’tis the season… for baking with grand-teens!

In the midst of all the lunacy gone wild, and the wall-to-wall paintings headed for Scan Camp, and the very opinionated #Legend on my easel, I got a text message from one of my very favorite people, looking forward to baking together. Soon! And I was inspired to share the fun!

Somewhere in the great beyond, I’m convinced that my mom and granny, who grew up in Minnesota, have realized by now that pumpkin pie happened at Thanksgiving because pumpkins happened then, and that’s what there was… not because it’s one of those non-canonical commandments on the way we’ve always done it!

As it happens, there’s another option that we love even better and I wanted to share! My bit, if you will, of light shining in the darkness! Here goes…

Authentic Key Lime Pie (with a Gluten-Free Variation***) MAKES: One 9 inch pie, about 8 servings

This is the real deal – yellow colored – Key Lime Pie. Better yet, with the Oatmeal Pie Crust shell variation, it’s gluten-free! And everybody loves it! This is the recipe right off the Nellie & Joe’s bottle of Key Lime juice. You can order it from Amazon or try Whole Foods or Publix depending on where you are. Did you know that the pie has sweetened condensed milk in it because the recipe was developed before Key West had dependable milk delivery or refrigeration? Really!

Equipment Note: You can use a food processorhand or stand mixer to do this, but a wire whisk will do. A mixing advantage is handy if you opt for homemade whipped cream. I often use an Eco-foil disposable pie tin with the domed plastic top when I make this. 

Arrange oven racks so pie will bake in center of oven. Preheat oven to 350 F. 

In a suitable mixing bowl, combine and mix well:

            One 14 oz. can sweetened condensed milk

            3 good egg yolks. (Reserve whites for another use.)

Add and blend until smooth:

                        ½ c. Nellie & Joe’s Key West Lime Juice

Pour filling into:

                        One 9 inch prepared Graham Cracker pie shell***

Bake for 15 min. Remove from oven and place on rack. Allow to sit 10 min. before refrigerating.

Chill several hours or overnight.

Optional: Add to mixing bowl, preferably metal:

                      1 pint organic, heavy whipping cream

                        1 Tbsp. 10x powdered sugar, if desired. 

Whip cream rapidly by hand or with mixer, until soft peaks form.

If not using immediately, cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate. 

Just before serving, top pie with whipped cream. 

***Fabulous Gluten-free Oatmeal Pie Crust with Vegan Variation

Equipment Note: food processor or Vitamix-type blender is used for this crust recipe.

I found this magical crust option on an old, yellowed index card, in my mom’s handwriting, when I went through her recipes. I don’t remember her ever making it. What a gift for Bill & Taylor who avoid gluten! See how many ways you can find to use this like you would use a graham cracker crust, but better!

Into the bowl of your food processor or carafe of your blender, place:

            1 c. gluten-free rolled oats

            ½ c. brown sugar

            ½ c. flaked or shredded coconut

Pulse until ingredients resemble a fairly fine meal. Add:

            1/3 c. melted butter 

Continue to pulse until all ingredients are evenly mixed.

Press into bottom and sides of a 9 inch pie plate.  Cover with plastic wrap or lid to pan. Chill.

Vegan Variation – Replace butter with 1/3 c. melted coconut oil

From all of us – including my #Legend painting – to all of you… Fiercely Compassionate [Rebel] Blessings

ps… prepping for upcoming holidays??? There’s big fun stuff for all your Littles, and for you, too! Check out FierceArtWithHeart! https://fierceartwithheart.com/

In case of emergency…

Big truth time… I’m not ready for new words, today. I need safe, familiar, comforting words. And that means reaching for Puddleglum. First, though, the calendar… for I have a bit of editing to do!

With my Red Thread around my wrist and my collection of brave saints’ medals around my neck, I am declaring that All Saints Day, which many of us just observed on November 1, is no longer just one day. Instead, it is every day we need it to be!!!

As you’ve probably heard me say, Walter Brueggemann explains it this way:

The Saints are all those who believe for us on days when we can’t quite believe for ourselves.

