Sheltering at home can be stressful, but it also provides lots of time and opportunity for home projects you’ve been putting off. To help you, we’ve created a collection of all the best, expert-approved decluttering tips on Guideposts.org.
“A rearranging project is something that can be done in 15 minutes or less, and it will leave a single corner, surface, drawer or shelf in your home looking noticeably clean and orderly,” Rossi writes.
Because cleaning can be so overwhelming, decluttering expert Kathi Lipp created the 60 percent rule. This rule suggests that you’re allowed to take a cleaning break, when you’ve gotten rid of 60 percent of the clutter. Lipp says this will help you avoid burnout and leave mental energy for you to move on to other spaces.
Joshua Becker, author of The Minimalist Home, says one simple way to keep yourself motivated is to not try to selling the things you’re decluttering. “Trying to sell everything you’re getting rid of just adds time, stress and usually frustration to the process,” Becker says.
As an alternative, he recommends donating your cast offs instead. “You can’t change the past, you can only learn from it,” Becker says. “Just because you made a mistake by buying things that you’re not using doesn’t mean you have to carry [them] into the future.”
If you can’t donate immediately, at least take the time to label and pack up your donation boxes, so you can take them as soon as you are able.
Dana K. White is a decluttering expert whose life changed when she gave up organizing and started getting rid of things instead.
One of her secrets to clearing out a space is called the container concept. This simple idea states that the size of your storage spaces determines how many items you can keep.
“You can have as many socks as will fit in your sock drawer,” White says. “Let that be the deciding factor.”
When clearing out closets, Colleen Ashe, the founder of Ashe Organizing Solutions, suggests remembering that most people wear 20 percent of their clothing 80 percent of the time. That means most of us can get rid of a lot of clothing.
“If you haven’t worn it in over a year—maybe it has a stain, maybe it is missing a button or maybe you never liked the color—it’s probably time to give it away,” Ashe says.
“Put ‘like’ things together,” White says. Doing this will allow you to see how many of each item you own. Then, using the container concept, figure out how many of that item will fit in your space and keep only that number.
For each step, she recommends gathering the set of items in question from around the house and gathering them in one central location for decluttering.
What should you do when you’re determining where to put things away? Designer and blogger Myquillyn Smith recommends leaving a designated empty surface in each room of your home.
“I know for so many years I always felt like, ‘Oh, we need a bigger house because I don’t have a place for my stuff,’” Smith says. “Really, I just needed less stuff.”
I woke to darkness and lay in bed going over the busy day ahead of me. Finally I got up and flicked on the light switch—nothing happened. I checked my phone. No Wi-Fi, no data. With our spotty cell service, there was no way of knowing if we had received outage alerts or school cancellation emails.
I grabbed a sweater and went downstairs, found a flashlight and a match to light the gas stove, then boiled water to brew coffee. Out the window, the falling snow obscured the sunrise. Snowdrifts covered the road.
My work meetings and deadlines, my sons’ classes and tests, my husband’s plans—everything would have to wait. God, why did this happen today of all days? I asked. Thankfully, the woodstove was still going strong. I took a deep breath and thought, I suppose we have everything we need.
The house was quiet as I sipped my coffee and cuddled our dog. One by one, my husband and sons came downstairs and groaned at the turn the day had taken.
I opened the curtains to let in light. We gathered at the table and had cereal. After breakfast, my husband played a game of solitaire. Then my sons joined him in building a house of cards that reached three levels…until our cat jumped up to investigate and knocked it down. We played a round of Scrabble and had my favorite snow day lunch: grilled cheese and tomato soup.
We took a long walk in the woods behind our house, trudging through the drifts along the stream. We spotted deer tracks and played in the snow that was coming down in big fluffy flakes. When we returned, all the clocks in the house were blinking. I started to make dinner, happy to have things back to normal—even better than normal.
A day that began without electricity, cut off from the rest of the world, ended with hot chocolate and power restored. Recharged by the unexpected gift of a day together.
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Some people consider my husband, Ben, and me a Christmas couple. I like that. Not just because it’s my favorite holiday and Ben is into Christmas year-round. But because our love story is so connected to Christmas—it’s a part of who we are as a couple. The presents, the ornaments, the food, the songs, the scents, the lights and all that our family does to celebrate Jesus’ birth. The magic and joy of the season are a feast for all the senses God has given us.
