Word for the Year 2025 – Wonder

Posted on January 1, 2026 by karenkeegan under word for the year

“Abin mamaki” is a Hausa phrase for “a thing of wonder.” This year I wanted to open my heart in wonder and awe, to deliberately notice things in a new way and record what I discovered. Not surprising, God’s creation in all its glory (water, sky, animals, flowers, rocks, and trees) topped my list, but I also marveled at how He gave man the ability to capture this nature on film. I stood in awe of some people’s aptitude for building, writing, or cooking. I recalled in wonder how God connects us, heals us, and sustains us.

If you read to the end of this long post, it will be “abin mamaki.” If you just want to read one entry, here is my list of topics with a link to each. What else would you add?

The Wonder of Books

Back in February 2020, I joined a book club, but we quickly had to shut it down as COVID-19 struck. So this year, when someone on my neighborhood Facebook page asked about interest in starting another one, I jumped right in. We meet once a month in each other’s homes. What a great way to make new friends with a common interest!

I wondered one day which books were most widely read or published in the world. A quick Google search gave contradictory results based on the parameters of the question (e.g. single book or series), but every list placed the Bible at the top.

Here’s an AI-generated list that omitted The Book of Mormon (listed #4) and the Bhagavad Gita (listed #5) from other lists.

The Holy Bible, ~5 to 6 billion copies
Quotations from Chairman Mao Zedong, 900 million copies (from one publisher)
The Qur’an, 800 million copies
Don Quixote, by Miguel de Cervantes, 500 million copies
A Tale of Two Cities, by Charles Dickens, 200 million copies
The Lord of the Rings, by J. R. R. Tolkien, 150 million copies
The Hobbit, by J. R. R. Tolkien, 140.6 million copies
Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone, by J. K. Rowling, 120 million copies
The Little Prince, by Antoine de Saint-Exupery, 100 million copies
And Then There Were None, by Agatha Christie, 100 million copies

Check out this list of best-selling books from Wikipedia. I was familiar with most of them except The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho. After reading it, however, I’m not sure what all the fuss is about.

Two books that left their imprint on me this year:

Atomic Habits, by James Clear. I don’t place much confidence in most self-help books, so I was astonished at the results when I applied these principles to three new habits I wanted to maintain. Who knew!
Captive of the Simbas, by Margaret Hayes, inspired me to greater heights of faith. Miss Hayes was a missionary nurse serving in the Congo in the 1960s when guerrilla fighting broke out. Along with a group of fellow missionaries, she was reported killed in a savage massacre. She was, in fact, the only one to escape.

The Wonder of Human Creation

As my sleepy eyes popped open one morning, I glanced at all the manmade materials in my bedroom—from handmade gifts sitting on a shelf, to the curtains in the window, to the very structure of my home with its walls, doors, carpet, and paint—all things I take for granted.

Then I examined my ceiling fan and wondered what process created such a useful item. The parts came from various manmade materials, were assembled in a factory, and then transported to retail stores via trucks, ships, or trains. Finally, some individual chose this one out of a myriad of styles to add to my home’s décor. A Google search found this astonishing YouTube video of how ceiling fans are made in India.

I marvel at man’s creativity—a reflection of our Creator’s character. We imitate Him when we create. I found this thought-provoking podcast “On Purpose with Jay Shetty,” posted on July 16, 2025. Jay sits down with author, artist, and creative mentor, Amie McNeed, for a heartfelt conversation about reconnecting the artist inside all of us.

A quick AI prompt poetically stated, “Manmade materials are more than tools. They are the physical embodiment of imagination, the bridge between what is and what could be. They have allowed us to build cathedrals and skyscrapers, to mend hearts and travel to the moon, to connect continents with a whisper and capture beauty for all time.”

The Wonder of Water

Long before I was born, my father dug a 30-foot well, lined it with cement, rigged a barrel atop a tower with a handpump, and ran a pipe to our kitchen so we could have running water in the sink. In this photo I am pulling up a bucket by hand. Water was first boiled, then filtered, before it became potable. We also caught rainwater in large barrels strategically placed near the house eaves. Bathing required carting heated water from the woodstove to our tin bathtub. When all five of us were clean (sort of), it took two people to grasp the handles and dump the dirty water at the base of the fruit trees in the backyard. I never want to take running water for granted. In my home in America, I can wash my dishes, toss clothes into a washing machine, and take a hot shower without effort.

This summer, as I paddled lazily in the deep end of our community swimming pool, I marveled at the properties of water that can keep me suspended on a floating device, hydrate me internally, create ice cubes for my lemonade, drive a steam engine, and be powerful enough to decimate whole villages in middle Texas.

The Wonder of Breath

So much of what I experience in a client’s prayer session cannot be shared with others due to confidentiality. It’s their story to tell, not mine. But when I witness something truly remarkable, it’s hard not to want to shout to the universe: Look what God did—again! Here’s one story.

“Sabrina” regularly defaults into retreating into nothingness in order to avoid pain. Paranoia, with a persecution complex, she’s perpetually a victim with “I am” statements that include “I am worthless” and “I don’t deserve love and attention.”

One day she arrived so depressed I didn’t think she’d be able to climb out of the pit. I let her talk for an hour, waiting for the right moment to step in. With her voice barely above a whisper, she said, “I can’t breathe.” She continued talking, and I continued praying.

“Focus on the breath,” I heard from the Lord.

Just that morning I’d been meditating on the attributes of the Holy Spirit, with “Breath of God” being the last entry in my journal. With Sabrina’s permission, I placed my hand over her chest and prayed for the breath of God to fill her lungs. (I’ve never done this before with any other person.)

“It’s lighter!” she exclaimed. “I can breathe!” The next thing I knew, she was giggling loudly as she related a funny story.

The next morning, I listened to the old hymn “Holy Spirit, Faithful Guide.” I have the Comforter, the Counselor, the Breath of Life inside me to guide me if I’ll just listen.

Near the end of the year, I picked up a little book titled Breath—The New Science of a Lost Art, by James Nestor. Aside from his inane premise of billions of years of man’s evolution, he made some astonishing claims about the power of correct breathing. One observation caught my attention: we alternate breathing patterns (left and right nostrils) in conjunction with the sun and moon. And breathing only through the left nostril taps into the right brain emotion center whereas breathing only through the right nostril crosses over to the left-brain logic center. Fascinating stuff.

The Wonder of the Night Sky

We arrived at our Life Group Christmas party at a country home. A brilliant full moon next to two large stars (or planets?) in the clear night sky made me long for Africa. I tried to imagine what it would be like to stand on the moon, look back at the earth, and gaze at galaxies upon galaxies out there that my God created. How small and insignificant I feel, yet how deeply loved that He cares for me … one tiny speck in His vast universe. Our finite minds are incapable of imagining such immensity.

The Wonder of New Words

To be a writer is to be a lover of words. Though I enjoy the tactile nature of a book in my hands, I relish the ease of looking up definitions in e-books. Here are some gems I found this year. Please don’t gloat if you already know them!

Ailurophile means “cat lover,” derived from the Greek ailuros, meaning “cat,” and phile, meaning “lover.” Later in the year, I discovered this word ranked first in the list of The Most Beautiful Words in the English Language.

Boustrophedon: a method of writing that runs from right to left, then from left to right. I found this word in the book Under the Tuscan Sun, by Frances Mayes.

Flamboyance: that’s what a flock of flamingos is called. This I learned while on a bus tour in Curaçao.

Lickerish (which sounds like licorice) means “eager to consume delicious foods.” At least that’s what I thought till I discovered this definition is archaic. Today it means “lecherous.” Oh dear!

Murmuration: the term used to describe the fascinating phenomenon of very large groups of birds, fish, or insects moving together, including changing direction together. The name comes from the murmur-like sound made by the birds as they move in unison.

Mephitic: (especially of a gas or vapor) foul-smelling; noxious. I learned this word in the novel Accordion Crimes by Annie Proulx. (Maybe I can use this word the next time I flush the toilet.)

What does Noel mean anyway? According to my research, it’s another word for Christmas. The French say, “Joyeux Noel” (Happy Christmas). It comes from the Latin natalis (birth day) with the same root as natal or nasci (to be born). Nativity has the same root meaning.

Tonsorial. (Sounds like it belongs to that infected thing at the back of my throat that the doctor removed!) While I was searching for the meaning of Noel in dictionary.com, this word-for-the-day stared me in the face. It means “having to do with barbers or barbershops.” Who knew!

The Wonder of Connections

I love being someone else’s answer to prayer.

My husband was not feeling well after a medical procedure, but at the last minute, he agreed to go to a Christmas party. I checked in with him all evening to assure him we could leave any time he felt uncomfortable. When the activities wound down, we discovered our car was hemmed in, and we’d be one of the last ones to leave. With few people left in the room, our host introduced me to one of the guests and commented that we had a lot in common.

