The Authors of Writes of Passage

The Authors of Writes of Passage

Friday, December 31, 2010

Prayer please

My hubby and I, and son are all battling some horrible respiratory virus or flu. We all have fevers and could probably go outside in the sub-zero 20 inches of snow and not even feel it. In fact, maybe that's how we can melt our walkway. Not that any of us are going anywhere for a while.

So I'm begging out of blogging and asking for prayers.

I'm also spending a lot of time in prayer for you. I'm praying God richly blesses our blog readers and book readers. I pray in 2011 you will draw closer to God and find His blessings in all that you do.

God Bless You!
Tracie

Thursday, December 30, 2010

My heroes!

That guy looks pretty frazzled, doesn't he? Well, that was pretty much me yesterday. Y'see, my laptop computer bit the dust. I knew it was coming. It had been repeatedly shutting itself down and giving me the dreaded blue screen, so I'd had the foresight to order a new computer. The problem is I ordered a Mac computer. Now, I'm not saying anything negative about Macs! Mac users love their computers, and I'm sure eventually I will too, but yesterday I was too frustrated to love it.

I'd saved all of my documents to a zip drive, a CD, and also emailed them to two different accounts before my sweet purple computer went kaplooey. So I thought I'd be fine. I'd just pop the zip drive or the CD into my new computer, transfer them over, and get back to work. Um, things weren't quite that simple. I opened the computer at 8 in the morning. By 1:00 PM I had yet to get one document to open--I encountered the same error message with each attempt. And I was ready to pull out my hair.

Thankfully, a few friends with Macs came to my rescue. Some offered advice. Others had me send important documents to their email boxes where they managed to open them and return them to me in a format I could actually access. (PTL!) Another kind soul called me and talked me through the editing progam in my new word processing program. By the end of the day, I was feeling much more confident about my ability to actually use my Mac computer.

What would we do without knowledgeable people who are willing to share their knowledge with others? It would be easy for those in the know to hold their wisdom close, enjoying the opportunity to look down their noses in superiority. But I don't know anybody like that. Instead, I'm surrounded by tender hearts who reach out with a helping hand just when it's needed.

Leo Buscaglia said, "Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around." Perhaps the people who came to my rescue with my computer issues didn't turn my life around, but they sure turned my attitude around. And am I ever grateful.

Has somebody blessed you with a kind act recently? If so, take the time to say thanks...and then pay it forward. As Mr. Buscaglio says, a kind act might just turn somebody's life around. :o)

God bless you muchly as your journey with Him! ~Kim

Wednesday, December 29, 2010

A Surprising Discovery


When son Justin arrived at the Kansas City airport for his Christmas visit, the three of us decided to stay in Kansas City overnight to shop and see the lights on the Country Club Plaza. I hadn’t been to see the lights in many years, and they are spectacular. (Just overlook the unknown man who strolled in front of my camera). However, it wasn’t thoughts of the Christmas lights that remained with me after our departure. Instead, it was an unplanned visit to the Kemper Museum of Contemporary Art.

Now before any of you turn up your noses, let me say that I’m not a huge fan of contemporary art. However, daughter Jenna convinced me to give it a try. When I saw the ‘art’ outside the museum, my enthusiasm waned even more—I’m not a fan of huge spiders. Besides, a couple of the sculptures didn’t look like anyone I even wanted to know!

However, there was a special exhibit inside the museum titled Grandeur and Catharsis by the Gao Brothers. Their work has been influenced by their family’s experiences during China’s Cultural Revolution. Their father was arrested as a counter-revolutionary, and days later he died while in custody. I wasn’t certain what to expect, but when I stepped into the large exhibit room and saw their piece titled “Execution of Christ,” I couldn’t quit staring.

The firing squad is composed of identical executioners depicted as Mao Zedong. Their rifles are aimed at a frail-looking figure of Jesus Christ, symbolically revealing the severe repression of Christianity. The brochure explains that the life-size kneeling Mao is the artists’ fantasy of seeing Mao apologize for the atrocities he was responsible for. However, when I saw Mao on his knees it reminded me of Romans 14:11 that says one day every knee will bow and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord—even those who have believed themselves more powerful than God.