Back when I was a sophomore at Jones County Junior College, just down the road from Laurel, I was the design director for the yearbook, and we were doing a feature story on this guy Ben, a big presence on campus. I had a secret crush on him. At six foot six, always surrounded by friends, he was impossible to miss.
As seen in the Dec-Jan 2023 issue of Guideposts
We finally met in early December when he came to the yearbook office to do the interview. Three days later, we got in my blue VW Bug and drove over to Mason Park to look at the Christmas lights. By day six, we knew we were going to get married. I know it sounds crazy, but that’s why we call that week in December “love week.”
All too soon, Ben had to leave to be with his family for Christmas. My mom had just tried out the recipe for these chocolate, oatmeal and peanut butter cookies. You don’t bake them—you boil them. Super easy. Ben took one bite and loved them. So she put a huge batch in a gallon-sized Ziploc baggie, and he ate them on his five-hour drive home. Couldn’t afford to stop for a burger. Didn’t need to.
Every Christmas since, Mama has boiled a batch. “Why do you make those awful cookies?” Daddy will mutter. “I can’t stand them.” “They’re not for you,” Mama says. “They’re for Ben.”
What would we do without the love of parents, making Christmas happen for their children?
I got the love-to-cook gene from Mammaw, my grandmother on my dad’s side. She was the keeper of our family recipes. She made something we called Mother Goose’s Sunday Rice, a concoction of rice, chicken broth, onions, bell pepper and Velveeta cheese. One of our many favorites.
But when Mammaw died in May 2020, at the age of 97, we couldn’t find any of those recipes. We helped Daddy sort through her belongings: the crocheted doilies, the Blue Willow dishes, the glass tea pitcher, the dented aluminum biscuit bowl. I took photos of each room, exactly as she had left them, so we would always remember the Christmases and birthdays and Sundays spent around her dinner table and her out-of-tune piano. I found a few cookbooks but not her recipes.
Finally it was time to give the last of her things to Goodwill. We were hoisting her dining room console when its door flew open, nearly spilling the contents onto the pavement. Inside were two ceramic canisters, one shaped like a ripe peach, the other like a basket of strawberries.
They were stuffed to the brim with her hand-written recipes. Peanut brittle, my cousin Jim’s favorite Christmas cake, spaghetti and meatballs, her famous creamy layered dessert called Chocolate Delight. It felt like a wink from heaven, God letting Mammaw give us one final gift that would carry on in us and in our children.
I took those recipes, scanned them into my computer and put them together, along with the photos I took, in a book. Everyone in our family got a copy on Christmas morning. They all cried.
One of the first gifts I ever got was a toy kitchen. At three, I had a miniature stove with tiny pots, pans, utensils, dishes and plastic food that I “cooked” and served to my parents. A few years ago, my cousin Jim and my best friend, Mallorie, got a toy kitchen for their daughter, and Ben helped them set it up.
We had no idea how much work it took. They weren’t finished till well after midnight Christmas Eve. Christmas Eve 2019, Ben was up late building another tiny kitchen for our first-born, and the tradition continues.
Now we look to give our two daughters—Helen, who turns five in January, and one-and-a-half-year-old Mae—the magic of Christmas.
For Helen, it begins well before December. Ben has taken to singing her a slew of Christmas songs all year long. Helen has assigned me only one carol, “Away in a Manger.” It’s become her favorite lullaby, our bedtime duet.
We want Helen and Mae to know there’s a reason for the season. On December 1, out comes the Advent calendar. Mama made a beautiful one of fabric. It has a Christmas tree on top with jingle bells, and at the base are 24 small pockets, each holding a tiny ornament. Every night we read a line or two from the Christmas story in the Bible. Then Helen takes out the ornament and hangs it on the fabric tree.
Our daughters are catching that Advent feeling of joyful anticipation, counting the days. For our church’s variety show, Helen plans to do a dance from The Nutcracker or sing a carol. “Away in a Manger,” of course!
Another family favorite is “Blue Christmas,” sung by Elvis Presley. We play his Christmas album every year. Mama used to tell my brother, Clark, and me, “Now, kids, I want you to know there are only two kings in this world: Jesus and Elvis.” King Elvis helps us celebrate the birth of the King of kings.
