Family Cookbooks

Several years back, my cousin's daughter, Alison, took on the task of creating a family cookbook.  With the help of her mother, Alita, the cookbook is much more than a house for family recipes, it is also a home filled with memories that are brought to recollection via pictures and copies of hand-written recipes.

Alison and Alita chose a cookbook publishing company for their book and asked me to design the cover and chapter dividers. Their creation was  originally planned for family members, but became so successful that eventually Stories and Standards has three print runs.

A cookbook like Alison's is a wonderful way to keep a family (especially those whose members are scattered across the country) close by preserving family lore. And this can be done on a smaller scale, too. For instance, another friend (and frequent guest blogger) Gladys also made cookbook that she presented to her grandson's bride. Gladys' version was her own hand-written copies of her tried-and-true recipes and family favorites. She bought a three-ring binder that had a clear pocket on the front for inserting a custom cover and put the recipe pages in clear sleeves. Again, I was asked to design the cover.

All of these women have inspired me to finally make a family cookbook so that I can get the idea out of my head and into print. I have no idea what the cover will look like, but I am sure that during working on the project, inspiration will shop up.

My cookbook idea is somewhere between the highly involved and simplistic versions. I am not sure how I will go about printing if I am successful. I am considering having a small run printed at Staples or Office Max, or printing the pages at home and filling three-ring binders with the printouts. 

Would your family appreciate a cookbook that features their recipes? If so, why not give the idea a try? They would make fantastic Christmas gifts, making next year's shopping much easier :)

Marcheta *let's go!

Touched by an Angel

How can we let go of love for someone we've expected but was taken from us before we  had the chance to meet?  I am not sure that there is an answer, or if we should be expected to "let go". But in the past, this is exactly what was expected for women who suffered miscarriages. Today, women are becoming more vocal about their need for compassion and understanding. I think as a society we need to learn how to offer hugs without being invasive, how to ask "how are you" without seeming rote. 

I feel that it is up to women who've suffered the loss to teach us. But, really, how can they take on another burden when their hearts are breaking? Thank goodness, brave women like Alison Kovac are coming forward and starting conversations about this sensitive issue. I know that making her voice public via these past few OCJ posts has been hard for Alison, but it is important for two reasons. First and foremost, it helps Alison process her loss while figuring out how to coach others how to comfort families who are grieving. Second, it has helped Alison's voice to become stronger and is giving her the confidence to talk to a wider audience, maybe through her writing, maybe by becoming a speaker or workshop leader. Whatever direction Alison is led, I know that she will become a blessing to those whose lives she touches.

Marcheta *touched 

Concerning pregnancy loss, Alison wrote me the following message:

Each woman (and man) has a different way of experiencing and dealing with miscarriage when and after it happens.  I have chosen to be relatively open about my experiences with this loss--a decision that was made easier because I had reached the second trimester and a number of our friends, family members and colleagues already knew about the pregnancy. 

Just before the miscarriage, my husband and I had chosen names for the baby and rearranged our home to give our family time to adjust to new bedroom situations, etc. before the summer ended and a busy school year and a new job began to take up all my time and energy.  We were fully invested in this newest family member--having been told by the obstetrician that, despite my advanced age, everything was a go.

Immediately after the miscarriage I felt that having to share the news with many people made everything worse, but my mom pointed out that it would probably make the experience easier in the end.  It would be less painful than suffering silently without anyone knowing anything had happened.  That has proven to be true in my case.  Still, even when people are aware of the loss, it is difficult for most people to know what to say or do.

The most helpful thing about having revealed this loss to others is that I have made connections with women who have traveled this path ahead of me.  The best support I have received has come from women who visited me or wrote me after the miscarriage and told me about their specific experiences, gave me permission to grieve, and offered practical suggestions about how to go through that process.  If not for them, I would not have believed I would benefit from grieving.  Nor would I have had the first clue about doing it well.  I had suffered an ectopic pregnancy in 2004, but due to the unexpected news of an early-stage pregnancy followed by an emergency life-saving surgery, I really never delved into or understood the significance of the loss. 

In the first days of loss after last year's miscarriage, I knew, of course, I was experiencing a great grief.  But I would have assumed I simply needed to suck it up and go back to life as normal as soon as possible--if I had not heard from some experienced women that I would likely fare better if I became somewhat intentional about the grieving process.

During this year after the miscarriage, I have developed friends with women I otherwise would never have known (or known well), were it not for this common loss, and I am grateful for that.  I have also appreciated the services of the Pregnancy and Infant Loss group which meets monthly at a hospice care center near me.  It has been a safe place to be able to reflect and to talk with people who understand these issues intimately.  It has probably also taken some pressure off my other relationships--perhaps especially my relationship with my husband, to have this regularly scheduled outlet.