The Gao Brothers art is varied—from sculpture to paintings—all of it thought provoking. The exhibited paintings are titled “Saints and Sinners,” and present a depiction of the best and worst of mankind. The paintings vary in composition—some are made of dots while others are painted using wiggly lines and are best viewed at a distance. In keeping with their theme of “Saints and Sinners,” the paintings are displayed with Hitler alongside Mother Theresa, Mao next to Ghandi, and so forth.

So although I enjoyed walking through the shops and seeing the Plaza lights, it was the unexpected visit to a small museum that remains foremost in my thoughts.

May you find joy as you encounter surprising discoveries of your own.
~Judy


An added extra... Here's a beautiful song with a beautiful sentiment. Be sure and read the message below the video too! [Click here to watch the video "Where's the Line to see Jesus?" on YouTube]

Tuesday, December 28, 2010

Do overs

I love do overs.


I love that I serve a living God who believes in second chances. I love that when I've tried and failed, and tried and failed, and feel as if I've surely soaked up every last smidgen of His grace, He pulls me close and shows me that I've merely been splashing in the shallow end.


I love the start of a New Year. There's something fresh about turning that calendar page and knowing the old year is behind us, and the new is ahead. I appreciate Carol's post yesterday and how she quoted Philippians 3:13 and shared about forgetting what's behind and straining toward what's ahead. Those are definitely words (or a version of them) I say to myself often. "Learn what you can, Tammy, and move on." 


A song I've listened to and have sung many, many times, played on my iPod Christmas morning as I was getting ready, and the lyrics touched my heart in a powerful way. Especially when I thought of the last few moments Jesus spent with His Father and the Spirit before He came to Earth and "took on flesh" in the form of a baby. Truly, how deep is the Father's love for us...




"I will not boast in anything––no gifts, no power, no wisdom. But I will boast in Jesus Christ, His death and resurrection."  This line has become a prayer for me this week, and I'm sure it will carry over into the New Year.


And now...you'll never guess. I have a recipe to share! We made the most delicious Black Bean Salsa and served it alongside our Christmas dinner of brisket and mashed potatoes and other Southern faves. And we'll be making the salsa again for New Years too. Served with multi-grain chips and some guacamole and oh baby! Thanks, Andrea, for sharing your recipe.


 Black Bean Salsa
2 cans black beans
1 cup frozen corn
4 green onions
1 green bell pepper chopped
1 red bell " chopped
1 bunch cilantro
2 teaspoons minced garlic
1/2 cup lemon juice
2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
1 tablespoon chili powder
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon pepper
1/2 cup vegetable oil

In large bowl toss beans, corn, onions, peppers, cilantro, and garlic. Whisk together lemon juice, vinegar, chili powder, salt, black pepper and oil. Pour dressing over salad and toss to coat well, then refrigerate. Delicious!!! 

And here's another little treat we had for Christmas––Pecan Tassies. Fabulous, and easy too! Mom's recipe that I've had since 1976. It's a keeper!

Blessings in the New Year, friends, and thanks to all of you who read and follow this blog. I've said it before, but it's so true...

I'm so glad we're on this journey together,
Tammy 


P.S. And here's an update on Robin (and a praise!).

P.S.S. I'm adding this post script late on Tuesday night, but for a wonderful example of God's love that my daughter just shared with me, watch this. Adorable. Moving. Convicting!

The story of Jonah from Corinth Baptist Church on Vimeo.

Monday, December 27, 2010

A Too-Silent Night


It was quiet. Too quiet.

After weeks of preparation—sprucing up the house, decorating the tree, finding and wrapping the perfect gifts, putting on the church Christmas program, going caroling, and baking more goodies than any health-conscious family ought to consume—Christmas was over, just like that.

Our son and his family spent three wonderful days with us, but they’ve gone back home, and the house no longer echoes with the grandkids’ shouts of laughter. The tree still stands in the corner of the living room, but no presents are tucked away beneath its protective branches. And I’m beginning to question the wisdom of indulging in all those baked goods, even though the remaining pies and plates of fudge still beckon from the kitchen.

 Actually, the whole post-Christmas feeling was a lot like coming off a sugar high. And I don’t like coming down with a thud like that. I wanted something more to focus on, to look forward to. It felt like something was missing.

The evening after Christmas, I walked onto our back porch and looked out over the hills to the west, where a glorious Arizona sunset painted the sky. The blazing colors took my breath away. And all at once, I wasn’t thinking about a Christmas sunset but an Easter sunrise and all the meaning it holds.