Mama got to see Elvis in concert twice, and there’s a video of me as a newborn with my dad and uncle and grandfather singing “Blue Christmas.” Horribly out of tune, mind you.
Every year, Mama puts out on the buffet a ceramic sculpture of Elvis Presley’s Graceland, something she got years ago. That first Christmas, we sprinkled fake snow all over the lawn. Somehow that snow has survived. Every year, we gather it up and sprinkle the same snow on Elvis’s ceramic lawn. No wonder the first word Helen learned to spell was E-L-V-I-S!
The sense that’s most evocative to me is smell. There are so many scents I associate with Christmas. Mulling spices warming on the stovetop, the things Mama baked. I’d come home from college, pull into the driveway, the house glowing like a lantern. And even before I walked in the door, the cinnamon-clove-nutmeg aroma of apple cobbler greeted me.
In Laurel, the season begins on the first Saturday in December with Pancake Day, put on by the Kiwanis Club for college scholarships. We stand in line on Oak Street, waiting outside the YWCO (the O stands for organization). Every person I’ve ever known is there. Inside the colonial brick building, we feast on all-you-can-eat pancakes, sausages and coffee. Then we go watch the parade—the longest Christmas parade in the state, they say. One year, Ben and I were Mr. and Mrs. Loblolly Lumberjack, the town mascots, on a float.
It’s worth remembering that scents were part of that very first Christmas, when the wise men brought fragrant myrrh and frankincense as well as gold to the Christ Child. This year, we’re opening a new store called the Laurel Mercantile Scent Library, with 50 fragrances to start.
The magic of fragrance is that you can light a candle and be transported to a memory—every great scent tells a story. Like the smell of Pancake Day or apple cobbler or the pomanders Mama and I used to make every year, sticking a million cloves in oranges so they looked like ornaments, which she’d put on a tiered stand.
I’ve barely mentioned the gifts we give or have been given. Like the cinnamon pears my family gave away at Christmastime. My parents have tons of fruit trees in their backyard, and we’d pick the ripe pears and can them with Red Hots candy.
Or the rock tumbler I got as a kid. It came from a science toys catalog. You’d put in a few rocks and switch it on for weeks of tumbling. Daddy put it in the garage, and I’d check on it. Six weeks later, I took out a handful of polished rocks. I was so excited.
When we were getting ready to open Scotsman Manufacturing, our cutting board factory, I gave Ben a book the CEO of General Motors had written about what gives a company longevity. The year Helen was turning one, he gave me a journal where I could write down the advice I want to give our daughter. I haven’t written in that one yet—it’s too perfect—but I keep a journal to give to my daughters someday. Like that ceramic Graceland that Mama promises to give me. Someday.
Ben and I put snacks in each other’s stockings, Slim Jims and SweeTarts in mine, Slim Jims and Reese’s Peanut Butter Trees in his. The December we met, there were only four stockings over the fireplace in my parents’ house—for me, my brother, Mama and Daddy. Now there are nine. That’s the best thing, the biggest blessing.
Every December, Ben and I celebrate “love week” by doing the same things we did during those first six days. Have lunch at our alma mater’s cafeteria, get cheese sticks from Sonic and ride in an old car to look at the lights in Mason Park.
The whole month of December should feel different from the rest of the year. It’s when we remember how Christ was born. People think it’s crazy that Ben wears a suit, tie and cufflinks every Sunday. But it’s the same thing. He puts on a suit on Sundays because Sundays should feel different. It’s when we worship God.
You might wonder if this sinks in with Helen and Mae, who are pretty young after all. But it’s never too early to start. Helen loves to paint. At age two, she was painting something vigorously, swiping the brush around on the canvas. I glanced over her shoulder and couldn’t believe it.
Without her knowing, we could see that she had painted Baby Jesus in the manger, with Mary and Joseph watching over him. How could she picture the scene so vividly? How did she know? Was it because she heard the story every night with the Advent calendar or sang it with “Away in a Manger”?
We hang up that painting every year at Christmastime—to celebrate the gift that was given to us when Christ was born.
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I’m a chef and nutritionist. Some of my best recipes come from working with people who have dietary restrictions.
