Hodgepodge

        This blogger wondered what she’d share with you on this lovely October day. Then reminiscing filled her should-be-sleeping-hours brain. As she thought thoughts, she realized this year’s been a mix of so many ups and downs, varied experiences, joys and tears, strengths and weaknesses. In a word?

        Hodgepodge!

        Then her curious mind wandered to think this thought: Where did the word hodgepodge come from? Because this is the type thing that fills her mind during hours it shouldn’t. When morning came, her tired old fingers typed “hodgepodge” into the search bar on her computer, and she delighted as she read.

        So, this blogger shares with you that the word originated in a slightly different form but began with the making of stew—using anything and everything available to satisfy hunger. It also became a symbol, in a sense, of survival, resilience, and adaptability.

        This blogger—oh, wait! That’s me!

        So, I remember way back when our kids were young and we fell on hard times more than once. Yet one particular time, I recall the account I’ll share now. Our “stone soup” episode! But first let me explain the circumstances.

        Being missionaries who lived on financial support from individuals and churches, may I say, has been over the past 50 years an adventure in trusting God Who has always—always—met our needs. Amongst those times of praying for provisions, there’ve been a few instances we wondered how in the world we’d feed our family of (at that time) six.

        Enter the book Stone Soup! Yes, we checked it out of the library and read it to our youngsters, not realizing at that particular time its significance other than it being an intriguing story that captured their attention.

"Stone Soup" by Ann McGovern | Classic Children's Book Read Aloud

        One day I opened the refrigerator to gather enough ingredients to create a meal. Was I worried? Yes. For there was sparse little to concoct anything. Then I remembered Stone Soup.

        I called the kids. “Can one of you go out and fetch me a stone?”

        One of the boys asked, “What kind?”

        “Oooh, about the size of a potato, I guess.”      

         They all looked at me oddly, which they usually did—so this wasn’t otherwise notable other than this being the first time I’d asked them to bring home a rock.

        “There’re lots in the backyard!” one son volunteered.

        “Well, see if you can find me a nice one. I’m going to make stone soup. Think you can find a rock that’s Stone Soup-worthy?”

        “Sure,” was the consensus.

        But was their “differently-wired” mom really going to make them eat a stone for dinner?

        While the kids hunted the main ingredient for our meal, I got our biggest pot out, filled it half-way with water, and lit the flame below.

        The water was just beginning to steam when the kids flew in the back door and one proudly presented me with the rock they’d found.

        “Looks like a good one!”

        Their faces froze.

        “Eeewww!” our germ-conscious child squealed.

        “Don’t worry! I’ll wash it really well first.”

        Her shoulders relaxed.

        I gave that stone a good washin’ then dropped it in the pot. “Now let’s see what else we can add.”

        The boys went to our nearly-bare pantry shelves, but they found veggies they thought might make a good soup and a small can of meat. And our daughter climbed on the step stool and found some macaroni in a kitchen cabinet. We had a tomato from a gentleman-gardener at church, and I chopped up a bit of onion and celery, added a few bouillon cubes, and stirred.

        That evening we enjoyed our meal and gave it a we-should-make-this-again rating!

        And that stone? For many years I kept it in the drawer with our other cooking utensils just in case we ever needed it again. When we moved from one place of missionary service to another, the stone came with us...

        …as a reminder.

        Oh, by the way, our versions of stone soup from that first attempt onward were nicknamed “maca-yummy” in our household. And, yes. I always cooked whatever we concocted with our stone in the pot!

        Now, how’d I get from hodgepodge to stone soup—or maca-yummy? That’s sort of how my crazy mind works. But I began with thinking through this year we’ve had. Truly a hodgepodge of this-n-that, the good and bad, the joys and sorrows.

        Our God views our lives differently, though. What might seem a hodgepodge to us is really a purposeful “list of ingredients” for the good—all needful to complete the recipe of our lives.