Husbands and wives can grieve simultaneously, but they rarely grieve in tandem.  It is a separate experience for each person, and shared grief does not necessarily draw people together.  It may actually drive a couple apart.  I was fortunate to have been prepared for this possibility by women who had been down this path.

Writing has been helpful in processing this experience.  I have written about the subpar services provided by the medical community during my miscarriage and after it, and I have shared this account with the coordinator of the Pregnancy and Infant Loss group, so that she may share it with a committee that works to improve care at a hospital in our area.  I have also written a reflection on the loss of this child to commemorate the baby's due date within the Pregnancy and Infant Loss group.   Mostly I have written back and forth with friends and with a wonderful young woman from our church who I came to know after she lost a baby at a similar stage.  Opportunities to share with her some of what I have learned along the way have been some of the most healing experiences.

When last July arrived I looked forward to the birth of our fourth child.  As this July begins, I am looking back on a year of trying to learn what it means to move forward with empty arms.  Doing this requires growth--the kind that comes with grief.

One of my means of getting through grief this summer has been participating in a Bible Study with a friend.  The title of the study is Experiencing God by Henry and Richard Blackabee.  As an exercise within the study, we were asked to take a prayer walk last week.  We were given a copy of Psalm 103 to read and reflect upon while on the walk, and in response to the Psalm, I was inspired to write the poem, which I have submitted to you.  About halfway through writing the poem, I realized that this piece was speaking to and about my particular loss--even as it speaks to and about every fleeting form of life.

Country Transplants

It's the way it's always been,  children are raised in the country and for various reasons move to a city (usually for a job, sometimes for a lifestyle change, sometimes both). It is good to know that most people who were country bred hold dear their rural upbringing and connection with the earth. 

Tomorrow’s guest blogger, Alison Kovac. is one such woman. 

Because she's lived in cities for nearly 20 years now, Alison isn't exactly a full-time country woman. She is able to take the best of both worlds, rural and urban, and combine them into a lifestyle that fits her family's needs. Women like her are like transplants...roots started in the country but blooming in the city. Sweet!

Today I thought that I should tell you a little bit about this young mother, who shared her poem, “For a Lily” with us yesterday. 

Having her poem published was a way for Alison to reach out to others who are experiencing the same kind of emotional pain that she feels mourning the loss of a baby that was miscarried last July. 

Sharing her poem with you was not easy, but it was something that Alison was compelled to do, to start a conversation about this sensitive issue. Opening her heart and sharing her poem was one of Alison’s first steps in becoming an advocate for more compassionate hospital and health professional care, and to help family members learn to understand just how devastating the loss of an unborn child can be.

Thank you, dear readers, for walking this journey with Alison. Your comments on the OCJ Facebook page are full of compassion and comfort.

Alison was raised in rural Crawford County, her maternal grandparents had a large farm just south of Bucyrus and her paternal grandparents lived on acreage just south of Galion, where her grandpa was an avid gardener. Alison is a talented writer and editor. Her early writing concentrated on rural topics; these days as a busy home-schooling mother she uses her writing and editing skills in her role as directing cooperative groups that work to aid and support the home education ventures of other families.

Alison became transplanted from her country roots when she went to college at Ball State University in Indiana, but she holds steady to country values and successfully applies them to city life. When she lived in Ames, Iowa, she participated in a graduate-level history program that focused on agriculture and rural studies.

Wooster, Ohio, became their new home when her husband, Marc, took a job as the agricultural and business reporter for The Wooster Daily Record. They lived on the edge of Ohio State's agricultural campus, ATI, for a time.

While in Wooster, Alison took on the daunting task of collecting farm recipes from her family and other favorites from friends and family. Alison asked me to help with the layout and design of her book, which became more than just a cookbook. Filled with photographs from family albums and photocopies of handwritten recipes, Stories and Standards has seen three printings so far. How’s that for success?

The Kovac’s path led them to an even larger city when Marc accepted a new position in Columbus, Ohio. He serves as Capital Bureau Chief for The Wooster Daily Record and other newspapers owned by its parent company, Dix Communications.

But country roots run deep. Alison says that she is grateful to hear the sounds of urban chickens in her neighborhood and the occasional lowing of cattle at OSU’s Don Scott airport nearby.

Alison’s writing and editing skills are still at work. Her primary involvement is home educating three children and directing cooperative groups that enhance and support the home education ventures of other families.  

As I wrote this short bio to introduce you to Alison, these lyrics from the Cosby, Stills, Nash and Young song came to my mind: 
Teach your children what you believe in.

Make a world that we can live in. 

I’d say that Alison’s parents taught her well, that she is applying her rural upbringing and values to her own three children.

Tomorrow I will publish Alison’s heartfelt words.

Marcheta *the vessel