WWJS (What Would Jesus Sell?)

The other day a friend of mine was telling me about a Christian female singing group she thought I’d like.  So I whipped out my handy-dandy iPad (now that I am finally a woman of the new millennium I can do that kind of thing) and Googled ‘em.  Though I couldn’t find a website under their group name, I did find something fairly close.  So I clicked on it. 

The webpage that came up was dedicated to “beauty you can believe in.”  It was filled with photos of bronzers and brushes, lipsticks and liners, plus exhortations to exfoliate (with “natural scrub recipes!”).  It looked so much like the Ulta website I figured I was in the wrong place.  Oh no, I thought.  Their website was taken by a makeup company and now their fans won’t be able to find them. 

But then I looked further and realized, with horror, that it was their website.  I had to search the page pretty thoroughly to be sure. But there they were, tucked down low on the right side of the page. 

There was not one word on the page about God or Jesus.  The Holy Ghost?  A total no-show.  Heaven forbid a mention of heaven (however, the page did offer to show me a technique where I could look seven years younger in two weeks, which led me to wonder: if I kept going, could I look 14 years younger in four weeks, and maybe even 21 years younger in six weeks?  Now that would be a blessing). 

Don’t get me wrong.  I’m not looking for them to use Jesus as their celebrity spokesperson.  But if they’re a Christian group, I just figured they might actually want to mention His name, or maybe even offer a little shout out to His Dad.  Dunno, it’s just a thought. 

But the part that really made me kooky (I know, how could you tell?) was that they are selling makeup!  Oh, ewww.  It just depressed me. 

I am not going to name them or their website (although the whole “look seven years younger in two weeks” deal is tempting.  But I would be soooooo disappointed if after two weeks I only looked six years younger).  I’m sure they are good Christian women.  I even bet they have beautiful voices and make lovely music for the Lord.  And I completely understand they have to find a way to support themselves and merchandising is one of the ways many Christian artists are helping finance their ministries.  But of all the things they could hawk, they chose makeup?  Don’t we women have enough “you’re not quite good enough” messages to worry about without our own people turning our spiritual lives into beauty contests?  In the immortal words of Jesus: Oy vey. 

All that being said, I’ve come up with some ad ideas for them.  How ‘bout:  “Jesus loves you, but He’ll like you better with a little blush.”  Or:  “You lay your foundation on The Rock, and we’ll lay our foundation on your face!”  Ok, last one:  “All your sins are forgiven, and our concealers can hide all the evidence!”  

Please feel free to add your own ad lines below.  

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I’ve decided to end my blogs with some of my favorite recipes.  The challenge is going to be to tie them in with my ramblings.  But this one was easy.  This recipe from Peg Bracken is a staple in our family, one my mother made frequently when I was growing up, and one everyone I’ve ever served it to has loved.  I paired it with this blog because it looks awful (definitely in need of  beauty treatment), but tastes great.  Enjoy!

Skid Row Stroganoff

8 oz uncooked wide egg noodles

1 beef bouillon cube

1 garlic clove, minced

1/3C chopped onion

1T oil

1 lb. ground beef

2T all purpose flour

1t salt

1/2t paprika

6 oz can mushrooms, drained (whole, slices, pieces , whatever you have on hand)

1 can Campbell's cream of chicken soup (don't cheap out, get the real stuff!)

1C plain yogurt (or sour cream, if you don't have yogurt.  Sometimes I use half yogurt, half sour cream)

1.  Cook the noodles like you always do, just add the bouillon cube to it as they cook.

2.  Brown the beef, garlic, and onions in oil.

3.  Add flour, salt, paprika, mushrooms.  Stir, and cook on medium heat for 5 minutes.

4.  Add soup, and simmer on low for 10 minutes.

5.  Stir in the yogurt, keeping heat low so it doesn't curdle.  Heat through.  Serve on noodles.

A Woman of a Certain Age

Apparently, 2011 was the year I came to the sad realization that I have reached “that” age.  I hate to call it “middle age” because it sounds so… well… old.  But simple math tells me that, unless I live to be 150, I can no longer ignore the fact that I am, indeed, middle aged.  Crap!  Who let that happen?!?