Within a few minutes, she told me she’d been asking God for someone to minister to her. She’d never heard of inner healing prayer, but she made an appointment with me on the spot.

I just marvel, again, at God’s timing and orchestrating of events to bring about His purposes. We had a divine appointment and didn’t even know it.

I was listening to “Chris Fabry Live” on Moody Radio when I learned about Malcolm Guite, an author, poet, singer, songwriter, and the former chaplain of Gurdon College, Cambridge. What caught my attention was that he was born in Nigeria (as was I). His first name is a traditional name for a second child in Yoruba: Ayo Deji. Ayo means “joy” and Deji means “again.” So it’s “second joy.” He mentioned how much he loved the glorious rain and thunderstorms (yes!). His dad taught the classics, but he was also a Methodist preacher and very much involved with the Methodist Church in Nigeria. Next, they went to Zimbabwe (formerly Rhodesia), and eventually back to England. While his dad was in Canada, he sent Malcome to a boarding school (another connection). Check out his heart-stopping poetry.

The Wonder of Beauty

We had just recently moved from Nigeria to the USA for my sixth-grade year at Samuel Strong Elementary in Elkhart, Indiana. Walking to school one day, I stopped to admire some pretty yellow flowers growing by the sidewalk and bent to pick a bouquet for my teacher. Though Mr. Mann graciously received my gift, my excitement turned to shame when a fellow classmate hooted, “Why are you giving our teacher weeds?” (“Weed” is a derogatory human classification without consideration for the One who designed it.)

How was I to know what a dandelion was?

That grade school memory returned as I stopped to admire the intricacies of God’s creation on the sidewalks in our Tennessee neighborhood. I still think dandelions are beautiful.

A friend recently sent me this excerpt from Signals of Transcendence, by Os Guinness. The author relates a story about GK Chesterton wherein “he was stopped in his tracks by ‘looking at a dandelion.’ The world was dark and the world was broken. Cynicism was easy. . .” Chesterton stopped to notice that there was beauty in the world and not just brokenness. Both needed to be explained, together. The beauty was as evident as the brokenness, and the brokenness as the beauty. But then, too, there was a wonder in the sheer existence of simple things, such as a dandelion.

The book goes on: “Chesterton was not talking about the beauty and the wonder that are so obvious that they are almost a cliché—the miracle of the birth of a baby, the majesty of a sunset over the ocean [see below], or the crystal beauty of a Mozart piano concerto. He was talking of a little common flower that everyone sees, few people pick, and even fewer think about. But thinking about it, he noted that ‘even mere existence, reduced to its mere primary limits, was extraordinary enough to be exciting.’ Anything was magnificent compared with nothing.”

Colors! The sunrise from our cruise ship balcony and the breathtaking blues of the Caribbean Sea

The Wonder of Discovery

Our 50^th wedding anniversary family cruise to the Caribbean brought several surprises. We had raised our three girls in Holland, Michigan, and Scott and I had been to the Netherlands, but It felt a little odd to see wooden shoes in Curaçao—a Dutch colony.

One day I snapped a photo of a beautiful purple flower on a walk near a graveyard in Decatur, Tennessee. I was astonished to discover it was from kudzu—a familiar, rapidly growing invasive perennial vine in the South that smothers all vegetation in its path. And it’s edible!

A few ladies joined me on a little hike on the property of Horton Haven Christian Camp following our annual Ladies’ Retreat. Three discoveries brought joy to my heart: a deer blind (which I climbed to the top for the view), a random campfire by the trail, and a dome in the middle of the field. We circled the structure to find a sign that read “observatory.” Too bad it was padlocked. On other trails, I discovered some amazing nature.

On a walk on the Greenway with my three oldest grandsons, we climbed down to a dry streambed and discovered a bed of seashells.

The Wonder of Birds

My favorite new app this year is Merlin Bird ID. Press a button to listen for birdsong, and voila! It identifies the bird.

I wake up to birds chirping outside my window each morning, and when I walk or hike, I keep my eyes open for abandoned birds’ nests on bare winter branches or on the ground.

One day I watched a solo heron rising from the river, feathers glinting in the sun. Another day it was the astonishing sight of thousands of blackbirds lined up like tiny soldiers across multiple electric wires by the highway. And the hypnotic, acrobatic, twisting, swirling, shape-shifting bird dance, a murmuration (See “The Wonder of New Words”) in their autumn flight. How do they follow each other? How do they decide when to move? Who’s the leader? What if one bird gets left behind? Keeping together, I discovered, provides safety from larger birds as they migrate.

The Wonder of Hymns

I began a year-long goal of reading Amazing Grace—366 Inspiring Hymn Stories for Daily Devotions by Kenneth W. Osbeck and listening to YouTube versions of each hymn. What a rich heritage we have! Several facts stood out to me.

So many hymns we enjoy today sprang out of personal tragedy. The most famous one is the Spafford story behind “It Is Well with My Soul.” But others need to be retold.

The majority of the hymns I grew up with were composed in the 1600-1800s. Prior to the advent of hymns, only the Psalms were sung in corporate worship. Churches split when hymns were first introduced (sound familiar?) To make the transition, one congregation allowed dissenters to leave before they sang one new hymn at the end of each service. If only we’d known our church history when the music wars raged in the 1960s and ’70s over “contemporary Christian music.” I now rue my lament over my lost heritage and my disparaging remarks about contemporary artists. Each generation needs to find its own voice.

While singing “Joy to the World,” I pondered the refrain “The WONDER of His love.” I was also captivated by the repetition of the word King in almost every Christmas carol we sang. Not baby, but KING. Jesus may have arrived on earth as a helpless infant, but His destiny is KING of the universe. Perspective is everything. Mental health depends on it. Wonder expands the space in my mind to create room for peace and joy. My to-do list, my schedule, my projects, and even people get pushed to the periphery as I focus on wonder. It deletes the antsy-ness of claustrophobia. My shoulders release their tension; my breathing deepens.

Here are some lovely artists I discovered on YouTube, along with a link to a sample of their music:

The pure, sweet voice of Rosemary Siemens with violin accompaniment.
Songs and everlasting joy
Acapeldridge: Four-part harmony by the same artist (a little strange to watch)
Luke Powell, a South African pastor who tells the story behind the hymns. Here’s one: Born in England, Louisa Stead moved to the USA. One day while she and her little family were enjoying Long Island Beach, her husband ran into the waves to try to rescue a drowning boy. Tragically, both were lost. And thus Louisa wrote, “Tis So Sweet to Trust in Jesus.” She then became a missionary to South Africa and later to Rhodesia.

Throughout the year, I frequently found myself humming “The Wonder of It All” written by George Beverly Shea, gifted musician for Billy Graham’s crusades.

Verse 1

There’s the wonder of sunset at evening,

The wonder as sunrise I see;

But the wonder of wonders that thrills my soul

Is the wonder that God loves me.

Verse 2

There’s the wonder of springtime and harvest,

The sky, the stars, the sun;

But the wonder of wonders that thrills my soul

Is a wonder that has only begun.

Refrain

O, the wonder of it all! The wonder of it all!

Just to think that God loves me.

O, the wonder of it all! The wonder of it all!

Just to think that God loves me.

One day I randomly opened a hymnbook to the song “Jesus, I Am Resting, Resting.”My heart resonated with the words that were written by a poet, Jean Pigott, who died at age 37. She gave the hymn to her brother Thomas who went to China as a missionary under the China Inland Mission. He, in turn, shared it with Hudson Taylor who whistled it during extreme circumstances in the Boxer Rebellion. Thomas was executed, along with his wife and son and 41 fellow missionaries, on July 9, 1900.

Though I pray day after day with hurting people, I find my heart can stay at rest, at peace, if I focus on God.

One day I discovered Elohim Songs—”a worship space blending English and Hebrew lyrics, inspired by God’s Names and Promises: Elohim, Adonai, Yahweh.” They “create original Messianic worship songs, using AI-assisted tools not for worldly trends, but to glorify God. Every melody, word, and sound is crafted to draw hearts closer to the Father. Here you’ll find Scripture-based ballads, English-Hebrew lyric videos, and songs about God’s faithfulness from youth to old age. Let technology serve His Kingdom. Shalom!”

The Wonder of History

Well, not really … but. History was always my worst subject in school—all those dates and names, and nowhere to hang those little pegs in my mind. So when I discovered “Crash Course” on YouTube, I was hooked. Witty, fast-paced, visually appealing, and informative. I may not agree with all John Green’s commentary, but he keeps my attention.

