Preface

“Grandma, tell me the story again about the old goat lady. She was so stinky….”

“Tell us about when the earthquake shook the whole house.”

“Tell me about the dead man on the picnic table, with the yucky stuff dripping in a can….”

The grandchildren beg me to tell them my stories. And the children said, “Mom, write down the stories so they won’t be forgotten.”

So, I have. But as I wrote the fun stuff, I also remembered times of pain. As I recalled the miracles, I also re-lived the times when God was silent.

You’ll soon notice that this is not a typical “religious” book. Neither is it a cutesy-sweet story of picture-perfect missionaries. It is just an abbreviated account of the first thirty-four years of my life.

I caution you that some of the situations I describe may seem a bit earthy. However, I also describe many transcendent spiritual occurrences and miracles I experienced or witnessed.

Some of the people my husband, Joe, and I encountered were cruel and deliberately caused emotional pain. On the other side of the spectrum, we became friends with many dear, dear people who continue to live in our hearts. All of these are part of my story.

I have attempted to be transparent with both the pain and the victories. Every anecdote is true, every person real.

Why do I use the term “Plastic Saint”? Because sometimes I feel like one. 

May these words inform, inspire, and challenge you to greater faith, hope, and love as you live out your own story.

Plastic Saints: my definition

The plastic saint stands in front of others and looks good.

She (or he) says the right things. She smiles at the right time and sheds a tear as needed for effect.

But she is brittle one-on-one.

She finds it difficult to stoop over to kiss the wounded.

Her very hollowness (which could contain the joys and sorrows of others) remains vacant and unattached.

She is not evil. She is neutral.

She fears being transparent, and thus, vulnerable.

She does not realize that God stands poised, hand outstretched, to touch, to humanize, to soften the plastic saint—just as soon as she breaks, melts, wants to begin the long journey toward

 becoming Christ-like.

Sopa Paraguaya

(Paraguayan cornbread)

Oven 450 degrees                          Bake for about 25 minutes

Ingredients

3 cups of Martha White cornbread mix (check the label to be sure it is white cornmeal)

6 eggs, beaten

1 3/4 cup milk (non-fat works fine)

1 lb Monterrey Jack cheese, cubed (about 1/2 inch cubes)

3/4 cup oil (I use Extra Virgin Olive Oil)

4 cups chopped onions (about 2 very large onions)

Directions

1. Grease a 9x13 glass baking dish. (olive oil)

2. Chop onions.

3. Preheat the oven.

4. Sauté onions in the 3/4 cup of oil and leave on stove.

5. Cube cheese into 1/2 inch cubes. (Do not use shredded cheese. It will disappear and the secret of this good cornbread is the melted cheese-chunks inside.)

6. Measure cornmeal into a large bowl.

7. In a separate bowl, beat eggs. Add milk.

8. Pour milk mixture into cornmeal, all at once, beating with whisk to eliminate lumps.

9. Add cubes of cheese.

10. Pour hot oil/onion mixture into the cornmeal batter. Quickly, mix well. Pour into greased pan.

11. Bake at 450 about 20 - 25 minutes, until golden brown and knife inserted in middle comes out clean. Scrumptious!