        Be assured, believers in Christ, that all you endure here on earth is making you a “satisfying aroma” for multiple purposes in your service to other believers and to draw the lost to Christ. II Corinthians 2:15-16

        So, all the 2026 ingredients up to this point and beyond remind me not about soup at all but completely about the many times our God, Who called us to serve Him, is faithful and completing us for everything that lies ahead. I Thessalonians 5:24, Philippians 1:6

        No need to search for a stone if you have taken Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior. For God is our Rock! With Him we can accomplish what otherwise would seem impossible. Luke 1:37

Come Taste and Savor

lyrics by Diana Nelson Haase, music by Andrew J. Robison IV, 2024

—inspired by Psalm 34:8—

https://www.bing.com/search?pglt=299&q=hymn+about+ingredients+sweet+smelling+savor&cvid=119ae4255daa4fdb915834f91cbde704&gs_lcrp=EgRlZGdlKgYIABBFGDkyBggAEEUYOTIGCAEQABhAMgYIAhAAGEAyBggDEAAYQDIGCAQQABhAMgYIBRAAGEAyBggGEAAYQDIGCAcQABhAMgYICBAAGEAyBggJEAAYQNIBCTExMzczajBqN6gCCLACAQ&FORM=ANNTA1&PC=ACTS

#hodgepodge #StoneSoup #cookingingredients #missionarysupport #GodourRock #provisions

Photo Credit: calendar pages—alamy.com, stone—vecteezy.com, stew/soup—pngtree.com

A Crowning Achievement

         Something in our town attracted my interest, and I wished to discover more about it. Wondering what it is?

        A food box placed for those in need!

        Later on, another box appeared at a local small business. Were the two connected? Possibly! But this one wasn’t for food at all.

        Connecting the dots, I came across the name Scarlett. Or shall I say, Princess Scarlett?

        This young lady’s accomplished a crowning achievement—in more ways than one.

        When I invited Scarlett to guest here, she gladly accepted. So, readers, please join me for an audience with “royalty!”

Sarah: Scarlett, thank you for guesting on my blog. 

Scarlett: Thank you so much for having me. I’m excited to meet you!

 

Sarah: You have quite an interesting life! Would you like to share about yourself and your family?

Scarlett: I just turned 10 years old. My family loves staying busy and helping our community. My mom has always been very involved in our town, so my sister followed her, then I wanted to do things my sister does.

I became the 2026 Missouri’s Ultimate Princess. I went to Indianapolis for nationals in June. Based on my interview, public speaking, community service, and stage presence, I won the title of AMERICA’s Ultimate Princess 2026. I’m so excited to bring the crown to Missouri and use my title to spread information about my platform, Homegrown: Planting Seeds of Change.

 

Sarah: That’s wonderful!

I love the food box your family placed in town. Why did you decide to do this? 

Scarlett: So, the food box we built is at the park. We love to fill others around town too. A lot of people must walk to the pantries, so we try to make it easy on everyone. The park is one of the busiest for kids, and I know lots of kids don’t get food—especially when school is out for summer or holidays.

 

Sarah: How did your family make the boxes and obtain permission to install them?

Scarlett: This was my sister’s idea in 2023. Jasmine looked for new ways to serve our community and especially wanted something involving the whole family.

My dad is a contractor, and I could even help with this at 6 years old. Jasmine let me pick the color. I love that it’s purple because it stands out beautifully. Purple is my favorite color. 

Jasmine and my dad went to the park board and got permission to build this. The park board installed it. As Jasmine got busier with high school and college, I took over.

 

Sarah: Is it hard keeping it stocked and maintained?

Scarlett: Once in a while, my dad checks it. He shovels a path to it in the snow, tightens things, makes sure the door closes, and stuff.  I check it weekly and wipe it down. There are people who leave trash or food that went bad, so we always keep Walmart sacks in the car to clean everything out.

Sometimes, the pantry is full, sometimes it’s completely empty. We keep it as full as possible. In the last two years, I’ve posted a lot on our community Facebook page. That helped people learn about it, and the town helps keep it full.

I also do a lot of fundraisers throughout the year. My biggest one lately is placing drink coolers in a couple local businesses. All the money I make from that goes to buy food for the pantry.

 

Sarah: How do you decide what foods are best to purchase?

Scarlett: We mostly do canned goods and things that don’t expire or need refrigeration. I especially like putting things kids can make themselves, like oatmeal, cheese and crackers, easy mac—things like that. I also like to do canned fruit. Beans and rice are also something that feeds lots of people for not much money, so we add those as often as we can, along with pasta sauce and dry noodles. I open up boxes of individual stuff so people take a few and not a whole case.

