LIVING WELL

"Early to Bed, and early to rise
makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise." (Benjamin Franklin)

"Live on a penny, and rule over much,
it takes but wisdom and a homemaker's touch."  (Me)

I asked old Ben if he'd like to join me in writing to you about how you can live victoriously on just a little. Well, I guess he was so excited that he was speechless, so I took that as a "yes", and included a quote from him, above.

First, there are some concepts that you have to learn to love.  A good place to start is by opening your eyes to the truth about what things are necessary, what things are important, what things hold true value.  And,
right here is a good place to start...

Now that we have laid the foundation, let us begin to build, a little at a time, a good, and sufficient life. More than that, an abundant life. A life lived in such a way that you can put your head down on the pillow at night and sleep like a baby. Where the only debt you owe is the debt of love, which the bible instructs us to keep on paying to God and others as long as we live. Which by the way is a debt that will make you rich, indeed.

If I were just starting out as part of a young couple, or if I were to find myself as a single mother who needed to get by on very little, I would sit down and do some thinking over a big cup of tea made from a generic, store brand tea bag. And I would look at a few facts. The facts are, I would surmise, that we need a safe place to stay, wholesome food, and decent clothes for our backs.

WHY DON'T YOU TWO GET A ROOM?

I would first ask family members if we could stay with them and contribute to the work and financial needs of their household.  If that was not an option, I would rent a room in somebody's house.  Yes, I would. It would cost a fraction of what a regular apartment would cost, and I would do some research and find the best neighborhood I could find for the money that I had.  When I say the "best neighborhood", my priorities would be safety, a decent school if I had children, and accessibility to stores and amenities - places I could walk to. Now in some places that might only cost me $200 a month, and in some it might cost me $600, and if the Lord willed, it might cost me nothing but what I could offer them as help around the house.

The thought of starting off married life or single parenthood like this seems really repugnant to many folks, I'd imagine.  How you can you be happy in just one room with a only a few possessions. But people, in my opinion, really overestimate the happiness that owning lots of stuff can bring. Whatever you own will take up space and add more responsibility to your life. It has to be guarded, cleaned, maintained and fretted over. And sometimes needs to be insured. Which costs money.

Procuring the necessary space in which to keep one's unnecessary stuff also costs time, money, guarding and fretting over.  Look, everybody needs a certain amount of space and stuff, but after a certain point the returns begin to diminish, the stuff turns to suffocating clutter, the space is difficult (physically and financially) to maintain, and we become slaves to this stuff, and its low-life kinsman, Debt.  This is how stuff and debt come to own you.  How wonderful for us if we assess the situation before we and our stuff are unceremoniously tossed out onto the sidewalk by a sheriff with an eviction notice.  But you know, if this happens, you might as well look at it as a grand release of responsibility and a chance to have a picnic in the park on a Saturday, instead of doing all that mowing, washing, and waxing.  On Sunday afternoon, you can sit and read a library book and take a nap after church instead vacuuming 10 rooms and milling through stores in search of more stuff to pack your house with.

Now if you can afford more than one room, wonderful! But whatever you do, you should be looking for ways to maximize ways in which to live a good life, WITHIN YOUR MEANS.  Living within one's means is such an old-fashioned concept, and the way, no doubt, your ancestors kept things going along until it was time for the world to receive you onto its stage. It requires some hindsight, in the form of learning skills and systems that have worked in the past,

and foresight, in terms of planning for possibilities and eventualities.

                 

                                                                                                                      

Living within one's means in terms of shelter, means that you can live in your place AND still provide for the other necessities of life on a reasonable level.  About 40 years ago and before, banks used to figure that your mortgage/taxes/house insurance should not exceed 25% of your pay. So, if you make $3000 a month, your shelter should not cost you more than $750 a month. This would ensure that you could make your mortgage payment and still live a decent life and not be house-poor. To put it in archaic, ancient terms: you could afford
to live there. Now, we all know that the cost of housing went totally crazy once bankers stopped demanding that people be able to afford their payments, resulting in astronomical prices for houses. Ye olde housing bubble. Which is deflating, it seems to me, but not bursting. Yet.

So now there is a lot of suffering going on in America, because people are losing their homes, cars, and other possessions left and right. But really, isn't a lot of the suffering mental anguish, based on losing Stuff? And hurt pride because we have to go about our lives in reduced circumstances. But not abject poverty. How poor is poor? Is it not being able to afford a big-screen TV? Is it having to live in a smaller house, or rent  instead of owning? Is it eating macaroni and cheese at home instead of ordering out for pizza? God forbid, but we might not be able to afford that most basic of human rights, a cell phone.

I am not saying that people are not suffering, but could some of this suffering be alleviated by looking at things differently?

I have found a lot of joy in looking at an economic downturn as an adventure.  (Yes, I know I am missing a few horses off my merry-go-round, but) I find it kind of fun to figure out ways to turn my problems into projects. There was a time in my life when we were awash in money, and I actually found it kind of dissatisfying to instantly attain what I wanted, with no effort, or no figuring out how to get the best deal on it. Well, God in His wisdom soon took that burden from me!

My burden now is point to a few ways that will encourage you in your quest to live a happy, "needs-met", and moreover, abundant life if you keep your priorities in order. These are: God, others, making the most of the free things in life (see video, above), and gratitude for all. Another tip: if one is good, you may not need 10.

Then ask for wisdom and a sense of adventure in how to build upon these great foundations.

More to come on this large subject, including wonderfully low cost and easy ways to maintain your home, and an introduction to that vast and awesome part of life - food!

Let's just climb down there and sit on the big rock while we let our feet dangle into the refreshing cold water.....