One of my clients was fighting cancer and had to cut out red meat. Problem was, he was a fast-food junkie. He’d hit the drive-through for breakfast. He almost cried when his wife showed me his stash of fast-food coupons and had me throw them out.
I knew I had to find a tasty burger alternative to convince him to eat healthy. I came up with this recipe and got him to try the turkey patties for breakfast, knowing he needed a protein fix in the mornings. He practically broke into song. “It’s like a symphony of taste!” he said.
The combination of flavors woke up his taste buds, which had been dormant after his treatments, yet the ginger, parsley and fennel made these burgers easy on the stomach.
The best part? My client discovered that a healthy change can be a happy one too.
Fennel and ginger are natural digestive aids, and if you use dark meat instead of white, you’ll get three times more iron per serving.
Ingredients
2 lbs. ground dark meat organic turkey
⅔ c. yellow onion, minced
¼ c. fresh basil leaves, finely chopped
¼ c. fresh flat-leaf parsley, finely chopped
½ tsp. fresh ginger, minced
½ Tbsp. garlic, minced
½ tsp. sea salt
1 tsp. crushed fennel seeds
1 tsp. dried oregano
1 tsp. red pepper flakes
Olive oil
Preparation
1. In a large bowl, combine all ingredients except for oil. Mix well.
2. Shape into desired patty size.
3. Heat a grill pan brushed with oil. Brown patties over medium heat on both sides, about 3 minutes per side.
4. Cover and continue to grill 3 more minutes, till cooked through. Or in a sauté pan, add just enough oil to coat a hot pan. Sauté over medium heat for 3 minutes on each side to brown, decrease the heat and add a tablespoon of water. Cover to steam the inside, about 6 minutes.
5. Try in pita pockets or on buns.
Serves 8
Rebecca’s Tips:
•Everyone likes these, even the most finicky kids.
•Patties can be individually wrapped and frozen for up to 3 months.
•If you don’t have fresh basil on hand, just use fresh parsley.
From documentaries and mini-series, to classic films and NBC’s highly anticipated sequel series A.D. The Bible Continues, there are plenty of opportunities to immerse yourself in the stories of the Bible during Holy Week, and they’re just a click away.
Sunday, March 29th
Finding Jesus: Faith, Fact, Forgery: CNN is airing back to back episodes of their investigative series on the true story of Jesus. The mini-marathon begins at 7 p.m. and culminates with a new episode airing at 9 p.m. which examines the legend of the True Cross. (CNN, 7 p.m. – 9 p.m.)
Killing Jesus: Based on Bill O’Reilly’s book of the same name, the show is a fictionalized retelling of the life and death of Jesus Christ. (National Geographic, 8 p.m.)
The Passion of the Christ: The film, directed by Mel Gibson and starring Jim Caviezel, depicts the final hours of the life of Jesus of Nazareth on the day of his crucifixion. (UPtv, 7 p.m.)
Tuesday, March 31st
The Dovekeepers: The two-night series premiere chronicles the lives of four Jewish women during the Roman’s siege of the city of Masada. (CBS, 9 p.m.)
Wednesday, April 1st
King of Kings: UPtv’s collection of the most iconic movies based on books of the Bible. Tonight’s installment centers on the life of Jesus Christ. (UPtv, 9 p.m.)
The Dovekeepers: The conclusion of the mini-series ends with the invasion of Masada by the Romans and we learn the fate of the Jews left in the city. (CBS, 9 p.m.)
Thursday, April 2nd
Mary, Mother of Jesus: The extraordinary life of Jesus, from birth to crucifixion, as seen through the eyes of his mother Mary. (UPtv, 9 p.m.)
Friday, April 3rd
Judas: The story of the friendship between Jesus and Judas that ended in ultimate betrayal. (UPtv, 7 p.m.)
Saturday, April 4th
Jesus: The Lost 40 Days: A look at the 40 days following Jesus’ resurrection, before his ascension. (HIST, 12 p.m.)
The Bible – Beginnings: The first of this five part series features Noah, enduring God’s wrath and the Israelites being led out of Egypt by Moses. (HIST, 2 p.m.)
The Bible – Homeland: Joshua conquers Jericho; Delilah betrays Samson; and David Battles Goliath in the second installment of the series. (HIST, 4 p.m.)
