Welcome, Prudence!

China Road

When I first married in 1975 most couples registered at a department store for formal china, silver and crystal.  The simple look of a silver band around a cream background of Lenox’s Solitaire appealed to me then and still does.  Since I was preparing to be a “preacher’s wife” my mother insisted that I needed 12 place settings and by golly that’s what I got. Fancy dinners with church members and deacons were in my future.

The Solitaire lasted longer than the marriage and I carted it around with me for over 30 years.  Even when I was single I’d unpack it in every apartment and use it for dinner parties.  All twelve place settings.  And it became the china that Bill and I used for Christmas, Thanksgiving and the like.  I just loved it.

Shortly before Emily and Jeff were married I used the china for a meal when they were visiting.  In the back of my mind I’d been thinking of giving it to them, but truthfully I was having a very hard time letting it go.  But I mustered the courage to ask if they might like it and the answer was an unequivocal Yes! I packed it up and the day after their wedding they loaded it into their car and took it to DC.

Bill and I had Thanksgiving dinner with them this year and there was my china, looking ever-so-beautiful in its new home.  I sort of like the idea that it started out Baptist and converted to Judaism.

Of course I still have the Waterford crystal and Gorham sterling…

Aunt Dot

She is like a horse grazing

a hill pasture that someone makes

smaller by coming every night

to pull the fences in and in.

She has stopped running wide loops,

stopped even the tight circles.

She drops her head to feed; grass

is dust, and the creekbed’s dry.

Master, come with your light

halter.  Come and bring her in.

            In the Nursing Home by Jane Kenyon

My dear Aunt Dot is having a rough time of it.  Almost 90 and never married, she recently had to move to a nursing home in the Dallas area.  She is not just an ordinary aunt, but someone who has had a profound and lasting influence on my life.  While visiting her last week I reminded her of all that we have in common, which includes a love of reading, travel, movies and opera, devotion to the Episcopal Church, and a taste for wine.  But what I meant to say to her was Thank you, Dot, for opening my eyes to a big beautiful world and for taking me along on your journey.

What To Do?

The tragedy in Newtown last week left a heavy burden on my heart.  So many questions, not the least of which is What can I do?  Anyone speaking from a pulpit last Sunday had to address this as well and fortunately the Gospel for the day had something to say.  John the Baptist is addressing a restless, clamoring crowd who after being baptized asks him What should we do? And his unequivocal answer is to give away your extra coat and food.

So for once I took the Bible literally and did just that.  I marched up to the attic where two perfectly good coats were in storage just in case.  This morning I dropped them off at the Emmaus homeless shelter in Ellsworth and hope they will wrap someone in warmth over the next few weeks.

And the crowds asked him “What then should we do?” In reply he said to them, “Whoever has two coats must share with anyone who has none; and whoever has food must do likewise."  

Luke 3:10-11

Carrot Crop

Yesterday we harvested our late-fall carrot crop and I spent most of the morning today making a big batch of carrot soup.  Growing a late crop was new to us this year-we planted the seeds in August when the harvesting of the garlic made some space in the garden.  We’ve had temps in the teens which didn’t seem to harm the carrots, but we had to wait for a warm day for the soil to be loose enough to dig them.  Here’s the recipe for the soup, adapted from Moosewood Cookbook.

Herbed Carrot Soup

2 lbs. carrots

1 medium white potato

4 cups water

1 cup chopped onion

2 cloves garlic, minced

1 ½ tsp. salt

1 T olive oil

1 tsp. dried basil

½ tsp. dried marjoram

½ tsp. dried thyme

1-2 T lemon juice, according to taste

Yogurt, for garnish,

Fresh parsley, for garnish

Clean and peel carrots and potato. (Boy, did this take a long time! A word to those who don’t grow carrots-the ones from your garden are not nice and uniform like the ones in the supermarket-they are of varying sizes and shapes, from long and skinny to short and stumpy, with many strange deformities.) Cut into pieces, put in a soup pot and add the water.  Bring to a boil, lower to simmer, cover and cook until tender, about 20-25 minutes.

Meanwhile, sauté onion and salt in oil over medium heat until onion is soft.  Add garlic and herbs and cook about 5 minutes more. Add lemon juice.