Accepting this fact has been difficult.  I mean, I know it happens.  It happens to other people all the time.  I’ve read about it in magazines in line at the grocery store; I’ve seen it on television, in between reality shows.  The scary thing is that now those things are happening to me.  Ewwwww.

I’ve reached the age when:

• I can no longer count my gray hairs because I just don’t have that kind of time. 
• I can pluck at the skin on the back of my hand and watch it as it takes its time to move back into its locked and upright position.
• my teenaged daughter has waaaaaaaaaaaaaaay prettier lingerie than I do, but I have waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay more hairs on my chinny-chin-chin than my teenage son. 
• I produce all sorts of groany, creaky noises when making sudden moves (truth is, I produce those noises when I make any moves, but I can cover up the non-sudden move noises with a well-timed cough).   

It has become an odd experience to really look at myself in the mirror.  When I do, I see the girl-formerly-known-as-Annie, but the heavier, saggier, and well, OLDer version.  It’s like looking in a fun house mirror, minus the fun part.  Plus no funnel cakes.

My aforementioned teenage daughter insists she will NEVER have plastic surgery.  I made that same vow too, years ago, but now I’m considering reconsidering.  Who knew back then that you had eye pads that could get fat?  For Pete’s sake, who know we had eye pads?!?! 

And eye pads aren’t the only pads in my new old-fogey world.  I’m just sayin…’

In my younger days (and I’m old enough to be using phrases like, “in my younger days” un-sarcastically), my conversations were about sex, drugs, and rock’n’roll.  Now they’re more apt to be about taxes, what’s wrong with the world, and my latest failing body parts.  I use the word “apt.” If these aren’t indications of “a certain age,” what is? 

But though I regularly get mail from AARP (hey, what’s the use of attaining a certain age if you don’t get the discounts?!?), I don’t feel any more grown up than I did when I was in my 20s.  What’s up with that? 

I have all the earmarks of being a grown up.  My parents and most of the relatives on the upper branches of my family tree have gone on to their greater reward; I’m on the top layer of my family’s genealogical cake now.  I’m married, have children, own a house and two cars (well, I share them with the bank).  I run my own business.  I use the word “earmarks.”  And yet I still wonder what I’ll be like when I grow up.  How much more “up” do I expect to grow (especially since all my body parts seem to be headed in the opposite direction)?    

But there are a few benefits to this older-ness.  I can now mutter to myself with impunity.  I get a lot of exercise going in and out of the same room because I can’t remember why I went in in the first place.  But the best part:  I’m way too old to be cool, which gives me the freedom to embarrass my children by singing loudly and dancing inappropriately in public (I figure it’ll give them something to talk about with a therapist later in life). 

They should be getting nervous about my heading toward actual old age...

Christmas time is here...

Christmastime at Chez Akins means crafting and baking till you're covered in flour and glue.  Tim is the baker, I'm the crafty one.  Every year Tim makes some positively sinful chocolate chip cookies (our own special recipe), some mouth-watering potato chip cookies (a recipe I snagged from my aunt Peggy Missildine), and when he has time, a batch of buttery rich Empire biscuits (a delicious Scottish shortbread sandwich cookie with jelly in the middle).  We've had a lot of requests this year for the potato chip recipe, so here it is:

Aunt Peggy's Potato Chip Cookie

1.5 C sugar
1 lb. butter
2 tsp vanilla
3.5 C flour (sift before measuring)
1 C crushed potato chips
powdered sugar

Heat oven to 350*.  Cream together butter and sugar.  Add vanilla.  Mix flour and potato chips together, then blend with butter mix.  Drop by spoonful on greased cookie sheet and cook for 15-20 minutes, or until golden brown.  Let cool, then sprinkle with powdered sugar.  Mmm, mmm good!


This year we also made reindeer cookies.  Cute, marginally a pain.  You need Nutter Butter cookies, red M&Ms, small pretzels, chocolate chips, and a small amount of icing (for "glue").  Use a little bit of icing at the top of the cookie and place two pretzels on either side for the antlers (the photo only shows one, don't be fooled, they're cuter with two).  Dip the flat part of two chocolate chips into the icing and place below the antlers for eyes, dip the red M&M in the icing and place at the bottom of the cookie for the red nose, and voila, Rudolph!  (FYI - Gotta move fast with the M&Ms and chips, or they'll melt in your hand).  Here's a picture (not actually ours.  If had a better camera, I'd take a picture, but that'll have to be next Christmas) to give you the idea.

