom in creating boundaries with those who have caused great harm. I also got to meet one of the girls I sponsor through Compassion International. I plan to blog separately about that experience, but for now I can say that while my week in Santo Domingo didn't save or change Estrella's life in one instant, my monthly commitment to her over the course of the next 7 or 8 years will change her life.

I know that in a few more days I will be sucked back into the frantic pace of my American life. I will stay in bed until 7:00 AM and moan and whine about things like my obnoxious cat or not being able to make the copy machine work. All of the silly things that distract me and keep me stressed. But for today I sit quietly in the dark morning holding my quiet and gentle heart, grateful for the stillness that poverty, chaotic traffic, and unfamiliar language brings to my soul.

Hey Russia

I decided to do some research on who reads my blog and discovered that I can actually see what countries of the world read my blog. This is especially helpful in knowing who is NOT reading my blog because it means I can continue to blog freely, something that will be very helpful in about a month.

Not surprisingly, my blog is read most frequently right here in America. Thanks, America, for your continued faithfulness to me in spite of my frequent comments of adoration about Canada, and my propensity to leave your beautiful shores whenever possible. I am truly proud to be an American, unless America re-elects the man who is trying to turn America into Canada, in which case I am just going to move to Canada. But that's a different blog for a different day.

What was surprising was to discover that after America, the country that reads my blog the most by a landslide is Russia. What? Huh? Come again? This stunning revelation is worthy of its own blog post. So, Russia, this one is for you.

I've been wracking my brain for the last 48 hours trying to remember if I even know anyone who lives in Russia, and I can't come up with anyone who does. So, if you're my good friend reading my blog in Russia, I'm really sorry that I don't remember you at all. Send me a message, let's re-connect.

It's shocking to me that for every Canadian who reads my blog, there are 3 Russians who read it. Or one Russian who reads it three times for every one time a Canadian does. Ironically, Canada isn't even third on the list. No, third on the list is Germany. I can only hope that it is Dietrich Bonhoeffer reading my blog from the grave. I love you, Dietrich.

Canada is actually 4th on the list. Really, Canada? I thought we knew each other better than that. But I digress. This blog is not about Canada, it's about my surprise Russian fanbase I had no clue I had.

I do want you to know that I know some Russian words, including nyet, dos vedanya, and gulag. I will try to be more sensitive in my blogging going forward and include these words when it makes sense, such as, "I remember that time that I was imprisoned unjustly in that Russian gulag." So far, that doesn't make sense for me to blog about, since it hasn't happened yet. We can only hope.

So whoever you are, loyal Russian readers, thank you for taking the time out of your busy Russian days to read my blog. I hope you are bundled up nice and warm. I get cold just thinking about your homeland.

 

I'll leave you with this thoughtful sign someone hung up in my cubicle awhile back. From now on, whenever I see it, I will think of you.

When a wasp stops being a wasp

Every year around this time, when the temperature drops to the 30's and 40's at night, and the leaves turn yellow and fall off the trees, the wasps start dying. They find their way into my house, through the fireplace, through cracks in the door, through secret entrances into my warm house that only they know about.

They can't fly anymore - the cold is more than their little bodies can take. Everything that makes them wasps disappears. So they roam around the floor until they just give up and die. I find little wasp corpses in corners, under chairs, and pressed up against the wall until the end of November or so.

Last night as I was getting ready to take a shower, I saw a wasp in the corner of the bathroom, grounded, obviously on his last leg. He wasn't a threat but I hung my clothes up a little higher than usual just to be careful. As I showered, I thought about how in different circumstances, such as the wasp being healthy and angry, it would be very different to be cooped up in a small room with one. Scary, nerve-wracking, and maybe even deadly to some people.

But not now in this situation. It couldn't harm me unless I went out of my way to be harmed, such as trying to pet it or maybe put it in my mouth, as my cats have done and learned the hard way that a grounded wasp can still be a dangerous wasp. This particular wasp was dead within an hour of me finding it. Something powerful and dangerous all of a sudden no longer a threat. A wasp that was no longer a wasp.

I just finished reading The Shack for the first time about a month ago. I'm guessing there are some of you out there who read it and loved it, maybe it even changed your life. Then there are some of you who wouldn't go near it with a ten foot pole because of all of the things you've heard and read and researched about it. It's too blasphemous to even warrant a read, much like the reaction during the early days of Harry Potter. Others of you probably read it, thought it was interesting, and then didn't really think about it again.

