Noël’s Spaghetti
This is a family favorite, the choice for most birthday dinners, and a perfect make-ahead. I make a huge batch—for about 15 adults. The recipe can easily be cut into thirds.
Brown meat. Drain well. Stir in flavorings. Add tomato sauce. Simmer at least ½ hour.
For freezing ahead: Often I freeze the cooked meat/spices combination and then when I'm ready to use it, thaw and add the tomatoes. Takes up lots less space in the freezer than sauce.
(And you can make it the day before. )
1. I was watching Johnny to see if Talitha was as much his daughter as mine. When the idea of adoption had first come up in our family, I was ready to do it and Johnny was more hesitant. Then came the day when adoption was no longer just an idea, because there was an invitation to adopt one particular little girl. We spent time then, praying and seeking counsel.
Then Johnny said Yes, and Talitha became our daughter.
Despite his earlier hesitation, I didn't think his Yes was just to please me, but I needed to be sure. I found myself watching how he acted with her, especially when it wasn't just fun playtime. When she cried at night or had a messy diaper--in other words, when parenting hit its normal rough spots--did he expect me to be the one who should care for her because this was somehow my "project?"
I never saw any such attitude, and haven't until this day. When he said Yes, we said yes wholeheartedly together. Talitha is our daughter.
2. Now we were white parents with a black child. For a while, when I was out in public, I was hyper-aware of people's responses to seeing us. I imagined hundreds of eyes on us. Did they disapprove? Do they think I'm taking good enough care of her?
It seemed a lot of people stared at us more than they would have in our pre-Talitha days. But what I came to realize was this: I stare at cute babies too. Staring doesn't have to mean disapproval.
And what about stranger's comments? In general, white people didn't say anything. More often, a comment would come from an African-American. And it was likely to be something like, "What a beautiful baby!" which I came to hear as implicit approval.
I don't assume that everyone thought it was proper for a white woman to have a black baby, but none of them ever made themselves known.
After a while, I relaxed. I was me and this was my daughter.
Life with Talitha -- part 1
Talitha has “always” known she’s adopted. It’s the story she asked for and listened to more often than any other.
Well, Talitha . . .
One time there was a little girl named Noël and a little boy named Johnny. They grew up and got married. They loved each other and hoped that God would give them children someday.
And he did. First, they had a round, blond boy named Karsten. Then they had another round, blond boy named Benjamin. Then came another round, blond boy named Abraham. And finally came the roundest, blondest of all, Barnabas. Sometimes their daddy called them the cookie-cutter kids.
Johnny and Noël said to God, “Father, You are the one who makes families. Thank you so much for our boys. We can’t imagine life without them. You have been very kind to us. So we don’t want to be greedy, but do you suppose there might also be a little girl for us?”
Time passed and the boys were getting older and there were no more babies. Noël said, “I guess the way we will get daughters is by our boys getting married and giving us daughters-in-law. . . . Or maybe someday a little girl will knock on my door and say, ‘Will you be my mother?’”
One sunny day in May, surrounded by green grass, young birches, and branches of lilac, Karsten married his sweetheart, Shelly. Johnny and Noël thanked God for their new daughter.
Just a few months later the phone rang. It was Johnny’s and Noël’s friend who worked at an adoption agency. She said, “There is a little girl born just a few days ago. I’ve been praying about what family God wants for her, and you keep coming to my mind. Would you please consider adopting her?”
Noël said, “This sounds like somebody knocking on my door and saying, ‘Will you be this little girl’s mother?’”
Johnny and Noël said, “Yes, we believe that God is adding this little girl to our family. She is Talitha Ruth.”
Finally the day came when their friend was bringing Talitha to them. They waited at church. And waited. And waited. Every time they heard the outside door open, they jumped up. Then one time it opened and around the corner came their friend—with Talitha.
She went first into Johnny’s arms. They touched her silky, black curls, and soft brown cheeks. She stared at them with her dark eyes and she smiled.
Then she burped. Barnabas laughed and laughed. And Abraham said, “Coo-uhl.”
Here, Talitha and I break into laughter, and that’s the end of the story.
(to be continued)
Children of the heav’nly Father
Safely in His bosom gather;
Nestling bird nor star in Heaven
Such a refuge e’er was given.
God His own doth tend and nourish;
In His holy courts they flourish;
From all evil things He spares them;
In His mighty arms He bears them.
Neither life nor death shall ever
From the Lord His children sever;
Unto them His grace He showeth,
And their sorrows all He knoweth.
Praise the Lord in joyful numbers:
Your Protector never slumbers.
At the will of your Defender
Ev’ry foeman must surrender.
Though He giveth or He taketh,
God His children ne’er forsaketh;
His the loving purpose solely
To preserve them pure and holy.
(to be continued)
As eager as her new brothers were, there were some challenging moments for them. Twelve-year-old Barnabas was making room for his new sister by moving into the room with almost-15-year-old Abraham. He'd reminded me several times that we needed to patch the plaster and touch up the paint where poster putty had done some damage.
But when it came time to actually remove the cool life-sized athletes from the wall, the tears came. “Abraham won’t want my posters up in his room. There’s not enough room in there anyway. There’s nowhere for me to put my posters.”
“Never mind," I said, "we don’t have to do it right now." I put my arm around his shoulder and told him how much I appreciated his and Abraham's willingness to make changes for their new sister. I knew it wasn’t easy, but we’d try to make it work out happily.
So, Talitha's first decor was sports themed. Well, babies like big pictures of people, right? And there they were soaring over her crib.
I can’t imagine a more stunning combination of battlefield and music than the scene at the end of the battle of Agincourt in Henry V.
“Let there be sung Non Nobis and Te Deum"--To God be all the Glory.