Every year the kids make Christmas gifts for family and friends, and this year is no exception.  Scott made an ice candle, which is so easy and turns out really great.  You need wax, crushed ice (we don't have an ice maker that makes crushed ice, so Scott got to use a rubber mallet to smash the ice, which of course was his favorite part of the whole project), a wick, and a cylindrical salt box (for the mold).  Cut the top off the box, and hang the wick off a pencil (make sure it goes all the way to the bottom). Then alternate pouring in melted wax and crushed ice.  The ice keeps the wax from forming a solid shape, making it look lacy and exotic when it's done.  When you're finished, let it cool in the sink ('cuz it will leak), and then peel the box off the candle and you're good to go.

But the best new project this year were the "snow globe soaps" Scott made (Rachel will make some, too).  I got this from the blog "Alphamom.com."  All it takes is an ice cube tray, a few cute little Christmas-y trinkets (the operative word being "little"), glycerine, soap dye, and a grated up bar of white soap.  For 5 soaps we melted 6 cubes of glycerine, used 1 drop of blue dye (add dye 1 drop at a time for the right color, as the colors are really saturated), and grated half a bar of white soap.  Melt the glycerine and add your drop of color.  Pour that into the ice cube tray until about 3/4 full.  Let it cool for a little (not long, just enough to form a skin, like a minute, maybe) and put your trinket in UPSIDE DOWN.  Then sprinkle grated white soap (for snow on the ground, get it?), and pour the rest of the glycerine on top of that (to make a smooth bottom.  And really, who doesn't want one of those?!?).  Throw it in the freezer for 20 minutes, and then pop 'em out of the ice trays.  I challenge you not to say, "Awwww..." when you see the completed soaps.  Here's a pic from Brenda Ponnay's (Alphamom's) website:

And now it's time to go watch a Christmas movie with the fam.  This year we've already watched Charlie Brown get his sad little tree; enjoyed Jim Carrey stealing and returning Christmas; laughed at Natalie Wood acting like a monkey with Santa; traveled with Rudolph, Herbie, and Yukon Cornelius to the Island of Misfit Toys; and of course, seen Mary have a baby (oh yeah).   Still to come:  Will Ferrel dressing funny, Bing and Danny singing and dancing, and Jimmy Stewart discovering how he's changed his world.  I'd love to hear your Christmas time traditions, if you'd care to share...

The Time of My Life

     About a week ago, Tim, the kids and I were discussing economics (true story).  We've been reading Whatever Happened to Penny Candy? by Richard J. Maybury (highly recommended) and learning about inflation, recession, and depression.  Somehow the discussion about economics led to one about time.  It was a remarkable conversation that became a Holy Ghost moment, one of those inspired and inspiring times that can't be planned, scheduled, or forced.  They just happen and I'm grateful they do.
     We were talking about resources - money, jobs, education, food, shelter...y'know, stuff.  And Tim and I were explaining that, while all those things are useful, even necessary, they are all replaceable.  One can always make more money, get a new job, receive additional education, forage for another meal.  You can replace a house or a car or even a spouse or a child (scary but true).
     But then we started talking about time, the one commodity that God sets limits on.  He metes out an allotment to each of us that He alone determines.  We cannot buy it, sell it, trade it, share it, borrow it, or lend it.  We cannot stretch it or shrink it, reduce, reuse, or recycle it.  Each one of us is given a specially selected supply of our own time, and the opportunity to do with it as we wish.  We can spend it wisely or we can squander it.  But once it's gone, it's gone, baby, gone.
     I have begun to think more about this, as my time goes by.  I'm in my 50s now, and while I'd love to live to a triple digit age (with caveats, of course.  And chocolate.  LOTS of chocolate...), the odds aren't really in my favor.  Which means that my time is more than half used up (ye gods!).  But that's not the part of the conversation that blew my mind.
     The thing that filled me with awe and wonder is that in heaven, there is no time.  The one thing He limits on earth, the thing that gets us all itchy-twitchy down here doesn't even appear as a blip on the heavenly radar screen!
     We spend a good portion of our time getting all bent out of shape over it.  How many times a day do you check your watch, trying to play your own personal version of "Beat the Clock"?  And if you don't think you have an issue with time, take my little test:  count how many devices you can see just from where you're sitting that tell time (without even turning my head I can see seven!  And you?)
     But we talked about the fact that in heaven, there is no time.  So there won't be any clocks, watches, timers, or stopwatches.  No rushing hither and thither, unless it's for the sheer joy of it.  We will forever enjoy being in the right place at the right time.  What a marvelous thought:  in heaven we'll enjoy eternity. 
     (And chocolate.  LOTS of chocolate.)

