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Let's Smile

I am of the firm belief that a smile can change the way a day goes.  Even your smile brightening your own day.  There's something unique that happens when your face maneuvers into a grin.  If you do it often enough, you'll begin to feel happy. I promise :)

When I was a kid, my brownie troupe leader thought I was hyper-active and often made me sit in the corner and told me to chill out.  Well--maybe I was a little.. excited sometimes :) but Momma always told me I was just a happy kid.  As one grows up, it can be harder to be "just happy" but I've tried.  And I've been blessed enough that, often, my eyes sparkle into a smile of simple joy and contentment.

Anyway, what's the point of this post?  Have you ever wondered what "renidemus" means (ok, admittedly, probably not).  Wanna try something neat? Go to google.com and type in "renidemus."  My stuff!  So there you go--a nice easy way to find me on the web.. if you can remember how to spell renidemus.

It's from the Latin verb "renidere" which means: to shine back , glitter; to beam with joy, laugh, smile.  And renidemus is (are you ready for this?) the first person plural present active indicative form of the verb (I think I got that all right).  And so it means:

"let's shine back; let's glitter; let's beam with joy; let's laugh; let's smile"
[etc.]
So get to it!

so many wonderful smiles in my life :) Count your blessings!

Not all Tears are an Evil

The other night, Viv and I finished the Lord of the Rings.  It was her first time reading through the books; it was my fourth.  I always cry at the end, for joy in the goodness of the ending, and the healing and hope and happiness promised. As Gandalf says, "I will not say 'do not cry' for not all tears are an evil."

I am always tempted, once I place Return of the King back on the shelf, to immediately pull out The Fellowship of the Ring and begin again, "When Mr. Bilbo Baggins of Bag End..." Soon enough, I'm sure I will :)

But currently, I am pleasantly working my way through George MacDonald's Lilith, which is just as enchanting and gripping as the Lord of the Rings, but in a wholly different way.

"Do you mean, sir, I could have done something for the Little Ones by staying with them?"

"Could you teach them anything by leaving them?"

"No; but how could I teach them? I did not know how to begin. Besides, they were far ahead of me!"

"That is true. But you were not a rod to measure them with! Certainly, if they knew what you know, not to say what you might have known, they would be ahead of you--out of sight ahead! but you saw they were not growing--or growing so slowly that they had not yet developed the idea of growing! they were even afraid of growing!--You had never seen children remain children!"

"But surely I had no power to make them grow!"

"You might have removed some of the hindrances to their growing!"

"What are they? I do not know them. I did think perhaps it was the want of water!"

"Of course it is! they have none to cry with!"

"I would gladly have kept them from requiring any for that purpose!"

"No doubt you would--the aim of all stupid philanthropists! Why, Mr. Vane, but for the weeping in it, your world would never have become worth saving!"

An interesting idea.  Our world (the world of Mr. Vane) is only worth saving because of the weeping.  It is not only suffering, of course, that brings on tears. Great Joy overflows in water courses too.  But the notion of growing only through tears--through the life-giving torrent of Living Water--isn't one that surfaces much lately.  Though all living things need water to grow.

Viv and I were talking about that a week or so ago--the notion of suffering.  She rightly noted that not many people see any value in it.  What's the point?  When we have so many ways of averting suffering, why bother with it?  She also said that her faith has helped her deal with the sorrow in her life--if there is a purpose, if there can be good in it, one can fight through and see the light on the other side.

And, there are the tears.  I think the 'progressive idea' (which is so prevalent these days) that suffering is unnecessary or unbearable or pointless is, in fact, a crafty lie perpetuated by satan himself.  The infinite value in suffering, in this world, is a mystery to me.  But my experience and my faith have taught me that the ability to suffer is truly a gift, and it does make me stronger, if I have the courage to face it with a stout heart.  Even a trembling heart with willing spirit can garner Grace from sorrow.  If we do not cry, for joy or sorrow, how can we grow?

In this fallen world of ours, I know there will be no lack of tears.  But I am with MacDonald, and I believe tears--of any sort--make us grow.  I cannot say if it was always that way--maybe God created us only for tears of joy--and suffering and sorrow as causes entered only after our fall.  Or, perhaps the Gift of Tears is one of the many graces God has given us to endure the brokenness of this life.

Will we still cry for joy in heaven? Or will we find we have a new way to share the churning emotions in our body, and crying will have been only a thing of this world?

