when corn stalks rattled in the wind
ears full and golden as plenty’s horn
when horse chestnuts
smooth and lustrous
sans their skin
were the only wealth we would own
when the snow geese formed and flew
caroling another season gone
that was when
i walked with you
feeding squirrels
scattering kernels along the stony fence row
that was when
karen
After doing some travelling the past few days I have determined that I cannot wait for a penitential season to address a personal and pressing problem. I am not proud of this personal weakness. But I am savvy enough to recognize that I don’t like it.
And, I bet you agree that sometimes other drivers can be very irritating. VERY irritating. So, the other day, I am crawling my way down the highway in the midst of road construction. There is a whole open lane blocked off for no apparent reason. And this car starts weaving into the closed part, speeding ahead until they come to a barrier, weaving back in to my lane. Going a few feet to the other side of the barrier, and repeating the same thing.
Wow.
I was immediately enraged. So does it count as being enraged if no one else sees it? Like a tree falling in the forest? I was not only yelling at the transgressor, but also the people who were letting the car back in. I thought s/he might not be so bold if they had to cool their jets for a while, like maybe 20 or 30 minutes, before someone let them back into traffic. We were all in a hurry for heaven’s sake!
It took about 300 miles for me to start thinking with some compassion. What if they were sick, or trying to get to the hospital, or had to go to the bathroom, or were in pain, or…whatever?? A few months back, in a previous attempt to conquer this “road irrationality” (it seems extreme to call it rage), I started calling the drivers who I thought were not being safe with names of affection like “dearie” or “sister” or “friend”. Not in a pejorative way, but in an act of solidarity. Because sometimes I am a bad driver too. That helped. But I think I have to up my game.
“Giving up” my road irrationality will take time. But it seems that if I have promised to find the good in people, that drivers should count too. I am not a perfect driver, and so I have to make space to love other imperfect drivers. Maybe I will start with tolerating them…with affection.
Micah: 6: 8
it took years
to know myself
to part the curtains
own what i found
and
knowing myself
refuse to retreat
to “go to ground”
karen
Come in through the red door.
Do you see beauty in the building?
Come into the quiet.
Do you see shadows reflected?
Come into the darkness.
Do you see a sliver of light?
Come into the splendor.
Do you feel the inviting warmth?
Come into God’s radiance.
Do you find Him in someone?
Come into community.
Do you want to remain?
Come into activity.
Do you want to take part?
Come into fellowship.
Do you experience comfort?
Come in through the red door.
Do you bring Jesus with you or did you find Him within?
I learned how to cook at the Catholic Worker House in Rock Island, IL. We ran a small homeless shelter in that house, women and families, usually about 10-15 people. And we ate whatever was donated to us. Just to be clear, that means we didn’t buy any food. I had to work with what we had.
When we moved in, I was the one who was going to do most of the cooking. And I was told there was a pantry, and we would plant a garden, and people dropped off things like meat, occasionally. So with great anticipation I went down to said pantry. Most of the shelves held precisely two items: cranberry sauce and canned sweet potatoes. Shelves and shelves of cranberry sauce and canned sweet potatoes.
So if you get nothing else out of this brief reflection, please let it be not to donate those things to homeless shelters, and in fact, not to give your garbage. If that can of lychees has been in the back of your kitchen cabinet since you moved it there from your old house, please eat it. Don’t give it to “the poor” because “they will be grateful for anything if they are hungry.” It simply isn’t true.
Let me say that now, I love cranberries, and I make my own cranberry sauce when they are around in the fall. Then, I wasn’t so thrilled. Because my plan was one can per week would be incorporated into a meal. Maybe two.
It turns out you can do a lot with sweet potatoes and cranberry sauce. You can make sweet potato pie, sweet potato cakes, sweet potato hash, sweet potato soup. I even have a great recipe for sweet potato salad that I made up over the years. But cranberry sauce is a little harder. I would often throw it in soup. Like vinegar or lemon juice. You can mix it with mustard for a great sauce for chicken. You can fold it into rice and bread crumbs and sage to stuff pork. You can make punch. Little by little I whittled the supply down to almost nothing. Until Thanksgiving time, when I would get hundreds of cans again. I learned to say no.