You Say Potato...

It finally happened:  we offended someone with our music.  Don’t get me wrong – it’s not like we’ve been trying to offend.  But someone finally lodged a complaint.  Not with us, of course, with the pastor.  According to the complainant, we are singing the devil’s music and the pastor is doing the devil’s work by letting us lead worship with “that” music.  Yikes!

The devilish ditty was the 100-plus year old, “Heavenly Sunlight.”  We used the original lyrics and melody of this much-loved, much-sung hymn, but gave the arrangement a much-needed style makeover.  And clearly that’s where we went wrong.  Although God loved the hymn in its original state, apparently He is offended by a Caribbean beat, and He considers steel drums Satan’s tool (I always thought the accordion was Satan’s tool, but what did I know?). 

I know, it sounds ridiculous when put like that.  But clearly it wasn’t ridiculous to at least one person.  Thankfully this complaint did not faze the pastor.  He told the offended person that our music brought joy to the congregation and encouraged them in their worship.  And most importantly, he believed that God found it acceptable and so the music was staying, steel drums and all.

While I’m glad the pastor backed us up, the situation disturbed me.  We don’t want to offend anyone; quite the opposite.  Our goal, our calling, is to help people worship, love, and glorify God in song.  To that end, in addition to writing our own songs, we like to take some of the old favorite hymns and give them a little musical facelift.  We do this to make them more accessible to modern congregations.  There are so many wonderful hymns but, much like my living room, after so many years they need a bit of sprucing up.  Is that wrong? 

I know there are lots of folks who think contemporary Christian music is the devil’s handiwork.  And truthfully, listening to some of the stuff that’s out there, there may be something to that.  But there is a lot of good music, too.  You just have to look for it.  It’s the same with the traditional hymns.  There are some great ones, but there are some sure fire stinkers in the old hymnals, too. 

But do we really believe that God sanctifies a particular beat and a specific instrument, and finds all the rest, if not offensive, at least unworthy?  Do pipe organs and handbells have the only heavenly okey dokey?  Are an electric guitar, steel drums and a backbeat gonna boogie us straight to hell? 

That’s ultimately what the contemporary vs traditional music argument comes down to.  I mean, leaving out the bad music (and there’s plenty of bad music on both sides of that argument), the difference between the two amounts to style.  I like a backbeat, someone else likes a Bach beat.  Neither of us are right, and more importantly, neither is wrong.  We’re just different.  You say potato, I say French fry. 

I am sad to see the division in the Christian world over, of all things, music.  That seems ridiculous to me.  Of all the things that can divide us, we're going to go down over music?  Oy.  Can't we all just get along?  Or at least sing along?  

There's No Business Like Snow Business

We came to Atlanta this weekend to bring our music to a couple of churches and apparently, we're staying for the snow.  Or rather, because of the snow.  The kids are thrilled; it's their first encounter of the snowy-kind and they're making the most of it.  And, unlike the Chicago winters I'm used to (where snow is immediately besmirched by snow plows and salt trucks), it looks picture-postcard pretty.  But the fun and beauty of nearly 6 inches of snow in a town not outfitted for it also means the roads aren't safe to drive, so we're not getting home for at least another day.  I thought I might make use of this unscheduled down time and squeeze in a little writing.  In between snowball fights, that is. 

The start of a new year lends itself to reflection.  Looking back over last year, I clearly see God's handiwork at work in our lives.  It's awesome and humbling. 