 

Sarah: Last year you provided Thanksgiving meals for 200 families. How did you collect enough to do that? 

Scarlett: That’s my favorite project, but it’s really hard to keep it affordable. We went to lots of different stores—buying green beans from Dollar Tree, gravy packs from Dollar General. Every store only gets like10 packs, so we drive around a lot! Many friends and family help. I got the idea from Dollar Tree Dinners.

The community has been amazing to give money for this. Most people send it to my mom. Then we do all the shopping. In 2024 we made 100 bags for $8 each, and in 2025 a local church wanted to see this double. They paid for an additional 100 bags.

 

Sarah: That’s amazing! Now I see you have a new idea! Birthday packs?

Scarlett: Yes! My birthday-in-a-bag includes everything you need to throw a birthday party! It has a cake mix and Sprite. You can substitute Sprite for eggs and oil in a cake mix. It works great! I also include icing, balloons, and candles.

 

Sarah: I’ve just learned something new about making cakes!

Have you had feedback from people who've been blessed through the food donations?

Scarlett: No one actually said anything to me, but my mom reads me posts from Facebook where people talk about it. And the Thanksgiving bags are always so rewarding because I hear from teachers who give them to families.

 

Sarah: Does your family have a faith-base? If so, would you share about that?

Scarlett: Yes! We go to church and love going there. My mom used to be the children’s director at the church. My favorite thing about our church is how much they give back to the community and are always first to step up and help whenever anyone needs anything, no matter what someone’s background is. We just really try to follow Jesus’ commandment to love your neighbor.

 

Sarah: What sparked the library box idea? How's that going?

Scarlett: We already had our food box and saw it was a great thing the community needed and supported. We had the library box idea because a lot of people can’t go to the public library during hours they’re open, or maybe they just want to recycle books.

We’re so thankful to one of our popular downtown shops for allowing me to put “The Library Exchange” at their business. We go several times a week and make sure it’s full! I donate anytime I finish a book. My mom likes to buy books at thrift stores. When she finishes one, she donates it there.

 

Sarah: Do you have any advice for others who might want to start a community food box?

Scarlett: It’s a commitment. I’m glad so many people support and fill ours and that my dad maintains it. We went through the park board, but I’m sure a lot of local businesses might be happy to host one if anyone asked and was willing to take on the responsibility.

 

Sarah: Is there anything else you'd like to share?

Scarlett: I just want everyone to know that giving back doesn’t have to be hard. You don’t have to start a box. You can donate to one that’s already there. There are so many ways to help and many organizations that share resources.

We have amazing churches in our town, and I love seeing everyone come together.

 

Sarah: This has been great! Thank you so much for "meeting" with me here in "blog world!"

Scarlett: Thank you so much for talking to me and letting me share the things I care about!

 

        Scarlett’s certainly accomplished a lot for a young lady and, I believe, will serve well as Ultimate Princess 2026! And she’s learned a wonderful life-lesson—that it’s more blessed to give than receive. A crowning achievement for sure!

“In all things I have shown you that by working hard in this way

we must help the weak and remember the words of the Lord Jesus,

how He Himself said, ‘It is more blessed to give than to receive.’” Acts 20:35 ESV

        It’s special living in a community where folks—like Scarlett and her family—care about one another. What a perfect time of year to remember giving and receiving! May God use many of us to help others. And may the hurting and needy grasp that Jesus cares about them.

Jesus Cares for Me

Poor and needy though I be, Christ my Saviour cares for me;
Gives me clothing, shelter, food; Gives me all I have of good.

Chorus: Poor and needy though I be, Christ my Saviour cares for me;
Poor and needy though I be, Jesus cares for me.

He who hears me when I pray, and will keep me night and day;
When I sleep, and when I wake, for the Lord my Saviour's sake. [Chorus]

He who reigns above the sky once became as poor as I;
He whose blood for me was shed had not where to lay his head. [Chorus]

Then to him I'll tune my song, happy as the day is long;
This my joy forever be; Christ my Saviour cares for me. [Chorus]

(hymn Jesus Cares for Me by Dorothy Ann Thrupp, 1850, public domain)

#UltimatePrincess #needy #poor #foodpantry #littlelibrary #donations #community

#Jesuscares #Thanksgiving #birthday

Photo Credit: all photos used with Scarlett’s parents’ permission

A Beautiful Name

        My name means “princess.” I like that! It also means “mother of all nations.” I’m not crazy about that. Too much responsibility! How ’bout we stick with the royal angle!

