The Red Kettle

The Red Kettle 

This is an insanely personal post. The kind of post I don't normally share, but today somehow felt the need to do just that. 

30 years ago, I was impacted by the Red Kettle. 

I had just turned 10 years old. My mom, who was several months pregnant had just made the most daring choice of her life and moved us 500 miles away from our friends and family to a city where she thought we could make a complete life change. She was barely 27 years old. She had 3 little girls and another "bundle of love" baking in the oven. The father of her two oldest children was at best, MIA, at worst a complete deadbeat of a father. Her husband had recently been convicted of a most heinous crime in our little town and was sentenced to prison for the rest of eternity, or 2019. Whichever came first.

A new start seemed like a breath of fresh air. Married, but might as well have been single, no skills to speak of, virtually no money, she packed us up and we piled onto a grey hound bus bound for Buffalo NY. An eternity later, we arrived at the front door of our new life. And the first Blizzard Buffalo had received since 1977.

We ran out of money almost immediately. We moved from the hotel room that the state gave us vouchers to pay for, and into the Buffalo City Mission's women shelter. We lived there for about 6 months. I remember my mom saying that God loved us because they never let women with children live there that long.

I remember the house. A beautiful, large Blue Victorian home on Linwood Avenue. We occupied the first rooms on the main floor with expansive floor to ceiling windows that let the light in. We had a couch, and a bed, and cots to sleep on. No TV, no phones, just books and crayons and dolls to keep us busy until before and after school.

In the evenings, a white van would come to bring us to the City Mission for Dinner. The driver's name was Bob. He was a stout bearded fellow who had a great laugh, and a kind spirit. I think he was sweet on my mom. He made us laugh with different stories from the mission. We would arrive at the mission, attend Chapel, and then eat in the hall with all the other people who either stayed at the mission or came for dinner. Hundreds of people there, but everyone I remember were kind.

This story isn't about the mission though, it's about The Red Kettle.

The Mission told my mom about the Salvation Army, on Main Street, which is about 1/2 a mile or so away from the beautiful Victorian house. We walked down that long main street, past the businesses and the Delta Sonic gas station, past 2 very large apartment buildings where we would move to the following spring, past what would eventually become my son's daycare center, past two very beautiful large, ornate catholic churches, past what would become our new church (New Life Assembly of God), past restaurants and to the Salvation Army.

My mom spoke with a person at the front counter. She explained to them that we were living at the women's shelter, she had no money, Welfare wasn't giving her any money because she had left one city and there was a 'waiting' period. She had no daycare for us so she could go to work.

They ushered us into a room, and there was Christmas. I remember a large woman standing over me and telling me "Now child, don't just stand there, pick something out!"

There were tables and tables of toys. Brand new toys. Beautiful dolls and cars and robots and My little ponies and pink boxes all piled high. I was overwhelmed. Even as I type this I am overcome with the emotion of it. I remember my mom telling me we were being Santa's helpers and her telling me to pick something out for each of my sisters as well to wrap up for them. After thinking about it for a long time, I finally chose 3 items for us to take home, and then being given a candy cane and wished a Merry Christmas.

We walked home. I beamed, I was so excited. Other people gave us gifts, and clothes, and toys. We had a nice Christmas, we were blessed.

But I remember the Salvation Army. How they gave to us when we had nothing.

And now, I give. $1 here, $5 there, $20 when I have it to give. Every single time I see a Bell Ringer. I cannot walk away from them and not give.

Because in my mind, I imagine another little dirty blonde haired girl standing there in the stacks and stacks of toys, trying to choose just one toy that her little sisters might love.

Thank you Red Kettle. Thank you Bell Ringers. Thank you Salvation Army. You made an impression, and now, 30 years later - I can do a little more than just say Thank you.

2 Corinthians 8:2
They are being tested by many troubles, and they are very poor. But they are also filled with abundant joy, which has overflowed in rich generosity.

One Year in Colorado

One Year in Colorado

{Estes Park, Rocky Mountain National Park}

A post like this is sort of hard to start. 

You wonder, where you should begin? 

Do you start with the five years ago when you heard from God that life was going to drastically change for you very soon?

{Zoey & I on our Maple Sugaring weekend trip w/friends, March 2010}

Do you start three years ago when you wondered when "Drastic" was going to start?