Check out “Christianity from Judaism to Constantine: Crash Course World History #11”

The Wonder of Photography

When I was in Grade 6, my family did the touristy thing and drove into Yellowstone National Park to see Old Faithful. That’s about all I remember from that day. I wish now that we’d visited the Rainbow Hot Springs and hiked near the Yellowstone River (the longest free-flowing river in North America).

I didn’t know about the massive ecosystem until I watched Yellowstone One-Fifty with Kevin Costner, a 2022 documentary on the 150^th anniversary of the founding of Yellowstone National Park. Costner explores the Park “to find out if it’s still as wild and untouched as it was on the day of its birth.” The photography is breathtaking, awe-inspiring, and well worth an hour of your time.

Stunning, mind-blowing, astonishing, spectacular… okay, I’ve run out of words. Tom Hanks narrated a 10-part Sunday series on NBC called The Americas. The photography of never-before-seen, up-close nature kept me exclaiming, “How did they film that!?”

The Wonder of Rocks

I have always had an affinity for rock formations as they take me back to my childhood in Nigeria. Camel Rock was my favorite hiking destination.

We came across these cairns while in Aruba. Who piled them and why?

The Wonder of Trees

Anyone who knows me can tell you I’m obsessed with trees. I found these gems this year etched into dying tree trunks. And how in the world did this vine find its way to the top branch of a tree?!

The Wonder of Friendships and Health

After spending 5 weeks recovering from the flu and viral pneumonia earlier this year, I am grateful for my health. I struggled to remain positive, and I’m in awe of a couple friends who manage much greater illness far better than I.

The first is Joyce, my accountability partner for the past 35 years, who suffers from RA. She had two stints in the hospital this year for an infection and is now home after rehab. My heart aches for her suffering. Yet in our conversations she always manages to ask me how I’m doing. Her positivity is infectious.

The other is Tammy, who received the gift of a heart transplant this year. She’s a friend to all but makes you think you’re her best friend. The doctors told her she was one in a million in her recovery, and I believe them. She returned to dancing just weeks after getting out of the hospital. Wow! Her joyful spirit inspires me.

The Wonder of Architecture

To round off our year-long celebration of our 50^th anniversary, we stayed a couple nights in this romantic, cozy Terralodge dome house in Sewanee, Tennessee. The king-sized bed faced a floor-to-ceiling window that looked out onto a forest of oak trees. We had just settled in when we heard a ka-pow! over our heads. Was that a shotgun, we wondered. But no. It was the sound of acorns slamming into the deck or roof. We giggled every time one hit.

The Wonder of Food

Wanting to try something new on the menu at High Point Restaurant on Monteagle Mountain, my eye caught the words “lion’s mane.” My imagination ran wild as I tried to envision chewing tufts of hair from the head of the king of the beasts. “It’s the name of a mushroom,” our server explained. Always something to learn!

The Wonder of Healing

In 25 years of ministering to people through inner healing prayer, I can only name a handful whom we have been unable to help in some way. But when I first met Addie (not her real name), I thought she might be one of those failures. Every month for two years, I prayed with her with minimal change in her lie-based thinking. I tried every tool in my toolbox, and nothing made her budge. She firmly believed she was bad, a nobody, unworthy of love. She pled with me not to give up on her, so we kept plugging away. One day in desperation, I begged God to show me another way. That week, He used a book, a song, a list, and a massage therapist to teach me something new. When we met again, I asked her if we could try something different. Within minutes, a physical pain in her side began to subside. She looked at me in astonishment. “It’s been there for 35 years!” she said. And then followed the Lord’s sweet words to her, “You were not to blame.”

But that’s not the end of the story. We began to use this new tool with other clients, and they, too, exclaimed at the healing they received. Their gratitude warmed our hearts. All glory goes to God.

The Wonder of the Word

As a child, I often stared at the photo of Jesus holding a rescued sheep in His arms. I’d heard the story a hundred times about how God rejoices more over finding one lost sheep than over the 99 who didn’t go astray. I can hear George Beverly Shea’s deep bass voice singing, “There were ninety and nine who safely lay in the shelter of the fold…” The missionary message was clear: go save the lost . . . but I wasn’t one of them.

I just couldn’t identify with that disobedient rascal. I tried so hard to be good, to obey, to follow the Shepherd. I felt jealous of the one in His arms. Maybe I should quit following the rules and be bad—would Jesus race after me then and love me more?

I feel so self-righteous. I obeyed, I followed, I stayed in the pen like He told me to. Of course, unlike the wayward one, I didn’t have to endure the cold, the loneliness, the lostness, the trap, the brambles. I wouldn’t wish that on anybody. But I’m petulant that Jesus seems to care more for the brat.

But as I read Matthew 18 (again for the umpteenth time), I noticed something for the first time. The context of this story is about children. Jesus had pulled a child into His embrace and instructed His disciples that they needed to humble themselves as LITTLE CHILDREN in order to get into the kingdom of God. And that anyone who hurt one of these LITTLE ONES should have a millstone hung around his neck and drowned. Verse 14 (NIV, emphasis added) says, “In the same way your Father in heaven is not willing that any of these LITTLE ONES should perish.”

And now I see it. I’m a full-grown, mature sheep. Of course my motherly instincts kick into high gear when a little lamb wanders from the flock or falls into a ditch. Go, Jesus! Run to him/her! That perspective changes everything. Whew! No more jealousy. So crazy that after 70 years I paid attention to the context.

The Wonder of Marriage

On August 8, 1975, Scott and I exchanged wedding vows. Fifty years later, as we gathered with family and friends to celebrate this milestone, I had ample time to reflect on our stories and to trace the hand of God on our lives. The beautiful young server at a romantic dinner for two asked us our secret for making it this far. “Two things,” we said. We committed to each other that we would never threaten divorce when we disagreed (which was on just about everything!) and that we would never go to bed angry at each other (a few times that vow stretched into the morning hours, but we always resolved our arguments as soon as possible.) Where have the years gone? How can I love this man more today than the day I married him? It’s “abin mamake!”

Word for the Year 2024 – Barkono

Posted on December 31, 2024 by karenkeegan under word for the year

Introduction

Barkono is a Hausa word meaning “pepper.” After losing all taste and smell for a full year after COVID-19, I decided to celebrate its 50-75% return by indulging in the joy of once more tasting spicy flavors.

I started by searching for ethnic restaurants in Murfreesboro. Not surprisingly, Chinese, Thai, and Mexican were the most prolific. And then I researched available varieties in Nashville—much more cosmopolitan of course.

Nigerian

In January, when Scott and I drove to Nashville for an appointment, we stopped on the way to visit our daughter Sharon who teaches ESL at Legacy Mission Village, a school for refugees. Though the culinary choices in that neighborhood were numerous, I opted for the only Nigerian restaurant in the city. We followed our GPS to Nico’s Restaurant and Bar. The large room was dark and empty except for one man sitting at a corner booth. He greeted these turawa (white people) and motioned us to a tiny, sliding glass window at the back of the restaurant.

I asked the owner if she had any tuwo da miya (my favorite northern Nigeria dish). Sadly, she said she was from the South and only served fufu and pounded yam. I asked for the spiciest dish on the menu, and she recommended the okra soup.

Scott cannot handle anything spicy (yes, opposites do attract), and he cannot tolerate this African American eating any food with my fingers, so I ordered take out and reheated the dish when I got home that evening. Deliciously satisfying!

In September, My sister Grace arrived from California to join my brother and me for a sibling reunion in Georgia. On the way home from the airport, stopping at the Nico restaurant was a must. Two large, boiled chicken legs filled her bowl of okra soup. Not her favorite she said. I was happy to polish it off.

And then Grace asked me to make some kose (deep-fat-fried, black-eyed-pea beancakes). Much to Scott’s chagrin, it took a week to get the musty odor out of our house. I think the peanut oil was too old.

Korean

February’s wet, gloomy weather drove me to try Cup Pop Korean Restaurant, across the street from MTSU. Two ladies, chattering away in Korean (I presume) lent authenticity to the atmosphere of this little hole-in-the-wall eatery. I opted for vegetarian and spice level 2. (Next time I’ll bump it up to 3). Instructions were prominently posted on how to eat this delicacy: Pour your sauce cup over the rice/meat/veggies, stir, and enjoy. “But don’t pour over the dumpling,” the cashier admonished. Oh … my … goodness! I thought I only had enough room for half a serving, but I couldn’t stop myself from consuming the whole thing. Amazing! I brought home the remainder of my sauce, planning to toss it over my next bland meal.

Italian

Once a week, Scott and I order online a large, one-topping pizza (half pepperoni for him and half jalapeño peppers for me) from our nearby Papa Johns. I’m on a first-name basis now with Seth who greets me as I walk through the door. A home movie and a pizza. Can’t get much better than that!