We won't talk, we'll just sit and listen to the sound of the silver black brook all around us, feel the gentle breeze against our faces, and thank the green, shading canopy of leaves above us.

While we are here, we won't have to worry about learning new software or the paying of bills. Down here there is only the business of bees and birdsong,  and a thousand wondering eyes, hidden from our view.

Here I would like to tarry, if only for an hour.  Turn off the pavement and away from the paperwork - and all the props I must carry onto the stage.

For the show of love, that must go on.

ASH WEDNESDAY
Lent Begins

And we begin again to make the first feeble step away from ourselves and towards God.

Off the grey, cold coast of Ireland lies a rock called Skellig Michael, where brave monks retreated in order to preserve the Holy Scriptures. Some consider that these monks, who risked everything to preserve the bible from destruction by Viking marauders, are the saviors of Western Christianity. On a clear day the rock is visible from the shore, but on this day, we had to take that truth by faith and not by sight. 



There are now in the world, outward signs of the seriousness of our inward condition.  For a few decades we were left to our illusions but now, mercifully, we are having our eyes opened.  Systems, the status quo, and our own personal security seem to be failing.  The bible says that the things that are unseen are actually more real than the things that are seen. We see, in the tangible world, merely a reflection of the fragility of our own souls, and begin to get the slightest sense that we cannot take anything for granted here in this life and in what awaits us afterward.  May we look down at our feet this Lent, and see the cracks and fissures forming on the wide road upon which we have been carelessly traveling.

Lent is for grown-ups. Time to look with unveiled eyes at the suffering of Our Lord for our sake, the condition of our souls, and at the suffering of creation itself.  We can start today to come away from our pleasures and routines, and tarry awhile with the Lord each day. When we "give something up for Lent" we deny ourselves in order to unite our tiny bit of suffering to that of His.

We can take more time each day to pray and to meditate on the life of Jesus, and ask for a place of solitude within our hearts where we may meet with Him and hear what He has to say to us.  He is always faithful to give us glimpses and inspirations of what His will is for us and how we can cooperate with Heaven to do the works He has given us to do.

And there certainly is a lot we can do, as Christ's body on earth. There is so much wrong out there, a lot of things that need improving, and a lot we can do to help other people. Almsgiving, the other aspect of Lent, allows us to share what we have been given with others who are in need. Our money, our precious time, even the use of our minds in the pursuit of developing new ways to solve old problems, are all things that we should give freely during this season of penitence.

We do not do any of these things for a reward, but for the love of Christ, and in solidarity with His suffering, and in pursuit of a closer walk with Him. Generous as He is, however, He insists on rewarding us with joy, strength and all good things when we in our frailty attempt to live out the Gospel life. That is just the way He is, you know; He is always picking up the tab, and buying the next round.

While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. No greater love is there than this, that a man lay down his life for his friend. We love Him, because He first loved us..........

For God so loved the world, that He gave up His only begotten Son, that whosoever should believeth in Him, should have everlasting life.

May we all make a good and fruitful Lent.

A DAY OF REST

 

My 18 year old son has mononucleosis and possibly strep throat.  His glands are very swollen, as is his painful, raw throat. I can't tell you how much I take my family getting sick as a personal affront to my ministry as a home guardian. So the other day I went into full battle mode, grocery shopping for the freshest, health-giving food, rushing around the house, cleaning, sanitizing, making chicken soup, fruit smoothies and a ton of other things, going to the doctors, the pharmacy, and trying to wait on Grandpa and make sure my young working adults had their sustenance, too.

Last night one of them stayed out till almost 3 a.m., which had me pacing the floors. At 6 a.m. my "patient" awakened me because of sharp, hard pain in his chest. We ended up calling the rescue squad, waiting in the little front parlor for them, so as not to disturb the rest of the house.

After a two-hour stint in the emergency room, he is home and resting.  Thank the Lord that the problem most likely is that he has patches of infection going down his throat into his esophagus, and that he was somewhat dehydrated.

And thank the Lord that I am able to come home and rest today, the Lord's Day, and take the entire day to restore my frayed nerves and tired body.  Now that I know Michael is OK, at least for awhile, I decided to just forget everything else, for once, and be my own Valentine, so to speak.  Dear husband got a card and some top shelf jelly beans, and he is good to go.  Right now, everyone is either working, sleeping, or at church, and I plan to soon be at the church of sweet repose, located just inside my eyelids.

Happy Valentine's Day everyone

and a blessed Sunday to all, as well.

Buy this print at Allposters.com

A WINTER ROSE

        

                                      
"There is nothing like staying at home for real comfort." - Jane Austen

This winter's unusually cold and snowy weather is not over, it appears. Virginia and points north are in for another burst and broadside of wind, snow and a wintry mix.  I realize how genuinely blessed I am that, at least for now, I do not have to go out to work, scraping ice off windshields in my heels and pantyhose.

The poor, lovely, cardinal, our state bird, must bear the chill awhile longer, with only his feathers, his mate, and their little nest to defend against the ice and cold. I really marvel at how this little, winter rose, and all the birds survive out there through the winter.

But I, at night, can curl up amidst the thick, flannel sheets and feather pillows and listen, safe and warm, to the wind rattle the siding of the house and the icy rain pound against the windowpanes.  

Windy Nights

by Robert Louis Stevenson

Whenever the moon and stars are set,

Whenever the wind is high,

All night long in the dark and wet,

A man goes riding by

Late in the night when the fires are out,

Why does he gallop and gallop about?

Whenver the trees are crying aloud

And ships are tossed at sea,

By, on the highway, low and loud,

By at the gallop goes he.

By at the gallop he goes, and then

By he comes back at the gallop again

How absolutely blessed and rich we are, if we have a warm, dry home in which to dwell. How much more blessed, indeed, if we are hidden in Christ, in whom we live, and move and have our being.

