IN THIS ISSUE

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LETTERS FROM THE PRESIDENT

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SPECIAL EVENTS

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23rd Annual Bowling Classic

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RECIPE OF THE MONTH

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Almond Snowball Cookies

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Ingredients

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• 16 Tbsp unsalted butter, softened
• 1/2 cup powdered sugar, plus more for rolling cookies
• 1 tsp vanilla extract
• 2 cups all-purpose flour *measured correctly
• 1/2 tsp salt we used fine sea salt
• 1 cup almond finely ground meal or almond flour
• 1/2 Tbsp orange zest from 1 medium orange

Instructions

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1. Preheat oven to 400˚F and line a cookie sheet with parchment paper. Use an oversized 3/4 sized cookie sheet or use 2 regular half sheets.
2. In a large mixing bowl, using an electric hand mixer, beat together 1/2 lb softened butter, 1/2 cup powdered sugar and 1 tsp vanilla extract, just until smooth.
3. Add 2 cups all-purpose flour in 3 increments, mixing on medium/low speed between each addition, then add 1/2 tsp salt and 1 cup almond meal, mixing to combine.
4. Add 1/2 Tbsp orange zest and fold with a spatula until it is well incorporated. The dough should stick to the spatula but not to clean fingertips.
5. Roll dough into 1-inch balls (a cookie scoop makes this process easy, just scoop dough onto the baking sheet then roll into balls with your hands). Place cookies on baking sheet 1-inch apart. You should get 35-40 cookies. Bake at 400˚F for 11-13 minutes (I bake 11 min for softer cookies), or until edges are lightly golden. Transfer to wire rack and cool 5 minutes.
6. Fill a bowl with 1 to 1 1/2 cups powdered sugar and while cookies are warm (not hot), roll them in powdered sugar then place on wire rack to cool completely before rolling them a second time in powdered sugar

ANNOUNCEMENTS

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Meeting Highlights

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Mary Bridge Childhood Cancer Family Foundation

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Lions Chris and Ann Fowler will be collecting donations at their store through the month of December. Each donation earns an entry into a raffle for two items donated by ToyStable. The money collected will be donated to the Mary Bridge Childhood Cancer Family Foundation. You can learn more about the raffle here:

PAW PRINTS IN THE SAND

Photo by Adrien Bruneau on Unsplash

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“During this magical time of the year there is a seven-letter word that becomes more alive than any other time of the year.  Adults become like children. When you look in the faces of children you see it, but unfortunately, not in each and every one.  The word I am referring to is “BELIEVE”. Webster defines believe as, “To have confidence in the truth or value of something”. What do you value?  What you value you must have confidence in. In order for Lions to flourish and continue to do all the good we do, we must have the right values and have confidence to carry them out.  Do you believe in the future of Lionism? What are you doing to make it come true? Do you believe in your 

“Paw Prints in the sand”? 

Pres. Don Becker

NEWS FROM OUR DISTRICT & BEYOND

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19C District Cabinet Meeting

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Saturday, January 4, 2020

Tower Lanes Breakfast Meeting 10:00am to 12:00pm.

Please RSVP by sending your check to ZC Lisa Ikeda 6205 91st St. E Puyallup, WA 98371 and email lisaikeda@aol.com for confirmation. Please make checks out to the Fife Lions Club.

Doors open at 9:30am, please do not arrive before 9:30am, the room is reserved from 9:30am to 12:30pm

Northwest Lions Leadership Institute

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Camp Leo for Children with Type I Diabetes

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High School Camp – Jul 12, 2020 – Jul 18, 2020

Junior High School Camp – Jul 21, 2020 – Jul 26, 2020

Middle School Camp – Jul 29, 2020 – Aug 2, 2020

Elementary School Camp – Aug 6, 2020 – Aug 9, 2020

SOME CHRISTMAS CHEER

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A Cup of Christmas Tea

by Tom Hegg

A log was in the fireplace, all spiced and set to burn.
At last the yearly Christmas race was in the clubhouse turn. 
All the cards were in the mail, all the gifts beneath the tree.
And 30 days reprieve 'till VISA could catch up with me. 
And though smug satisfaction seemed the order of the day, 
Something still was nagging me, and would not go away. 