2010 was our most difficult year work-wise.  The recession (have you heard about it?  I think it's gonna be BIG news!) had an enormous impact on our "After Hours" business.  Our secular/wedding/corporate work has taken an enormous hit in the last 18 or so months. People are still having parties, but they're smaller in scale, with smaller budgets.  And when the budget is small, one of the first things to get cut is the music, which is us.  We've managed to survive, but had the fewest number of band gigs that we've had since we first put our band together, over 8 years ago. 

And yet, this past year has been incredibly rewarding for our Christian music.  In 2010 we released our first, all-original Christian music CD, and moved (either by sale or for promotion) almost all 1000 copies.  We performed our original music at over 50 events - church services and concerts, Christian group gatherings, home concerts and parties.  We went on our first tour, taking 6 weeks to go from our home to Chicago and back.  We produced our first YouTube video in support of our Christmas song, "That Night" and received almost 1400 hits (still hoping to go viral, but that'll have to be in next year's recap, I guess).  We were invited to lead the contemporary worship service at a local church on a semi-permanent basis.  Meanwhile, we wrote more new songs and mangled more traditional hymns.  So, while our variety band work decreased, our Christian music ministry has grown and sustained us. 

All in all, it's been an amazing year.  We're making plans and setting goals as we move into the new year and are excited about what lies ahead.  We're trying to make sure that we listen for His guidance as we try to grow this ministry.  It's a challenge, and I'm sure we'll make some mistakes along the way.  We pray that He gently corrects our course as we go along ("gently" being the operative word).

Meanwhile, we're enjoying my brother's and sister-in-law's kind hospitality.  The kids are happy as clams at high tide, learning important snow-related skills, like making snowballs and sledding downhill on cardboard (even Tim has gotten some lessons!).  In fact, I think it might be time for another snowball fight.  Gotta get 'em in while we can!

A [Fairly] Brief Recap of Our "Joyful Noise" Tour

Near the end of the tour, I was asked two questions.  Troy Hauser-Brydon, the associate pastor at our home church (St. Simons Presbyterian), asked me,  "Has it been everything you hoped for and more?"  Ah, no.  And my brother Bart asked, "Has it been financially profitable?"  Uh, no.  But those were the wrong questions.  The right questions are:  Was it worthwhile?  Was it fruitful?  Was it successful?  And those questions I can answer with an emphatic and unequivocal, "YES!" 

We called this the “Joyful Noise” tour, after Psalm 100: 1-2: “Make a joyful noise unto the LORD, all ye lands.  Serve the LORD with gladness: come before his presence with singing.”  However, it could have been called “The Tour that Almost Wasn’t,” because we almost didn’t go.

Just before we left, I had to have a root canal and a crown, which cost just over $2500.  We don’t have any credit cards, so we had to pay this out of our savings.  It took almost everything we had; it left us broke.  And I mean broke, as in how-are-we-going-to-pay-our-bills broke.    

We were scared to death.  We thought about the tour.  How could we possibly go?  If we couldn’t pay our bills at home, how could we risk being on the road?  But there was the money we’d raised for the tour – almost $1800.  If we weren’t going, we had to give that money back.  But how could we do that when we’d spent a chunk of it already, on campsite reservations, food for the trip, the camper rental.  We couldn’t afford to go, and we couldn’t afford to stay. 

We were at our wits’ end, filled with despair.  I remember throwing myself on our bed, despondent, crying my eyes out, worried sick, Tim beside me in the same distraught state.   We wondered if this was God’s way of telling us to stay home.    

Then we got a call from our church, saying there was a check for the rest of the love offering from our congregation.   We figured it was probably a couple hundred dollars.   When we found out how much it actually was, we were stunned and overwhelmed.  Almost $3000 - so much more than we’d ever imagined!  It bowled us over.  It was absolutely enough for us to go ahead with the tour.  Talk about answered prayer!  So the tour was back on. 

We almost didn’t get out on the day we’d planned to leave.  The night before our scheduled departure date, we’d had a late gig in Savannah.  So we started packing later and packed slower (a LOT slower), than we’d planned.  We’d hoped to be able to leave after lunch, but it was after 7pm when we finally pulled out of the driveway.  We were determined to start the tour as scheduled, so we hauled ourselves all the way…to Blythe Island (about a whopping 8 miles from our house). 