Indian

One day while waiting for a friend to get out of surgery, I was delighted to discover the hospital cafeteria that day was serving Indian butter chicken with cauliflower, sweet potatoes, and chickpeas over a bed of rice. Warmed my heart! I felt sorry for my friend’s pain, but this delicious meal made my wait tolerable.

Mexican

In March I indulged my craving for Chuys Mexican Restaurant’s creamy jalapeño dip and chicken tortilla soup. I always bring home leftovers.

And since I was out of town for Mothers’ Day, Scott surprised me later with a trip to Mi Patria, a new Mexican restaurant in town. I tried their fish tacos. Quite tasty, but the only spice came in the salsa dip for the chips. Since Scott does not care for Mexican, and spice does not fare well with his system, this was truly a sacrifice for him. He had steak and fries.

This summer, A friend gave me some home-grown summer squash (which I oven roasted with zucchini, mushrooms, and onions) and another friend gave me some tajin spice (chili peppers, sea salt, and dehydrated lime juice). Put the two together, and the result was indescribably delicious. I wonder what tajin would taste like on popcorn.

Thai

In April, my birthday month, friends treated me to two Thai restaurants. At Thai Pattaya, I ordered coconut curry with tofu and veggies (spice level 2) and at Bangkok Thai, red curry with fish (spice level 3).

In October, Scott and I returned to Bangkok Thai with a gift certificate for our anniversary, and I ordered the massaman curry dish with tofu. Though delicious, it was too mild and soupy. We were surprised when the bill came to $6 higher than the menu stated. Apparently, we had neglected to notice the $3-each extra charge for brown rice. But I guess I must have enjoyed it, because I consumed it all instead of taking home leftovers!

Ethiopian

My Life Group at church meets for a potluck every other Sunday, and the theme one week was international food. Since I was already in Nashville to attend the open house for Legacy Village Mission, I stopped by Rehobth Ethiopian Café, a take-out- only establishment that still had the remnants of COVID-19 restrictions. Undeterred, I ducked under the plexiglass partition in the doorway to place my order. Though Minna, my ministry partner from Ethiopia, raved about the food, I felt disappointed. Apparently this restaurant matches the poor man’s injera that she grew up with, and I am more familiar with the upper-class variety (pictured here). Though I craved the spicy meat dish option (30 minutes to prepare), I chose the vegan combo (10 minutes) since I would have had to sit in my car in the 97-degree heat to wait for my order. I also missed the experience of sitting around the community dish with my friends, with no utensils but the three fingers on my right hand to snuggle tasty morsels in the delicious bread.

Mediterranean

This next story begins in 1970.

When Cheryl (my other ministry partner and boarding school classmate) had reconstruction knee surgery in June, her home health care provider, Jan, arrived and announced she was not the person originally scheduled to come. The ensuing conversation went something like this.

Cheryl: I just got back from an MK (Missionary Kid) boarding school class reunion.

Jan: I’m an MK too! Where did your parents serve?

Cheryl: Nigeria.

Jan: Me too!

Cheryl: What school did you attend?

Jan: Hillcrest.

Cheryl: My ministry partner went to Hillcrest!

Cheryl (texting me): Guess who’s in my home? A lady who went to Hillcrest.

Karen: What’s her maiden name and year of graduation?

Thus, Jan (a classmate I had not seen in 52 years), Minna, Cheryl, and I met at Taziki’s Mediterranean Cafe. We shared some hummus, and I ordered an amazing watermelon, spinach, feta cheese, and candied pecans salad. Very refreshing on a hot summer day.

Venezuelan

One day my daughter Sharon wanted me to meet a sweet Venezuelan couple from her ESL class who had recently moved to our town. For a taste of home, they recommended Brasas Grill. Thus my friend Carol and I agreed to meet for lunch in August (“As long as the food is not spicy,” she said. It wasn’t.) We ordered chicken-filled empanadas and sweet, caramelized plantains topped with delicious cheese. Tasty and filling, but one visit was enough.

Cuban

In October, I tagged along with Scott to Chattanooga where he participated in WMBW’s Share-on-thon. Going to the Hamilton Place Mall food court was an easy way to satisfy both our palates. I tried a portobello mushroom sandwich. Though not spicy enough to provide the flavor I was seeking, I enjoyed the crustiness of the toasted bread.

Laotian? Vietnamese?

Quite by accident, I discovered an 18-month-old restaurant listed online as Laotian but supposedly Vietnamese just a few minutes from my church. Though near some run-down establishments, inside I found clean, bright booths and tables and a friendly face. Lin (not sure how she spells her name) greeted me enthusiastically and seated me with a one-page menu. Many of the items looked like Chinese or Thai, so I asked for her recommendation for a typical Laotian dish. “My favorite is Pad See Ew,” she said, “with wide rice noodles, Chinese (!) broccoli, and egg—but I don’t recommend you include the carrots.” I took her advice and ordered it with chicken.

This dish originates in Thailand, “so what makes it different?” I asked. “We like our food HOT,” she said. And she proceeded to fuss over the arrangement of condiments on the table, mixing Hoisin Sauce and Sriracha Chili Sauce on the side of my plate, topped with a jalapeño pepper. She then hovered nearby to see how I liked it. “Delicious!” I declared, and she grinned, satisfied. By the end of my meal, we’d exchanged names, I knew she was my age (70) and had lived in the USA for 43 years. Her two kids live out of state, and she works at the restaurant a couple hours a week to get out of the house. What a happy extrovert! To complete my experience, I wandered through the international grocery store next door and drooled over the guava and mango nectars.

International Potluck

For my last hurrah, I shamelessly invited myself to one of Sharon’s many Christmas parties at Legacy Village, for I knew I’d find a variety of dishes from other countries, including Kurdish, Burmese, and Mexican. Sadly, though all the dishes were tasty, this year not a single one was spicy. To make up for it, I added hot sauces, gifts from friends this year: Cowboy Candy and The General’s Hot Sauce Hooah Jalapeño.

In Conclusion

If you’ve read this far, I suspect the first question you will ask is, “What was your favorite?” Ethiopian and Nigerian topped my list for the best flavor (no surprise there), and Korean for the most unusual. My most fun experience was meeting Lin at Ladna 88. In the end, I enjoyed any dish with barkono.

Thank you to my friends who joined me on this adventure or contributed toward it with your gifts. And thank you to my husband who tolerates my cravings for international cuisine—as long as I don’t eat with my fingers or cook it in my house.

If anyone cares to join or invite me, I’m feeling lickerish* as I search for my next tasty culinary experience.

*Lickerish (adj.) [archaic]: eager to consume delicious foods

Word for the Year 2023—Games

Posted on January 1, 2024 by karenkeegan under word for the year

After the clearing away of the supper dishes and the setting of the tropical sun, out came the pressure lamp to light our little family circle. In the absence of television, we provided our own entertainment through table games. Though traditional playing cards (touted as sinful because of their association with gambling) were forbidden, my father happily indulged in the game of Rook. Indeed, it was the only game he’d play with the family. My mother, on the other hand, defaulted to Scrabble and other word games. If grownups were busy, we kids played a variety of board games, including Snakes and Ladders, Old Maid, Clue, Yahtzee (some missionaries even forbade the use of dice), Monopoly, or Careers.

When I chose “Games” as my word for the year, my husband and I began the tradition of clearing the supper dishes and playing a nightly game together of “I Buy” (first introduced to us 40 years ago by our friends the Acords). And, yes, we use those forbidden card decks. We have since taught this simple game to nearly everyone who graces our table (see below for the rules).

Next, I emailed all our local friends inviting them to a monthly Game Night, including snacks which ranged from popcorn to ice cream bars. Those who responded with interest I put on a monthly reminder list and asked for RSVPs. Here’s how it all panned out.

For January, I carefully divided the 12 signed-up players into 3 groups to play different games at each table. Sadly, one couple canceled at the last minute, and we had to scramble to readjust—my first disappointment for plans gone awry. For February, I invited couples only (single players had to bring a partner), and 10 showed up. (One funny story: I got a text asking what time to arrive, but the couple had the wrong date. So, we spontaneously went out to dinner together and then to their house to learn a new game. Now that was fun!) In March I opened it up to families with children to play high energy games (8 participants). In April I chose word games as the theme (my favorite) but only 2 came. Again, I had to adjust my expectations.

For May and June, I invited one couple each to get to know them better. I decided this is more my style. In July our whole family (7 adults, 5 grands) traveled to Holland, Michigan, where my 3 girls and I played a competitive jigsaw puzzle game (I lost). August brought 13 people to our house to play “Just One” (a fun, collaborative word game), though I noticed some spouses and children were more drawn to the jigsaw puzzle on my dining room table.

