by Mary | Sep 18, 2008 | Uncategorized
Dennis, who often talks about how he wishes he was more handy with stuff around the house, managed to pull off an extraordinary home repair yesterday, so I just have to brag about it. Two weeks ago, when I was making a big batch of brown rice in my trusty rice cooker, which cooks rice perfectly every time, I neglected to turn the cooker so any steam coming out of the vent would blow over our sink and not under our nice, new maple cabinets. I ran downstairs to throw in a load of laundry, came back up and was answering the age old question — “What’s for dinner?” — for the thousandth time, when I turned to see the steam coming out full blast and hitting the very edge of our cabinet. There, to my horror, was the veneer of our cabinet lifted up off the wood and warped. I literally sat down on the floor and cried. Our kitchen renovation 18 months ago was a huge and expensive undertaking, so to see a very visible cabinet warped and ruined left me beyond upset.
We talked to the cabinet company since it seems ridiculous that a normal household appliance could do this to a quality cabinet, or at least what we thought was a quality cabinet. We talked to Lowe’s about how me might go about replacing the entire cabinet, which would have required not only a carpenter but an electrician since there are lights in and around the cabinet. We talked to friends and relatives who are good at this sort of thing. Finally, two nights ago, Dennis took an iron, some wax paper and cardboard, cabinet glue that he shot up under the veneer using an old nasal medicine dispenser, a block of wood, some borrowed clamps and a whole lot of chutzpah and went to work on the cabinet. Twenty-four hours later the cabinet is almost as good as new. The very slight deformation that remains was easily masked by brown furniture pencil. Unless you’re looking for it, you would never know there was damage. As far as I’m concerned, that’s handy enough for me. What a relief. Now if I can just stop twitching every time someone mentions the word “rice.”
by Mary | Sep 17, 2008 | Uncategorized
Before I get started on today’s “official” post, let me first say how sorry I am that I disappeared for a few days. I have a huge work project that needs the bulk of my attention, and I had to give myself a few days of work time devoted to nothing but that. In fact, as soon as I’m done here, I’ll be back at it, but I’ve decided to spend a few minutes with you while I wait for my tea water to reach a boil. How big of me. Anyway, on with the real post.
It has been about one and a half weeks since I returned from my silent retreat, and I wanted to share what I’ve been noticing in the wake of that experience. Obviously, a silent retreat is not “normal” in the sense that it’s not supposed to be a lesson in how to live everyday life. I’m not a hermit or a monk, so my life is not silent. I would say it is the complete opposite of silent, especially based on this morning’s chaotic scene before school. However, the silent retreat was meant to show me how important silence is, even if it’s just a few minutes interspersed in an otherwise busy day. And from that perspective, the retreat was definitely a success. I am noticing in the most unexpected places a craving for silence and a willingness and ability to try to find even just a small piece of what I experienced on retreat as I go about my day.
I find that when I am eating, especially when I am eating lunch by myself or with Chiara and am prone to work on a crossword puzzle or read a newspaper at the same time, that I suddenly become aware of how mindlessly I’m eating my food. Chiara has even become a help by asking me to light the “prayer candle” when we eat lunch. The prayer candle is actually something called a “Peace Pot” that I bought when I was on retreat. My original plan was to have one meal a week where we light the candle and do a special prayer in addition to our nightly grace, but that hasn’t happened so far. Still, the fact that Chiara — who has an ulterior motive in that she likes to blow out the candle and “make a wish” — has managed to help me keep a little piece of my prayerful silence is pretty impressive.
The silence shows up in other ways as well, like when I’m driving and would normally have the radio blasting. Now I find I drive in silence much of the time, sometimes just thinking and sometimes trying to make a God connection even as I drive. And, perhaps most noticeably, I find I am much more able to settle into the silence of yoga now that I have the experience of total retreat silence as a guide. When I go to my meditative yoga class at the YMCA, which is really very spiritual despite the fact that right outside the door is a room full of elliptical machines and weightlifters, I find the silence comes naturally. In fact, last night, as we prepared for a flow of yoga poses in honor of the Harvest Moon, which was magnificent as I drove home and it hovered behind some black rimmed clouds like something out of an El Greco painting, I felt almost as prayerful as I did on my retreat. As we finished our class with a relaxation pose and deep breathing, I was very conscious of the inhalations and exhalations, imagining that I was breathing in peace and compassion, love and understanding and breathing out anxiety and greed, jealousy and indifference. None of that would have happened, I don’t think, without my silent retreat experience to fall back on.