The Bible – Hope: In part 3 of the series, the Jews are enslaved in Babylon; Mary is told she will bear a child; and Jesus is born. (HIST, 6 p.m.)
The Bible – Mission: In this fourth episode, Jesus resurrects Lazarus; Caiaphas persuades Judas to betray Jesus; and Jesus is arrested. (HIST, 8 p.m.)
The Bible – Passion: The conclusion of the series sees Peter deny Jesus; Judas hang himself and Jesus crucified. (HIST, 10 p.m.)
Sunday, April 5th
TCM Movie Marathon: Turner Classic Movies is celebrating Easter with a movie marathon featuring Biblically-themed films like Ben Hur (1959), King of Kings (1961) and The Greatest Story Ever Told (1965). The marathon kicks off at 9:30 a.m. (TCM, 9:30 a.m.)
The Ten Commandments (1956): This Cecil B. DeMille classic story relates the life of Moses (played by Charlton Heston), from the time he was discovered in the bulrushes as an infant by the pharaoh’s daughter, to his long struggle to free the Israelites from their slavery at the hands of the Egyptians, as well as his climb up Mount Sinai to receive the tablets containing God’s commands.(ABC, 7 p.m.)
A.D. The Bible Continues: Peter and the disciples experience their darkest hour in the premiere of this miniseries that dramatizes the impact of Christ’s death on his disciples and the era’s political and religious leaders. (NBC, 9 p.m.)
** A previous version of this article stated that the Killing Jesus special aired on the History Channel. That has been corrected.**
[MUSIC PLAYING] Hi. My name is Lisa Swan. I’m from Staten Island, New York. I’m a baseball blogger. And I write about the Yankees and the Mets in my blog, SubwaySquawkers.com. But I never thought I’d actually get to be an athlete myself.
Last year, I got to do a Spartan race at Citi Field. And I got to feel what it was like to do athletic activities instead of just writing about them.
My faith played a big part in not just deciding to do the Spartan race, but getting through the Spartan race. It occurred to me that the Lord had wanted something more for me in life, that instead of just sitting around and watching baseball and being on the couch, I really needed to get out and enjoy life and do something athletic.
Not only are a lot of baseball fans motivated by faith, but so are players. For example, Mariano Rivera, at one point when he was in his early years as a Yankee, he actually thought about leaving baseball to go be a missionary. But instead, he stayed with the team and became the greatest closer of all time.
A few years ago when he got hurt before a game, it was one of these things that united baseball fans, in a way. Because no matter what team you rooted for, people said prayers for him to get better. I know I did. And even my blogging partner, John, who is a Mets fan, he prayed a little for Mariano to get better, as well.
And Mo came back the next year and had a great season and had a wonderful last farewell for his retirement.
You can rely on your faith to get through things, whether it’s a really bad loss or an injury, that for a player you pray for them. But the reality is, is that there’s only so much control you can expect.
1 cooked sweet potato (baked, boiled or microwaved), peeled and roughly chopped
¾ tsp. salt
3 c. organic vegetable broth
¼ tsp. pepper
1/2 onion, roughly chopped
6 to 8 Tbsp. unsweetened vegan creamer (or coconut milk), for garnish
1 clove garlic
Preparation
1. Seed and roughly chop the peppers, then sauté in oil until just tender.
2. Toss peppers into a blender with the rest of the ingredients except the salt, pepper, nutmeg and cream. Blend until as smooth as you can get it and transfer to a saucepan.
3. Cook over medium heat, stirring often, 10 to 15 minutes, until raw onion or garlic taste is gone and soup is heated through.
4. Add salt, pepper and nutmeg; adjust seasonings.
5. Ladle into bowls, gently swirling 1 tablespoon of creamer or coconut milk into each bowl with the tip of a spoon just before serving.
The 2015 Women’s World Cup final took place this weekend in Vancouver, Canada, and if you didn’t get a chance to watch the match, you really missed out. The U.S. women’s national team kept their winning streak alive, beating reigning World Cup champs Japan, 5-2. While the tournament may be over, it’s not too late to get to know some of the inspiring women who made America proud by bringing home the cup.
Moments of destiny. A rendezvous with fate that you could not possibly orchestrate on your own. A door will open, a path made clear, and God’s best for you will be within your grasp. I’m sure you’ve all had them. Let me tell you about a few from my life.