Personally, I'm inclined to believe the first.  We have always had tears.  And they will always help us grow, if we can accept the Grace therein.

'Come Saturday Morning...

It's magically become our "own" little town, a place we go where we always have fun--without work or school or outside pressures and distractions. We have this "secret" destination where we can be completely alone surrounded by people. Small enough to be immediately familiar, but busy enough that a couple from out of town isn't conspicuous.  The people are friendly and will chat with us if we venture conversation, but they are just as content to let us stroll by, lost in our own revelries.

Driving into Bar Harbor was like coming home, in a way. Arriving at our leisure, we were welcomed to the sunshiney goodness of a vacation town with a cozy fog rolling in over the sea and a bright, fresh room, just for us.

After checking in, we went to the Vigil Mass for Pentecost at Holy Redeemer Church.  I love being Catholic--maybe that's why I'm always "at home" whenever we travel.. the Mass is always the same.  The liturgy was wonderful, reminding me of my home parish in CA.  The priest has a fabulously deep, booming (Maine-mountain-man) voice, and it made us both smile as he said all the prayers and readings with such resonance.

We wandered around the small town a bit, and down to the harbor, walking hand in hand along the short beach.  Taylor skipped rocks and we looked at the sand bugs, enjoying the fresh sea-salt air and each other's company.

Our dinner reservations were not until 8, but we were both getting hungry.  So we headed to Cafe This Way, just to see if they could seat us earlier.  We were in luck! We were seated in no time and enjoyed a delicious, relaxing dinner with a fantastic bottle of wine, all in a charming atmosphere--surrounded by books!  Being so close to the ocean, we naturally ordered seafood--crab and shrimp crispy spring rolls, rare yellowfin tuna and "Brazilian" shrimp, mussels, and scallops.  Taylor forked the first shrimp and said, "This one's for you, Paolo" [his (Brazilian) criminal procedure law prof].

One of the reasons T planned this trip was as a much-deserved break between his last final (Friday) and starting his writing assignment (Monday).  Two days away was all we could spare. But it was enough.  Just 36 meandering hours before the grind begins again... we made the most of it :)

We had picked up some fudge on our wanderings-before-dinner so we decided to forgo dessert in exchange for an early night.  We snuggled up contentedly in front of our own fireplace, hot tea and fudge bites before us, and chatted the gloaming dusk away.  It wasn't cold outside, or in our room, but it was just cool enough with the windows open to enjoy the warmth of the fire.

I love being able to fall in love with my husband again and again.  Each morning when I wake up, dreams are rubbed away and the Truth and Goodness and Loveliness of my life are fresh and new.  I don't always remember this when my alarm wakes me up, reminding me to go to work, but every day there is something enchanting and mystifying being married to my Love.  I am infinitely blessed.

Four

Is it silly to think that each anniversary is the best ever?  Do they keep getting better forever? Or is there an asymptotic feature to them, where they sort of level out after a while?

That doesn't matter to me, of course, because the mere fact that I have an anniversary is enough.  If I can spend it with my Love, in any state of happiness, this is bliss.

This year (like everyone, being strapped for cash), we planned a picnic.  There aren't enough picnics in the world these days. If there were, there would be more need for grass, and (I think) people would be happier. And if everyone was sitting on a picnic blanket their mother made them as an engagement present, that would help, too.  Also, while we're at it, if everyone was eating the ever-so-tasty prosciutto and salami that T and I got as a treat for the occasion, life really would be like a bowl of cherries. Or, rather, blackberries :)

We added to our lunch cool, crisp Asian pears, and herbed goat cheese, and fresh crust-y bread, finished off by chilled maté tea, all the while sheltered and surrounded by hundreds of trees, boughs waving high above in the wind, making soft music to accompany our simple meal.

We drove out to the Arnold Arboretum, since it's a great oasis in the midst of city-congestion--the perfect place for a picnic.  We did notice that the sign said "NO PICNICS"  ...but we figured they probably meant those picnics that include red plastic cups, loud music, lots of trash, and less-than-great bbq food. So, naturally, we just wandered around the arboretum until we found a nice secluded spot, out of sight of most of the paths, and cozily nestled ourselves in a grove of pine trees in the sunshine.