By the time we got to the campsite it was dark, we were tired and hungry, and the kids were over-the-top excited.  Now you have to remember, we’d never been camping together before; this was our virgin camping experience as a family.  So there we were, in the dark, trying to get set up.  We popped us as best we could, scrounged leftovers for dinner, and then went to bed, the kids on one end of the camper, Tim and me on the other.  Nighty night!

And everything was fine, until the middle of the night, when we heard a loud CRACK! from just beneath Tim and me.  Not good.  But we were too tired to get up and check it out.  We were tilted, but still upright, so we decided the problem could wait until morning. 

We surveyed the damage first thing upon arising.  It was not a pretty sight.  The right front end of the camper had broken open (we found out later that we’d braced it incorrectly. Duh).  It was clear that we couldn’t go on with the camper like this.  It was also clear that we couldn’t do the tour without the camper.  It had to be repaired, but we were worried about the cost.  We had enough money to take care of our expenses during the tour, but no more.  If the repair was expensive then we’d be worse off than before – no tour, no money and no way to pay people back.  And if it was too expensive to fix, the tour had to be canceled.  We again began to question whether this tour was really God’s plan and wondered if this was His way of telling us not to go. 

But we moved forward anyway.  The campground folks gave us the phone numbers for some people who do camper repair and we started dialing.  One man was no longer in business; the second never even answered his phone.  When we finally reached the third man he said he wouldn’t be able to even look at the camper for at least a day and a half, and there was no telling whether he would be able to fix it.  We packed up our stuff and dragged ourselves home, back to the pit of despair.  

When we got home, on a whim, Tim suggested I call the RV place that’s about a mile from our house.  “Why, yes,” the man on the phone said, “We do pop-up repair.  Bring it over right now, we’ll take a look.” 

To make a long story a little less long, they repaired the camper in about two hours, and it only cost $229.  And while Tim was at the RV place, the mail came, and would you believe it, there was a check in the mail for $198!  The net result was that the repair cost us almost nothing in time or money, and that very afternoon we were on our way again.  More answered prayers!

And that was the worst the tour ever got; it was all pretty smooth sailing from there.  We were prayed over by many people before we left, and felt surrounded by prayers throughout our journey. We found out that we camp together well as a family.  We kept our health.  Our voices stayed strong.  We had fabulous weather, never had to pop up or down in the rain.  We never experienced a bit of car trouble, or any further camper trouble.  We had everything we needed as we needed it.  

The money that we received for our tour and our music ministry helped us perform at 6 church concerts (for 5 denominations), 3 home concerts, and 3 campsite concerts over the 6 weeks.  It gave us the opportunity to drop off our CD at churches along our route, to introduce ourselves to their congregations for future performances.  It brought us to Nashville, where we got professional feedback about our songs and a mentoring session at the Nashville Songwriters Association International.   It brought us to the National Quartet Convention, where we learned an amazing amount about how to move our music ministry forward. 

Our music was well received.  People listened to our songs and our story and were blessed.  One man who was at two of our church performances told us that he uses our song “Slide Over Some” as the ringtone for his alarm.  After hearing us sing at a campsite, a couple introduced themselves, and that’s how we met Mark and his wife, a homeless couple that do mission work in New Orleans.  After one of the home concerts, one man tearfully shared with Tim that he hadn’t been to church in almost 50 years, but he felt like he had been to church that night.  We didn’t preach, we just sang what was in our hearts and let the Holy Spirit have some room to work. 

Was this tour God’s plan for us?  We believe so.  The only way this tour could have happened was because it was His idea in the first place, and through His power, not ours. 

Will we do another tour?  Absolutely.  It was an amazing and wonderful time for our family and our ministry.  We learned so much about our calling, our family, and God’s power.  We learned that we are called to worship God, not just on Sunday, but every day, not just in church, but everywhere. 

And we learned what happens when we step forward in faith, trusting that when we answer His call, He will provide.  Our deepest thanks to all of you who heard - and answered - His call to support us in our music ministry.  We are humbled and honored by your faith.