When carrots are tender combine them with the onion mixture and purée in batches in a food processor. (This is when I wish I had an immersion blender!) Return to soup pot and simmer for about 10 minutes.  Serve with a dollop of yogurt and chopped parsley on top.

So that’s our carrot crop for the year-soup for three meals.  Sort of seems like a lot of trouble and a small pay-off, but it tasted great and as Garrison Keillor admonishes on the Writer’s Almanac, I did good work.

Worship in a Foreign Language

Over the summer I had an opportunity to attend mass in both Portugal and Italy.  While others in the group were going to Etruscan museums and an alabaster workshop I was heading off to church.  I’m not even Catholic, as you know, but I just can’t help it.  As a church musician and someone more than casually interested in liturgy, I want to see how it’s done wherever I go.

In Portugal, where I was on tour with the choir from First Parish Church in Brunswick, the chance to attend mass was built into our performance schedule.  We were at the famous pilgrimage site of Fátima where the choir was scheduled to sing at an afternoon mass at the basilica.  They hold many services everyday and there is a real herd ‘em in, herd ‘em out mentality.  Nonetheless the basilica is truly beautiful and conducive to worship (unlike the newly built auditorium which seats 8,000).

As the previous mass was concluding I was excited to hear organ music, and as I walked in the door I set my eyes on a beautiful free-standing pipe organ near the front of the church.  After playing on electronic things so far on the trip I couldn’t wait to get my hands on a real instrument!  But no…the organist, an ancient little sad man, would not let us use the instrument.  He turned it off and stomped away with the key in hand.  So once again I accompanied the choir on an electronic gizmo.

We finished Mozart’s sublime Ave Verum a minute or so before communion ended and I jumped up to take my place in line.  I brazenly looked the handsome Brazilian priest right in the eye, feeling just a tad guilty for taking communion as a non-Catholic.  But I’m glad I did: that sacrament became the meaningful remembrance for me rather than the rude treatment given us by the organist.

In Italy Bill and I were in the beautiful walled city of Volterra on a Sunday.  After trekking around with a tour guide for a couple of hours I veered off to the cathedral, built oh-so-many hundreds of years ago.  Of course it was stunningly beautiful.  There were no hymnals or service leaflets but there was a pipe organ, of sorts, and an ad-hoc choir. (I was tempted to speak to the priest afterwards and offer my services free for a week or two in exchange for housing in this beautiful town!) And as usual in a Catholic church there were all sorts of people in attendance, from the well-dressed American ex-pats to the local handicapped man.

In both Portugal and Italy I could easily follow the order of mass, even with my limited knowledge of the language.  I could even get an inkling of what was in the sermon; at least I could tell both priests were impassioned about their subject!  But I was freed from the intellectual side of worship, full of many words, and that felt good. Best of all I felt a spiritual bond with those around me, one that transcends culture and language.

So here’s a recommendation:  when travelling in a foreign country, go to a church service.  You will be among the people, away from other tourists and the top sites in your guidebook.  And you will have a clear and unique window into the real life of the place you are visiting.

Grace

When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers,

   the moon and the stars you have set in their courses,

What is man that you should be mindful of him?

   the son of man that you should seek him out?

You have made him but a little lower than the angels;

   you adorn him with glory and honor.

You give him mastery over the works of your hands;

   you put all things under his feet.

All sheep and oxen,

   even the wild beasts of the field,

The birds of the air, the fish of the sea,

   and whatsoever walks in the paths of the sea.

O Lord our Governor,

   how exalted is your Name in all the world!

                                                                   Psalm 8:4-10

Grace is one of those church words that is hard to grasp.  We hear it a lot in sermons and use it often in casual conversation, such as By the grace of God I wasn't in that accident! (By the way, that comment seems like a total misinterpretation of the meaning of grace.)

Psalm 8 was appointed for October 7, and as I prepared to rehearse the musical setting with the choir it abruptly dawned on me that here is grace, as defined by the psalmist.  A gift, deserved or not, freely given.  And what a gift, to be a meaningful part of creation, no matter how small I feel.