The unexpected flood of joyous anticipation shook me right out of my bleak mood. How could I have forgotten, even for a moment? Christmas is just the beginning of the story. The Baby didn’t stay in the manger!

There’s plenty to look forward to, and it doesn’t have a thing to do with feverish activity. All the lavish holiday preparations in the world won’t hold a candle to what awaits us in heaven. It’s time to look ahead and move on from “He is born” to “He is risen!!” 

The house is still quiet. But it no longer seems too quiet. In fact, I’m treasuring these rare moments of silence. Christmas is over, leaving behind a host of memories to treasure. Now it’s time to reflect and refocus, to look toward the future. I want to be able to say with the apostle Paul, “Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 3:13,14)

I wish you all a joyous New Year. Please keep Robin in your prayers, and may 2011 hold abundant blessings for each one of us!

Carol

Friday, December 24, 2010

Tradition, Tradition!

Christmas Eve has arrived! Soon I’ll put Baby Jesus in the Nativity set, and everything will be done. Okay, honestly, everything isn’t done. But whatever isn’t done won’t get done, so I’m making peace with that. All but one tradition's been met. Christmas is full of traditions for our family--and for so many more. You might want to go to last week's blog. A friend wrote in with a delightful tradition regarding the manger of their Nativity set.

The year Chris proposed, we went out and bought a hand-blown Christmas Tree topper. Over the years, it’s graced ten-foot pines, a 17-inch Charlie Brown twig, and everything in between. It goes on first, but its presence isn’t truly appreciated until the decorations are on and we light the tree. Each year, it points heavenward as a reminder of the reason for Christmas—and shines with how love still takes work before it glows.






Around our house, Christmas seemes to generate a lot of happy messes. I've managed to corral the leftover wrapping paper, ribbon, and located the tape that went missing.




Speaking of messes... the kitchen is supposed to be busy. A house should smell yummy and be full of traditional dishes. Tonight, Kelly is trying something new and baking peanut butter “mice.” Aren’t they darling? Chris keeps sneaking over and trying to steal another one. Later, I’ll bake pumpkin bread, cranberry bread, and some scones.



This is the first Christmas I haven’t baked cinnamon rolls and Apfel Borogie—a sweet dough braided up around apple filling. I forgot the sour cream at the grocery store, so we’ve chalked this up to a terrible loss—until I promised to make some later. Now everyone is weathering the storm well.

Grandma Peggy—a grandmother by affection, and one of God’s sweetest gifts to me—made my felt stocking the year I was born. Her arms and heart were always open, and I hope to someday be half the woman she was. (I'm a lousy photographer. This is at an odd angle, and only a little part of the mantel Chris and Daddy built. )

I’ve been wearing an array of holiday sweaters and shirts. You can see by how worn this T-shirt is that it’s one of my favorites.

That’s me, in the picture, taking the picture of the mirror with my wish of Merry Christmas to you. May your days be merry and bright, and may all your Christmases be washed in the blood and white as snow!
love,
Cathy

Christmas Anytime



We went to Kansas a couple of weeks back so I could work with Judy Miller on our next book. We also got to be with the grandkids and kids to celebrate Christmas. I grew up in Topeka, Kansas and lived there most of my first 40 some years. I enjoyed a couple of years in the Dallas area and the last 9 - almost 10 now in Montana. There's always something interesting about seeing where you grew up after being away for a while.

Anyway, we got to have some special time with the grandkids and give them their gifts early. Max is going through a zebra stage, so our having found a rocking zebra turned out to be just the thing. Dad might question our sanity since it required - some assembly.






















Fox likes transformers and again Dad came to the rescue to help put the toy together.

 



I remember Jim and I putting a swingset together under cover of darkness with Jim's dad. Talk about a nightmare.









Rainy is very much a girly girl and enjoyed her presents. There were pretty things for her hair and a princess comforter for her bed, as well as other things. Here she is with Mr. McNibbles the family teacup Yorkie.





All in all we enjoyed ourselves greatly and even managed to get this family photo minus a few much loved members who were elsewhere.









So from our house to yours, I wish you the best of Christmases. I pray that you will draw closer to each other and to the Lord--that you will celebrate His wondrous gift throughout the year, and that 2011 will be a year of incredible blessing to you and yours.