" He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.

Surely he shall deliver thee from the snare of the fowler, and from the noisome pestilence.

He shall cover thee with his feathers, and under his wings shalt thou trust: his truth shall be thy shield and

buckler. "

 from Psalm 91:1-4 

 

CATHOLIC ART 

My husband's cousin, a good friend of mine, became a realtor in the last couple of years. At one point, we were considering a move back to our home area, and she was showing me a couple of houses. The one I liked best was owned by an Italian-American, Catholic couple in their early nineties.  That they were Italian was obvious, to me, because of the decorating scheme, the lace curtains and plastic table cover, the propriety of the kitchen, the double wall ovens, the family portrait of them from 45 years ago, and as cousin pointed out, the "Catholic pictures" all over the house.

Now this cousin happens to have been brought up Catholic but joined a Protestant church in her early 20's. As such, she is a wonderful example of charitable Christian virtue, but does not feel the Catholic church is quite a valid branch of Christianity.  We have discussions about this from time to time, as you might imagine.

So when she made the comment about the "Catholic pictures", which portrayed, along with Jesus, the Blessed Mother, Saint Joseph and a host of other saints, I stopped to reflect on the idea that one used to be able to tell immediately if they had entered a Catholic home, by what was on the walls. 

The biggest giveaway would undoubtedly be a crucifix hanging somewhere.  Then, you might see a statue of the BVM, or even Saint Anthony. Or holy cards stuck onto dresser mirrors. Maybe even a small holy water font hanging in a bedroom.  In the neighborhood where I grew up, many people even had small shrines set up in the yard for Mary, surrounded by flowers and pretty stones.

Though this is still most often the case in the homes of elderly Catholic folks, it probably does not figure prominently in the homes of most Catholics today. Except in mine. And I'm flirting heavily with "elderly" now anyways, but most baby boomers would probably not have this kind of thing, either.

Pictured above is a painting of the Holy Family, which hangs in our foyer.  Notice the palms stuck up on top of it, from last year's Palm Sunday mass. The rest of the house contains a couple of crucifixes, and the aforementioned statuary, holy cards, and even the little font. 

In the back yard, my husband has built a fountain, and next to it, is Saint Anthony.  Come to think of it, a lot of non-Catholics do allow Saint Francis into their back yards, he being a nature lover and all, and so he has become a cross-over yard decoration, much as someone like Faith Hill or Shania Twain have successfully made the crossover from country music to pop.

I guess it might seem kind of corny to have these things up, even to fellow Catholics. And maybe even offensive to others. I don't know, but I do know I find it comforting and inspiring to have these holy reminders around me. And I guess I am not ashamed to self-identify. Most importantly, though, is I feel that people who live in a home are influenced by what surrounds them in that home. And I pray that what surrounds my family and visitors would comfort, influence, remind and inspire them. 

So, welcome to my home and may the love, peace and joy which the Holy Family enjoyed dwell in each home and heart today.

SILENCE IS A GIFT                                                                                  


I had almost forgotten this. Much as I had tried to maintain an atmosphere of peace and quiet around me, I had failed, and some time ago, imperceptibly, accepted the din and confusion of the world in which I live, and had even become used to it. 

I live with six other people, five television sets, three computers, surround sound stereo, and various other "music"-emitting speakers. Very often there are extra people in the house.  Outside, Navy jets routinely roar overhead and helicopters circle around looking for goodness knows what. A block away, across the field, 50,000 cars pass by on a daily basis.

But worse than all that, I had lost that interior silence, the one in which the soul is still and open to hearing from God. Long ago, I must have given in to allowing my thoughts to whirl around inside me, to allow fear and folly to run amok inside my head. For days on end I might find myself without a plan, merely racing from one duty to another, talking, shouting, complaining, and in a word, reacting  to everything and everyone.

The externals cannot affect a soul whose eyes are fixed on God. Brother Lawrence, an obscure little brother who served in a French monastery long ago, was assigned to perpetual kitchen duty. But among the clatter and confusion of a busy kitchen, his spirit communed with God, and the simple man whom his superiors thought to be not much good for anything but scullery work, wrote about his life with Christ, which has now become one of the great spiritual classics, Practicing the Presence of God. You can read about him here:
http://www.ccel.org/l/lawrence

Last weekend, when we got an actual snowstorm (rare, for my area), the outside world became unusually quiet; nothing was flying overhead and almost no cars were on the road. Two of our visiting relatives had left the day before, and two of the young people were out of town. The others slept in, and lo and behold, it was so still in here that I could actually listen to my own thoughts. And I felt uneasy! I suspect this is why the vast majority of people today keep the noise pumped up. It can be scary to be confronted with oneself, to have to tune into what is really going on inside of our minds and hearts. I actually felt kind of depressed.

And I think that just being allowed to experience that feeling of the empty nest made me sad and lonely. I was really surprised at those feelings, which hit me like a strong gust of wind in the face. So, immediately, I began to thank God that I do have a busy life, with loved ones all around me. And I realize how grateful I should be, that I have strength and health to do the work I have been given to do.

Beyond that, I believe that the Lord was speaking to me about the need to remain filled with the Holy Spirit, with Whom which there is always fellowship and never a need to feel lonely, whatever the circumstances may be. So that the issue becomes one of maintaining that interior silence, in which one receives all kinds of gifts and graces. Being filled with these, we begin to truly perceive what is going on around us, and we gain wisdom and insight.  Instead of just reacting to what someone says, one whose interior life is quiet and well-ordered will understand the meaning behind the words, and be able to really respond to the speaker.