{the amazing group of exchange students we hosted, and fell in love with that year}

Do you start two years before you left, when you painted, and purged your home in anticipation for a great move? Do you write about the 5 garage sales you held, or the many, many trips to the Salvation Army with so many things you once held precious, but are now nothing but a nuisance and hindrance to getting where you need to go?

Do you start one year ago when all of your closest friends and family gathered at your home to help load up the little 6x12 trailer that was to hold all of your earthly possessions, hitched to the back of your vehicle? 

Do you chronicle the journey across the country, through 8 different states, stopping for 2 days to visit family, and then only for the most important of site seeing? 

or

Do you start when you arrived in Colorado, racing against time, arriving at midnight, barely moments ahead of a nasty snow and ice storm that would hit only moments after you arrived?

Do you start when you moved into your new apartment?

When you attended your first church service, which, BTW is the whole reason you moved to Colorado?

When you closed on the house back in NY and no longer had a mortgage payment half the cost of your rent?

When you interviewed for a job that one week later you would start? 

At what point in the Journey is it the actual {Starting Point} ?

I suppose... My next blog post should be about our year here in Colorado! 

Potato Pancakes

I have been trying to master the potato pancake for years. I remember as a child, my mother would make them for us and I remember them being the perfect combination of crispy, salty and a little sweet. My mom served them with Applesauce when we were growing up, a nod to her Jewish upbringing.

But as I got older, I found that Potato pancakes weren't only a "Jewish" family treat, but that the Polish, the Germans and many other eastern European heritages used them as a staple in their meal planning. I saw people eat them with Sour Cream, Sourcrout, and even Maple Syrup. I was intrigued!

However... for a long, long time the Potato Pancake eluded me. Honestly, I struggled with the binding. I tried flour, I tried eggs... a friend even recommended leftover mashed potatoes and bread crumbs.

{I TRIED IT ALL} 

I convinced myself that the Potato Pancake just wouldn't be part of my meal planning and I'd have to settle for visiting mom on occasion or the random restaurant for the best tastes.

And then... Pinterest. YES! I've said before that I am a crazy Pinterest lover - I've got like 10,000 pins. And the recipes and tips, tricks and hints I've learned over the past 2 years have molded me into quite the baker, and quite the cook. I LOVE IT! And with all those tips under my belt, I was prepared to attack the Potato Pancake again.

I. Rocked. It. 

I'm not lying. These are phenomenal. Delish. A fast, easy meal. Served with Applesauce and Sausage, Sour Cream and pork shops, or just plain with a little salt and pepper - it's hard to walk away from the serving platter with just one or two of these! 

Now this particular time, I cheated a little. Normally I would have peeled and shredded a few russets with my box grater and then squeezed them dry. This time though, I used a bag of refridgerated shredded "Simply Potatoes" which are generally available in the Dairy section of the local grocery store. Since I was hungry, and had a short cut ready to go in the fridge, I decided that was the best way to go.

When you get ready to make your pancakes, make sure that the butter/oil in the pan is nice and hot, but not burning. Keep your pan on a nice steady heat, and when the pancake edges start to look crispy  - then you can turn them with a wide spatula. Once they are golden brown and crispy on both sides, you can serve them up on a plate with whatever you like for condiments :)

Enjoy!

Potato Pancake Recipe

3 large russet potatoes or (1) 24oz bag of Simply Potatoes 

2 Eggs 

2-3 Tablespoons Flour 

1 Crushed Garlic Clove

1/8 Teaspoon Nutmeg 

Salt & Pepper to taste 

If you are using a bag of pre-shredded potatoes, you can skip step 1. 

1.) Peel, clean and Shred Potatoes. Then squeeze as much of the starchy liquid as possible from the Potatoes.

2.) Heat a non stick, or stainless steel pan over a med-low heat and add a little butter and olive oil.

3.) Crack and wisk two eggs into large mixing bowl. Add Flour, Garlic, nutmeg, salt and pepper. Mix together until fully incorporated and flour is not lumpy. 

4.) Stir the shredded potatoes into the egg/flour mixture. It should combine into a stiff mix, not too runny. 

 5.) Take large spoonfuls of the Potato mix and drop into the hot butter oil in the pan. Flatten them out until they are the pancake size you like. Take care that they aren't too thick and the middles don't cook, or too thin that they burn.

6.) Once they are nice and golden on one side, flip and cook until golden on the other side.

Serve and enjoy! 

***Disclaimer:  all of my pics are taken from my phone camera. I'm not a fancy photographer and I don't even have a fancy camera.... don't let that dissuade you - the food. IS. good. :)