A few years ago, I was in the camp that wouldn't go near it with a ten foot pole. But then a Great Sadness came into my life in early 2010. And just as I was healing from that, another season of loss and pain happened in early 2012. Between the two events, I had no choice but to look God hard in the face, cry to him, be angry and sad, and question much of what I had taken as truth simply because I had been told it my whole life. I needed God to be real to me after these two losses. And he was. So when I finally decided to read this book, I switched camps. I loved it and will probably read it again at some point.

If you haven't read The Shack, I don't want to give it away to you in case you do decide to someday read it. But it centers around the main character Mack having to return to the shack, which is the source of a great pain and loss in his life. When he gets to the shack, there's a surprise visitor (or rather three) waiting there for him. He's able to sort through much of his grief and find healing in unique and powerful ways. And God becomes very real to him through it.

God is sending me back to my shack. I was hoping he wouldn't, but he is. He's sending me right back into a situation that caused tremendous pain and heartache. I've spent the last week alternating between feeling fine about it and then being scared out of my mind and not being able to stop crying about it. But it is what is - I will be back there whether I want to be or not. And God will need to be real and he is going to need to be there every moment of that situation or I won't be able to do it.

The other thing that Mack has to deal with during his time at the shack is forgiveness. I grew up a Christian. I can tell you the pat answers for everything pertaining to forgiveness. But I'll tell you what - when faced with having to go back to my shack and deal with someone who crushed me, all of a sudden I realize that I don't have a clue what it really means to forgive in the way that God forgives me. Nor do I know how to do it. The anger and the bitterness and the hatred in my heart seem to be more powerful than any forgiveness I've ever known about.

But what I learned last night from having the wasp in the bathroom while I showered is that even the things that are powerful and dangerous and potentially deadly can be rendered benign in the right moment. When something loses its power, it can't win anymore. No matter how much it might try, like the grounded wasp clinging to life, it just can't win. A grounded wasp, though it still looks like a wasp on the outside, stops being what makes a wasp a wasp when it's cold, grounded, and dying.

I'm not quite there yet with my shack situation but I do know that there was a time not that long ago when the thought of going back and having to see someone I had hoped I would never have to see or talk to again would have been nothing but terrifying for me. But (I think and hope) the power has been lost now. Just like that wasp, it can't do real damage to me unless I try really hard to let it (as in putting it in my mouth. That won't be happening.) Now it's simply a matter of letting God teach me how to forgive. The wasp has stopped being a wasp.

This morning I read this:

"Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything." (James 1:2-4)

I can't say that I'm overjoyed at having to return to my shack and all of the flood of emotions I am going to have to deal with the entire time I'm there. It will be a trial. I'm going to be angry, I'm going to have to keep a very tight rein on my tongue, and I will probably cry a lot behind closed doors. But I eagerly await and long for the perseverance, maturity, and completeness that will come because of this, and the chance to learn and see what God really means when he says that he's forgiven me.

Favorite fall recipes

Fall is hands down my favorite time of year - the crispness in the air, the warm days and cool nights, the vibrant red, yellow, and orange leaves, and of course lots of yummy comfort food. I've been on a cooking rampage for the last 8 days, as if fall is only going to last for a snippet and I need to get all of the cooking out of me before it becomes freezing cold and all I want to do is hide under a blanket and cry. In case you haven't noticed, I have a tendency towards extremes.

I thought I would share my favorite fall recipes with you, since I made almost all of them in the last 72 hours (definitely all of them have been made in the last 8 days). Pretty much all I did on Saturday was cook and it was the best day ever.

Disclaimer: None of these recipes are Robin originals. There are no Robin original recipes out there. I'm all for just making other people's recipes.

We start off our culinary adventure with Pumpkin Quinoa Soup. You can make this with either canned pumpkin or you can roast a fresh pumpkin (and you get pumpkin seeds out of that deal too - bonus! What? You need a recipe for roasting pumpkin seeds? Try this one) This soup is amazing and doesn't taste pumpkiny at all. Also, quinoa would be a great word to use in Words with Friends. You can thank me later for that hint. I guess you could make this without the quinoa (pronounced keen-wa. Now go back and reread the paragraph, pronouncing it correctly), although I've never done it that way.

