Home is Where the Tribe Is...

Yesterday was a day like the days I envisioned prior to actually having my children. You know the ones I'm talking about. The sweet imaginings that lull you into a delusional confidence which allows you to actually decide to start a family, inspire you to think "I want to do this". Then the children come and for a while chaos ensues leaving you to you wonder what actually happened instead. But after a while parents get their roots, just like children, and start to create that vision, or the parts of it that still actually fit after the dust and debris of the child's arrival begin to settle.
That's exactly what happened on Saturday. The perfect kind of day because all my errand running was finished before 9:00 o'clock so I was able to experience the crisp, quiet freshness of the day before it became muddled with the imprint of human activity. The stores were empty, parking was easy, the clerks at my favorite Trader Joe's were lively and anticipating their lunch at 8:30 as they had been at work since 3:00 a.m. The day was brimming with a positive, quiet energy that I welcomed.

Arriving home, I greeted my family including my amazing brother-in-law, George and my sweet nephew who is smack dab in the middle of my own two children, making him the ideal playmate and companion for either one. He is that cousin that they will get into trouble with, create memories with, and tell stories about when they are older. Watching that relationship unfold and develop is a blessing that I cherish.

For the rest of the day I barely left the kitchen. Rest assured dear ones this is not a complaint. In my visions of motherhood, starting as a young girl, I wanted to be the home where people came and hung out for the day, unexpected, or stayed for lunch on a whim, or even dinner, and felt at ease to do so. I saw myself....the mother who nurtured the spirits of her family and friends with a hospitality that centered on the making and serving of good food.

I think this desire was inherent in me, part of who God created me to be. The dream to be the matriarch of said home was encouraged in part, by the lack of such an environment as I was growing up. We were not the home where people "dropped by", nothing impromptu was happening at 510 Market street. My grandmother had lived on her own for years before my mother returned with me in tow from Los Angeles. She had her routines, and her Victorian- era parenting sensibilities coupled with her Southern upbringing informed her that the return of a child to her home was not going to disrupt the rule of order. My gram "received" guests in the main living room that housed her Steinway grand piano, the best of the furniture we owned, and an exquisite bookcase built into the wall, filled to the brim with an impressive variety of books. The room was a showcase not only for the piano, but also a collection of antiques that held the legacy my grandmother clung to. Each piece told a story that she painstakingly retold to me in hopes that I would treasure them and protect them with her fervor. In the cooler months, my grandmother's "parlor" served the dual purpose of being the room where many Roane Countians were schooled in the proper way to play a piano. When those lesson were not in session, my grandmother's very few friends might come by and gossip in hushed tones as I strained to hear what was being discussed. Good Southern women did not "gossip", so the whispering I believe was not just for my benefit but for the sake of propriety as well.

As a child I longed to have friends come over on a whim. It was strictly against the rules in our home to invite anyone over without prior permission from both families, absolute planning about the time and date, a notarized letter attesting to the quality of the visiting child's family....well, okay, the latter might be a stretch. Certainly it felt that way. As a rebellios third grader I took on the establishment and bucked the home system. I brought a classmate home from school, unexpected and unplanned. I believed I would not get in trouble and that it would just be accepted because I had done it. I will always remember my mother pulling me aside, her stern face, her admonishment that I had broken the rules and my astonishment as I realized they were going to send my friend home and not let her stay. Mercifully, there was time for a phone call to her parents, a wait while they came to pick up my poor friend, and time for me to show her my room and save a little face. Through that humiliation, the severity of the rule was made clear. It was not to be broken.

I think along with being a rebel, I was seeking to break through the isolation that my grandmother craved and created as she played mama bear to my mother's mental illness. This I completely understand now as a mother, a gift I have received in my parenting, compassion for my grandmother who watched her own child struggle her entire life. She was, in part, also protecting me, but even more, protecting our name and her image of who she thought we were, a dream long past though. She was the defender of our facade, gatekeeper to secrets. How my mother and I both came out rebels....as daughters generally do is a story that will continue to unfold dear ones.