This anniversary was particularly reminiscent of our honeymoon, for several reasons.  It was a peaceful day, and we had the whole afternoon for leisure (despite the impending doom of finals and trips coming up and work schedules, etc).  We made a point to get very good food for our picnic since it was really only a small lunch, and we were going to have a nice dinner at home, too. So the prosciutto was quite fine, the berries and pears were perfectly ripe, the cheese creamy and the bread fresh and crusty. If we closed our eyes, we could imagine ourselves sitting on a bench in the tree-lined walk in front of the Galleria Borghese north of Rome, with the wind in the trees and fresh air in our lungs.

It was lovely

When we had finished eating, we cleaned up our picnic blanket (leaving only some well-loved grass and a few bread crumbs for the birds) and walked around the arboretum.

Before we left for the picnic, we'd opened our presents.  Andrew and Renee bought us this lovely teapot (we used it while I was making dinner--so good! and a stunning addition to any table).

And have you noticed anything different about my pictures?  My Daddy contributed to my "new camera fund" for our anniversary (I now have this one, used, from a good friend), and T's family gave us a new lens with a few memory cards (always helps to be able to take more pictures!).  [I know that a camera is mostly "my" present, but Taylor doesn't mind. He's just awesome like that.]  As we walked around the arboretum after eating, I had loads of fun flitting from tree to tree, taking pictures and enjoying my new lens--with it's awesome depth-of-field capabilities :)

The sun began to wester more, and we headed home so I could put the chicken to roast in the oven with spuds and herbs.  It was a tasty meal, to be sure :) rounded out by a very nice wine T chose. We got to share our fourth anniversary dinner with our Maid of Honor, my Seester Viv, and it was awesome. Just plain awesome. She liked the dessert we made, too ;) (Which dessert we ate on the new plates, also from T's family for our anniversary! One can never (ever) have too many dessert plates!)

And then T and V cleaned up the kitchen for me :) Who could ask for anything more? four blissful years of marriage, surrounded by people who love you, and a sparkly, clean kitchen. Not I. 

Christ is Risen

I posted this last year. And the year before.  I will post it next year.  It is beautiful--and perfect for Easter. It is no wonder they called him "golden tongue."

St. John Chrysostom's Paschal Homily

Is there anyone who is a devout lover of God?
Let him enjoy this beautiful bright festival!
Is there anyone who is a grateful servant?
Let him rejoice and enter into the joy of their Lord!


Are there any weary with fasting?
Let him now receive his wages!
If any have toiled from the first hour,
let him receive his due reward;
If any have come after the third hour,
let him with gratitude join in the Feast!
And he that arrived after the sixth hour,
let him not doubt; for he, too, shall sustain no loss.
And if any delayed until the ninth hour,
let him not hesitate; but let him come, too.
And he who arrived only at the eleventh hour,
let him not be afraid by reason of his delay.

For the Lord is gracious and receives the last even as the first.
He gives rest to him that comes at the eleventh hour,
as well as to him that toiled from the first.
To this one He gives, and upon another He bestows.
He accepts the works as He greets the endeavor.
The deed He honors and the intention He commends.


Let us all enter into the joy of the Lord!
First and last alike receive your reward;
rich and poor, rejoice together!
Sober and slothful, celebrate the day!


You that have kept the fast, and you that have not,
rejoice today for the Table is richly laden!
Feast royally on it, the calf is a fatted one.
Let no one go away hungry. Partake, all, of the cup of faith.
Enjoy all the riches of His goodness!


Let no one grieve at his poverty,
for the universal kingdom has been revealed.
Let no one mourn that he has fallen again and again;
for forgiveness has risen from the grave.
Let no one fear death, for the Death of our Savior has set us free.
He has destroyed it by enduring it.


He destroyed Hades when He descended into it.
He put it into an uproar even as it tasted of His flesh.
Isaiah foretold this when he said,
"You, O Hell, have been troubled by encountering Him below."


Hell was in an uproar because it was done away with.
It was in an uproar because it is mocked.
It was in an uproar, for it is destroyed.
It is in an uproar, for it is annihilated.
It is in an uproar, for it is now made captive.
Hell took a body, and discovered God. 
It took earth, and encountered Heaven.
It took what it saw, and was overcome by what it did not see.
O Death, where is your sting?
O Hades, where is your victory?


Christ is Risen, and you, O Death, are annihilated!
Christ is Risen, and the evil ones are cast down!
Christ is Risen, and the angels rejoice!
Christ is Risen, and life is liberated!
Christ is Risen, and the tomb is emptied of its dead;
for Christ having risen from the dead,
is become the first-fruits of those who have fallen asleep.