September was hectic with last-minute cancellations, so I went to a ladies’ game night at church instead. October found Scott and me aboard a Viking cruise on the Rhine River. We taught “I Buy” to 2 couples who befriended us. In November, I chose puzzle games as my theme. Was it the category or the time of year? Only one person came, and we played Scrabble instead. And, in honor of my parents’ anniversary in December, I suggested a pizza party with Rook and Scrabble as my final hurrah. Out of the initial 18 maybes, only 2 didn’t cancel, so we went out to dinner and played “I Buy.”

What I learned: Hold plans loosely, let go of expectations, be flexible. Spontaneous can be just as fun as planned. Some friends are competitive, and some prefer to just talk and have fun. Watch the triggers surface when you put the two together! People appreciate being invited.

What I gained: I made some new friends and deepened some relationships.

What I’d do differently: Less focus on planning ahead of time which games to play and just decide once everyone arrives. I’ll probably go back to inviting just one family at a time. I’m still looking for Rook players!

Rules for “I Buy”

3-6 players (can play in teams if number of players is even)

Need: 2 decks of cards (for 2-4 players); 3 decks of cards (for 5-6 players)

The game consists of 7 rounds, each with a different combination of books and runs.

Rounds:

Two books
1 book, 1 run
2 runs
2 books, 1 run
2 runs, 1 book
3 books
3 runs

Books = 3 or more of a kind (e.g. 3 or more Aces or 3 or more nines)

Runs = 4 or more in a row in the same suit. (e.g. four-five-six-seven of spades)

Aces can be high or low, but not both. (e.g. Ace-two-three-four or Jack-Queen-King-Ace). Nor can you wrap around (e.g. Queen-King-Ace-two)
For rounds with 2 or 3 runs, they must be in 2 or 3 different suits. (e.g. you cannot lay down Ace-two-three-four of hearts and eight-nine-ten-Jack of hearts as two different sets)

Set up: Dealer gives each person 12 cards for each round. Place the rest of the cards face down in the middle (the draw pile).

Goal: To be the first to get rid of your cards.

Scoring consists of what points are left in one’s hand. (Your partner’s points count zero if you go out first.)

Jokers (wild) = 25 points
Aces = 15 points
10 – King = 10 points
2-9 = 5 points

Rules:

At the start of each round, when everyone is ready, the dealer takes a card off the top of the deck and tosses it quickly, face up, on the table.
The card automatically belongs to the person on dealer’s left IF HE WANTS IT. If he wants the card, he places it in his hand and discards (face up) another card from his hand. If he DOESN’T WANT IT, the card is up for grabs.

“Up for grabs” means any another player can say, “I buy.”
- If more than one person says it, the players must decide who said it first.
- If a person says “I buy” but changes his mind, too bad. He must take it.
- The person who wins the “buy” takes the tossed card PLUS another one from the top of the draw pile.
If no one wants the card (including the person to the left of the dealer) the player to the left of the dealer then takes a card from the draw pile and discards (face up) one from his hand. The person to the left always has first dibs on the discard (without penalty of buying an extra card).
Play continues in this fashion around the table until someone is ready to “lay down.” This means he must lay down EXACTLY what each round calls for. (e.g. on Round #1 he must lay down exactly 2 books at one time. He may only lay down 2 books, not one set, not three sets). Of course each set of books can consist of more than 3 cards.
Once a player has laid his required set of books or runs on the table, he is free to get rid of more cards in his hand by placing them appropriately on other players’ sets (adding to a set or building a run).
Each round comes to an end when one player goes out—either laying down all his cards on other people’s sets or throwing his last remaining card on the discard pile.
One fun rule is that once you have laid down your required sets, on your turn you may steal a Joker from someone else’s run (but NOT from a book) if you have the missing card in your hand.
- Example: one player lays down a run of four-Joker-six-seven of hearts. On your turn, if you have the five of hearts, you exchange your card for the Joker and play the Joker somewhere else on the table, either with a book or in a run.
- You must use the Joker immediately. You may not keep it in your hand.
Once Round #1 (2 books) ends, deal goes to the next person and play continues as before for Round #2 (1 book, 1 run).

Rules for Partners

On your turn, you may play at any time on your partner’s cards that have been placed on the table. You do not have to wait until you are down yourself. (Strategy hint: don’t do this too early in the game. You may find you need a card later for your own set.)

Remember, if you are not playing teams, you may only play on another person’s pile after you have laid down your own sets.

Rules for 2 players (not as intense since you’re not competing for cards with other players)

On your turn, if you want to buy a card, you simply declare “I buy” before drawing (either 2 from the deck or 1 from the deck + the top discard).

WORD FOR THE YEAR 2022—GIFTS

Posted on January 1, 2023 by karenkeegan under word for the year

Out of Gary Chapman’s 5 Love Languages, GIFTS is probably my least important. I admire my friends and family members who easily assess another person’s needs and passions and cheerfully share their resources. Don’t get me wrong—receiving a well thought out gift warms my heart, and I can be generous when I see a need, but choosing the right gift for someone (especially at Christmas) feels more like a chore, fraught with emotional baggage. In fact, many years ago I relinquished this task to my husband who happens to enjoy the process. It’s his gift to me that meets my primary love language: Acts of Service.

Here’s what goes on in my head when I give a gift:

How many stores do I have to visit?*
I can’t decide what to get.
What can I afford?
What if they don’t like it?
Is this just adding to their clutter?
Do they really need it?
Will they be disappointed with my choice?
Could this resource be used better elsewhere?

Or when I’m given a gift:

How do I receive it graciously if I don’t care for it?
Am I expressing enough gratitude if I do?
Is reciprocation expected?

I’ve asked for the same thing (nothing!) for Christmas for the past umpteen years, but no one will listen. At the very least, I like things that get used up and don’t clutter my space, and I’d rather use those resources for someone in need. My favorite was when a daughter gave the gift of a goat in my name to a needy boy in Africa.

I’ve come to realize, however, that my dismissal of others’ gifts robs them of the joy of giving. Just because I feel angst over the process does not mean they do. I’ve also learned to follow my mother’s model of expectation: “Let me have the pleasure of giving this to you. What you do with it does not concern me. It’s yours to do with as you wish. This frees you from of the guilt of tossing or regifting.”

And so, I began the year by working through my emotions and false beliefs over this subject. Next, I set a monetary goal for how much I would spend this year in gift-giving. I’m not a shopper, but if I saw an item that might interest a friend or family member, I made the purchase and then gave it at a random time. I found more pleasure in this exercise than the obligatory birthday and Christmas events.

At first I kept a record of my gifts, but midway through the year, I began to lose interest in the tally and forgot about it. I’d met my goal, but I didn’t need to stop the habit of trying to make people smile.

And then Christmas 2022 happened. With no more triggers holding me back, I delighted in each gift received, and I’m already thinking about what to give next year!

What’s your least important love language and why?

*I think the greatest invention is the Wish List on Amazon. Even I can pull that one off without too much effort!

Word for the Year 2021: Handicap

Posted on December 30, 2021 by karenkeegan under Choices, Emotions, Inner Healing, Scripture, word for the year

I confess I have an abysmal sense of direction, and it’s getting worse with age. I Googled “bad sense of direction” to get some tips for improving my odds and collected maps for cities I frequent. Every day for the first month, I studied our local map, trying to memorize street names and cement a visual mind map to guide me. What a useless endeavor! Apparently, I am incapable of thinking and driving at the same time.

When I read a blog by someone who unashamedly labeled his poor sense of direction a HANDICAP (and many people resonated with his plight), I concluded I cannot change my brain enough to warrant shedding my trusty GPS. So, there you have it—one Word for the Year tossed in the trash, and I needed a replacement.

Following my recovery from Covid in November 2020, I decided to chronicle my journey with another hidden HANDICAP—loss of taste and smell. First, I tried the famous burnt-orange trick that went viral (useless) and sniffed three different essential oils three times daily for the suggested smell training ritual. For two weeks I quadrupled my intake of zinc. Nothing.

I spit out my first cup of coffee, tasteless as water. When I tried sniffing freshly ground coffee beans, a disgusting malodor greeted my nose. At least I’m smelling something, I reasoned, but this annoying odor lingered nonstop for months. Everything smelled the same: smoke, pizza, cat litter. I became the designated dirty-diaper queen for my youngest grandchild.

In the first three months, I burned up three frying pans because I couldn’t rely on smell to alert me. I no longer dared leave the kitchen during the simmering process. I lost what little interest I had in cooking or making menu decisions. For the first time in our 46 years of marriage, I didn’t care if I ate my husband’s bland-diet preference over my spicy palate. It all tasted the same, so what was the point?! I now had to rely on him to inform me if meat had spoiled or the seasoning wasn’t right in a casserole.