        When I was born, “Sarah” wasn’t popular. In fact, it ranked #138^th.

        A name that far down the list didn’t rate recognition—even on Romper Room*, a TV show I watched daily before I was old enough to go to actual school. Every day I sat patiently (or not so patiently), eyes glued on Miss I-Forgot-Her-Name’s face as she looked through her Magic Mirror and spoke those mesmerizing words:

“Romper, bomper, stomper, boo. Tell me, tell me, tell me do.

Magic mirror, tell me today. Did all my friends have fun at play?”

        Miss I-Forgot-Her-Name spied Lindas, Debbies, MaryAnns. etc. But Sarahs? Not once ever! My wounded little heart! Of course she wouldn’t call my name. I mean, one ranking #138 down the popularity list? No way.

        But my name wasn’t chosen for its popularity, which you’ve already gathered by now. I was, instead, named after one of my ancestors.

        Great-Grandmother Sarah descended from Pennsylvania Dutch folks who fled persecution in Germany—this group historically known as Palatine immigrants. Many of these hard-working families settled in the United States and farmed, for the most part. She descended from survivors and was one herself. After all, she and her husband buried four of their eight children within a very short time. I don’t know how she endured that—how she went on living. But she did.

       I think Great-Grandmother Sarah must’ve been and incredible woman. All I learned about her was from my mother who spoke lovingly of her grandma and shared warm memories of summers when she and her siblings spent time on the farm.

        Thus, I realized my rare name was selected with care, and I decided Sarah was a fine name. What an honor!

        But I was the one and only Sarah in school all thirteen years.

        In elementary school, when our teacher was absent, a substitute took her place. On those days we students were to place our handmade paper name placards on our desks to help the “temp.”

        One particular time, the substitute walked down the row where I sat, paused, and eyed my name placard. “Sarah,” she said matter-of-factly.

        Uh oh. What’d I do wrong now? Will I be sent to stand in the hallway? Will she smell my breath to see if I was chewing gum? Did she see me passing a note to my classmate?

        Nope. She addressed none of those things. Instead, she smiled and said, “Sarah. What a beautiful name!”

        I sat a little taller that day. And the next time I wrote my name atop the manilla lined paper, I took great care penning each letter.

        As an adult, this “princess” came to love her name—even though by now Sarah has made a comeback more than once. Oh, and in case you’re wondering, yes. I do own a crown. It just seemed fitting, and—hey—it only cost a buck at the dollar store!

***

       There’s a name that wasn’t chosen by either the man of the house or his betrothed. Instead, an angel told the betrothed mother-to-be that her son (yes, a simultaneous gender-reveal and naming announcement) would be named Jesus and come to bring salvation to His people. He could do that—save them from their sins.

        Jesus. “Salvation.” The Savior of the world, in every sense—including dying on a cross and rising from the dead—lived up to His Name. Fulfilled God’s divine plan to bring salvation to this lost world.

        Not only did the Baby’s gender reveal and naming take place simultaneously, but God’s purpose in His coming to earth as man was imparted to that mother as well. Then the Babe’s step-father, then shepherds, and the list goes on.

        Jesus! Not categorized on a popularity list. No. For Jesus is the Name above all names. What a beautiful name!

I Know of a Name

I Know Of A Name, A Beautiful Name - Christmas Hymn Lyrics & Music

I know of a Name, a beautiful Name, that unto a Babe was giv'n;
The stars glittered bright thru’out that glad night, & angels praised God in heaven.

Refrain: That beautiful Name, that beautiful Name, from sin has pow'r to free us!
That beautiful Name, that wonderful Name, that matchless Name is Jesus!

