(also known as Toasted Coconut and Pecan Caramel Pie)
Of course, I didn’t bake mine exactly like the recipe because I couldn’t find my 1/4 measuring cup and had to estimate on the butter and guess on the coconut amount. You could say there was some serious ‘eyeballing’ going on.
In a medium skillet, melt butter or margarine over medium heat. Add coconut and pecans. Toss well, and saute until coconut is lightly browned. Set aside to cool.
In a large mixing bowl, beat cream cheese until fluffy. Add condensed milk and mix until smooth. Fold in whipped topping. Spread 1/4 of cream cheese mixture into each pastry shell. Sprinkle 1/4 of coconut mixture over each pie. Drizzle 1/2 of caramel topping over each coconut layer. Follow with remaining cream cheese mixture, then remaining coconut mixture.
Pies may be served chilled or frozen.
Anything with that much caramel on the inside is a gift from God. Amen.
And I watched her storm up the stairs and heard the slamming door.
Some days, nine is hard.
Some days, thirty-six is hard.
My daughter and I were both frustrated. With each other. With ourselves.
Before bed, she slipped a note, half scrawled in cursive, half in print, under my door.
Half a little girl. Half a preteen.
“Dear Mom, I’m sorry I said ugly things. Every time I do that it’s because I get mad really easily and get all steamed up and angry and say stuff I don’t mean to say. I don’t know why I get worked up like that, but I’ll try harder. Every time I get worked up like that, please remind me to try harder to not say ugly things. Please pray for me and forgive me. Also I want to stop getting worked up like that, but it’s hard for me not to. I don’t know why I do it. But I need your help not to get mad or worked up. I love you and I know you love me.”
I read her letter a dozen times. It reminded me so much of another letter.
A familiar one about a raging inner battle to control a quick temper, a bad mood, an imperfection, a battle against me.
“I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do. And if I do what I do not want to do, I agree that the law is good. As it is, it is no longer I myself who do it, but it is sin living in me. I know that nothing good lives in me, that is, in my sinful nature. For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For what I do is not the good I want to do; no, the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing. Now if I do what I do not want to do, it is no longer I who do it, but it is sin living in me that does it. When I want to do good, evil is right there with me….Who will rescue me from this body of death? Thanks be to God—through Jesus Christ our Lord!” Romans 7
I hugged my girl tight and told her she wasn’t alone.
*UPDATED* Congratulations to our 3 winners: All About Nonsense, The RedHead Diaries and Ellen! Please look for an email from me! And I hope the rest of you will take advantage of this fabulous magazine and continue to capture the everyday!
Recently, I joined FaceBook and I’ve spent the last several weeks reconnecting with childhood, high school and college friends.
I’ve been reminded of two things: I’m not that great of a friend and time flies.
I cannot believe that it’s been nearly 20 years since I graduated from high school.
I cannot fathom that I’ve been married 15 of those years.
I cannot breathe when I think of time passing so quickly that one day I will blink and my children will be grown.
I cannot stop time. I cannot slow the clock. I can’t.
[I ended up in Jackson, Mississippi, for the night and I have an actual boarding pass for a 7:00 AM flight home. I am more than ready to sniff my kid’s necks. Thanks for your support last night. I am never flying again. Praise the Lord, Amen.]
With all my free airport time, I decided to sort my vacation pictures and relive the last week. I dreamed about this picture all night. So, there’s that.
Because nothing says good family fun like reconnecting with nature:
And dressing up like cowboys. It’s how the west was won.
It just does the gizzard good, ya know?
(Believe me, my innards are happy seeing my little girl on her first horse. It’s all she’s talked about!)
We ended up doing a skit for the camp talent show. It ended up with my son playing a nekid guy. Because that’s funny. (But someone forgot to tell us that the talent show involved real talent. My kids informed me afterwards they need some sort of lessons this next year. Because nekid isn’t that funny.)
I watched my older children grow up before my eyes. The freedom they felt at Family Camp empowered them and it was a treat to watch their confidence rise like the sun.
My toddler loved this:
So, did my other child.
I have never felt more reconnected and refreshed with the family God has granted me. It really got me in touch with my Oriental side.
Yes, that is my toddler using the chopstick from her hair to pick the lock of our next door neighbor’s cabin.
[Funny side note: the little outfit my two year old is wearing was mine, when I was two, so, it’s pretty much an antique, which was proven when she sat down at the family-style dinner and all the buttons popped off, exposing her delicious pink skin, so, of course, she removed the top and completed the meal half-dressed, and that would have been fine, but the pants started itching, so she took those off too, which would have been okay too, except that she didn’t have panties on, which didn’t surprise me in the least, but shockingly, it did surprise a lot of other people.]
Yes, I realize that was one sentence. I might be losing my edge.
Because you can take our family out in nature, but you can’t take that family out of, well, that family.