To Him be glory and power
now and forever, and to the ages of ages. Amen.

St. John Chrysostom (A.D. 347-407)

March: On

It's here.

The month my mother died last year has arrived.  In many ways, time seems to have passed with no change whatsoever.  Summer and Fall and Winter are a blur and all I can remember is this time last year. It's been a drippy dreary last month or so, with weather-too-warm for fun fluffy snow; too cold for a refreshing spring rain.  It's just slushy and gray and damp and cold and windy.  Last year, I think it was a little colder, but not quite so wet.

It could have been just yesterday, or Friday when there was a full moon, that I got a call from my brother telling me Momma had died. There was a full moon that night, too.  I noticed it when Taylor and I piled our bags into a taxi at 4 in the morning on our way to the airport. The earliest flight we could get. Six hours after Momma died. It was cold that night and very clear.  It could have been last week that I was sitting on the plane, feeling like I should be weepy and teary, but noticing how dry the air on the plane was, and how my eyes just hurt.

In other ways, though, as we arrive at 12 months of living without Momma here, time seems to have stretched on into eternity.  It seems like ages ago that I packed my weekend bag and headed out to the CCD congress in Los Angeles.  In two weeks, I will be attending another congress, but just with Daddy this year.  I am looking forward to it.

It could have been years and years since I last hugged Momma good-bye, as she, with great effort, hoisted herself up into the Blue Van to leave Long Beach.

Our last Christmas with Momma wasn't just a year and a few months ago, but forever-ago.  The end of an era. I can't even remember the last phone conversation I had with her.

Time passes in strange ways.

But really, I am alright.  A few weeks ago, when we were all remembering that it was then last year that the doctors told Momma there was nothing more they could do for her, I got an email from Daddy.  He told me:


I thought a lot about what happened a year ago,
but am not depressed about it. 
Every time I think I could get depressed,
I think about where Mom is. 
How can I possibly be sorry about that?
I long to be there too, when my time comes.

And he's right. Even though the pain of the loss of our mother is still very fresh and strong, we Rejoice that we will see her again.

Rejoice, oh favored one! 

Five!

Everyone has best friends.  And among those best friends, there are varying levels of best-ness.  Taylor is my best friend in the world. That's why I married him.  He's the one person for whom I will forsake all others, even my family if that ever was necessary. That may sound harsh, and I hope I never have to leave my family or friends, but Taylor is my Love and it is his vocation to help me to heaven daily. I will follow him anywhere.

After Taylor, of course, comes my family.  I have a lot of family :)  And I love having so many family members because it means someone is always available to talk whenever I call (well, almost) :) It means that family get-togethers are wild and crazy and full of laughter and good food and jokes and memories. It means that you automatically have a whole gaggle of friends who love you by default. And that's grand :)

And then there are the best friends that we didn't marry and that aren't related to us.  Two of these best friends live in Texas. And they have very exciting news to share. They are now a family of five!  (That's right, Lydia, FIVE!)  Renee is expecting Baby #3!

And with the creation of Baby III, Renee will get to stay at home with her other two darling children!  (Which means I'll be able to call her a lot more often, too! Hope you won't mind, Renee!)








And you know what more babies means for T and me?  More babies to squish and Love and make things for!

We Took A Walk

While T and I were in Seattle for New Years, the whole family (remarkable, isn't it? The WHOLE family was home) went for a walk in the park near a lake. It was drizzly, a little windy, and rather chilly--a perfect Seattle winter day :)

Lydia and the three younger boys brought their scooters. Caellainne brought her pink umbrella.  As you can see from the pictures, we had a lot of fun!

A Walk in the Park

Oh Christmas

Christmas Eve was a busy day.  This year, Viv and I learned, in a very hands-on way, how hard Momma worked to make Christmas each year for us.  I know she was there with us this year, helping to make our Christmas wonderful too.

She'd spend hours and hours for weeks before Christmas baking and prepping and decorating and shopping.  We'd easily have 10 different kinds of cookies, several flavors of biscotti, various other homemade cakes and candies, and all manner of candy from the store (yes, it was very easy to gain weight over the holidays at Momma's house) :)  It was glorious!