We are approaching a season of generous giving. My hope is that we are all giving from our abundance, giving from our substance—not our leftovers. If it isn’t good enough for me, I don’t give it to someone else. I reduce or reuse or recycle. Sometimes I throw away. But I make sure the gifts I offer are truly gifts. If I wouldn’t give it to Jesus, well, that is my litmus test.
My grandmother used to make prune jello. Yes, I said prune jello. And she was proud of it, presented it to us only on special occasions as an offering of the highest order, of the greatest affection. Of course, we all hated it. And we all had some. Never more than one helping, of course, but never a complete rejection.
Because my Grandma also used to give us bread sopping with hot gravy when we came for lunch after church. She would pick all the raspberries on her bush and tell me to eat them, or fresh green beans from her garden. She would make shrimp salad with those cans of tiny shrimp because she thought that was my favorite when I would visit during the week. She was a depression-era grandma who showed her love in providing, especially food.
And I have learned that from her, and my other grandma and my parents. Preparing food is always done with love and intention, always an offering of myself. And when I am surrounded by people I love, family and friends, and we bite into a roast chicken or a plate of brownies, they know I made the food especially for them.
So I offer a simple recipe, something that my family and friends love. It was first made for me when my son had open heart surgery when he was 9. I had been with him in the hospital for a solid week and I went home to see my other kids, and a friend had us for supper and support. She made this salad, and I will always remember that it made me feel like everything was going to be OK. (And it was). I think of that moment whenever we share it. And I offer it to you to make your own lovely memories.
Apple Snicker Salad
6-8 sweet apples, cored and chopped ( I sprinkle them with a little lemon juice)
1 bag of snickers candy bars, chopped
1 container of whipped topping
Combine and refrigerate. Very yummy!
Overtime
the roses bloomed
gone in an aster afternoon
still i stayed on
the shadows grew
the maples changed
before i knew
why should i work and worry
no wage could ever buy
the opalescent wonder
of a rare October sky
“Where Late the Sweet Birds Sang”
Black arms and fingers reaching to the blue,
Bleak silhouettes of former forest green.
Their choresters flown to warmer, humid climes,
Now silence reigns where summer hymns of praise
Were raised by cardinals, wrens and finches gold
Nestled in those arms’ and fingers’ strong embrace.
These “bare ruined choirs” will in the Spring leaf out and
Echo to those lovely feathered songsters once again.
These reassuring returns endure.
“It’s going to come out all right – do you know?
The sun, the birds, the grass – they know.
They get along – and we’ll get along.”
–William Farragher
“There are many different gifts, but it is always the same Spirit…. The particular manifestation of the Spirit granted to each one is to be used for the general good.” 1 Corinthians 12:4 and 12:6.
I am always impressed by the many and varied gifts God has given to members of St. John’s, and by the many creative ways these gifts are used for the benefit of the church and the community. It is truly an illustration of God’s abundant, overflowing generosity.
There are those with the gift of hospitality, whether expressed in events like the Sunday Coffee Hour, Easter Sunday brunch or at the Red Door Café. There are gardeners, those who keep the grounds beautiful and indoor plants flourishing and those who plant and tend vegetables at the Inner City Garden. There are those who volunteer monthly at the Food Pantry, organizing the food and assisting clients, or welcoming women who come for Coffee and Conversation. There are those who welcome visitors and guide them around the building, those practical souls who maintain the building to look its best or decorate it for special occasions. There are those whose gift is to pray for the needs of others, or to teach, or to deal with day-to-day business of the parish and finances. The Altar Guild prepares meticulously for services, washing and ironing linens, cleaning silver and brass, so all is ready in its proper place for the priest, acolytes and chalicers. The organist and choir bless our worship with the gift of music. Eucharistic Visitors keep in touch with those who cannot attend in person.
Gifts, above and beyond those mentioned, all used for the general good and the glory of God.
contemplating history on my hands
Mother
Grandmother
Great great grandmother
how lovely you were my ladies
for i can barely force your rings upon my fingers
yet i shall carry you with me
in honor of Love
more durable than diamonds
karen