As a kid I wanted to be a great singer, a rock star with gold records and stadiums full of fans. What took a while was figuring out just what my voice could do. Or not do.
At first I tried to be the next Little Richard. I practiced until I had the songs and the moves down. I unveiled them at a school talent show, wailing at the top of my lungs. The next morning I could barely speak. A doctor said I’d damaged my voice, maybe permanently. After a week of silence my singing voice returned, but my screaming days were over.
Time for a new role model. The year I turned 15, Sly and the Family Stone were coming to Montreal, where I lived. They’d been showstoppers the year before at Woodstock, and their latest single, “Thank You (Falettinme Be Mice Elf Agin)” was number one on the charts. I was a huge fan.
The show was sold out. Desperate, I called the Montreal Forum press office, lowering my voice an octave, saying that I was a reporter and wanted to write about Sly. “Yes, sir,” they said, “you’re welcome to come backstage.”
With two cameras dangling from my neck, I waited with members of the press outside the VIP entrance before the show. A limo pulled up. The guy who staggered out looked nothing like a rock star. Who was this frail, disoriented man held up by bodyguards? They practically carried him inside.
Later I read about Sly’s drug issues. I’d always assumed that money, influence and adulation ensured happiness. Now I wasn’t so certain. Maybe singing gospel was a wiser path. The question remained, though: What was I supposed to sound like?
You’ll probably think someone from church helped me find my voice. No, it was someone I heard on the radio in the top 10. His technique was flawless, his baritone riveting. Not long ago my wife and I had a chance to see him perform in Las Vegas. Even in his seventies, his voice was commanding.
So I mimicked his breath control, his phrasing, the way he would hold a note for a long time and then break into a vibrato, and applied it to gospel.
Once I took a master class with a famous operatic bass. After listening to me sing he said, “I don’t know how you learned what you learned, but it’s good and you shouldn’t mess with it.” He would have been shocked to find out whose voice I’d modeled mine on….
At the end of the concert in Vegas I went backstage. This time, I didn’t have to pretend to be a reporter. I walked into Tom Jones’s dressing room, belting out, “It’s not unusual to be loved by anyone,” sounding, well, just like him.
There were also moments when my path crossed someone else’s that changed both of us. I’ll give you examples of two people, one world famous and the other one famous to me.
In my early days, I performed at an event at the Baltimore Civic Center. Afterward a young woman approached me. She was a reporter on a local television show and my performance had touched her. “Would you be able to spare a few minutes?” she asked.
She said she wasn’t fulfilled doing what she was doing and was looking for something different, but she wasn’t sure what. “God is going to bless you,” I said, “and give you an opportunity to speak to millions.” I don’t know where that prediction came from—definitely not from me. It just popped out!
“Really?” she asked. “Do you think God would do that for me?”
Today the two of us joke about that line “speak to millions.” “When I said ‘millions,’” I say to her, “I thought that would mean millions over a course of years, not millions of people every day!” That woman, Oprah Winfrey, is still my friend.
As for the not-so-famous example, let me take you back to my student days at Oakwood College in Huntsville, Alabama. I did a lot of singing gigs on weekends for tuition money. One weekend, the concert ran late and I missed my return flight. I booked a new flight through Atlanta. I got there safely but I still had to pay for the last leg, to Huntsville.
“That’ll be fifty-five dollars,” said the ticket agent at the counter.
All I had was the 50 dollars the concert organizers had given me and one thin dime. One look into the agent’s steel-blue eyes told me I had no hope of talking my way out of this. She was all business. I pulled the money out of my pocket and laid the bills—and the dime—on the counter.
“Is that all you have?” she asked.
I nodded. It was almost midnight. I just wanted to go home.
“I am sorry,” she said firmly. “I must have the full fare. I can’t give you any of the company’s money.”
My heart sank.
“But,” she continued crisply, “I can give you some of my own money.”
She took a five-dollar bill out of her purse and put it alongside my money. Then she issued a ticket and handed it and the dime to me.
“Have a good flight.”
Over the years I traveled through Atlanta many times, and I always looked up Pat Pullen—that was the agent’s name—to thank her. She met my bride. She met our kids. And she got one of the first copies of my first album.