Ingredients
1-2 pounds chicken sausage (I usually get a basil or apple variety at Sprouts)
1/2 onion
3 cups chicken broth
15 ounces pumpkin
1 tsp garlic powder
salt/pepper/dash of allspice
1/2 cup cream
quinoa (optional)

I usually make the quinoa first - 1 cup of water to 1/2 cup quinoa. Combine them in a pot, bring to a boil, then cover and simmer on low for about 15 minutes.

Brown the sausage and the onion in a soup pot. Add the broth, pumpkin and seasonings. Stir together and simmer on low for 15-20 minutes. Turn off the heat and stir in cream (and quinoa, if you're using it). Then invite me over for dinner.

If you do, I'll be sure to bring some Fresh Apple Cookies. The street name for this recipe is "fall in a cookie." For not having any chocolate in them at all, these cookies hold their own. And since they have apples in them, they're healthy and you can eat them for breakfast (at least that's how I justify it.)

Ingredients
2 cups flour
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 cup butter, softened
1 & 1/3 cups packed brown sugar
1/2 tsp salt
1 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp ground cloves
1/2 tsp nutmeg
1 egg, beaten (I always think it sounds so sad for the egg, as if it's been defeated.)
1/4 cup apple juice or milk (I always use milk)
1 cup chopped apples (or just one apple)
1/2-1 cup chopped nuts (optional) (I use pecans)

Vanilla Glaze Ingredients (you know any cookie that involves vanilla glaze is a keeper)
1 cup icing sugar
1 TBSP butter, softened
1/4 tsp vanilla
1/4 tsp salt
1 & 1/2 TBSP milk

To make cookies: Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Combine flour and baking soda in medium bowl. In a large bowl, cream together butter, brown sugar, salt, cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg and the poor beaten egg. Add half the flour to the butter mixture and blend well. Mix in juice or milk. Add the apples and nuts to the remaining flour. Add this apple mixture to the butter mixture. Drop by spoonfuls on greased cookie sheets and bake for 10 minutes or until cookies are firm.

To make glaze: Blend all ingredients together until smooth. While cookies are hot, spread with vanilla glaze. (I usually put a sheet of wax paper down under the cooling rack because the glaze will run). Makes 3 dozen cookies.

I'm sad that Laura, Amy, Ray, Paige, Gwennie, and I devoured all 36 of them within 12 hours of their birth. I'd like to be eating one right now. C'est la vie!

I know you're wondering what to do with the rest of the pumpkin you cooked to make the pumpkin quinoa soup. Never fear! I have a Pumpkin Bread recipe for you!

Ingredients:
3 cups flour
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt
3 tsp cinnamon
2 cups pumpkin, canned or freshly cooked
2 cups white sugar
4 eggs
1 & 1/4 cups oil (I used a canola/olive oil blend this last time since I ran out of canola oil about 3/4 cup in)

Mix dry ingredients in bowl. Make a well in the center. Add the remaining ingredients into the well and stir just enough to mix. Pour into two 9" x 5" bread pans. Bake at 350 for 1 hour. Try to not eat the entire loaf in one sitting.

Wow, this has been a lot of writing. Need some visual stimulation? I thought so.

What could these all possibly be ingredients for? If you're thinking Potato and Leek Soup, you're pretty much amazing, just like this soup.

I'm feeling super lazy by now, so instead of typing out the instructions, I will instead link you here.  Word to the wise on this endeavor: while the above picture is pretty with the purple potatoes, I don't recommend actually using them in the soup after all. While it didn't change the flavor, it did turn the soup a really funky nasty greyish purplish color and it looked like gruel. Because I am the only one eating the soup in my house, it doesn't matter to me what color it is, but husbands and children may not like eating it when it's that color. In the past I've just used russet potatoes, as suggested in the recipe and that just keeps it a normal potato looking color.

I also made a turkey meatloaf and a parmesan and broccoli souffle (I told you I've been out of control for the last 8 days), but those were first time adventures for me and haven't yet earned the coveted "Robin's Favorite Fall Recipe" status yet. Maybe next year.

What's your favorite fall recipe?