The Gumbo Gal is Gone

If you are reading this here, you are missing out. The Gumbo Pot is closing. And Gumbo Ya-Ya is the new place to find a fresh post from the Gumbo Gal. Here’s a tease of my lastest from Gumbo Ya-Ya. Now get moving!

okraFinally! It’s gumbo weather in Louisiana.  Temperatures are mild, and the humidity is low.  Time to stir up a roux in a cast iron pot and get cooking. Even better, it’s a good time to ask my mama to make a gumbo.  When i…

 

Last Call for Gumbo . . . Unless?

I’m moving on in a number of ways. First and foremost, to my dear reader or two, who have hoped for more Gumbo musings, I have moved to a new site, The Gumbo YaYa. 

Here’s the premier post from the new site. If you like it, click on over there for more.

gumbo yayaIt’s me, the Gumbo Lady. I used to write as Madame Gumbeaux at the blog, Honduras Gumbo. I left Honduras over three years. I am living in Louisiana. I don’t think I will be around much longer in the area north of New Orleans. Something is stirring in the gumbo pot. I am ready for the next adventure.

This week I am in Managua, Nicaragua. I am checking out different ministries and organizations. My hosts are missionaries with i-61.org. The number and letters are taken from Isaiah 61 which talks about all sorts of good things that God promises for us now and in the Kingdom to come.

Look up Isaiah 61 when you have time. It’s crammed with revolutionary verses about beauty coming out of ashes, good news for the poor, healing for the brokenhearted  and more ridiculous and  wonderful stuff. Read it for yourself at Bible Gateway online, then pop back here for more from the Gumbo lady.

Gumbo is a soup full of good stuff that we Louisiana people borrowed from French, Spanish and African cultures. It’s an eclectic and delicious dish. No one makes gumbo right unless they learned it from your South Louisiana ancestors. It’s in our blood to make gumbo. Other gumbo in different parts of the US usually tastes like dish water. I have been served it like a chowder. God forbid! If you can’t make a roux, then don’t even try it.

Why Ya-ya? Well, long ago,  Lyle Saxon wrote a classic compilation of Louisiana folk tales titled,  Gumbo Ya-Ya. The term, Ya-Ya, has many meanings including everyone talking at the same time.  My take on Ya-Ya will be to tackle a broad range of subjects, rather than simply writing solely about  mission stuff, or just Louisiana tales, or my solitary musings.  It’s going to be a Gumbo pot of all that’s happening in my storied life.

We’re going to have some fun around here. I can guarantee that. This post will be cross-posted under my former site, The Gumbo Pot. See ya’ll soon.

SHOETIME

shoes under tree.jpg

It’s SHOETIME!

PayPal link below is now working!

My former ministry in Tegucigalpa, Honduras, is short on shoes for the upcoming school term in 2017. We need to buy 40 pairs of shoes minimum for our students. There are 50 students in total, but some have shoes donated thus far. Without regulation shoes such as pictured above, public school students are denied entrance into the classroom.

The new manager had a Honduran contact for shoes that fell through on their pledge to supply shoes. Therefore, I am proceeding rather quickly. There isn’t time to approach the board of my local church and wait for approval for funds to be directed there.

Donations need to be sent to me via PayPal, Facebook Messenger, or personal check. As always, I do not receive anything for my services. In fact I have purchased a few pair myself.

A gift of $20, $40, $100 or whatever you can afford helps us buy and ship shoes for the most vulnerable: children who need an education in one of the most impoverished and crime-ridden areas in Central America.

The Paypal link is paypal.me/LaurieMatherne.

Thank you on behalf of Honduran children.

A giving person will receive much in return

(Proverbs, The Bible).

What about decency?

Every week, I spend an hour, or two, or twelve walking on the grounds of nearby Fountainebleau State Park in Mandeville, Louisiana. It’s a wonderful place to walk, whether on the shores of the lake or among the mossy, live oaks.  The remains of an old sugar cane mill remind me that the place’s history is rooted in history, too. When the sugar planter died, he bequeathed the land as a public park.

At some point in the early 20 century, a large old-fashioned bathhouse was erected on the sandy northern shore of Lake Pontchartrain.  The state of Louisiana recently renovated the place to the original floor plan, complete with row upon row of semi-private changing rooms, shower stalls, and toilets. There are 2 wings, one for each gender.

It’s almost always empty. Who changes in privacy before using a public beach?  Why would men and women in our enlightened age need separate changing areas? Who cares if the family loads into the car with sand and mud clinging to their bottoms and feet?

Bathhouses are as anachronistic as the plantations themselves. I don’t know if I care about the bathhouses in particular. It’s the subject that comes to mind that I care about.

Decency.*

I am bothered by the utter lack of decency in the leader for the Republican ticket. He has no sense of decency in language, in actions, or the way he conducts the campaign. Whether it’s insulting a war veteran, speaking of a women’s menstrual cycle, laughing at a disabled person, or insulting entire ethnic and religious groups, he has no decency.

When the Israelites were a small confederation of tribes, the elders tell us that they asked God for a king. Loosely speaking, God said,  ‘Let me be your king.” God wanted them to not look to one man, but to keep the older tradition of judges, elders and prophets.

The people persisted. Saul was the first king. He was tall, good-looking, and a total failure. He led Israel’s sons into battle against their enemies and finally against each other. He died in suicide on the battlefield, a tragic figure in Biblical history.

Sometimes, we get what we ask for.

*My inspiration for this post that I spent all of 15 minutes composing came after reading Pastor Max Lucado’s column, Decency for President.