Speaking of my wife, Linda, let me tell you about her. From the moment I spotted her in college, she was the one. She had a certain glow about her that I call a Jesus glow. She was beautiful, smart, a woman of great faith. How was I ever going to get on her radar?
My sophomore year the faculty put on an event where professors opened their homes to students, each providing food and entertainment from a different country. My classmates and I were to get on buses labeled Italy, Spain, West Indies, that would take us to the different houses.
I saw Linda and a friend stepping onto the bus for Mexico. Here was my chance. I hopped on and sat behind them. Then I heard Linda’s friend say, “You know, I’m not really in the mood for tortillas tonight. Why don’t we try Chinese?” She and Linda hurried off the bus and onto a new one. I followed a few paces behind, trying not to be conspicuous.
The bus was packed. Linda and her friend sat down. I squeezed into a seat in the back. To my dismay, however, the two women got up a minute later and again slipped off the bus, with me in surreptitious pursuit.
This time, they boarded the Soul Food bus. I grabbed a seat behind them and waited until the bus started moving before I unleashed my less-than-original opening line: “What are two nice young women like you doing out alone on a night like this?’
Linda shot a glance back at me. “It looks like you’re the one who’s alone,” she said.
Not for long. That was the beginning of our courtship. Our first real date was a college-sponsored evening at a roller rink. I’d never been on roller skates, so I told Linda she would have to teach me.
Having the most beautiful woman in the world holding my hand, putting a steadying arm around my waist to help me get my balance…let’s just say I wasn’t in a hurry to become a proficient skater.
The two of us fell in love and that love, a mirror of God’s own love, has guided us and kept us together all these years, through my career as a singer and a pastor, through raising our three boys.
I have been blessed in the opportunities God has given me, but as I tell my congregation, such moments of destiny lie before all of us. God is always at work in our lives, and usually in the most unexpected way.
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Brighten up dark winter nights with this colorful side dish.
Ingredients
Dressing
6 Tbsp. extra virgin olive oil
1 Tbsp. fresh orange juice plus 1 tsp. orange zest (from 1 orange
1 Tbsp. finely chopped shallot (1 small or ½ large bulb)
1 Tbsp. water
2 tsp. basalmic vinegar
1 tsp. honey
¼ tsp. salt, or more to taste
¼ tsp. black pepper, or more to taste
Salad
1 c. cashews
2 c. shredded red cabbage (about ½ large head)
1 small head radicchio, cut into 1 ½-inch pieces, about 2 ½ c. sliced
½ small red onion, halved and very thinly sliced
2 radishes, peeled into thin slices with a vegetable peeler
½ c. (70g) dried cranberries
3 precooked red beets
¼ c. (40g) pomegranate seeds (optional)
Preparation
1. To make the dressing, combine all dressing ingredients in a medium bowl; whisk well.
2. To assemble the salad, place cabbage, radicchio, onion, radishes and cranberries in a large bowl. Cut beets into oneinch cubes or wedges and add to large bowl.
3. Whisk the dressing and pour over salad. Toss well. Taste and add salt and pepper if needed.
4. Plate salad and sprinkle pomegranate seeds over top, if desired. Dressing may be made up to three days in advance.
The beauty of this salad lies in the fact that you can prepare the fruit mixture ahead, then assemble the salad quickly at the last minute. The juices of the cooked fruit mingle with the vinegar for a simple, sensational dressing.
Ingredients
2 medium Granny Smith or Gala apples, thinly sliced
2 medium Bosc or Bartlett pears, thinly sliced
¼ cup unsweetened cranberry juice
2 tablespoons light brown sugar
4 cups baby spinach leaves
2 tablespoons crumbled Gorgonzola cheese
3 tablespoons walnut halves, dry-roasted
3 tablespoons raspberry vinegar or red-wine vinegar
¼ teaspoon pepper
Preparation
1. In a medium saucepan, bring the apples, pears, cranberry juice and brown sugar to a simmer over medium-high heat. Reduce heat and simmer, covered, for 5–6 minutes or until the fruit is tender. Transfer the fruit with juices to a medium bowl and let cool for 5–10 minutes.
2. To assemble the salad, put the spinach into a large bowl or on a platter. Spoon the fruit mixture with juices over the spinach. Sprinkle with the Gorgonzola cheese, walnuts, raspberry vinegar and pepper.
