Oliver Walton Simmons

This is going to be a very personal blog. . . my grandpa died on Sunday. The burial and memorial service will be on Friday in Atlanta. And I won't be able to attend. My grandpa turned 89 this past August. He and my grandmother had been married for 68 years. I will always be so thankful for the incredible heritage of family, faith and responsibility my grandfather leaves.

I have so many great memories with my grandpa that my mind dances amongst them. Their house in Jonesboro, Georgia will always be one of my favorite places, though they haven't lived there for years. It was on lake, nestled among tall trees. It was a beautiful, quiet retreat for me. I have only happy memories there. I can still smell the smell that always greeted you when you walked in the door. Atlanta will always carry with it times I shared with my grandad. Going to Six Flags, eating at the Varsity, seeing the original Chick-Fil-A Dwarf House.

My grandpa helped walk me down the aisle when I got married. He had no daughters, and I am the only granddaughter. It was such a special event for him to share with me. I've posted a picture from the last time I was able to see my grandpa. In July, on our way home from Florida, we stopped to spend time with my grandparents. They got to meet Ben, and I got to just be with them again.

We looked into what it would take for me to be able to attend the funeral, and it just didn't make sense. This is the worst week since we arrived for me to travel--the container with our belongings from the States is arriving. There's no way Cody could do it by himself. If I had tried, I would have been in Atlanta for barely 24 hours. I am so thankful, however, that my brother is able to return from Kazakhstan, where he's serving in the Peace Corp.

We knew when we decided to move overseas that we would miss a lot of life events back in the States. This one came too quickly. I am studying Genesis right now and the life of the Patriarchs. Much is made of honoring their lives. Brothers come together to bury their father. So it's really hard to realize I won't be able to formally participate in this event with the rest of my family. God has been so sweet to me, even in this. He reminded me that when I chose to follow His call, I knew I would be giving up some things that were important to me. Even the things I value most in this world, however, pale in comparison to following Jesus. I could pick no other place to be. He fills my heart with a peace and contentedness that makes all else fall away. So as the thought entered my mind that not being able to attend my grandfather's funeral was one more thing I was giving up to be where God wants me to be, I felt like the Lord said, "It's OK." It's OK that I won't be there. I will honor my grandpa in a hundred other ways by continuing to live what he modeled, by telling my kids about all those great memories I have with him. It's OK. I am where I need to be.

So in a small little way, this entry is a memorial stone for him. A marker of a life well lived and well loved. I would be so blessed to see my little men grow up to inherit some of their great-grandfather's character, strength and joy.

O.W. Simmons 1919-2008.

The Complexities of Italian Pasto

Pasto=meals

Americans have a lot of perceptions about Italy. One is that Italians love food. This, we can confirm. Food is a huge deal here. For instance, at school, Hannah has a snack in the morning, a FULL three-course meal for lunch, and a snack in the afternoon. The quality of food consumed at those three times is also very important. A note came home from school asking for the snack we send in the morning to be "easily digestible and not ruin their appitiete for lunch." Italians believe that good food is essential for kids' learning, so lunch is taken very seriously. We talked with one staff mom who, in taking her child to school one morning, came across a mob of parents in an uproar. What is the angry mob protesting? The school had made the decision to serve premade pasta instead of fresh.

Well, last week Cody had to attend a conference for all the staff or interns new to Italy this year. It was a very encouraging time for him, and he gained a lot of insight into the challenges we're going to face. The Lord met him in some very good ways. He was also able to participate in his very first Italian cooking lesson! The food at the retreat center was amazing. One afternoon in their free time, the cook offered to show anyone who was interested how to cook a few genuine Tuscan dishes (the conference was in Tuscany. . . about 2 hours from here). Below are pictures of Cody helping make a traditional Tuscan lasagna. For those who want to know the difference, the Tuscan lasagna has a red sauce and a cream-like sauce. And not too much cheese.

It's easy to offend Italians in the area of food (or completely demonstrate what a foreigner you are), so as crazy as it sounds, we're really trying to understand some of the basics. For instance, I just learned that there is a definite distinction between tortellini (smaller, filled with ricotta) and tortelloni (slightly larger, filled with a meat). And there is nothing that says you don't understand the rules of caffe (coffee) more than ordering a cappucino (or ca-poo-cho as they call it here) after 11am.

Some basics: A typical antipasti (appitizer) is melon and proschiuto (a thinly sliced Italian ham). Your first course in always a pasta. You eat pasta first to allow your stomach to stretch for the main course of meat. The main course is then followed by salad, which aides in digestion. And, as I said, never drink milk in your caffe after 11, or you'll be too full for lunch. Also, you should enjoy a snack at 10 am and at 4pm. Whew! It's a good thing we walk A LOT here.