Merry Christmas
Tracie



**************
And just a quick tag onto Tracie's post. Many of you have written asking about Robin. She got a great report from her oncologist yesterday. Read the details here: http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/robinleehatcher

Thursday, December 23, 2010

A little holiday cheer

I love animals, and I love music, and when the two come together with this much cuteness... Well, I just had to share. :o) Enjoy this montage of "singing critters"!




(Forgive the short post...things are wee bit hectic in my corner of the world and I'm short on time. Will catch you up later.)

Merry CHRISTmas to you and yours!

God bless you muchly as you journey with Him! ~Kim

"Behold, a virgin shall be with child, and shall bring forth a son, and they shall call his name Emmanuel...God with us." Matt. 1:23 KJV

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

Christmas Memories

Well, I’m going to wax nostalgic again this week. I thought I’d take you on a little trip down my Christmas Memory Lane. I’m taking you back a lot of years so some of this may seem quite strange to some of you. Nowadays most churches don’t mix Santa Claus with church activities, but when I was a little girl attending First Baptist Church in Coraopolis, Pennsylvania, Santa visited our church Christmas party each year. Money was scarce in our house during my early years, and I was mighty pleased that Santa visited church. After playing games, having cocoa and cookies, Santa would arrive and hand each of us a stocking filled with fruit, nuts, candy, and a Bible verse that we were to memorize and recite at the Sunday School program the following Sunday morning.

Along with the Santa visits at church, I have strong memories of several special gifts I received through the years. One was a Betsy Wetsy doll with a little case and clothing. It wasn’t until years later that my mother admitted the dolls my sister and I received weren’t genuine Betsy Wetsy dolls. Because she couldn't afford the genuine Betsy Wetsy, she purchased dolls that looked quite similar. My sister and I didn’t know any better. Instead of the more expensive wardrobes that went with Betsy, she purchased small suitcases she found at a discount store and the doll clothes were ones she sewed at night after working all day to support us. Those gifts mean so much more when I realized her sacrifice to give us the best Christmas that she could afford.

Another gift was a tiny hand-cranked sewing machine that I still have sitting on a table in my house. (That's it to the left with the faux alligator carrying case.) I’m not sure that my sister or I ever made anything of consequence with the sewing machine, but it was a gift that delighted me—and it still sews! Interestingly, it was made by Casige and says on the metal stitching plate 'Manufactured in Germany, British Zone.'

One present that became very special was a dollhouse That gift arrived the year that I tested Santa Claus. I’d heard kids at school say there wasn’t a Santa Claus. I wouldn’t tell anyone, especially my mother, that what I truly wanted was a dollhouse. I still remember going to bed on Christmas Eve and revealing to my unsuspecting mother that my secret wish was for a dollhouse. I saw the surprise in her eyes as she said, “But you didn’t tell Santa.” Being all of seven years old, I replied, “Well, if there’s really a Santa, he knows what I want.” Would you believe that my mother had purchased a dollhouse for my sister and me that year? Not because either of us had expressed a desire for one, but because she’d found it on sale and decided it would be a toy that would entertain us during long afternoons. I was delighted to return to school after Christmas vacation and proclaim that I was positive there really was a Santa Claus!

Even though Christmas isn’t about presents, it is about THE GIFT. The gift of Jesus and eternal life—the greatest gift of all. I hope that as you celebrate Christmas with your families, you’ll take time to give thanks for the sacrificial gift of God’s only begotten son. Blessings and joy to each of you. Merry Christmas! ~Judy

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

Charmin and the Afterlife

Sunday was a day filled with missing Mom. I don't know why some days are harder than others, but Sunday was a tough day.

That evening as I took a break from writing, the treadmill in the upstairs bedroom was whirring as Joe was walking, and I ran to the kitchen to grab a Diet Pepsi then stopped by the hall bathroom only to realize we were nearly out of toilet paper in there (sorry if that's TMI). I keep all of our Costco paper goods in the garage, so I headed down there. 

When I got to garage, I went to the shelf where we keep the toilet paper and I saw a silk flower arrangement of Mom's peeking from a box, still waiting to be unpacked and to find its place since we moved. And I just broke down. I stood there and cried and cried, missing her so much. And I asked God aloud if He would please give me some kind of encouragement about her...

Now, I worship God when He answers, and I worship Him when He doesn't. But when He answers quickly, and gives me just what I need, those times help sustain me through the "waiting room" stretches of life.