I’m guessing you hear me!

Which brings us to one of my personal Saints… a guy named Puddleglum, who graciously agreed to an encore visit in this moment!

For the for the uninitiated, Puddleglum is a Marsh Wiggle, who, with the Prince and some children, is being held by the Witch, who is busy explaining why their journey to Narnia is juvenile and futile. Puddleglum isn’t having it. Let’s listen in…

“One word, Ma’am,” he said, coming back from the fire; limping, because of the pain. “One word. All you’ve been saying is quite right, I shouldn’t wonder. I’m a chap who always liked to know the worst and then put the best face I can on it. So I won’t deny any of what you said. But there’s one thing more to be said, even so. Suppose we have only dreamed, or made up, all those things — trees and grass and sun and moon and stars and Aslan himself. Suppose we have. Then all I can say is that, in that case, the made-up things seem a good deal more important than the real ones. Suppose this black pit of a kingdom of yours is the only world. Well, it strikes me as a pretty poor one. And that’s a funny thing, when you come to think of it. We’re just babies making up a game, if you’re right. But four babies playing a game can make a play-world which licks your real world hollow. That’s why I’m going to stand by the play world. I’m on Aslan’s side even if there isn’t any Aslan to lead it. I’m going to live as like a Narnian as I can even if there isn’t any Narnia. So, thanking you kindly for our supper, if these two gentlemen and the young lady are ready, we’re leaving your court at once and setting out in the dark to spend our lives looking for Overland. Not that our lives will be very long, I should think; but that’s small loss if the world’s as dull a place as you say.”

C.S. Lewis, The Silver Chair, The Chronicles of Narnia

Now, I’ve loved this story for ages, and – today – I’m clinging, again, to the time when I realized that part of the power of Puddleglum is MOTION, even though anybody with half an ounce of sense knows it’s scary!

Specifically, that MOTION from past self to present self to longed-for future self. Even on days when it feels like Overland is a long way off and we don’t all agree on what Overland is actually like!

I’m starting at my easel, where my current #Legend painting is beginning to appear… hand (and power!) raised. #MedicineBasket open to new learning!

ps… may we all believe for each other – and our Littles – even just a wee bit, on the days when believing is hardest.

pps… turns out we may need this even more, now! My very best plan for including people! A Creation Poem… complete with mugs and posters! I suspect Puddleglum may have had an early edition! The books are buy 2 get 1 free, until Saturday, 11/9 at 11:59pm ET!!! (No discount code required… just put 3 in your cart!)

All in!!!

Due to a variety of orthopedic issues and past trauma challenges I won’t bore you with, there have been many things in this run-up to election day that I have chosen not to do. Big gatherings. Knocking on doors. Making phone calls…

Instead, I have done what I CAN do! Signs in the yard. Intentional wardrobe choices, meant to start conversations. Pockets full of GOOD TROUBLE buttons to give away. Social media. And conversations with real, actual humans struggling with the way we’ve always done it and I’m not sure I can.

On Saturday morning, I had a dream… the kind that comes complete with images! Present-day chucks & pearls candidate, VP Kamala Harris, and 6-year old Ruby Bridges walking, hand-in-hand, into the White House.

And the flood of memories began! Ruby Bridges is four years older than I am. And I have my own school integration story from Florida, in 1968, complete with parents throwing rocks at the school buses their children were riding in!

Now, gravestones on the news. Young women dying without abortion healthcare they desperately needed. Victims of rape and incest being forced to carry the children of their abusers. And more memories…

I have assisted in abortion health care. I have helped to deliver infants by cesarean section for young teen moms… one of them a 13 year old with developmental challenges, forced to carry the child of her mother’s partner, “because they were good Christians.” When I told that child that her baby was a girl, she sobbed, “How will I keep her safe?”

There were tanks in my dream, too. Huge Russian tanks in Hungary, in 1989, before the wall came down. And a young man who told me that, when he was growing up, he woke up every morning and checked the news to find out where he lived and who was now in charge.