The One of that Name, my Savior became, my Savior of Calvary;
My sins nailed Him there, my burdens He bare, He suffered all this for me. [Refrain]

I love that blest Name, that wonderful Name, made higher than all in heav'n;
’Twas whispered, I know, in my heart long ago—to Jesus my life I’ve giv'n. [Refrain]

(a portion of the hymn, by Jean Perry, 1916, public domain)

#beautifulname #namemeaning #RomperRoom #greatgrandma #Palatine #Jesus #nameaboveallnames

*TV show for children, running from 1953 till 1994

Photo Credit: Romper Room teacher w/ magic mirror—ar.inspiredpencil.com, 1950’s classroom—br.pinterest.com, 

Mary w/ angel—freebibleimages.com, “Jesus”—ar.inspiredpencil.com   

Letter to a Dead Woman

        “Sarah, do you often write to dead people?” you might ask.

        “Nope. This is a first and likely last, but who knows.” (Wink!)

        Why did I do this? Actually, there’s a fairly good reason—at least in my twisted mind.

        Back up five years—

        Our developmentally disabled son expressed wanting to write his life story, even though it was far beyond his ability; yet Min held to his conviction adding, “I want to do this for my birth mother.”

        Who could argue with that? But we cautioned our son. 1) This would challenge him to the core. 2) He must tell the truth even when it hurts. 3) There’d be no quitting mid-stream.

        He said, “I’m good with that.”

        So, I offered to be Min’s scribe and Brian technical advisor, but we all needed to bathe this idea in prayer.

        Seven months later we began.

        Prior to our start date, though, Min’s literary agent called. “You and Brian need to figure how you’ll handle backstory.”

        I didn’t have a clue, but that set me to thinkin’—and prayin’. Then a few nights later I woke saying aloud, “Letters!” I jumped out of bed, shuffled to the living room, put on a night light, and scrawled notes.

        Ideas flowed.

        Next morning, I filled Brian in on the letters idea to tell backstory, etc. He like it and added a few more future “recipients” and—ahem—“authors” to the list.

        The completed letters were penned before, during, and after the actual memoir. A Home for Min Soo—Putting Together the Pieces of My Life now holds ones that made the cut—some bringing laughter, some tears.

        For this third anniversary of the book’s release, I share with you the letter I penned—yes—to a dead woman. As you read, maybe you’ll understand why this mom composed it. It appears here in its unedited form (a portion of which isn’t in the completed manuscript).

                                                                       Autumn of 2008

Dear Mrs. Beethoven,                                                              

            This letter comes to share the impact your story had on me in relation to our son. When I mentioned you to him, he asked, “Is she dead?”

            “Quite,” I replied.

            “Did she die before Reagan was President?”

            “Way before. Even a hundred years before Lincoln,” I replied.

            “Was Grandma alive when he was President?”

            “Lincoln?”

            “No. Reagan. Lincoln got shot and died. Reagan got shot too, but he didn’t die.”

            “Not then,” I said. “He did later.”

            “Before I was born?”

            “After.”

            A jovial voice chimed in from the other room, “Who’s on first?”

            “I don’t know,” I said, “and you’re not helping, Brian Hampshire!”

            “I don’t know is on third,” he shouted back.

            “Who said that?” Min asked.

            “Your Dad,” I answered.

            “No. I mean on TV.”

            “Oh.” I laughed. “Abbott and Costello—their famous baseball routine.”

            “Are they dead?”

            I nodded.

            “After he got shot?” Min asked.

            “After who?”

            “President Reagan. He was a movie star. Did he know Abbott and Costello?”

            “I don’t know,” I said.

            “I don’t know is still on third,” came another interruption from the other room.

            Min always asks if a person is dead. He’s predictable that way.

            When my sister and I were young, our family sponsored a Korean orphan through World Vision.

Min saw his photo in my keepsake basket and asked about him, along with an old World Vision Magazine with the Korean Orphan Choir pictured on front. “They’re wearing hanboks!”

            “Yep. They toured in the United States, and we went to hear them sing.” I remembered a YouTube video of the orphan choir singing on Art Linkletter’s Hollywood Talent Scout Show! “Wanna hear them?

            “Yeah.” Min wondered aloud if any might be family.           

            “On one tour a deaf girl sang in sign language.”

            “Deaf like Beethoven,” he exclaimed. 

            “Hmm. Hadn’t thought of that.”

            At the end, Art Linkletter explained the children were orphaned, like he’d been.

            “He was an orphan too?” Min asked.

            “Apparently.”

            “Is he dead?”