Sunday night as I slept, I dreamed. I dreamed I was on a bus headed somewhere, I don't know where. But I looked up ahead and I saw Mom standing with Jack on the side of the road, and I instinctively knew, in my dream, that she needed to give me something. So I asked the bus driver to stop. He did and I reached out the window to get what Mom was holding up. A pack of gum(!). That flat package kind where you push the gum out of its little pocket. Weird, I know. I have no clue... 

Anyway, as soon as my hand touched hers, I woke up in my dream. And I realized I was dreaming but I also realized that was Mom. The bus had already started moving again but I ran to the front and told the driver to stop. I jumped off and ran back and Mom was waiting for me, and we just hugged. I can still feel her arms around me right now, and what holding her felt like. So precious...

I don't have all the answers as to what awaits us on the other side, or in what to make of things like this. All I know is that I told the Lord of Heaven and Earth that I missed my mom, and He heard.

He hears you too. Every prayer, whether uttered or not. Every petition, whether whispered in a dark garage or amidst the hustle and bustle of a crowded mall.

A song I've recently come to love is one Mandisa and Matthew West sing. It's called Sometimes Christmas Makes Me Cry (click title to listen). The lyrics are beautiful.

As the song says, I think of Mary and the virgin birth, and I'm amazed at how much God thinks we're worth. That He would send His only Son to die, and sometimes Christmas makes me cry.

Wishing you blessings this Christmas, and maybe a few tears too. But ones of JOY!

Much love,
Tammy

Monday, December 20, 2010

A Matter of Perspective (Guest Blogger Carol Cox)


Have you ever noticed how a slight change of perspective can change your whole outlook on things? I’ve been noticing that a lot lately. 

One of our family traditions is going out to cut our own Christmas tree. Since we live relatively close to some heavily forested areas, we don’t have to travel far. All we need to do is load our truck with the necessary supplies—a chain saw, our tree-cutting permit, and plenty of snacks—and we’re ready to set off on our annual search for the perfect tree. 


Once we’re out in the designated cutting area, it’s a matter of narrowing down the multitude of possibilities to a single choice. We tramp across acres of ground, assessing size, shape, and fullness, looking for just the right tree to fill the corner of our living room. And once we’ve made our selection and brought it home, it always surprises me how different the tree looks once it’s inside our house.




 We just came home with this year’s tree, so it isn’t decorated and ready for photos yet. But trust me when I say that this one—standing at a mere 8 feet—shows how much restraint we’ve acquired over the years. It’s a big step down from the one we toted home a few years ago, when the mere act of wedging it through the front door took on the proportions of a Herculean challenge. We kept having to lop more and more off the bottom so it could stand upright. 

And height wasn’t the only issue. It was so wide I wound up having to do a commando-style crawl under the lowest branches whenever I wanted to reach the door of my office—a maneuver utterly lacking in elegance but one which apparently ranked high on entertainment value for my nearest and dearest.

Music plays a big part in Christmas season, too. I love the old, traditional carols, but there are some other songs I enjoy hearing in December, just for fun. It’s a little embarrassing to admit that “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer” has been one of my long-time favorites. But since I became a grandma myself nearly four years ago, I’ve started looking at this whole concept of reindeer run amok from a completely different perspective, and I notice I don’t sing the song with quite as much gusto as I used to.

Whether we’re talking about oversized trees or homicidal reindeer, the angle we’re viewing from makes all the difference. The birth of a baby in a gloomy stable wouldn’t have seemed like a notable event to the people of Bethlehem all those years ago. The presence of a poor couple, their newborn child, and a visiting group of ragtag shepherds was barely worth anyone’s notice. Yet viewed from God’s heavenly perspective, this humble sight marked the turning point of history.
 
A scruffy group of shepherds interrupting the stillness of the night with loud cries, or divinely appointed messengers announcing the arrival of the Messiah? A baby born to an impoverished couple, or Emmanuel, God with us? It’s all in the way you look at things.

Wishing you and yours a blessed Christmas. May you see the people and events around you from a fresh, new perspective.

Carol

(Thank you, Carol, for guest blogging for our sweet Robin as she recuperates from recent surgery. We love you, Robin!)

Saturday, December 18, 2010

Where's Jesus?




“Jesus is missing.”
I laughed.


Thinking I hadn't heard him, Kelly's boyfriend looked at the nativity on the corner above our diagonally-set kitchen sink and repeated, "Jesus is missing."

