These Things I Wish For You

I have five children, and I love them dearly. They've all grown into wonderful adults, and, I'm very proud of them. Like any parent though, I can look back on the years and see things that I wish I had done differently, and I hope and pray that they all realize that I did the very best that I knew how to do at any given time, however inadequate it may seem now.

I also have two lovely grandsons, both of whom are now two years old, them having been born within several months of each other. Oh, to have had two such great blessings in life so close to each other was truly magnificent. The hardest part of it was being so far away. I finally got to see one of them last year, when he was about 18 months old, and it was glorious . . . I enjoyed every minute of the time I got to spend with him. Sadly, I have not yet been able to see or spend any time with the other one, but I live in hope. In the meantime, I do my very best to spoil them from afar.

I found this lovely piece written by Paul Harvey to his grandchildren, and I wanted to share it with you this morning. As a grandmother it really touched my heart, and I hope it touches yours, and that you don't mind me repeating it here.



"These Things I Wish For You"

We tried so hard to make things better for our kids that we made them worse.
For my grandchildren, I'd know better.
I'd really like for them to know about hand me down clothes and homemade ice cream and leftover meat loaf. I really would.
My cherished grandson, I hope you learn humility by being humiliated and that you learn honesty by being cheated.
I hope you learn to make your bed and mow the lawn and wash the car . . . and I hope nobody gives you a brand-new car when you are 16.
And I hope you have a job by then.
It will be good if at least one time you can see a baby calf born and see your old dog put to sleep.
I hope you get a black eye fighting for something you believe in.
I hope you have to share a bedroom with your younger brother. And it is all right to draw a line down the middle of the room, but . . . when he wants to crawl under the covers with you because he's scared . . . I hope you'll let him.
And when you want to see a Disney movie and your kid brother wants to tag along, I hope you take him.
I hope you have to walk uphill with your friends and that you live in a town where you can do it safely.
And rainy days when you have to hitch a ride I hope your driver doesn't have to drop you two blocks away so you won't be seen riding with somebody as uncool as your mom.
If you want a slingshot, I hope your father teaches you how to make one instead of buy one. I hope you learn to dig in the dirt and read books, and when you learn to use one of those new fangled computers, you also learn how to add and subtract in your head.
I hope you get razzed by friends when you have your first crush on a girl, and that when you talk back to your mother you learn what Ivory soap tastes like.
May you skin your knee climbing a mountain, burn your hand on the stove and stick your tongue on a frozen flag pole.
I hope you get sick when some stupid old person blows cigar smoke in your face. I don't care if you try beer once, but I hope you don't like it. And if your friend offers you a joint or any dope . . . I hope you're smart enough to realize that he is not your friend.
I sure hope you make time to sit on a porch with your grandpa (grandma) or go fishing with your uncle. May you feel sorrow at a funeral and the joy of holidays.
I hope your mother punishes you when you throw a baseball through a neighbours window and that she hugs you and kisses you at Christmas time when you give her a plaster of Paris mold of your hand.
These things I wish for you . . . tough times and disappointment, hard work and happiness.
~Paul Harvey

As I sit here at my computer this morning, I can hear rain softly pelting down onto the skylight at the top of the stairs, and the birds trilling away in the bushes and trees outside. It amazes me. It rains and yet they sing at the top of their hearts, making most beautiful noises. We could all learn a lesson from that. Perhaps we should choose to sing through the rain that touches our lives as well. What could it hurt?

I normally don't have a lot of time for cooking by the time we get home from church on Sundays. It's a pretty long day, as most weeks we don't get back until gone 3pm. That's one of the bonus's of having a husband who is in the church leadership. I don't mind really. I rather enjoy those few hours or so sitting in the back of the chapel by myself and reading or thinking, or listening to my ipod in solitude. By the time we get home though we are both starving and so I usually rustle up something quick, unless I've been smart enough to stick something in the slow cooker before we leave in the morning. Usually we'll have egg and chips or beans on toast or something like that. I usually make up for it later in the day though and make Todd something special to eat during the evening when we settle in for a bit of telly and relaxation. Yesterday I made him one of his favourite comfort foods . . . and, I must confess, one of mine . . .



*Bananas and Custard*
Serves 4

You can call it many names . . . creme de la vanille, creme anglaise . . . it matters not. It's all vanilla custard and it is wonderfully delicious when properly made and homemade. Why anyone would ever bother with the powdered version when they can make it so easily from scratch is beyond my comprehension!

1 pint whole milk (2 cups)
1 vanilla pod
4 egg yolks
1 TBS caster sugar
4 medium bananas

Put the milk in a saucepan. Slit the vanilla pod down the centre and scrape out the seeds into the milk with a sharp knife. Drop the split pod into the milk as well. Heat the milk over a medium heat, just until you see bubbles forming around the edges. Remove from the heat and remove the vanilla pod. (Just rinse it off and dry it and you can then stick it into your sugar bin where it will give your sugar a lovely flavour and fragrance . . . no worries and no waste.)

Beat together the egg yolks and the sugar. Pour the hot milk over top of it very slowly, whisking constantly. Strain the mixture into the top of a double boiler. Place over the top of the bottom of the double boiler over simmering water and cook ove rvery low heat, stirring all the time. When it thickens to the consistency of double cream (it should coat the back of your spoon), remove it from the heat and pour it straight into a bowl to reduce the heat. Let cool to warm, before proceeding.

The secret to successful custard is to not be in a hurry. If the worse happens and it starts to separate, whizz it in the blender. You can of course, pre-empt this problem by adding a small teaspoon of cornstarch to the egg yolks before adding the milk.

Peel and slice the bananas into four dessert dishes. Spoon the warm custard over top of them and serve.