Remember, Mrs. Beethoven. This started with a question about you, a dead woman with a tragic history that struck a chord with me. How did you—thought of as a sour note by your husband —overcome your discordant life and turn it into a symphony through your son, Ludwig?

            One day Min came home from middle school and asked, “What’s a retard?”

            I went wide-eyed. “A not-very-nice way of saying someone has a mental disability. Did someone call you that?”

            “Maybe,” he said quietly. “Am I a retard?”

            I hesitated. “Retarded, yes.”

            Min looked horrified. “That’s not very nice!”

            “You asked, and we always said we’d be honest, even about hard stuff. The noun ‘retard’ isn’t nice, but the verb ‘retard’ or ‘retarded’ shares another definition.

            Our son adores dictionaries. He’ll read one over a story any day, so my mentioning “definition” caught his attention.

            “Shall I explain?” I asked.

            Min nodded and situated himself on the couch.

            I thumbed through our music books, pulled out a concerto, and sat next to Min—opening it midway and pointing to a word on the page. “Read that.”

            “I can’t read cursive,” he argued. “Is it okay to say cursive since it has ‘curse’ in it?”

            “You’re changing the subject, and it’s not cursive. Just fancy-like.” I tapped my finger near the word. “Read it.”

            “Retard.” He bobbed his head back in surprise.

            “It’s a musical term. When you asked if you’re retarded and I said yes, that just means you think slower.”

            “Because of NF?”

            “Probably, or the other undiagnosed genetic something. In music, though, it’s part of the masterpiece.”

            “Oh. Can I get a snack?”

            “Sure.”

            Why write this to you, Mrs. Beethoven? Because our sons hold something in common. Genius? In a way. For your son? Music, of course. Despite Ludwig’s disability, he continued his life’s work.

Min’s genius? Perhaps the fact he hears a song and knows what production’s background music it is (some of these works composed by your son, by the way).

            I imagine you find this a mockery compared to Ludwig’s gift, but please stick with me. Recognizing the background music? Likely due to his Asperger’s. But Min’s true giftedness comes from his heart!

            First his rocks. Nothing special about most of those. He likes small ones best, fingering them repeatedly.

            One time Min visited our Kentucky neighbor, showed her his rocks, and explained about them. Brenda listened and realized to Min they held great value.

            When Brenda lost a loved one, Min picked a favorite rock and placed it in her mailbox.

           When she fetched her mail, Brenda knew who’d been there and why. Later she shared, “That was the sweetest thing a child ever did for me…it filled me with happiness and love for Min.” And others in our holler who experienced loss also found rocks in their mailboxes.

            Then this: When visitors were leaving our home, we had to urge Min to come out of his room, be polite, and say good-bye. Once, though, when his nephews and niece were heading home, Min came without prompting. He lifted his niece in a tight embrace.

            Our granddaughter’s face beamed, and she squealed with delight. “Uncle Min hugged me! He never hugged me before!”

            And then Min’s prayers. He doesn’t articulate beautifully, but God honors his simple words, answering more times than we could count. Our son recognizes this and comments, “God must really love me.”

            Mrs. Beethoven, your son continues to be revered worldwide.

            Min will leave his mark too, being remembered by all who received a rock, a hug, or answer to one of his prayers.

            You see, the music of our son’s heart are his masterpieces. The little rocks? His Moonlight Sonata. The first hug? His Fur Elise. Those simple prayers? His Ode to Joy.

            What pride we mothers share as we ponder our sons’ gifts!

                                                            With a symphony playing in my heart,

                                                            one realizing there’s purpose in her discordant note

         And now, please join me in listening (or singing along, if you wish) to a most uplifting hymn—melody selected from Mrs. Beethoven’s son’s 9^th Symphony!

Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee

~words by Henry van Dyke, 1907~

~music composed by Ludwig van Beethoven, 1824~

ODE TO JOY-JOYFUL, JOYFUL, WE ADORE THEE at ROYAL ALBERT HALL,LONDON

 

#developmentaldisability #Aspergers #neurofibromatosis #adoption #giftedness #music

#Beethoven #AHomeforMinSoo #memoir #KimMinSooauthor

Photo Credit:

Mrs. Beethoven—blogspot.com, memoir—Trisha White Priebe, Ludwig van Beethoven—areacorari.com