One day we decided to treat our grandsons to ice cream. As we approached the drive-through, I asked the 10-year-old what he thought I should order since I wouldn’t be able to taste it. “Cheapest thing on the menu, Grandma!” he said. Smart kid! And later, his 7-year-old brother asked, “Why eat anything at all?” I explained that food fuels the body, but regrettably, I had begun to choose peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches over healthy salads. Growing our Tower Garden felt pointless.

With the loss of eating pleasure, I learned to tune more into how hunger felt instead of eating what I craved but, disappointingly, I lost no weight. Eventually I began to differentiate between salty, sweet, bitter, and sour, but could taste no nuances of flavor. I put hot sauce on everything, trying to elicit a little zing for the tongue.

I tried hard not to complain but failed miserably and so began a regimen of gratitude for my other four senses. When I finally got tired of hearing myself complain, I asked God for a better solution and stumbled on Isaiah 65:5b: These people are a stench in my nostrils, an acrid smell that never goes away. (NLT)

And that’s when He gave me this idea: every time I smelled that repulsive odor, I would think about the stench in God’s nostrils and pray for someone. It helped refocus my attitude.

By August I noticed a subtle shift in relinquishing the malodor and enjoyed a hot curry Indian dish. Coffee became my gauge for progress. I went from gagging to tolerating a quarter cup, to drinking half a cup if I held my nose during the brewing process. I jumped in glee when I got a whiff of burnt toast. Someone claimed if you didn’t get your smell and taste back after nine months, it would be permanent. Oh, Lord, I hope not! I was into my ninth month and counting . . .

In September, someone suggested I try fascial counterpressure (whatever that was!). I found a practitioner 30 minutes away and promptly made an appointment but returned home with no noticeable results and fewer dollars in my wallet.

In October, I read Numbers 11:1-9 where the Israelites complained about eating manna every day. They missed their pungent fish, along with the flavorful cucumbers, melons, leeks, onions, and garlic. I could relate! I used to fault these people for their ingratitude, but now I felt convicted over my similar lament. I so missed the diversity of flavors. I wanted to discover the sweetness of holy manna and be thankful for what I had instead of grief over what I’d lost. How could I learn to leave Egypt behind and embrace the promise of a new land?

I continued to struggle with my attitude, complaining about my loss. I had an appointment with food three times a day, and three times a day I had to face the keen disappointment of loss of pleasure. Five times in Numbers 15 the phrase “an odor pleasing to the Lord” caught my attention. I couldn’t smell, but God could; and I wanted my attitude, thoughts, and deeds to be a pleasing odor in His nostrils.

It was like I was holding onto the end of a rope connected to taste and smell. Letting go of the rope didn’t mean I wouldn’t eat; it meant letting go the pleasure, the drug. When I dropped the rope, I watched in astonishment as it retracted like a tape measure into the food. The flavors were still there, but they were no longer tied to me. They don’t belong to me and therefore have no power over me. Now I can pick up food, examine it, see it, feel its texture, and experience it. It is what it is.

Over a year later now, I have adjusted (mostly) to my hidden handicap, and I rejoice in every whiff of smoke or incremental change in flavor. It’s okay that I can’t smell dirty diapers, but I sure do miss my coffee!

Oh taste and see that the Lord is good: blessed is the man that trusteth in him. (PS 34:8 KJV)

My biggest disappointment is not being able to taste injera ba wat (Ethiopian food)

For further reflection:

I checked out the Scriptures (RSV) and found the following words: Nose 12x, Nostrils 14x, Smell 20x, and Odor 43x. I even found a blog on the subject: Just a Thought . . . God’s Nose (constantcontact.com)

Word for the Year 2020 – Fun!

Posted on December 31, 2020 by karenkeegan under word for the year

After listening to a series of Annie F. Downs’ podcasts on the subject of the 9 points of the enneagram, I noted she always ended her show with “What do you do for fun?” Since I’m a serious “1” on the enneagram chart (always motivated by doing what’s right), the words “That sounds fun” do not come naturally or trippingly off my tongue.

The more I listened to Annie, the more I knew that I needed more fun in my life, so this year I determined to embrace spontaneity and joy in the little pleasures in life—to do an activity just because “That sounds fun.”

I discovered in the process that if I declared “That sounds fun” regarding an upcoming event, even if that event had potential negative aspects to it, just saying the words out loud enhanced the pleasure of the activity and helped to dispel the gloom. To decide ahead of time that something is fun helps to make it so.

The year started out great, but quickly deteriorated with the onset of COVID. With exciting overseas and stateside travel plans canceled, I had to be content with smaller activities that might bring pleasure. Here’s a list of some of my favorites. What would be on YOUR list?

Visit the library: That sounds fun!

I started the year off by reading The Library Book by Susan Orlean, the story of the great fire of 1986 at the Los Angeles Public Library. It reminded me how much I love libraries and how much I’m missing out by always choosing e-books for their convenience and readability. And so I indulged in the simple pleasure of visiting our public library and checking out a physical book—just because I could.

COVID perspective: I’m so ready to revisit a real library again!

“Adopt” 2 Chinese students: That sounds fun!

Last year we hosted two sweet MTSU ladies. Once a month we picked them up from campus to introduce them to American culture. We went on hikes, visited local museums and attractions, took them to local restaurants, celebrated holidays, and exchanged cooking experiences.

COVID perspective: All those fun times screeched to a halt in March 2020.

Organize something: That sounds fun!

I removed a large bagful of unwanted clothing from my bedroom closet and rearranged, sorted, and tidied the rest. Next, I tackled the hall closet, followed by reorganizing my jewelry boxes.

COVID perspective: A wasted effort! I’ve hardly worn jewelry all year with my ubiquitous jeans and t-shirt wardrobe.

Play with the grandboys: That sounds fun!

This one’s a no-brainer . . . Visiting baby William’s dedication; making oatmeal, chocolate chip cookies with Jack, Ben, and Noah; telling “Grandma Special” stories, taking them out for ice cream treats, and playing games together.

COVID perspective: In March, fun quickly changed to outdoor activities only, including hiking, visiting the zoo, drawing with sidewalk chalk, and playing in the backyard or table games under the carport.

Eat something spicy: That sounds fun!

At the Country Club I tried spicy curry chicken with roasted root vegetables, squash casserole, and cranberry nut bread. Outstanding! Another day, my daughter Sharon introduced me to Oscar’s Taco just down the street. Fish tacos are the best! And the Chinese students fixed us exotic, spicy dishes to sample. (Note: This is MY list of fun, not Scott’s!)

COVID perspective: Take-out just doesn’t taste the same. I miss eating inside, leisurely.

Pray with clients: That sounds fun!

I love my ministry . . . but on the way to the office one day to pray with one of our more challenging clients, I declared out loud, “That sounds fun.” And this time it actually turned out to be so!

COVID perspective: Though we can no longer meet in person, I’m so thankful for technology that has kept our ministry alive.

Get a massage: That sounds fun!

Oh yeah! What’s not to like?

COVID Perspective: Too bad I had to cancel my appointment the week I came down with the dreaded coronavirus!

Scott and Karen Days: That sounds fun!

Civil War graveyard at the Carnton House, Franklin, TN

My Christmas gift to Scott last year was for once-a-month, all-day-together time —uninterrupted, just the two of us, doing any fun activity of his choice. The very first scheduled day in January, Scott was laid up with a wrenched back, so I sat in the den with him and read almost an entire novel. Guilt-free reading time. What’s not to like about that? In other months, we went to movies, played golf, and visited historic sites.

COVID perspective: When I came down with COVID, I was sorry we had to cancel November’s date while we isolated on opposite sides of the house. Fun was sitting in the sunshine together on the deck 12 feet apart from each other for 20 minutes.

Walk somewhere new: That sounds fun!

This wasn’t the actual scene that day, but it does hold special memories.

I took off for a walk late in the day. Thousands of blackbirds were swarming against a red, sunset sky and a full moon. The whole scene took my breath away and filled my soul with joy.

COVID perspective: This is one activity I’ve been able to continue.

Reconnect with MKs: That sounds fun!

Steven Dowdell, a fellow boarding school MK (Missionary Kid), dropped by to see me on his way through town. It had been 50 years!

COVID perspective: Though we had to cancel our Class of 72 reunion in Florida in May, we enjoyed connecting from around the world through Zoom.

Start a new puzzle: That sounds fun!

I walked to Goodwill, just a few blocks away, and came home with a bagful of puzzles. At the height of the lockdown, we drove to Nashville to exchange puzzles with our daughter Sharon.

COVID perspective: Haha! Take that, you Virus! Nothing can stop me here.

Join a book club: That sounds fun!

Our first and only meeting was delightful. I met some new ladies, and we chose our first book.

COVID perspective: And then it closed. It was fun while it lasted!

Play golf: That sounds fun!

