There’s an old joke about a man walking down a city street and getting hit by a piano falling from an overhead window. A distraught passerby rushes to the man’s aid.

The injured man asks, “Why didn’t you warn me about the piano?”

The passerby says, “I saw the piano falling, but didn’t want to alarm you.”

Aren’t we all a bit like this at times? Perhaps like me you have watched someone make an unwise choice, but decided to remain silent because you didn’t think it was your place to warn them. Quite frankly, our reluctance to shout a warning when we see pending disaster is the most unkind thing to do.

Now, imagine you had an important warning for your grandchildren. What would prevent you from giving it? Political correctness? Family opposition? Would you hesitate to alert your grandchild of pending harm because it felt out of place to do so, or would you shout a warning?

Moses led the Israelites to the Jordan River where Joshua would lead them into the Promised Land. In Deuteronomy 4, as he stood on a mountaintop overlooking the fertile valley that God had given them, Moses issued a warning. You see, that blessing came with a condition: “Tell your children and grandchildren about the glorious miracles (God) has done.”

That warning still stands. We have all been blessed by our Heavenly Father. And like the Israelites, we are commanded to tell our descendants about His blessings, lest they forget and fall deeply into sinful living.  It’s sort of like yelling at someone to get out out the way of a falling piano.  

Ask yourself, “When was the last time I told my grandchildren about God’s presence in my life?” Now is a good time to start.

This is the third year in a row that I have planted a straw bale garden. Each year, I try an evolving variety of vegetables. But every year I plant my most favorite vegetable: tomatoes. Gardening results are never guaranteed, but always anticipated. This year, those fresh-picked fruits graced my table right up until November. Yum!

And it’s not over yet. I have a supply of fresh-frozen heirloom tomatoes. My family is enjoying the flavor of homemade tomato sauce that is certain to continue into the winter months. The nurturing has paid off.

Dedicating time to grow any crop is a lot like investing in grandchildren – except their outcome is far more valuable. We don’t know how they will regard our words and examples throughout life; we cannot guarantee the results.

Our command from God is to lead them to our Savior. But only the Holy Spirit can convict them to accept the gift of salvation through faith in Jesus. We nurture our grandchildren to the glorify God, anticipating the eternally sweet taste of fellowship with them in His presence.

Quick and Easy Chunky Tomato Sauce

Ingredients
1 Tablespoon olive oil
1 cup chopped onion
4 garlic cloves, minced
5-½ cups chopped tomatoes (thawed fresh-frozen, or canned)
¼ cup chopped fresh basil (or, 1-½ Tablespoon dried basil)
2 Tablespoons chopped fresh oregano (or, 2 teaspoons dried oregano)
1 teaspoon sugar
½ teaspoon salt
¼ teaspoon pepper

Directions
Rub thawed, fresh-frozen tomatoes between fingers to remove skins; cut out cores and dice (or measure 5-½ cups canned, diced tomatoes). Heat oil in a large nonstick skillet over medium heat. Add onion and garlic, saute 3 minutes. Add tomatoes and remaining ingredients. Bring to a boil, stirring occasionally. Reduce heat, and simmer, uncovered, for 10 minutes, stirring occasionally. For thicker sauce, reduce heat to low and simmer for one hour or until desired consistency is reached.

Serve over pasta, polenta, or toasted baguette slices. Top with freshly grated Parmesan cheese.

 This is the time of year to explore the bounty of pumpkins being displayed at orchards, farmers’ markets, and stores. Every fall, my home boasts displays of apples, pumpkins, and squash – true measures of a plentiful fall harvest. And they’re not just decorations. My bounty ends up on our dinner table.

Take pumpkins for example. A couple of those medium sized ones (about 6 inches in diameter) yield enough puree to make a delectable custard. Cut the pumpkins in half, remove the seeds, and place them skin side up on a baking dish. Bake them in a 350 degree oven until soft (about 45 minutes) and allow them to cool. Scoop out the pulp and mash or mix it into a puree.

 Here is my favorite recipe for Pumpkin Custard:

   3 cups pumpkin puree
   ¾ cup honey
   2 Tablespoons molasses
   ¼ teaspoon powdered cloves
   3 teaspoons cinnamon
   1 ½ teaspoons ginger
   1 teaspoon salt
   4 eggs, slightly beaten
   1 can evaporated milk (or 2 cups scalded milk)

Mix in order given. Butter a baking dish and pour in custard. Bake 10 minutes at 450 degrees, then 40 minutes at 350 degrees, or until set. If you prefer, pour filling into an unbaked pie shell and bake for the same amount of time. Yummy!

There is another kind of pumpkin in our home, one far more precious than any that grace our table. “Pumpkin” is a term of endearment my husband I use for our grandson. Do you have a similar term for your grandchild? Let your grandchild hear you say it. Children need to be reminded how valued they are, how they are uniquely designed by our Creator. They can never hear it too much.

“You are never too old to set another goal or to dream a new dream.” C. S. Lewis

The arts are an integral part of my life. Over the years, I’ve engaged in a plethora of mediums ranging from painting and drawing to pottery and photography. Some time ago, I began writing a children’s story for my grandson with the intention of making it into a book. “Aha,” I thought. “Wouldn’t it be nice to include some watercolor illustrations?”