Every time she'd go out shopping (all through the year, probably), she'd be thinking about Christmas. She'd pick out "something here" "something there" and little tiskets and taskets for our Christmas piles and baskets.  For several years, I helped her wrap presents on Christmas Eve.  She would make the Kringle, and I would wrap--and wrap and wrap, curling ribbon, labeling gift tags, sticking bows on--for hours. The present pile would grow in heaps around me--on the floor, on chairs, on the table--and on my parents bed seemed to remain an un-shrinking pile of more presents to wrap.  Of course, I never wrapped any of my own presents. Viv did that :)

Momma would always oversee the decorating (which, in many ways, was an ongoing process throughout December), telling us where to put each nativity set, and reminding us where certain decorations always went (the twangy Jingle Bell music box always hung between the kitchen and the living room; the Santa music box on the wall next to the mirror).

Dinner on Christmas Eve was either all-you-can-eat fried shrimp or (in the "good ol' days") hamburgers while driving around the neighborhood viewing Christmas lights.  I remember talking to Momma when I was older, noting that so many families had big Christmas Eve dinners, rivaling Thanksgiving Feasts.  She told me she was always too tired to make a "big fancy dinner" on Christmas eve. Last year our Byzantine Holy Supper was definitely a collaborative effort.  It was great, but it was a lot of work!

And then at night, after dinner, even when we were old enough to help her with presents and last minute details, she'd send us to bed long before she went herself. She would stay up, cleaning the kitchen, or wrapping the few gifts she had to find herself in her closet, or putting the finishing touches on the last of the cookies she was baking for us to eat the next day.

So naturally, this Christmas Eve, Viv and I had our hands full. We had done some shopping the day before, for stocking-stuffers.  I couldn't find ornaments I liked (Momma got us each an ornament every year), so I painted some ceramic trinkets from the "leftovers" in the ceramic cupboard.  I sealed them on Christmas Eve, ready to be hung on the stockings. I was even doing some sewing that morning, finishing a gift for Taylor... Momma was looking over my shoulder, I'm sure.

Christmas Eve Mass with Bethany + kids in the evening.

It was so cute to see Michael and Rachel dressed up as a Ram and a Ewe (respectively)--cotton ball t-shirts, of course!  Then Daddy, Viv, T and I came home or Christmas dinner.  I had initially thought (ambitiously) that we could do another Holy Supper.  But (surprise?) when we got home, I was too tired!  I asked everyone if they minded just a shrimp dinner :) and they said it was alright. So that's what we did.  I think we even watched a movie while eating.  Momma was probably chuckling at us :)

I had Viv wrap the stocking presents for Taylor, Daddy, and me.  I had T wrap Viv's stocking presents.  I made the Kringle. Viv cleaned up the kitchen and baked Crispy Chocolate Chip cookies for Daddy.  Daddy looked through the closet for more presents we could wrap.. presents Momma had bought earlier in the year, intending them for various people at Christmas.  Even there, she was with us.

I think Taylor went to bed first (he was still recovering from law school finals!), and Daddy went to bed next, once he was convinced there were no more presents in the closet, and once he had sampled the cookies Viv and I were working on :)

I sent Viv to bed around 2, after we had stuffed the stockings together and the kitchen was mostly clean. I stuffed Taylor's and Vivian's stocking. She stuffed Daddy's and mine.  I had to stay up for just a bit longer for the Kringle.

The house was quiet.

Christmas was ready.

I thought of Momma, laying out all our Santa presents in our respective piles (sometimes we would even pick out which chair we wanted our presents left on, informing her of our choices) :)

I thought of Momma, gingerly placing the baked Kringle on pretty platters on the pretty table, draped with a clean Christmas tablecloth, with the Winter Tea set ready for Christmas morning breakfast.  I thought of her going from room to room, checking on her sleeping children and children-in-law, blessing us as she went.

As I turned out the lights in the kitchen and walked through the softly glowing dining room, past the luminous (if Tiny) Christmas Tree, I whispered my prayers of Thanks for a wonderful evening spent in a House filled with Love.

As I climbed in to bed and snuggled up to my husband, I thought of Momma and Daddy, and how nothing in my life would be as Good as it is if it weren't for the deep Love they shared with each other and the Love and Grace they accepted from Christ throughout the years of their marriage, and even now.  And I'm sure I fell asleep with Momma all around me, around her family, and her desert house, as she whispered her own prayers and blessings for us early on Christmas morning.

Christmastime is Here

A Night Before Christmas

We had some friends over for dinner last night, a night before Christmas, and one more chance to spend some quality time with awesome people.  I made fig and olive roast chicken, apple sausage stuffing, and a spinach salad.  For dessert, I made a quick "dump and stir" chocolate cake, which was a big hit with the ice cream Kendra brought!  