In short, I believe silence, both external and internal, makes us sane and centered. It takes us out of the driver seat. When we are silent, we can hear again. When we are silent, we stop competing; we refrain from shooting off that caustic, snappy comeback. We stop feeling the need to defend ourselves. We give the benefit of the doubt. We do not have to prove our points or ourselves. We trust God and His holy angels to intervene on our behalf and learn that blessed grace of acceptance.

"Keep silence before me, O islands; and let the people renew [their] strength: let them come near; then let them speak: let us come near together to judgment." Isaiah 41:1

"But the LORD [is] in his holy temple: let all the earth keep silence before him." Habbakkuk 20:20

THE PATH TO PEACE

Did you know that nuclear disarmament begins at home? It does, because home is the place where we often give in to feelings of resentment, bitterness, ingratitude and dissatisfaction. Then the self-pity and blaming of others sets in, and the first thing you know, you are ready to nuke someone.

Well, take a tip from me. Nuking your house will also leave you incinerated, allegorically speaking, of course.

What I mean is that when we are critical, negative, "hurt", or resentful, it really takes a lot out of us, drying up our spirits, and making us actually quite unattractive. Quite simply, we become odious, and during these long, often homebound winter days, that is particularly bad.

The bible, in Proverbs 30, says that one of the three things that disquiet the earth, and one of the four things  which the earth cannot bear is "an odious woman when she is married". I looked up the definition of the word "odious" and it means:

"Arousing or meriting strong dislike, aversion, or intense displeasure". Also, "Arousing or deserving hatred or repugnance". Whoa, don't ya just love how the King James Version refuses to worry about hurting anyone's feelings? So non-pc.

But I think we all know what an odious woman looks like, and by the way, it has nothing to do with her physical appearance, per se, but what that inner person generates to the outside world. A woman may be fat as a sow, a stooping hunchback, old, or even unkempt, but when her spirit radiates joy, generosity, cheerfulness and goodwill, she is treasured and beautiful, and in a word, attractive. People are attracted to her and desire her company because of the Christ-like goodness she emanates. Anyone who has ever thought, or said, "What does he see in her?" knows exactly what I mean.

But woe to a woman when she makes herself odious by a peevish, uncharitable attitude. First Corinthians 13 says that love "thinketh no evil", and the NIV version of that verse interprets that to mean that love "keeps no record of wrongs".
Oh, how we often keep a record of wrongs, neatly filed into organized folders, according to time and date, pristinely maintained in that filthy file cabinet in our heads. This is an odious practice which breeds "uglification", against which make-up, expensive night creams and even plastic surgery are no remedy.

It is also self-defeating because we will surely get it right back in our faces, just as surely as Walmart puts out Valentines Day cards on the day after Christmas.
Not that we aren't "justified" at times to be angry and resentful. Well, sort of justified. For instance, (and here is where I typed out my particular situation, which I deleted because my words were so ungodly, but boy, it felt good, but wicked, to write it!), when God asks a person to take on more responsibilities, it sometimes makes that person feel kind of witchy, and the other word that rhymes with witchy. And that engenders some really negative feedback, both from family members and one's own conscience.

So the path to peace, in the home and in one's heart, is simply to walk that narrow path that our Lord set out for us, and which He himself trod, that we might follow Him more closely. To judge not, lest we be judged, to be thankful for our many blessings, and to love and serve others as if we were doing this for the Lord, Himself, because in the final analysis, we are really doing just that. "Whatsoever you do unto the least of my brothers, you do unto Me".

Time to wrap up this post and head to the kitchen for beauty school.

A SUNDAY IN WINTER

Winter landscape with skaters by Pieter Bruegel


I was blessed today, to have a Sunday like those of old - Church, a houseful of family, a huge mid-afternoon dinner, all topped off with apple pie and vanilla ice cream for dessert.

Days like this are golden threads in God's hands, with which He weaves a little sparkle into the homespun wool of winter. We were ten people here today, mother, father, sons, daughter, aunt, cousin, Grandpa, and our church's music director thrown in for good measure!

The music man was made to pay for his dinner by playing two of my requests on our piano: Carol of the Bells (yes, I know Christmas is over), and Pachelbel's Canon.

Now those who remain this evening are watching the Vikings battle the Saints. Of course, this turned out badly for the real saints, the Irish monks who hid out on tiny, rocky islands in the sea, fervently copying the Scriptures while the real Norsemen ravaged the Irish coast. At least these saints are holding their own at present with these paper vikings. They are tied at 14 apiece.

I like to think about other people and what they might be doing on a Sunday night in winter. Are they making their lunch for tomorrow? Doing laundry in between watching TV? I imagine that little ones might be getting their bath, and others are having their bedtime story read. I pray that those who must be out at work tonight will be blessed and protected, and that those who stay at home are enjoying all the comforts that may bring. And I leave this post with one of the many precious prayers of Compline, from the Book of Common Prayer:

"Visit this place, O Lord, and drive far from it all snares of the enemy; let your holy angels dwell with us to preserve us in peace; and let your blessing be upon us always; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen."

Decluttering Update

Since Thanksgiving, I have been working on unloading and organizing in my home. As I wrote in previous posts, I have moved some pretty horrid furniture out of here, as well as a pick-up load (at least) of old clothes, other textiles, decorative and other household items.

I do not know where all this boldness is coming from (though following Flylady at Flylady.net is helping), but after Christmas, I went into our walk-in closet and took out every single piece of clothing that does not fit me - all of it. I was shocked at how much came out, and I am not even one of those people who likes to shop all the time for herself. And that is an understatement. Since I also started a new eating plan on New Year's Day (lost 3 pounds as of this writing), I put all the displaced clothes that were nice enough to keep into one of those space bags (jumbo size). You know, it is the one where you seal it and suck all the air out of the bag with a vacuum cleaner until it turns into a what looks like a giant shrink-wrapped chuck roast.