I imagined the soft, flowing quality of watercolor lending just the right characteristic to illustrate my story. But watercolor is one medium that I have not explored beyond self-instruction and a small watercolor pencil set. Initial results clearly showed my knowledge of the craft was insufficient to meet my goals. I needed an expert.

A few days ago, I attended my first watercolor class, taught by artist David Smith at the Minnesota Landscape Arboretum. It was time and money well spent. That’s not to say that my maiden voyage into this watery medium was noteworthy. It is to say I thoroughly enjoyed the comradery of fellow artists and learning techniques for using this medium.

The lesson is: if you’re unsure how to overcome an obstacle between you and your goal, get instruction from someone who really knows what they’re doing. Once you figure out how, it’s a matter of practice, practice, and more practice until you get the results you seek. My journey on the road to mastering the art of watercolor illustration has just begun.

The same thing about practice can be applied to writing a Spiritual Legacy Memoir, only it’s called editing. After I finish the first draft of an entry, I make edits until the words on the page are as clear, concise, and readable as I can make them. Not surprising, it gets easier with practice. I suppose this can be said about most things in life. Just don’t give up. Excuse me now. I have a date with some watercolor paints and paper.

The window in my dining room is smeared with handprints that my grandson left this morning. He was looking at the Blue Spruce tree my husband and I planted in our garden the month he was born. We named the tree in his honor. I noted his handprints were much higher that the ones he left the first time he crawled to the window as a baby and pulled himself up to peek outside – or even when he pressed his face against the window six months ago. Both he and the tree have grown at a surprising rate.

The tip-top of his tree was eye level to me when it first found a home in our garden. Now it is about twice as tall as I am. And that’s not because I’m shrinking, well, maybe a little. The real reason this tree is growing is because it gets the optimal blend of sun, water, and fertile soil. I thought about that a few weeks ago while I was spreading fertilizer around the base of the tree.

All living things need to be nourished, trees and children alike. But unlike trees, children need nourishment beyond what will help them grow physically. As beings created in the image of God, we each have a soul that needs spiritual nourishment to reach fullness of life in Christ. All who have placed their faith in Christ are children of God. And we all need the Word of God, the only food that offers more than the best balanced diet can hope to provide: everlasting life. As grandparents, it is our assigned duty to nourish our children’s children in this way.

“And we all, who with unveiled faces contemplate the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his image with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit.” 2 Corinthians 3:18

“From the fruit of their lips people are filled with good things, and the work of their hands brings them reward.” Proverbs 12:14

It’s peak apple season again, a time of year that speaks volumes to my inner child. Why? Probably because apples remind me of my childhood family. We had a beautiful apple tree behind our house that produced a fragrant and beautiful display of blossoms in the spring that transformed into bushels of tart green apples by September – perfect for baking.

On Saturday afternoons during September, Dad, Mom, my brother, and I would take on the task of turning those little darlings into one of my favorite desserts: apple slices. It was a team effort, each of us actively participating to complete the task. My parents used the time to encourage me and my brother, to teach us new skills, and to demonstrate a spirit of love by their words and action. Our mutual reward was a tasty treat that we eagerly shared.

I first wrote about this little family ritual a while back in a memoir titled, “Cicero Cooks,” hoping my nieces and nephews would take up the tradition with their families. This year, I plan to make apple slices again. It is no surprise that my husband is already embracing the autumn season. We are planning to pass this tradition to our grandson.

“Family Affair” Apple Slices

Pie Crust (I make two separate crusts, each using the following amounts. To make both top and bottom crusts at one time, double the recipe.)

2 ⅔ cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon salt
1 cup shortening
7 – 8 tablespoons of ice water

Apple Filling

16 cups thinly sliced, peeled and pared tart apples
2 cups sugar
2 teaspoons cinnamon
Dash of salt

6 tablespoons butter

Heat oven to 425 degrees. Measure the flour and salt into a bowl. Cut shortening into mixture until it has a crumbly texture. Add ice water one tablespoon at a time until all flour is moist and forms a soft ball. Hint: use a food processor to make the crust easy as pie (pun intended). Just pulse the flour, salt, and shortening together until crumbly. Then add the water slowly until the dough pulls away from the sides. Do not overwork the dough.

Flour a flat work surface and roll the dough in a rectangle large enough to fit a jelly roll baking sheet. That’s the kind that has 1-inch sides all around. Carefully place the dough in the bottom of the pan and up the sides. If the dough tears apart while you’re doing this, just pinch together any holes that form. Nobody will see this anyway.

Mix all filling ingredients, except butter, together in a large bowl until all apples are coated. Spread apple filling over bottom crust and dot with chunks of butter over the entire surface. Roll out the top crust and cover entire surface. Cut slits or small holes in the crust to make a nice design.  If the top crust gets holes that you didn’t intend, get creative and make an avant-garde design. Trust me, nobody will care. Pinch the top and bottom edges together to seal and pop it in the oven for 40 – 50 minutes. You’ll know it’s ready when the filling begins to bubble and the crust turns a pretty, light shade of brown.

In a small bowl, mix 2 cups confectioner’s sugar, 1 teaspoon vanilla, and a dash of salt and just enough milk to make it runny (about 3 tablespoons). Drizzle the icing over the entire surface of the apple slices; this will fix any unfortunate design details in the crust. Slice it and serve. This non-diet dish tastes best when shared with friends and family.