We did, of course, have plenty of fine and tasty beverages, which we shared and sampled throughout the night.  

I have to admit, I've been very happy with the new arrangement of our living room--it lends itself much better to mingling and socializing without cutting off groups of people.  And because we have the table out of the kitchen now (a smaller butcher block prep cart in its place), there's even room for the inevitable friends who always seem to congregate in the kitchen :) Obviously, they think that's "where it's at." 

Finally, after much catching-up, conversation, and general good cheer, we settled down to play paper charades.  Anyone interested in the rules?  My sides hurt again from laughing so hard! What a great game for a fun group of friends :) 

Enjoy the pictures, folks!

A Night Before Christmas

Christmas Time is Here

...families drawing near...

Fun for all that children call

their favorite time of year."

I must confess, it doesn't feel like Christmas is on its way.. at least for me.  Maybe it's just the stress of the season (and T being in law school this year--this will be the latest we've left for home for Christmas yet).  Maybe it's that I've been preoccupied with so many things-not-Christmas lately. Maybe it's because many of our good friends (not all!) are far away and busy.

Maybe because this is the first Christmas without Momma.

Momma always made Christmas so special for all of us.  In the weeks before Christmas, she'd bake all sorts of wonderful goodies (sugar cookies, molasses cookies, biscotti, baklava, cream cheese cookies, Springerles, caramels, and more!). Sometimes she'd stay up late into the night baking for us, for her students, and for our friends. Last year, I helped her stuff 200 bags of goodies with three different kinds of homemade cookies, which she gave to her students. I wonder if she knew it was the last time she'd get to do that for them.

And there was something magical about the house at Christmas time. I remember the first Christmas I was in college, coming home to the house-already-decorated.  I got home late at night, so all the lights were out, except the Tree, softly glowing and sparkling in the front window.  Gifts were heaped underneath the boughs; all the decorations from my childhood memory were present and accounted for--the drawling "Jingle Bell" bell, the "Better Watch Out" music box in a Santa Face, Momma's wooden nativity set, her wax village, Western village, and Dickens' village all arranged with great care. She was up still, waiting for me to get home. She took me around the house showing me new decorations or nativity sets she bought that year. She always said Thanksgiving was her favorite holiday, because she only had to worry about food (not presents and decorations), but I know she really loved Christmas just as much. Sure it was a little more stressful than Thanksgiving, but she loved it. We all knew it.

But this year, I'm not "into it" for some reason.  I made some cookies. I've decorated our house (just a little, though, since we won't be here for Christmas). We've been doing our Advent prayers and snapping the ornaments on our tree calendar.  When we get to California next Monday, I'll have some shopping to do with Daddy. We will celebrate Vivian's birthday. Doubtless, there will be "house" projects we can work on (though not so many as Momma would have for us) :)  We'll have a Christmas Eve dinner--just Daddy, Vivian, Taylor and me.  I will make the Christmas morning Kringle, and we will open our presents and go through our stockings.

But it will be different without Momma. And I miss her...

O Joyful Light

Advent is here.  That joyful season when we prepare to celebrate Christ's birth.  I've been thinking about Christmas for months now (homemade gifts + an ever-expanding family), but with the advent of Philipovka, it's time to prepare the soul (and body, and home) as well.

Yesterday, after work, I tidied up the house and got out the red cloths and candles for the icon corner.  I put away the familiar white cloth behind the crucifix, and I folded the fancier cloth that sits on the shelf, under our candles and icons and holy cards.  When our small red candle is lit for prayers, the red flame stands out against the golden icons.

I pulled our Star of David out from the shelf and unwrapped the six red candles I had saved from last year and set it up on our table. I placed our prayer booklets for meals, with matches and a candle snuffer, on the table next to the candles.

I unpacked the Advent Calendar and hung it on our bedroom door.

There.

Now I'm ready to wait for Christ.

Menu planning for the next 6 weeks will be a bit different.  See, part of our Christmas preparation is to fast, and I need to factor that in to my meal schedule.  Oatmeal for breakfast, very small lunch or snack, modest dinner, no desserts.  I know that some people may think fasting is "old fashioned" and "unnecessary" but I firmly believe in its benefits (spiritually as well as physically).  By abstaining from certain foods for certain reasons, our bodies remind us to prepare for Christmas, to pray, and to give thanks for the gifts we have.  Abstinence makes the heart grow (fonder, more charitable, holier).  Also, how much more feast-ive is the Christmas day feast when the fast is broken and the much-missed foods return to the table!  If one can fast from good things, one is free from slavery to them, and thus, closer to God.