I also got rid of some other things that were hanging out in the closet, and just between you and me, some of these things were not just on my side of the closet! Things like old cell phones and electric adapters whose "adaptees" have long departed, etc. On my side were old magazines (what was I thinking?), a lovely snowman table decoration who can bless someone else's table, and a lamp shade, to name a few.

Speaking of the "other side of the closet", I was able to appeal to my dear husband about the value of doing this to his clothes, too. "Think of it this way", I said. "You will not be getting rid of anything, but you can put your (too small) clothes into these space bags and keep them for when you lose weight. But in the meantime, you will be able to see and choose easily whatever it is you want to wear, because every single thing in there will fit you."

The hook was that he didn't have to part with anything (well, I did cull a couple of things that weren't even fit to wash cars with), but could now store his two large space bags on the floor of the closet. He agreed. All he had to do was go through there and pull out the stuff, throw it on the bed, and he was done. But he did go the further step and arranged what was left by putting all his pants in the front, then shirts, etc. and arranged them by color, as I have always done with mine.

After I turned his bags of clothes into two flank steaks (since I had used the only chuck roast sized bag), and stored them, I announced the final part of the process, which of course is voluntary on his part. What I plan to do is leave my too-small clothes in the bag for several months to a year. If, after that time I am still too big to fit into them, out they go! But, if, at that time, my current boat sails and circus tents are way too roomy for me, then ha, ha, out they go!!!!!!!! Because I will not keep them as an exit strategy and good excuse to indulge in gluttonous behavior again.

Unbelievably, my dear husband said he will do the same thing. Quite a Christmas miracle, eh?

Other victories this last week included the fact that my darling daughter went through the under-eave storage area and cleaned that out, which included all those receipts and tax-related papers that stretched back to 1981. She got rid of a lot of other stuff too, but made me promise not to look. I also went through my desk and have started on going through the Christmas boxes and other knick knacks. Time to give someone else a chance to enjoy some of these extras.

My efforts, and this report, I hope, are to be continued.....

THE NEW YEAR



New Year's weekend at Colonial Beach, VA - Photo by Julie Hockensmith

Barely had the year begun when someone trudged out into it to explore. I agree with C.S. Lewis that joy, always unexpected, always a gift, can be so intense that it is painful. That is what I felt when I looked at this photograph: a sharp slice of heaven piercing me through. How can I better describe this? The colors, the newness of the day, the fresh snow, the lonely footprints, the tranquil water, the sleeping boats, all hit me with a beauty so intense that they caused my heart to ache.

Life is breathtakingly beautiful and is heartbreakingly sad. With the hopeful promise and snow-blank slate of each new morning and each new year comes the parting of ourselves from what was, and can never be again. Each moment is precious and has it's purpose, though I sometimes long to be unaware of all that, just to live inside of the moment like a puppy and not be always on the outside of it, looking in. But truly, no moments are ever ordinary to me anymore, but singular, holy and sacred. Despite that, my bad behavior often tries to make them profane. And knowing that each holy moment can so easily be wasted or mocked makes for deep regret and the need for a good confession.

But then, I pick myself up, because some force compels me to trudge on out into the still and frozen new year while others are yet sleeping. I take a deep, fresh breath, and hurry back to wake you. And feebly attempt with my words to tell you how the morning air contains the smell of snow.

Late Snow at Riverwood, by Bob Timberlake




THE BLESSINGS OF ORDINARY TIME

I am looking forward to getting back to it again, and I'm always surprised each year that it is so. After all, dreams of Christmas often dance, like the proverbial sugarplums, in my head on those impossibly hot, humid days we get down south, or when things just seem too dull and dreary to endure another mundane moment. These little flights of fancy often get me through, but there comes a time each year in early January, when I know that its time to let go and sweep it all away. A time to sit in the cold sunrise of a winter morning and let the house just be a bit bare, like an unvarnished piece of truth.

Truth, like Ordinary Time, is often avoided, feared even, but is oh, so necessary to living a healthy life. For example, when you take a deep breath and allow yourself to see a person as they really are instead of through the sugary confection of what you had hoped they are, or would at least become, you can actually find peace and/or change things on your end. It's like playing cards; you must play with all the skill you have to win with the cards that are actually in your hand, the cards you have been dealt. You wouldn't think of fixating on the cards you would like to have received, not if you hope to win, and not if you do not wish to get thrown out of the game.

So it is, with accepting reality, and with making the most of the blank days of January. Take this time to clean the house, declutter the closets, eat some plain food, and take off those sugarplum eye glasses.

Brining the Bird, or, as it turned out:

My goose was cooked.

Well, this was a new experience for me and one that will go down in the annals of holiday memories that REALLY STAND OUT.

This fall, I read an article about a process called brining, wherein you boil up a heavily salted liquid concoction that contains many different flavorings and variables, and proceed to soak the turkey in said concoction overnight.

This brine will turn that dry bird into a juicy, aromatic, savory turkey and make the cook achieve rock star status in the minds of her guests. Mind you, the article did not promise any of this, but I could read between the lines. The dirty little secret among homemakers is that we crave fame and honor now among family, our children's friends, and the neighborhood in general, and after death, we wish to become legends. We will search high and low for some esoteric ingredient, stay up till all hours of the night, spend way too much money on sewing and crafting supplies, and put ourselves through rigors that would cause a Navy Seal to ask for a desk job, all to achieve a bit of praise now, and to ensure that years after we are gone someone will be reminiscing about the wonderful way we cooked this, or baked that, or did things this way and it was the best way.