And a wild card glimpse of the PBS show, Finding Your Roots. Angela Davis, former member of the Black Panthers, was one of the guests. Angela Davis! Turns out she and I share a family of Mayflower ancestors! Also turns out that The Presbyterian Disaster Fund, busy these days in hurricane relief work, was founded by activists, in what we used to refer to as the Northern Presbyterian Church, working to get Angela released from prison.

Then, a scene from The West Wing. Season 7, episode 6. Presidential candidate, Matt Santos, just before the Al Smith Dinner, explaining his position, as a Roman Catholic, on the issue of abortion:

Abortion should be safe. It should be legal. It should be a whole lot rarer than it is.

Then, he went on to advocate for access to social resources like education, housing, food, daycare, health care, and contraception, as ways to make other choices possible, too.

All of that dreaming went on with the help of the paintings whispering from the walls. Mostly, Grandmother Moon, whose job it is to carry the visual codex of my deepest convictions. And to call me back to me, as often as I need her to!

There were other voices as well… Dr. Walter Brueggemann, thundering Just tell the story! in a room of fledgling preachers.

And, Cousin Angela Davis! I am no longer accepting the things I cannot change. I am changing the things I cannot accept.

None of us can do it all, but the world will be better when we do what we can! I’m on team “How can I help?”

ps… turns out that “my” story to tell is getting bigger! Like speaking all these things we don’t talk about! And A Creation Poem… telling the oldest story of all in a way that more and more of us – and our Littles – might hear room for themselves within it, as we were meant to hear! Just click here to get a copy… or several! (Also mugs and posters and puzzles!)

pps… the painting inviting you in, at the beginning of this dream wandering adventure, is from an Intentional Creativity® journey known as Temple. And the one below is my reminder that I said yes to being one of those 5 people for as many folks as I can. They insisted on joining team “How can I help?” too!!!

It’s time for C-V-S!

And, no… I don’t mean the drug store! I mean the learning and growing and claiming in all the under-layers behind the enormous painting entitled Choice, Voice, and Sovereignty, much of which insisted on joining us again, today.

Frankly, I was a bit surprised when she showed up during dream-time this morning, along with the voices of Lewis Carroll and Kathleen McGowan!

The next right things were obvious… ginger tea and an index card!

Seriously!!!

Then, the Walrus chimed in…

The time has come, the Walrus said, to talk of many things… of shoes and ships and sealing wax. Of cabbages and kings. And why the sea is boiling hot, and whether pigs have wings!

A bit of button pushing added to the conversation. This particular poem has been interpreted through the years, not simply as a children’s story, but as a critique of entitlement. Of the abuse of power and greed. Which feels oddly timely!

And, then… another Lewis Carroll voice. The White Queen, in Alice Through the Looking Glass!

Sometimes I’ve believed more than six impossible things before breakfast!

Things were starting to make sense! You see, the White Queen was speaking to me in the voice of author, Kathleen McGowan!

We don’t have time for the whole story just now, but trust me… this multi-sensory dream adventure was entirely about choice and voice and sovereignty! Also about voting!!!

The walrus should be a fairly obvious reference, especially if you know that the walrus totally intended to eat the oysters traveling the beach with him!!!

And I suspect that Lewis Carroll did not imagine that The White Queen would show up, nearly 150 years later, as an American woman of color running for president! But it’s my dream! And, if it takes believing things once thought to be impossible to make it so, I’m all in!

It’s time to choose HOPE! The kind where everybody matters. Where asking, How can I help? beats vested self-interest and authoritarianism and being perfectly content to eat those who helped along the way.

Yes, we’ll have new things to learn and not all of it will be fun. It never has been. But we’ll be on the road to liberty and justice for all…

And that, dear hearts, is what this part of the painting – the Choice part – is all about. Love.

Now it’s time for voices!

I have two grand-teens trying very hard to grow up in this world!

ps… looking for ways to help spread the news about love and mattering? I’ve got you covered! Just click here to learn about my new book, A Creation Poem… and mugs and posters and puzzles to go with it! Lots of other cool stuff, too!