Fast forwarding to the present I am blessed to finally have my tribe...family and friends who come together in times of need, celebration...in ordinary time. We have gotten so far away from tribe but I firmly believe we are archetyped for it. Our earliest ancestors lived and survived in community. Responsibilities were shared, work was shared, very little was done in isolation. To have such a longing for community fulfilled satisfies my soul in the most wonderful way. When my house is full of children playing and having fun, and loved ones eating, laughing, sharing, enjoying one another and the food we have all prepared, then the world seems for that moment complete. In those moments I know I am loved because it is a dream come true. It is that humble place where intent and longing meet God's plan, collide with an uncanny grace and precision, and leave me awestruck as I observe the seamlessness of it. I know it's something I wanted, yet the delivery of it, for me, is profound and humbling...its perfection assures me of the hand of God in my life.

So it was with great peace and gratitude that I spent Saturday exercising my creativity in the making of breakfast burritos, savory bowls of buttered basmati rice coupled with smoked salmon, peanut butter rice crisp bars, laughter, music, story. My kitchen is the hub because I am there sharing gifts that warm the belly and the body...the spirit.

Feeling this good inspired me to try a new, wildly simple recipe for peanut butter rice crisp bars that I found on the side of Trader Joe's brand "rice crisps".

I am always looking for ways to get more fat and protein into the vegan, gluten-free, dairy free diet of my dear boy who has Asperger's syndrome. He was so excited, waiting patiently as the prepared bars "sat" using the quick method in the freezer. When they came out of course he was ready to consume them that moment. I encouraged him to wait until they softened a bit and attempting an "out of sight, out of mind" maneuver, opened the door to the unheated oven for temporary storage.

My son knows his mother well and was concerned about my strategy. I was eager to get back to my chatting (I know, so hard to imagine) with my brother-in-law. My son's consternation however was evident, so I assured him that it was fine. "The oven is not on, don't worry, it's my job to take care of these things" As a panacea to his concern and for my own reminding as well, I set the oven timer, feeling confident in how tricky I was at that moment.

Dear ones, this is how I discovered the flexibility and resiliency of these simple bars! Somewhere in time the signal to take the bars out went off and I hit the "cancel" button and returned to my conversation with George, thinking to myself "I really should...." Much later, who knows exactly when, as I preheated the oven to prepare dinner, nary a thought of peanut butter rice bars crossed my mind. So when I opened the oven door to place a lovely baking pan full of cod inside, I broke out into some exclamation of dismay at the sight of the extra crispy, NO BAKE, treat. My brother-in-law watching me understood almost immediately what I had done and we both broke out into raucous hysterical laughter as we chortled over my assurances to my son about my competency. That moment, holding what for me, is the sweetness of life....

All's well that ends well. Turns out that no bake rice crisp bars can stand 5 to ten minutes in a 400 degree oven, in fact, it made the peanut butter slightly gooey and comforting. My boy said to me "Mama these are the best peanut butter bars ever"

It is in these fluid moment that I am writing these entries for you my friends...my spirit relaxes and the story begins to write itself in my head as I work and play in my kitchen...it is a joyful exercise when something happens and I know that I will share it with you. I knew on Saturday at noon that I would be writing about this experience the next morning and it brought me full circle in that moment...more will be revealed...

Super Yummy No-Bake Peanut Butter Crisp Rice Cereal Treats
1 cup Trader Joe's Brown Sugar (I used organic cane sugar)
1 cup Trader Joe's Blue Agave Syrup
1 cup Trader Joe's Creamy Peanut Butter
7 cups Trader Joe's Crisp Rice Cereal
Combine sugar and syrup in a saucepan and bring to a near boil, stirring often. Continue stirring until brown sugar
dissolves. Remove from heat.
Add peanut butter to mixture. Mix well. Add cereal, mix well.
Press the mixture into 13x9x2 inch greased baking pan. Refrigerate for several hours to cool and harden. To harden more quickly, place in freezer for about an hour.


Postscript....
Because I am human I once again left the remaining bars in the oven today, and once again preheated it with the bars still in the oven. Although I'm not sure about the lid to my Pyrex pan, the bars seem to be remarkably hearty! Our dear friend "Uncle Larry" tried them right after they came out and couldn't get over how delicious they were....we are still enjoying our Twice Baked No Bake Rice Crisp Treats! I had to share that with you!