Usually these efforts backfire, at least for me, and often people end up remembering something else, something that makes them laugh out loud. Like when my formerly widowed father brought his new wife to my house for Easter dinner, and after preparing a repast fit for royalty, making the house presentable and the children looking adorable, all my new stepmother could remember was that at 3 pm when they rang the bell, I answered the door in my pajamas.

Oh come on, what about the glorious ham, the homemade manicotti? Long forgotten, I assure you. She laughs every time she tells that story, which is quite often.

So when I read about this brining technique, I thought about it, and about how a 22 pound turkey is not the easiest thing to maneuver around, and how it would require extra steps and extra work on top of a whole lot of work already, and in spite of that, or probably because of that, I decided to GO FOR IT!

I will spare you the details of how it happened, but suffice it to say that a couple of hours later, in attempting to reposition the baking bag holding the 22 lb. bird and two gallons of salty, sugary, fruit-floating liquid, the turkey and the broken bag ended up in my lap, and from my waist down to my shoes, and over the river and through the woods and under the refrigerator, went the brine.

Well, things could have been worse, and almost were. I ran into the bathroom and took off my jeans (now pickled pants), leaving me presentable from the front because I was wearing a bib apron, but quite an unwelcome sight from the back. Which is the part that was facing my adult son's bedroom door. And he was in there. And thank God, I realized it before he opened the door to the sight of the ol' harvest moon clad in tighty whities, rising there in the doorway. He never would have gotten over that, and I am not sure what the trauma would have done to him.

Now a sensible person would dissolve into tears, leave the whole mess, get tidied up and go Christmas shopping, but not me. I did tidy up, but went straight back at it, finally getting bird, brine, fruit et al into a 20 quart stock pot, and even made it fit into the fridge, and you know what? That was some tasty turkey. And this story, well, it may just be the stuff (or stuffing) of legends.

TOO MUCH TO HANDLE, BUT STILL GLORIOUS

Well, Papa has been with us for almost two weeks, and I have yet to finish wrapping and maybe even need to do more shopping, but I have been baking the last two days. I have made so far:




4 batches dark fruit cake
regular rice krispie treats
peanut butter rice krispie treats
brownies
peppermint meltaway cookies
chocolate rum balls
Christmas cutout sugar cookies


I would like to make pignoli (pine nut cookies made with almond paste), pumpkin pie (a request from one of our sons), and Buche De Noel (which is the traditional French yule log cake). Also, once again, I would like to make this special Christmas Eve pastry that was particular to the local area where my grandmother grew up (Alvignana, Italy). I have never been able to duplicate it yet, but will give it another go, Lord willing. It must be eaten up on Christmas Eve because it is only really wonderful when it is freshly made.

Jr. gave his dad the early Christmas present of, you guessed it, a new recliner chair. He is very happy, and even happy with my rearranging the family room (taking the ugly, L-shaped couch out and putting a single white one in there instead).

The turkey for Christmas Day is thawing in a cooler on the front porch, the baccala is soaking for Christmas Eve, and I think I will not need to get any thing else from the grocery store.

The house cleaning, however, must be attacked with a vengeance tomorrow.

It is frosty cold here, thank you Lord! And I hope to get some pics up with the help of my youngest, who likes to take a lot of pictures, and knows how to load em up on here. Time to get under the snuggly covers, say my prayers and think about frost, frosting, and other lovely things.

The Solace of Silence

I am up in my room, and outside my windows the night is a gentle, velvet, midnight blue. There is peace on this night in December, and I begin to feel a calm, recollected quietness building within me. This is the time of Advent, where we wait and watch for the Lord. In order to do this we must be silent, so that we may not miss what He is saying to us, or what He is trying to show us. The frenzy of the world may continue 24 hours a day, but we must regularly retreat from it, in order to ponder important things.

Why do we fear this so? We have become so accustomed to living with the ever-present electronic din that to do without it invites discomfort and disorientation. To take the time to come away from it is to endure the strangeness of being with ourselves, and maybe listening to our heart speak to us of its anguish or its secret hopes, or face the truth of our lives as they are at present. In silence, then, we must listen, because if we will not face ourselves, we can never be whole.

And in silence, and in the still, small voice, God seeks to speak life and guidance to us. Jesus said to his disciples on that night in the garden, "Could you not watch with me one hour? Watch and pray, that ye enter not into temptation."

The world is hurtling fast toward it destiny. We must not be lost in its convulsive busyness, lest we share in that destiny. Instead, let's deliberately soothe our frayed nerves and restless minds with silence and solitude on a regular basis.

In doing so, we become companions of Our Lady, who at this time perhaps gazed up to sky each evening, aware of the movement of that special, guiding star in the heavens, just as she felt the stirring of that holy life within her blessed womb. As she kept a recollected anticipation of the marvelous event that would soon occur, the birth of God's only Son, her own precious child, Jesus, we can only imagine how she used her time of silence to fully prepare her entire being for His coming.

As we feel the cold stillness of these December nights, may we come to a fuller knowledge of who this Holy child is, and of how much He loves us and delights to be with us. May we find solace in the silence, and realize that it is a gift to us, from Heaven itself.

Revolt, Part 2

Oh what have I done? Forgive me, Lord, if I am beginning to think like those Israelites in the desert who longed for the bonds of Egypt just so they could eat cucumbers. If you have read the foregoing two posts, you will know that I have been desperate to escape from the overwhelming burden of stuff (because the people and animals can not be dispensed with, perish the thought!) that is tucked into every space in my house. I have filled and given away about 14 large bags of clothes and a box or two of household items. I had the trash man pick up the broken microwave, and assorted trash from the garage and also had them take the, the, the...............
ratty old recliner that my husband lives in. He is currently out of town, getting his father ready to come stay with us for a couple of weeks, and somehow the thought of incorporating Grandpa AND the Christmas tree into the middle of things caused me to go straight over the edge and ditch the chair!