I shrugged. It's not the first time I've heard those words. Each year, people make that same observation. I explained, "It's not Christmas yet."


Shannon frowned. Big, long, masculine fingers dwarfing each of the figurines, he inspected the pieces as if the manger might sudden materialize from behind the kings. “What’s a nativity without Jesus? He’s what it’s all about.”

Kelly smiled at him. “It’s the way we do things. Jesus doesn’t come out until Christmas.”


That’s not how it was done when I grew up. Each year, Mom put out the Nativity set and Baby Jesus took center stage. She still does it that way. My husband grew up without a nativity set at all.


So I decided we'd make up a few of our own traditions. When better than Christmas? Kids understand how exciting it is to look forward to their birthday, how special they feel on their birthday, and how each birthday is a celebration of the new things to come. Baby Jesus was born on Christmas-- meaning Christmas is His birthday, and we anticipate it all month long. Our nativity set reflects that.
Each December I’d kneel on the floor and put out the figurines. One by one, I’d tell about Mary, Joseph, the donkey…. The stable and the shepherds… the angel and the wise men who followed the star and would arrive a little later.. but since they were coming for Jesus’ birthday, we put them out, too. Christmas Eve, I’d set out Jesus… and on Christmas morning, Jesus came! We’d sing Happy Birthday to Jesus and have birthday cake.

On Christmas, the world held its breath and time stood still. We date everything accordingly: BC and AD. Before Christ and AD… After His Death. Christmas isn't just about Him coming. It's about what He gave up, how He lived, loved, taught, and sacrified Himself on Easter for us. Christmas is a celebration of the choice Christ made and the life He lived. Each January, I pack away they nativity set. Baby Jesus’s representation goes back in the box... but that's a little manger-bound statue. In truth, because of Christmas He lives in our hearts every day of the year.
BTW: I have other Nativity sets. My husband said the "stall" on this one looks more like a gazebo. I countered that it reminded me of the cathedrals we'd been in... they fill my heart soar with worship and awe--but I'd gladly get out a different one. Chris decided he liked this stall, afterall.


So how do you celebrate? Did you keep a special tradition, or did you make up one of your own? Anticipating His coming,
Cathy

Friday, December 17, 2010

Desperately Seeking Black Walnuts

Christmas is a time of year when I really miss black walnuts. Having grown up in Kansas, we were blessed to have a huge black walnut tree in my grandmother's front yard. Later we bought her house and it became our tree.

From the time I was able to walk, I learned about the walnut stomp. If it happened to be a year for the walnuts to bear, we would see crazy looking green balls growing on the tree.
By fall these would drop off and the walnut stomp began.

Now for the walnut stomp you needed old grubby shoes and gloves (unless you wanted stained hands for weeks on end), old clothes that you didn't mind getting stained, and good balance. The green husks had to be taken off the walnut itself, so we would stomp and roll and mush and wrestle with those husks until we were left with little black balls instead of green ones.


Of course, that wasn't the end of it. Black walnuts have to dry and so my grandmother had a perpetual supply that went from year to year drying in her old-fashioned, dirt floor basement. We'd pick up the previous batch and put them aside for cracking and lay down the new year's supply for drying.

With that done, we went to work cracking dried black walnuts. Walnut shells are not for the faint of heart. You won't find very many people who can crack these black beauties with their hands. I always relied on a hammer. In fact, we usually cracked a whole bunch, put them in a pan or bag and then spent cold evenings getting the meats out of the shell in a warm house.

So having spent years upon years counting on black walnuts to be available for pumpkin and banana nut bread, fudge and other candies, etc. moving to Montana proved to be a nightmare. It's almost impossible to get a black walnut up here. In fact, I've run across folks who didn't even know there were different kinds of walnuts!

But what can I expect? They don't grow here. They are an eastern US tree and Montana is clearly in the wild west.
So yes, I'm jealous of the fact that Judy Miller, Kim Sawyer and Tamara Alexander can easily get black walnuts and I can't.

However, I want to make black walnut bark.

No - not the tree kind, but the white and dark chocolate, peppermint kind.
I want black walnut chocolate chip, oatmeal cookies. I just want to snack on black walnuts.

So I managed to find some on-line.
Thank the Lord for online shopping. My black walnuts are slated to arrive tomorrow and I couldn't be happier. They are my Merry Christmas to me presents. The bread and fudge will be Christmas for everyone else.

God Bless
Tracie