A week before, I got a letter from my old Great Aunt. 
It read: "Of course, I'l understand completely if you can't. 
But if you find you have some time, how wonderful if we
Could have a little chat and share a cup of Christmas tea."
She'd had a mild stroke that year which crippled her left side. 
Though housebound now, my folks had said it hadn't hurt her pride. 
They said: "She'd love to see you. What a nice thing it would be
For you to go and maybe have a cup of Christmas tea."

But boy! I didn't want to go! Oh what a bitter pill.
To see an old relation and how far she'd gone downhill.
I remembered her as vigorous, as funny and as bright. 
I remembered Christmas Eves when she regaled us half the night.
I didn't want to risk all that. I didn't want the pain. 
I didn't need to be depressed, I didn't need the strain.
And what about my brother? Why not him? She's his Aunt, too!
I thought I had it justified, but then before I knew,
The reasons not to go I so painstakingly had built
Were cracking wide and crumbling in an acid rain of guilt. 

I put on boots and gloves and cap, shame stinging every pore,
And armed with squeegee, sand and map, I went out my front door. 
I drove in from the suburbs to the older part of town. 
The pastels of the new homes gave way to gray and brown. 
I had that disembodied feeling as the car pulled up
And stopped beside the wooden house that held the Christmas cup.

How I got up to her door, I really couldn't tell...
I watched my hand rise up and press the button of the bell. 
I waited, aided by my nervous rocking to and fro,
And just as I was thinking I should turn around and go,
I heard the rattle of the china in the hutch against the wall.
The triple beat of two feet and a crutch came down the hall. 
The clicking of the door latch and the sliding of the bolt
And a little swollen struggle popped it open with a jolt. 

She stood there, pale and tiny, looking fragile as an egg ...
I forced myself from staring at the brace that held her leg. 
And though her thick bifocals seemed to crack and spread her eyes. 
Their milky and refracted depths lit up with young surprise. 
"Come in! Come in!" She laughed the words. She took me by the hand,
And all my fears dissolved away, as if by her command, 
We went inside, and then, before I knew how to react,
Before my eyes and ears and nose was Christmas past ... alive ... intact: 

The scent of candied oranges, of cinnamon and pine
The antique wooden soldiers in their military line;
The porcelain Nativity I'd always loved so much...
The Dresden and the crystal I'd been told I mustn't touch...
My spirit fairly bolted, like a child out of class,
And danced among the ornaments of calico and glass.

Like magic, I was six again, deep in a Christmas spell,
Steeped in the million memories the boy inside knew well. 
And here, among old Christmas cards, so lovingly displayed,
A special place of honor for the ones we kids had made.

And there, beside her rocking chair, the center of it all...
My Great Aunt stood and said how nice it was I'd come to call.
I sat ... and rattled on about ... the weather and the flu.
She listened very patiently, then smiled and said, "What's new?"
Thoughts and words began to flow. I started making sense.
I lost the phoney breeziness I use when I get tense.

She was still passionately interested in everything I did. 
She was positive. Encouraging. Like when I was a kid. 
Simple generalities still sent her into fits.
She demanded the specifics. The particulars. The bits. 
We talked about the limitations that she'd had to face.
She spoke with utter candor, and with humor and good grace.
Then, defying the reality of crutch and straightened knee,
On wings of hospitality, she flew to brew the tea.

I sat alone with feelings that I hadn't felt in years. 
I looked around at Christmas through a thick, hot blur of tears,.
And the candles and the holly she'd arranged on every shelf...
The impossibly good cookies she still somehow baked herself...
But these rich, tactile memories became quite pale and thin
When measured by the Christmas my Great Aunt kept deep within.
Her body halved and nearly spent, but my Great Aunt was whole.

I saw a Christmas miracle ... the triumph of a soul.
The triple beat of two feet and a crutch came down the hall. 
The rattle of the china in the hutch against the wall. 
She poured two cups. She smiled and then she handed one to me. 
And then, we settled back and had a cup of Christmas tea. 

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COMING UP NEXT

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JOIN US

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CONTACT US

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A NOTE FROM THE EDITOR

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Editorial Policy: Members of Spanapark Lions Club are encouraged to submit articles, poems, jokes and pictures which they believe will be beneficial to our community. While the effort is made to not publish anything which might be offensive to anyone, we seek to make access available to everyone. Spanapark Sentinel is published by and for the members of Spanapark Lions Club.

The Spanapark Sentinel editor is Lion Ann Fowler. Email: lionannfowler@gmail.com

Submission Deadline is the 20th of the Month. Early Submission is always appreciated.