Worse yet, because I have inherited a rather comfortable white sofa from one of my sons, I am itching to get rid of this too-large and rather uncomfortable L-shaped couch that currently hogs space in the family room. There is an old couple from church whose home sustained such water damage from the November nor'easter that they lost all their downstairs furniture. Folks are trying to help them and the call went out for furniture for them. So I am waiting to hear whether this thing can fit in their house. And I am praying that I can do the deed before hubby gets back. Then move the white couch and the Christmas tree in, and then of course, Grandpa.

Now my oldest son and I have planned all along to get a new recliner for the man of the house, but yesterday I realized that I might not be able to actually procure one and get it in here before he gets home, or by Christmas or within the next month. I will be going out with the next load of trash if that is the case. Junior says he doesn't want to be here, either. In fact, we will probably leave the state.



















Photo courtesy of http://crawlingivy.blogspot.com/2004_12_01_archive.html

THE REVOLT BEGINS TODAY



Nobody said that war is pretty.




Have you ever felt that your home looks more like this place (a thrift store) than a home? Have you ever tried to find clothes to try on at a thrift store? Say you want a nice, slightly out of style but modest dress for church. So of course you can find the rack of dresses, but can you easily find your size, or type without wading through them all and taking wild guesses at whether the ones you pick will fit? If you are like me, you will feel a little frustrated at this point. But perhaps you are starting to feel that way at your own house.

When you need to find an important piece of paper or a phone number at home, or the nail clippers or whatever, and you find yourself having to run from room to room, looking high and low, you are in a bad place, and I don't mean the mall.

Or you may have this dilemma: you are not one of those naturally organized people, but through trial and mostly error, through the grace of God and pure determination, you have managed to gain some measure of control over your household. Then somebody you know and up to this point loved, decides to make you the benefactor of their cherished stuff. Or you find out you are going to have a baby and ten wonderful people unload all their baby things upon thy hearth and home.

Or people move in with you. Or your spouse and you are diametrically opposed on the issues concerning what to keep and what to get rid of. Or your beloved likes lots of noise, wires and late hours in front of a blaring television, and you would rather read Wordsworth by the fire while listening to the old clock tick in a quiet room.

Or you can be like me and all the foregoing horror pertains to you!!!!! Well, except the baby part. But that did happen to me, five times.

But to continue on from the last post, I have decided that life is too short to be in a constant state of confusion and feeling overwhelmed. Its time to do surgery on this place and actually on my life. You know, most of the time surgery is necessary and is ultimately good for you. But in the short term, it elicits some fear and trepidation, and usually it is painful. Just like taking control of your life and domain.

So this week, I gathered up nine huge bags of giveaway clothes, and honey, I am just getting started. I also got rid of a twin bed frame and the mattress and box spring.
Today I called the sanitation department and scheduled a special pick-up. In our city we are very fortunate that if we have large items, old appliances or the like, we can arrange for the city to pick it up at the curb on our regular trash day. So on trash day, out goes the old microwave, a lot of bulky cardboard from new appliances, a broken computer chair, hopefully a busted motor scooter and whatever else I can scrounge up.

Now when I say "hopefully" the old motor scooter, that means I have to convince my husband to let go of the old rusted thing. I plan on convincing him about a few other items, too. But in some other matters, I am sorry, I have made an executive decision that clothes one has not been able to fit into for the last eight years or so, have got to go. Along with ugly clothes. And old, dead, primitive cell phones and cameras. And shoes that are composting in the closets.

Next, I have no choice but to attack the under eave storage, wherein is buried my Christmas wrapping paper, supplies and goodness knows what other Christmas stuff. Right now it all lies barricaded behind things my daughter threw in there when she moved back in. I envision adding to that giveaway pile. And dispensing with approximately, and you may not believe this, 28 years of receipts and tax-related papers. They are all in there, in boxes and large envelopes. Well, I wanted to be prepared in case we ever got audited. So yeah, I'll keep the last seven years of stuff, and maybe even pare that down after the new year. And maybe have a Christmas bonfire with the papery discards.

A recent study showed that people who are immersed in cluttered living conditions feel more stress, agitation and depression than those whose surroundings are orderly. The eye needs to be able to rest on some open space and symmetry. Which is why I feel so crazy right now and rather humbuggy about the holidays this year. I am a Christmas maniac, which only surpasses my zeal for harvest decorations, but this year, less will definitely be more. Because right now, I do not know where we can even put the tree. Remember the wall lined with computers? That is where we used to put the tree. I have six people in this house and most days seven (one son actually rents a place down the street but spends most of his free time and meal times here), not including friends of the kids who are here quite often. And don't forget about that little beagle boy of mine and those four ridiculous, eccentric, but beloved cats.

So to load up any remaining space with Santas, sleighs, toy houses and elves and holly would be suicide, I believe. Maybe this year I will put up one nativity set instead of four. And forget about putting cotton snow on EVERYTHING. I am telling you, my dear mother would be beyond appalled at the Broadway production I have been making out of Christmas. And my life. I can just hear her now.

You know the saying, "What would Jesus do?" Well, I am blessed to be able to draw from her example and say, "What would Mom do?" This will help me as I attempt to make some sense out of all this disorder. She knew what she could handle, and unlike me, felt happy enough with herself and her modest possessions, without having to go overboard.

Maybe that is it. Maybe contentment in one's interior life translates into harmony in one's surroundings. Let's ruminate on that one for a bit.....