Of dreams and tissues and stories to tell…

Saturday was quite the day! I woke with my whole consciousness dreaming a new world.

Words, of course, for that’s the way dreams work in me. Feelings, too… tears and chills – the important kind. And even a bit of visual awareness. A loaf of bread. Really!

I suspect it had a bit to do with my having watched a replay of Stephen Colbert and Kamala Harris just before bed. You might even say I wandered through the secret door in the back of my own magic wardrobe!

(In case you missed it… here’s a bit of the backstory for later. Please stick with me for now, though!)

The first dream words I recall were these:

Before I built a wall I’d ask to know what I was walling in or walling out, and to whom I was like to give offense... Robert Frost

And then, some more words from back in the day, which went a lot like this…

There is no fence around this table… The Rev. Nibs Stroupe (1987)

Frankly, that one was a bit of a surprise to me – a very new seminary student – the first time I was in the congregation at Oakhurst Presbyterian Church on a Sunday when Communion was being celebrated.

There were no ifs or qualifications in the invitation to that table. Just a preacher speaking on behalf of Yeshua… Come unto me, all you who are tired and heavily laden… and I will give you peace.

You’ve probably guessed that all that scribbling at the top of this page is what happened after the dreaming, while I was sipping my cacao and collagen.

Then, I spent some more time writing, for there are now two books in the hatching phase and I seem to have more stories to tell.

Then, a few more words which may be new to you, even though they’re old for me, and really helpful. Words from Dr. Wade Huie, one of my professors at Columbia Theological Seminary…

If it takes more than 12 minutes, it’s two sermons!

And that means Dr. Seuss, who also made a guest appearance in my dream, will need to wait for more space on another day!

What came next in my day, though, was paint flinging. The kind that involves moving and mark making and not being sure where you’re heading, except that new knowing will be involved.

Then, Michelle Obama and Kamala Harris, preachin’ sense and belonging and hope and mattering… which is a profound change from the guy babbling fascism and hatred and all the people he’s promising to fence out.

Now, I’m not much for math, but the odds are good that, if you’ve been reading along for a while, you’re on team #HarrisWalz.

Just in case, though, that you might be thinking that your voice doesn’t matter, or that somebody will disapprove if you follow your heart, or that “we” don’t vote for ____________’s PLEASE hear me say that your voice DOES matter and it will matter for years and years to come, to all those who come after us.

ps… one of the ways we can help our Littles to know that they matter – that they are part of the story – is to read them stories that make room for them. That’s why I wrote A Creation Poem… and you can get copies for your beloved Littles, in stock, now… complete with real, original art, inclusive language, and paper that feels great! (Also, mugs, posters and JIGSAW PUZZLES!!!) Just click the link to be magically transported!

What if WE are the soup pot???

Yep… I have a bit of a soup pot fetish going on! Not the creepy kind!

The kind where an inanimate object is honored for its supposed magical powers. And it’s been with me for for quite a long time, in ways both literal and legendary.

Let’s start with the literal kind. The kind where bones and water and heat and time make healing magic. I think it began for me when my son, who was about two at the time, had repeated cases of strep throat-tonsillitis and was allergic to lots of the standard meds.

One of his docs – the enlightened kind – suggested soup. Not the kind in the red & white can. Bone broth. This was great for so many reasons… including the fact that it was cheap!

I loved my soup pot even more in the years when I had pneumonia way too many times. It felt good and helped me breathe.

Fast forward to my first #Legend painting, early in 2018. Much to my surprise, a soup pot appeared on my canvas and – a couple of days later – a phoenix appeared in my dreams, rising from that soup pot!

Perhaps because it’s about to be #Legend time again, or because fall is great weather for soup, the phoenix has appeared in my dreams again.

It’s likely, though, that the phoenix and the soup pot also have to do with what’s going on in the world around us, what’s becoming inside of me, and the presence of anxiety on my path.

Typically, for me, I noticed the words in my dream, first.