Over the next several weeks, I will decorate our house for Christmas.  We will put up our nativity sets, hang lights and Christmas pictures, find a tree, and decorate it beautifully.  We will hear readings at Church each day that increase the anticipation and excitement with a voice crying out in the wilderness, "Ready the Way of the Lord!"  The house will be full of goodies which only make an appearance at Christmastime (cunningly saved in winter tins to await the end of the fast).  We will play Christmas music and wrap presents and visit family and warm our hearts and souls and bodies against the cold with all manner of Good Things.

But for now, it is just the beginning of the journey toward Christmas, and we enter the wilderness for 40 days to make ourselves ready.

Last night we had lentil and sweet potato soup with a quick wheat bread (recipe from my birthday cookbook).

Lentil and Sweet Potato Soup

2 c. red or brown lentils (or combination) soaked overnight
2 medium sweet potatoes
3 onions (or 3 heaping T dried onion)
2 qt water (or combination water and broth of choice)
1/2 tsp paprika
juice of one lemon
dash cayenne pepper (add this after soup is done simmering! if it boils, it intensifies!)
salt to taste

Combine water [and stock], lentils, sweet potatoes, and onions in soup pot and simmer until veggies are tender.

Blend soup until smooth.

Add seasonings to taste.


Whole Wheat Buttermilk Bread
adapted from: From a Monastery Kitchen

1 c flour
2 heaping c coarse-ground whole wheat flour
2 T sesame seeds
2 T toasted wheat germ (I used milled flax seeds)
2 T rye meal
1 tsp salt
1 T brown sugar
1 heaping tsp baking soda
2 c buttermilk (dairy allergy/vegan? use milk substitute + 2 T vinegar)

Preheat oven to 400 degrees.

Mix all dry ingredients together. Add 2 c buttermilk and stir until just combined (adding water if mixture is too dry--it should have the consistency of banana bread batter).

Grease bread pan. Pour mixture into the pan and bake for about 40 minutes. Cool (or not) and serve.

On Many Things

First, I read on Not Without Salt today, that November is NaBloWriMo.   [Who knew?]  It is a very interesting idea.  I've come close to writing one post a day a few times (August 2008, for instance; or June this year), so why not try for it deliberately?  I hope those of you subscribed to my posts don't get sick of me :)

Second, for those of you who were wondering, our All Hallow's Eve costume party was a great success.  T and I were Odysseus and Penelope (that's PenelopEE, not Pen-a-low-p, as T kept saying) :) and there was also a Dionysus in attendance, a Phillies baseball player, [the artist formerly knows as] Prince, Paul Bunyan, Peter Kreeft (yeah!), a college student, Little Red Riding hood (who brought GREAT cookies), and the Big Bad Wolf himself.  We played three WILDLY raucous games of paper charades.  If you haven't heard of it, I can write the rules out.  It's ridiculously fun--especially when everyone's in costume and gets creative with the words! Oh.. my sides are hurting today from all the laughing we did =D Hopefully I'll be able to post pictures soon.  I used a friend's camera since my point'n'shoot is terrible with flash.  We'll see how they turned out :)

Third, I feel the need to tell you about my Sunday.

We slept in today, but still got up early enough to make it to confession before Mass.  And Mass.. was just beautiful.

It is the feast of all Saints.

Eleven years ago this morning Big Mom (Momma's mother) died peacefully in her sleep.  Momma always said that was God's way of assuring us she was in Heaven.  I was named after Big Mom--Margery Anne.  Since then, All Saint's Day was always a strange mixture of joy and sadness for me, remembering Momma missing her mother, knowing she was in Heaven.

Naturally, this year, I was both joyous and very sad.  Like Momma, I have no doubt that my mother is in heaven.  I know--lots of people say that about their loved ones, and there's nothing wrong with that.  But I have heard from several people that they have the same feeling.  One of my friends started praying for Momma's soul after she died--and he got a strange but firm feeling that she was saying to him: "How silly! Why are you praying for me?" as if she was already beyond Purgatory.  A few weeks ago, Daddy was praying before the Blessed Sacrament.  Although he heard no distinct words, he too got the feeling that Momma was welcomed into the company of the angels and the Saints in Heaven.