GRANDMA MOSES AND MOTHER MARY

A copy of this painting, Sugaring Off, by Grandma Moses, hung in our living room back home from the time I was a child until the old homestead was sold off in 1996. My mother, who was born in Connecticut and raised in Vermont, was a true New Englander in her tastes and her thrifty ways, and she got this painting for free, somehow. I don't remember if it was some kind of prize she earned on one of her forays into selling Avon or Stanley Home products, but nevertheless, this print became one of my mother's favorite possessions. So presiding over the drama and the comedy of our family life was the cheery scene of everyday people of a bygone day, making maple syrup.

Like I said, Mom was a true New Englander. She loved simple maple furniture and unpretentious decorating, and was a fan of pastoral themes and snow scenes. You could not pay her enough to have a painting on her wall of a seascape. She said that scenes of the ocean seemed lonely and depressing. Although her parents came straight from Italy, she never appreciated the more typically Mediterranean style of using bold colors, ornate furnishings, statuary, or window treatments and bedding made of rich fabrics. She liked pastels and understatement.

I must admit that she imprinted her aesthetics on me, but unlike her, I have been unable to just say no to a lot of things that are currently in my home which do not please me, and actually make my nerves all a-jangle.

My problem, or at least one of them, is that I do not possess that wonderful sense of proportion that my mother had, at least not consistently, and so when I think something is good, I sometimes think that having more of that good thing is even better. This is not a wise or accurate way to think; after all poison is in the dose.

For instance, when my youngest child was three and half years old, I thought that it might now be a good time to get a cat. (I never had animals when my children were babies, and that is a subject for another, perhaps lengthy post.) So we got a cat. And now I have four. And a dog. And expensive vet bills, prescription cat food, dog food, licenses, etc. Without the financial means, nowadays, to take all this in stride.

I don't mean to pick on the poor animals, whom I love dearly. There are so many other examples of my trying to grab all the gusto I could, or else not setting limits on others' gusto-grabbing.

What kinds of things am I talking about? Well, here is where it gets interesting, because our modern way of living has pushed much of this on me, and not just me.

I grew up in a cozy cottage that was less than half the size of my current home. We had one bath tub, two toilets, and three sinks. I now have three bath tubs, three toilets, and seven sinks. They had one television until about the last ten years of my mother's life, when they got a small TV for their bedroom. On this Christmas day, we will have five running, three of which are the larger, big screen types. We have four computers here. And thousands of dollars worth of video game systems and video games. We also have enough Christmas decorations indoors and out, to open our own store. Thankfully, common sense combined with laziness has prevailed this year and we are not decorating outside, and I am not going to put all my inside-the-house stuff out either.

Now granted, we recently had two of our adult children move back in with us, so there are six people living here currently. They brought a lot of their stuff, so we do have more than a small family would, but my point is that we do not need all of this, and in fact, it is a liability, at least to my mental health. I know I am not alone in all this, because everybody it seems, lives in bigger houses than than their parents did, and they have more stuff, and do more stuff. Are they feeling as crazy and out of control as I am?

Even though I inherited, and didn't buy at least half of these, I have way too much furniture, knick knacks, books, wall hangings, and heaven knows what else. Oh yes, I know what else: food.

Guess what? We cannot afford all this. And I cannot keep up with keeping it all clean and orderly. I am ready to revolt. More about that tomorrow.

December Diary

More often than not, I tend to not get started on tasks when I say I will, hence my December diary starts on December 3rd., rather than the 1st. For example the season of Advent began on Sunday, which is when I should have started the readings and meditations for each day, but I didn't get started with that until today.

On a positive holiday note, I started making fruitcake today. My first batch came out really lovely, and I plan to make three more. Believe it or not, a lot of people like my fruitcake, which is dark and chewy. So I need to send some to Grandma Sallie, Bob's sister Sharon, my cousin Marcie, and cousin Merridy's pastor (the latest fan of the fruitcake).

I also pulled out all the indoor Christmas decorations, cleaned downstairs and began to deck the halls. I have way too many decorations and I think that this year I should perhaps find ways not instead of hanging up and setting out every last thing.

My Yankee candles were all lit today, and the Christmas music was on, and so it was a very good December day. Back to fruitcake tomorrow, the decorations, my music lesson, and a trip to the Home Depot with hubby and our friends, JoAnn and Paul, to look at trees. I am hoping to make my Advent wreath before this coming Sunday and also to get crackin' at those Christmas cards.

Hope everyone is finding a way to enjoy this busy season, despite the fatigue. The best thing about these December days are the long December nights!

HAPPY THANKSGIVING TO ONE AND ALL

I pray you will all have a blessed and happy day! I remember many a Thanksgiving long ago, when we would make the ninety mile trip from our home in Schenectady, NY up to my grandparents in Rutland, Vermont. My mother would always sing this song to us, as we indeed made our way over the river and through the woods!

Over the river and thru the wood,
To grandfather's house we go;
The horse knows the way
To carry the sleigh,
Thru the white and drifted snow, oh!
Over the river and thru the wood,
Oh, how the wind does blow!
It stings the toes,
And bites the nose,
As over the ground we go.

Over the river and thru the wood,
To have a first-rate play;
Oh, hear the bell ring,
"Ting-a-ling-ling!"
Hurrah for Thanksgiving Day-ay!
Over the river and thru the wood,
Trot fast my dapple gray!
Spring over the ground,
Like a hunting hound!
For this is Thanksgiving Day.


Quite often, we would have a white Thanksgiving. How precious are those memories to me this day as I baste the bird in balmy Virginia Beach. But in my mind and in my heart, I shall travel those old roads and bridges again, and stand in Grandma's kitchen with my loved ones all around me. And be thankful for them, and for those who surround me this day. I love you all!