Sewanee Golf Course atop Monteagle Mountain, TN

Until just a few years ago, I could not have said “golf” and “fun” in the same sentence. But now it’s a joy to spend time with Scott, out in nature, hunting for my many lost balls.

COVID perspective: Bring your own clubs; don’t share carts; it’s all good.

Celebrate my birthday: That sounds fun!

At first, I didn’t think it would be . . .

COVID perspective: . . . then three good friends arrived in my backyard wearing masks and gloves and holding up signs, while they sang “Happy Birthday” to me.

Celebrate Mothers’ Day: That sounds fun!

After being isolated for two months, my daughter Cindy and her family arrived at my door to hand me a gorgeous hydrangea, and then I blew bubbles with the boys outside. I couldn’t stop smiling.

COVID perspective: See next entry.

Go hiking: That sounds fun!

In late May, Cindy and her 3 boys and I took a 4.5-mile hike together. Ben (7) kept forgetting to keep his distance on the trail and would reach out and take my hand. I even carried Noah (3) on my back for a bit. They loved playing in the water and throwing stones. I also went on many hikes alone this year.

COVID perspective: This is when I decided that isolation from the grandkids was for the birds. We stopped social distancing with them after that.

Go to Sonic for ice cream: That sounds fun!

Scott and I drove up close to the Sonic order menu and turned off the car (but left the radio running) while we sat there enjoying our ice cream. In that short time, the battery drained, and we had to call AAA to come give us a jumpstart!

COVID perspective: I’m sure glad it was successful as Scott could not open his door, and we would have had trouble finding a ride home due to social distancing.

Visit my brother: That sounds fun!

Paul and Joan with daughter Joanna +2, me and Katie +1

Though we only live a few hours from each other, coordinating schedules is a challenge since Paul travels much of the year. But we pulled it off in June while I was visiting Katie.

COVID perspective: This connection was only possible because of Paul’s travel restrictions!

Celebrate Fathers’ Day: That sounds fun!

The whole family went together to play mini-golf. Noah (3) declared, “When I was your age, Grandma . . .”

COVID perspective: Scott brought his own putter.

Grow a tower garden: That sounds fun!

It was a steep learning curve! I learned how to make sun-dried tomatoes, as we had a proliferation of cherry tomatoes.

COVID perspective: A safe, outdoor activity

Tell you my favorite grandchild funny: That sounds fun!

So I was watching 4-year-old Noah one week and asked him what his favorite Bible story was. After some blank looks and shoulder shrugs, we talked about Adam and Eve, and then I asked if he knew about his namesake and the big boat. “Nope.” And so I began a dramatic rendition of the timeless story, emphasizing the animals, the 2 by 2, and the 8 people (count them). Though I did mention it, 40 days and 40 nights means little, as does the length of one year since this little tyke’s time frame includes “I went to the zoo tomorrow.”

Grandma: . . . And after the water went down, God opened the door of the boat, and Noah saw dry land at last. (Dramatic pause) And what do you think was the first thing Noah did?

Noah: He peed?

(Well, wouldn’t you if you’d been cooped up for a year!!!???)

I couldn’t stop giggling.

COVID perspective: Find fun where you are!

WORD FOR THE YEAR 2019 – REST

Posted on December 26, 2019 by karenkeegan under Choices, Emotions, God, Scripture, word for the year

The problem is when labor becomes the only thing that defines who we are. When we come to see things like rest as a negative space defined by the absence of work. When we fail to recognize the value of rest for building our sense of self.

(Alex Pang WordPress Hurry Slowly)

All of my life I’ve set goals for the year, for the month, for the day. I’m a task-oriented person driven to make to-do lists. In college, my schedule was so tight I kept a minute-by-minute chart (no kidding!) for each day’s goals and activities. The advantage of this discipline is great productivity; the disadvantage is that flexibility cannot dwell in your vocabulary.

Marriage, and especially children, tended to upset my neat calendar rows, and I began to relinquish my grip on defining productivity as success. Some days just keeping a child fed, dry and safe was my goal for the day.

I’m in a lovely season of adulthood right now where I get to choose how I manage my time—no school bells, no appointments unless I make them. I have no imposed time frames from outside sources. If I were not so goal-oriented, I could imagine myself sitting all day long in a comfy chair with a book on my lap. But I don’t—there is work to be done, things I want to accomplish, ministry to attend to, and relationships to maintain.

Growth and maturity and balance, for me, have come from watching people-oriented people. I’ve attempted to embrace the fact that people are more important than schedules and “being with” is just as important as “ministering to.” But I cannot change my basic temperament, and I continue to set goals for accomplishment.

After the previous year’s marathon goal of stretching myself once a month, immediately I knew my word for 2019 would be REST. But what would that look like? Did it mean I would cancel all my prayer ministry clients? Put editing Simroots on hold for a year? Hire a housekeeper? No, it meant I would cease from self-imposed goal-setting for self-improvement. I could relinquish my “have-tos” and begin to relax. Just for a year.

REST When I put the word Rest on my kitchen whiteboard, my friend Cheryl wrote more words vertically under each letter. Pretty clever and spot on I thought. I also came up with the acronym REST G (Releasing Every Situation To God).

What I learned this year: Resting is sometimes harder for me to do than doing! Jesus is my Sabbath rest.

What was your Word for the Year? How did that go?

Click on the links below to see some of my previous years.

Word for the Year 2012 – Adventure

Word for the Year 2013 – Word

Word for the Year 2014 – Food

Word for the Year 2015 – Hike

Word for the Year 2016 – Unplugged

Word for the Year 2017 – Neighborhood

Word for the Year 2018 – Stretch

Posted on December 25, 2018 by karenkeegan under Choices, Journaling, word for the year

For the past 20 years or so, I have chosen a Word for the Year on which to focus. This year it all began with a bad back. I had spent more money than I care to recount at the chiropractor’s office, so when she recommended a book that claimed to fix back problems with stretch exercises, I was all ears. And then I began to think about what it would look like to s-t-r-e-t-c-h mentally. I don’t want to turn into a crotchety old lady, set in her ways, unwilling to stretch and grow. I want to stretch myself, learn new skills, go outside my comfort zone, establish new habits, explore a little, push through any fears or objections or self-doubt.

And so I began to brainstorm ideas and do a little research into free resources for beginners. I made the goal of beginning one new stretch each month. Some goals I continued throughout the year; others I did not. Here’s my list— and below that is how it all played out and what I learned in the process.

Fix my back (yay!)
Dance (seriously?)
Learn something about photography (fun)
Learn to draw (astonishing!)
Visit a new country (Jordan)
Learn the Hebrew alphabet (briefly)
Read War and Peace (slogging)
Maintain a blog (I did it!)
Lose 15 pounds (good)
Play golf (surprise!)
Listen to the Beatles (ugh, okay)
Do some brain exercises (sort of)

Fix My Back

Stretch Foundation book I purchased a used copy of the book Foundation: Redefine Your Core, Conquer Back Pain, and Move with Confidence by Eric Goodman and Peter Park, a revolutionary book on exercises to strengthen your back muscles. I diligently read all the introductory stuff on why it works and then began slowly, adding a new daily stretch only after I’d mastered the first. Once my back muscles learned this new way of bending, I found I didn’t have to continue the regimen after the first month. Now, occasionally, if I feel a little twinge, I immediately go into the stretch routine and it seems to fix the problem.

What I learned: Gratitude! Do what you can, not complain about what you can’t do.

Dance

First, you have to know that I was raised in a culture that taught that dancing was a sin. Even “sacred movement” was a stretch for my imagination. Through the years, however, reason overcame emotion and I knew it was time to attempt the impossible. Somehow my eldest daughter Sharon inherited her grandparents’ (on Scott’s side) ability to move her body in ways that mine rebel against. She urged me to go with her to her dance studio to take my first ever ballroom dance lesson—the waltz. To make sure I would have a successful experience, Sharon taught me the box step in the privacy of my living room. I was shocked to discover I could actually follow instructions and make my body do what the instructor said: start with my right foot going backward and count out loud to six. Why did I think this would be so hard to do?

Next, I signed up for free line-dancing classes at the St. Clair’s Senior Center. The teacher was so patient and kind and encouraging that I actually began to have fun in spite of my two left feet! Will I continue? I doubt it. I just wanted to be able to say I did it.

What I learned: Quit the negative self-talk! With a positive attitude and lots of practice, I found some measure of success in this endeavor. (p.s. Didja notice I purposely have no photo for this one?)

Learn Something about Photography

Late afternoon walk

This was a rather nebulous goal since I didn’t know what I didn’t know. If you look at the photos on my phone, you’ll notice a theme: flowers, trees, flowers, trees, grandchildren, flowers, trees, grandchildren. I wanted to improve my ability to perceive what makes a good photograph, so first I enlisted my youngest daughter Katie, a professional photographer, to give me a lesson. We talked about perspective, lighting, and the rule of three and what makes a photo interesting. Next, I picked up an old textbook at a secondhand store and read through all the chapters except how to develop film (I said it was an old textbook). I figured out I didn’t care about apertures and lens types. I just wanted to learn more about composition, framing, clutter, etc.

