Laura, this one’s for your Mom…
For fall break my sophomore year of college, I went to the beach with three friends. Our experience there was a million blog posts worth of horrors (at least in my opinion). Laura on the other hand didn’t mind the mosquitoes, fire ants, chiggers, or sand fleas so long as she could sit on the beach and dwell. But as my skin started to swell and burn with bite after bite and I didn’t sleep at night for the pain of every new bite and sting, I knew our time would come to an end shorter than we had planned. I begged or asked (all I knew was I was desperate) that we leave the beach (Sea Rim State Park in Sabine, Texas) one day early. We made the decision to make the drive home in two stops returning back to Laura’s parents’ house near Letourneau University, where they were currently the missionaries-in-residence.
We had already spent a night with them and her younger brother on our way down from school. But heading back there was probably one of the greatest events of my life. I would be able to sleep and bathe and avoid bug for 24 hours, all a dream come true. I would also be able to spend more time with my close friends parents, get a stronger of idea of where she was coming from as a person by observing and communing with her parents.
I got everything I had hoped for and more. I remember we played a lot of Nertz, her mom’s favorite card game. And I remember asking her mom how she had met Laura’s dad. But what I remember most of all was watching her mother make fresh homemade orange juice.
She squeezed so many oranges and a few limes, added water, and maybe sugar and then gave us a taste. It was delicious, fresh, fragrant, and beautiful. And she had made it in almost no time. I was amazed and have carried this image/flavor/scene with me ever since. It was this very productive and loving image. Loving her family by making fresh juice, loving herself by creating something, loving nature by using the best of it, and loving God for being the true Creator.
For the entire next year I searched high and low for an orange juicer. I visited stores, websites, whatever I could looking for a strong hand juicer. Finally, in my own college town I found one at a little junk shop. I have kept it ever since carrying it with me to Arkansas, Washington, Louisiana, and now South Africa. And I have never used it—until last week.
In honor of thepioneerwoman.com I took pictures to document the experience…detailed instructions are included so feel free to click through them each one by one!
If you ever lived in Mayfield at the same time as I did you might know how much I love bread and butter and orange juice. Even better when it is brood toasted with margarine and homemade orange juice, eh? And no, I didn’t smell bread wrong. In Afrikaans it is called brood and I am attempting some basic words and phrases these days.
And, by the way…I did the math and found that making this orange juice homemade only cost me about R1.25 compared to buying one liter of it at a ship for R7.99+.
***Side note, I have changed my mailing address. Turns out I don’t think I get mail here at my flat, so I have given you my office address where I know I can receive mail so long as the system works appropriately and the thieves stay out. You might want to send anything registered or certified or whatever?
Check out the new address here…