So why not celebrate my mother on the Feast of All Saints? for she truly is a saint now.  I didn't expect Mass to be so emotional, today.  We were singing the opening song and I was in a happy-after-confession state.  Flanked by two strong male voices, the organ was blaring, I let my (airy) alto ring out.  Then we got to the second verse which sang about all the saints in their raiment of white, in the Presence of God.  I thought of Momma, rejoicing and happy with her Lord, and I couldn't sing anymore for the tears.

The readings were very uplifting--offering us "hope based on [Christ]" that will see us through times of great distress so that we, too, can clothe ourselves in raiment of white and stand uncondemned before the fearsome judgement seat of Christ. And the Beatitudes for the Gospel! (or, as we say in my family, the Beautifuls).  Fr. Peter's homily was incredible.  He told us a story about his mother.  She was ill toward the end of her life and was living at a nursing home.  Several times a week, Fr. Peter would visit her and she would want to go shopping.  One day, she asked to go shopping for a pocket book, which he gladly agreed to.  Hours and hours (and three stores later), she found something that just suited her and they went back to the nursing home, where her sister was waiting.  Fr. Peter's aunt took him aside and said, "Peter, that's a nice pocket book.  And I know she appreciates what you did for her today.  Keep doing what you're doing for your mother, while you still have her.  I wish I could have my mother back for just 5 minutes."  His mother died 10 days later.
....
As I was listing to this homily, crying through most of it, I couldn't help but think of the last couple visits I had with my mother.  T and I went home for Christmas and I did so much baking and cooking--but not half of what Momma used to do--and we had lovely dinners and lots of presents and Momma-stuffed stockings (she always found the best stocking stuffers) and family and food and friends.  It was a great gift to spend Momma's last Christmas in the warmth of her home.

In February this year, Momma told me she only had 6 months to live.  So I headed out to CA for the last weekend for the CCD congress in Anaheim.  Momma and Daddy have been going to Congress for over 25 years, and Momma was so tired from the spreading cancer that she was in a wheelchair.  She told me she went this year because Daddy wanted to so much--even though she was so tired.  I went with them that weekend so I could help Momma get around, and attended every class with her.  It was such a grace-filled weekend.  I was so happy to spend the special time with my parents, "just us"  :)  Even though I cry whenever I think about it, the happiness always overwhelms the tears.  It was a tremendous gift.

And she died ten days later.  Just ten days.  I remember the last hug I gave her, as she climbed into the front seat of the van (with a lot of help from Viv and me).  I told her I loved her.  I said goodbye.

So many blessings.. so much Grace.  So much Love.

That was my Sunday.

November is the month of Thanksgiving--and what a beautiful way for God to begin this month for me: to remind me how blessed we are with His Love, in His angels and in His Saints (and saints).

"Rejoice, Oh Favored One. God is with you."

--Luke 1:28

Thankful for Warmth

The night my mother died, Daddy and my three older siblings were there with her.  After she died, holding Daddy's hand, he stayed there with her for 20 minutes, stroking her forearm, keeping the skin warm.

When Taylor and I arrived the next day, he told us how she died and how peaceful it was.  He said that at one point she looked straight ahead of her and said, "They won't let me go."  So Daddy said, "Well, Jeanette, you have my permission."  Soon after that, she closed her eyes and died.  He told us about stroking her arm and how, in those 20 minutes, he thought about how much work it was to keep her skin warm, even so small a space, even so soon after she died.  "It took the power of God to keep the rest of her warm," he said.

We spent last Christmas at my parents' house.  It was a beautiful Christmas, even though Momma kept saying she felt like it would be her last (Our Mother, the Prophetess).  I cried the day we left.  I couldn't control it.  I just hugged her and cried... maybe because I missed her already.  I'm so thankful for that hug.  I will remember it forever.  She asked, "Oh, Annie! are you crying because you think you'll never see me again?"  I told her no, that I just loved her and would miss her very much.  But I think my heart was yelling "YES! That's why you're crying!"  I think that's also why I went to visit them for a weekend in February for the CCD congress... a short ten days before she died.

There are so many blessings in this world, confused and distorted as it is.  I am thankful for the lively warmth of those I love--the physical warmth of their presence in a hug or holding hands, and the residual warmth their love sustains after they have died.  I am thankful for (soggy) hugs and final partings.  I am thankful for the stirrings of the Spirit that move us to tears, to longing, to hasty weekend trips, and spontaneous happy memories.