What I learned: “It’s not what you look at that matters. It’s what you see.” (Henry David Thoreau)

Learn to Draw

I claim that when my sister Grace (a renowned gourd artist gourdsbygrace.com ) was born, she sucked all the artistic genes out of my mother’s womb and left me with the dubious ability of drawing stick figures and crooked lines. Our middle daughter Cindy is a master 3-D sculpturist. Talk about intimidating! I am in awe of her artwork. But she agreed to give me a lesson in the basic elements of art.

So what is a girl to do if she just wants to learn how to draw? I ordered a used copy of The New Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain, by Betty Edwards, and discovered that I’d been fooling myself all these years. I actually could draw if I could just get past my left brain!

My left hand

Over the course of the year, I worked through the exercises in the book and began to train myself to see the world through different eyes. Will I ever be as good as my naturally-gifted family members? No way! I don’t have the drive or passion to spend the hours it would take to develop this skill. But it was a fun process of discovery.

Monkey Then a friend told me about twice-a-month free art classes for senior citizens (there’s some compensation for getting older apparently). I decided I needed to get over myself and just make an attempt, no matter how bad the result. The teacher was encouraging and complimentary, and I began to gain a little more confidence each time I went. We were introduced to a variety of styles and mediums and techniques, so every attempt made me feel like a first-grader, but I made some new friends and we all muddled through it together. I threw away most of my creations but kept my papier-mâché monkey to add to my sock monkey collection.

What I learned: I was shocked to discover that I could actually do what I thought was impossible.

Visit a new country

Petra

In April, Scott and I had the privilege of returning to Israel with Charlie Dyer (The Land and the Book), but this time we also visited Jordan. I found myself stretched in the dry wilderness, the border crossings, the foreign food, mosques in every town and village, the ladies all dressed in hijabs. But I think my biggest stretch experience was peeing while squatting over a hole in a bathroom stall and having to call for help from the male attendant when the door jammed shut!

The highlight for me was visiting Petra where I experienced my first camel ride. There we learned about Nabateans and the spice routes, and we purchased samples of frankincense and myrrh—gifts the Magi gave to Jesus at His birth (more expensive than gold we learned).

What I learned: Make sure to invest in good walking shoes. Stay hydrated but time your bathroom breaks!

Learn the Hebrew Alphabet

Stretch alefbet In preparation for our trip to Israel, I found a website “How to Learn the Hebrew Alphabet in Under 1 Hour.” I tried it and it worked! Except that after that hour I forgot it. Yes, at my age it takes ten times as long to make information stick in my brain, so I had to keep practicing and reviewing and practicing and reviewing. However, I managed to make out most letters on the street signs in Israel. Never mind that I didn’t know what a word meant. I was just excited to be able to recognize the alphabet—read from right to left of course. Now that I’m back in the USA, I’ve forgotten half of it again. Sigh.

What I learned: It didn’t occur to me that, like English, there’s a difference between hand-written, printed, and signage letters, and oh, don’t forget the dots. Confusing!

Read War and Peace

War and Peace (Modern Library Classics) Ever since I began reading the classics in junior high, people would shudder if you mentioned the epic novel War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy. The length alone was a deterrent to any but the most dedicated reader (my paperback copy, translated by Constance Garnett, has 1,386 pages). Besides, I have a mental block against the subject of history, so why not add this novel to my stretch goals this year! Before I began reading, I had zero knowledge of Napoleon, of Russian history, and of the War of 1812. I wish I’d known ahead of time that there was a summary of the War on page 1346.

I was determined not to cheat by reading Cliff Notes or downloading a list of characters from the Internet, so after encountering 61 characters in the first section alone, all of whom had multiple names and some had nicknames, I had to create an Excel chart to keep track of them all. I wouldn’t know which ones were important to the plot of the story till later. (Just so you know, among the four characters named Marya, Marya Dmitryevna Ahrosimov was not important.) And even then, deep into the novel, I had to continually refer back to my chart to figure out who was in love with whom. Eventually, I learned that I could ignore 90% of the names and keep following the handful of main characters.

I was so proud of my progress until the day I mentioned it to my history buff friend John Rogalsky who casually observed, “Oh, yeah, I’ve read it twice…” Are you kidding me?!

My favorite Quote: “I simply can’t understand why men can’t get on without war. Why is it we women want nothing of the sort? We don’t care for it.” (Prince Andrey’s wife Liza, p. 24)

What I learned: So was it worth it? You bet! I’m glad I did it, not just for the accomplishment but because of all that I learned in the process. Tolstoy had a lot to say about the causes of war, the forces that move nations, and the role of leadership in history. I also learned some new vocabulary words like cunctator (procrastinator) and excrescences (nodules or growths) and contumely (insolent or insulting language or conduct).

Maintain a Blog

Well, here you are! I had already typed up 40 pages of entries from my hand-written 2007-2017 journals, so I just started there—picking out topics that seemed relevant to this journey called life. And, yes, the over-arching theme I discovered was my pursuit to find inner peace.

What I’ve learned: Some people actually read this stuff. Astonishing!

Lose 15 Pounds

I have an inherited blood sugar issue, so the thought of food reduction makes me nervous. Everyone has his or her own pet weight loss plan, but this is what worked for me. I downloaded the app “Lose it” and set my goal to shed 15 pounds at the rate of one pound a week. I loved how easy it was to keep track of what I was eating. Will I set a new goal? I’m not sure yet. Who gets to decide what’s a healthy weight for my age and gender? I feel better, and that’s what counts. The downside, for someone like me who hates clothes shopping, is I had to buy all new pants.

What I learned: Cheating on the app doesn’t help. It’s what you’re actually doing that counts. And drink, drink, drink. My goal was 64 oz. per day. Ugh. But it really and truly made all the difference in my success.

Play Golf

Stretch golf Notice I didn’t say, “Learn to play golf.” Anyone who knows my husband Scott knows that he was born with a golf club in his hand (his grandmother was a Canadian golf champion). Early in our marriage, Scott begged me to join him on the golf course, but my golfing career ended before it got started. The day I relented we were on the second hole when I got a call from the elementary school saying I needed to pick up a sick child. That was the end of that! But when my excuses finally wore themselves out (no money, too busy raising kids, no aptitude, arthritis pain), my sister-in-law gave me her old clubs, Scott bought me a golf bag for Christmas (oh goody) and signed me up for golf lessons with a pro. Thanks, Honey (okay, so there’s a tiny bit of sarcasm attached). My initial goal was not to learn to play golf but to simply spend time with my husband.

What I learned: When I started hitting that little round sphere well enough for it to go up in the air and forward instead of dribble, dribble, dribble, it actually started to get fun. I love being outdoors, so that is a bonus. Oh, and don’t let your husband give you lessons. Just don’t.

Listen to the Beatles

As a sheltered child of missionary parents whose sole musical exposure in Africa was church hymns and Gilbert and Sullivan (my mother’s favorite record), I shunned all things that smacked of rebellion when we came to the States. Listening to the Beatles was off-limits. Unable to converse with the music lovers in my family, however, I decided it was time to educate myself. I grabbed a biography from the library and learned all about quiffs, skiffle, winkle-pickers, and twat ‘ats. (If you don’t know what those are either, I’ll feel vindicated in my ignorance.) And then I listened to about as much music as I could take from a group that lived for sex, drugs, money, and creating new sounds.

What I learned: Just about everything, since I knew nothing. But what I learned confirmed why I’m still not a fan.

Biggest Surprises: The song “Ob la di, ob la da” [which I’d heard but didn’t realize was a Beatles’ song] meaning “Life goes on” was a phrase Paul McCartney heard from a Nigerian friend in London!

I also discovered that one of the first Beatles’ songs was a ditty we sang as children—“My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean.” Who knew!

Do Some Brain Exercises

After reading The Organized Mind—Thinking Straight in the Age of Information Overload, by Daniel J. Levitin, I was challenged to download an app called BrainHQ (from Posit Science) that provides daily exercises to improve one’s brain. By December I was tired of setting goals and keeping them, so there was no “daily” about this! I thought about purchasing the full version, but I knew I’d never take the time to make this a priority. As an alternative, I considered learning to understand American football, but I couldn’t muster up enough interest to follow through with it.

What I learned: How can one measure if one’s brain capacity has increased? I’ll have to take the experts’ word for it. I think it’s now time to give my brain a rest!

Now it’s your turn. Did you have a Word for the Year? How did yours turn out?