Anxiety is not a character fault. It’s not a diagnosis of doing “it” wrong. Instead, it’s a sign that something matters! What???

And that, dear friend, seems like a really, really good question in this moment!

I’d love to hear what this brings up for you… You can scroll down and leave a comment, or email me. suesvoice@gmail.com

Here’s one of the things that happened since I dreamed that dream…

And, no… it’s really not supposed to look like much, just yet. It did get me pretty close to something that might be called dancing with the brush… which could be something that matters to my currently cranky body.

My physical therapist might even call it exercise! (It’s a 48 inch square canvas…)

What I can tell you for sure is that the process is something that matters. Curious about #Legend??? Click here for all the info!

pps… here’s something else that matters! A way to help our Littles feel included in the story of being. Complete with original art, some tips for the Bigs who are reading aloud, and the very most treasured thing I know! The holidays are coming… just click here to get your copies!

An ancient story for this moment, now!

Once upon a time, there was a magical Grandmother who believed – with all her heart – that ALL the people and ALL the beings mattered in the in the mystical forest where she lived.

Her name was Daphne, which comes from an ancient story about Laurel trees. The leaves of Laurel trees were used for crowns in contests like the Olympic Games and called to mind things which the world very much needed, like inspiration and healing and art. The Laurel tree was also a symbol of the end of war.

You may have met a Laurel tree as a bay leaf in your soup! We don’t eat them, but they’re busy adding flavor and healing energy! Daphne was very glad to know about Laurel trees, and bay leaves, for the world she loved needed lots of healing.

Daphne worked and worked to help healing happen, for she had many, many beloveds trying hard to grow up in her forest.

When Daphne was very young, her own grammy called the family together one day and asked them all to sit in a circle in the forest. Then, she passed a very, very big ball of red yarn back and forth across the circle until it looked like a spider web, with each beloved holding a piece. Then, Grammy told an old, old story. A story so old that it was called a legend.

A legend is a story that comes down from the past and has been told many, many times in many, many places. Part of the magic of a legend is that listeners learn new things, depending on what is going on in their worlds at that moment in time.

Then, Daphne’s grammy handed each beloved a leaf with a name written, magically, upon it. The names were of the plants and animals which lived in the forest, along with other natural wonders like moon and water.

Then, the fun began! Each member of the family shared a way that the forest-dweller on their leaf related to the forest-dweller on the leaf of the one across the red thread circle from them. Imagine it like this…

You are there in the circle in the forest and your leaf says honey bee. The person across the circle from you is holding a leaf that says dandelion. You – wise one – might share that dandelions help feed bees so that they can make honey to help animals and humans.

Daphne, who – as you have guessed – is a bear, had to think and think and think to understand how she, as a bear, worked together with river. Then, she knew! River gave her water to drink and helped keep the forest healthy so things worked better for all who lived there.

And on it goes, until each member of the family has spoken the ways they all work together in the magical forest!

Daphne loved that game! Then, Daphne grew up and learned many, many more stories along the way.

One day, she was sitting in a circle with some new friends. The kind of friends called artists. One of the teachers – whose name meant Wisdom, told them a story about red thread. First the wise artist teacher explained that the story she was going to tell was very, very old. So old it was called a legend.

Because the legend had been told since ancient times, in many places and languages, there were many ways to tell it. The one Daphne loved the best was this:

We are all connected by a magical red thread, even before we are born, to beings who will matter in our lives. To beings who will help us become who we were born to be.

Daphne is sharing that legend, still, with people who are looking for connection and ways to matter. Just like she is sharing it with you, now.

And Grandmother Moon is smiling!

ps.. this is a painting of a Laurel tree I met in France. It has a very special story… for another day.

pps… Daphne is busy writing a new book with more stories like this one – AND – there’s a book already ready to read! A book with a story of beginnings and belonging. Just click here to get copies for the Littles you love!

ppps… the statue, peering over Daphne’s shoulder in the photo we began with, holds the spirit of many, many of my ancestors, all thrilled with the hope of this moment! And their message is: PLEASE VOTE!