And for those of you who are still hung up on the line where I mentioned that we did our yoga practice in honor of the Harvest Moon, thinking that perhaps that sounds too New Age-y, let me just remind you that it was our own St. Francis of Assisi who wrote the Canticle of Brother Sun and Sister Moon, and so I will close with a reflection on the very beautiful words written by St. Francis, who was an environmentalist before that word was even invented:
Most High, all-powerful, all-good Lord, All praise is Yours, all glory, all honour and all blessings.
To you alone, Most High, do they belong, and no mortal lips are worthy to pronounce Your Name.
Praised be You my Lord with all Your creatures,
especially Sir Brother Sun,
Who is the day through whom You give us light.
And he is beautiful and radiant with great splendour,
Of You Most High, he bears the likeness.
Praised be You, my Lord, through Sister Moon and the stars,
In the heavens you have made them bright, precious and fair.
Praised be You, my Lord, through Brothers Wind and Air,
And fair and stormy, all weather’s moods,
by which You cherish all that You have made.
Praised be You my Lord through Sister Water,
So useful, humble, precious and pure.
Praised be You my Lord through Brother Fire,
through whom You light the night and he is beautiful and playful and robust and strong.
Praised be You my Lord through our Sister,
Mother Earth
who sustains and governs us,
producing varied fruits with colored flowers and herbs.
Praise be You my Lord through those who grant pardon for love of You and bear sickness and trial.
Blessed are those who endure in peace, By You Most High, they will be crowned.
Praised be You, my Lord through Sister Death,
from whom no-one living can escape. Woe to those who die in mortal sin! Blessed are they whom death will find doing Your most holy will, for the second death shall do them no harm.
Praise and bless my Lord and give Him thanks,
And serve Him with great humility.
— St. Francis of Assisi
by Mary | Sep 13, 2008 | Uncategorized
We spent part of our morning down at the Soccerplex, which is soccer central for parents of school-aged children in our town at this time of year. The long convoy of minivans and SUVS of every color and size will snake along the back roads in the morning hours each Saturday from now until the end of October, when the early games are so cold that even the thought of getting hit with the ball stings. But today was a muggy and warm Indian Summer sort of day, when T-shirts and the traditional end-of-game ice pops seemed right in season. Ask me about the ice pop treats come late October and I’ll be singing a different tune for sure.
Our family had been soccer-free for a couple of years, when neither Noah nor Olivia had any interest, but Olivia, who is pretty fierce on the field, decided to give the all-girls team a try this year. Actually, to be completely honest, she decided on soccer when dear old mom and dad gave her two choices: running club at school or town-sponsored soccer. She had to choose a physical activity of some sort, and I’m so glad she chose soccer because even when she was just 4 and 5 years old, she was a feisty little player who didn’t let up. Seeing my strong girl out there on the field makes me proud.
Here she is (the one in lime green) on the move after the ball:
In this one she’s in the center with the super cool black and silver shin guards:
And here is Chiara, standing on the sidelines. Rainboots are not the most effective soccer footware:
by Mary | Sep 11, 2008 | Uncategorized
September is one of those crazy months for parents with multiple school-aged children. Between back-to-school nights and picnics and practices, the calendar is typically full to overflowing. That’s pretty much how this week is for us. Last night Olivia had soccer practice, Chiara had her preschool family picnic, and Dennis had a school board meeting. Tonight is no better. Dennis has a doctor’s appointment and a commitment to help with our school’s new preschool bathroom, and Noah has a scout meeting that requires a parent in attendance because it will include details on two, count ’em, two, upcoming camping trips.
So…I will go to the scout meeting with the two girls in tow. Yesterday I told Olivia that she will need to play with “the baby” while I listen to the scout leader and jot down notes. Chiara overheard all this and chimed in, “I want to play with the baby.” I looked at her and said, “You ARE the baby.”
It’s interesting to see how different the same life can look depending on where you’re standing.
by Mary | Sep 9, 2008 | Silence
As promised (or threatened, depending on your perspective), I want to take another day to talk about silence, which sounds contradictory, but, hey, that’s me, contradictory. This past weekend I spent two days on a silent retreat. It was called “Merton in the Mountains” and relied on the writings of the famed Trappist monk Thomas Merton, specifically as they relate to Franciscan spirituality, to lead us into silence and contemplation. I had been looking for an opportunity to try a silent retreat for almost a year. Something about silence has been calling to me, daring me to give it a try despite my trepidation. (more…)
