Category Archives: Far Away Places

Love Waits

27 Sunday Jun 2010

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Somewhere in the churchyard of St. Paul’s cathedral, my husband sits in Sunday afternoon, waiting for his London hotel room to be prepared.

Further east, my youngest son Kyle lives in Sunday evening, waiting to go to bed to prepare for his fourth week of teaching in southeast Asia.  I was able to hear a bit about his new life, during a 20 minute phone call last night — though I must confess that hearing the sound of his voice was just as good as hearing the news he shared.

Meanwhile, here I sat at home, a West living in the West, who waits in Sunday morning.  For what do I wait?

I wait for Max to get well.  Our standard poodle Max has been suffering a stomach upset from a bug picked up at doggie daycare this week, where the dogs went to play while our house was receiving a new roof.  One of his canine sisters brought home the bug and now each has suffered the same ailments, with Max having last rites.

I wait for today’s family lunch, where remnants of family will gather around a local pub for lunch and a visit.  It is always good to sit in the midst of people I love best in the world — to see their faces, their smiles; to hear their voices and snippets from their lives.  I will try to enjoy the ones I’m with — rather than mourn the absence of those further afield.

I wait in prayer as Bryan, Amy and Amy’s sister Emily pack and load a moving van full of Bryan and Amy’s furniture.  Soon, all their ‘must-haves’ for everyday life will find their proper place in the “new” vintage apartment that lies just a hop, skip and a jump from here.  I pray for an injury-free transfer, for furniture is so very heavy and bulky.   I pray for safety in driving an unfamiliar moving van.  And sometimes I pray for something that I can’t quite name, though it rests near the lump of my throat.

All of these thoughts about waiting make me realize that much of my life is spent in a state of waiting.  For the most part, mine is not an anxious, stress-filled waiting but rather an attempt to ride through the moment, to see how everyday life will unfold, to see where I will be carried by the river of God.

I’ve learned there is a spirituality of waiting, something picked up from the writings of Henri Nouwen, that I encountered as a first-year student of Heartpaths Spirituality Centre.  Henri introduces his reflections on waiting with words that paint a familiar scene:

“Waiting is not popular.  In fact, most people consider waiting a waste of time.  Perhaps this is because the culture in which we live is basically saying, “Get going!  Do something!  Show you are able to make a difference!  Don’t just sit there and wait!”  For many People, waiting is an awful desert between where they are and where they want to go.  And people do not like such a place.”

Waiting can be difficult.  Sometimes, I want to know how “it” will all end.  And I want to know “it” now.”    The reason is fear, of course, as Henri points out later in his writing, and my wish for certainty rather than “lumps in my throat.”  Where fears are related to wishes, hope is related to trust, Nouwen teaches.

While I endeavor to wait out everyday life in hope rather than fear, I wait in the company of love, which makes up for many sins and shortcomings, at least in my book.   And how wonderful to know that someone, somewhere, is waiting for us.  How wonderful it is to know that we are missed when we become separated by time and space.

Does God miss me, I wonder.  Does God wait for me to return “home?”  I’d like to think ‘yes’  — though here’s hoping that heaven can wait too — at least for a while.

Coming and Going

01 Tuesday Jun 2010

Posted by in Far Away Places, Life at Home

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Being on a four-day vacation from my sister’s renovation is granting me space to contemplate the comings and goings in my own everyday life.

Last night, I helped my youngest son pack for an 8-week stint in southeast Asia.  Had I not insisted, the packing would have been put off to this evening — too late for my stress level as he leaves tomorrow.  Kyle is so hard to settle down; he always plays before he works.

Kyle’s view about work reminds me of Jesus’ view on “the poor”:  we will always have both, no matter what we do;  the poor and our work will always be waiting for our helping hand.  It strikes me that Kyle’s travels will place him at the intersection of work and the poor.   Writing  this thought leaves me unsettled, as Kyle’s leaving will create a gap in my everyday world.  And though it helps to remind myself that 8 weeks is not so terribly long, the ache in my chest isn’t  buying into the rationalization; my eyes tear up at the mere thought of his departure.

It helps that when one goes, another comes.  Around a couple of pizzas last night, my husband and I talked with Bryan and Amy about the new apartment they are hoping to land.  Pending approval of their leasing application, Bryan and Amy will be moving closer to us, just a little south of Mesta Park.  Like kids that can’t wait for Christmas, we all drove over to their new apartment last night, which is really not new at all.  The building dates back to the days of early statehood, when all apartment buildings carried their name proudly etched in stone above the entry.   This one is all fresh and renovated, just blocks from Bryan’s new job, making the location perfect.  And to the extent they want my help, I’ll be there to settle them in.

For now, my oldest and her husband live the most settled existence.   Their four children keep them grounded.  But if not for these, I think Kate and Glen would be jetting off hither and yon to see the world.  They both have an incurable case of the travel bug; when they aren’t traveling themselves, they travel vicariously by settling down in front of their television set to watch The Travel Channel.  Even their wedding was held on location.  I wish I could travel with such ease.

My youngest daughter Kara  — the one who lives just north of us  — surprised me with good news on Mother’s Day:  God willing, come next January, I’ll have five ‘grands’ instead off four.  You’re the first I’ve told, because I wished to give Kara time to tell her own good news.  But it feels so wonderful to finally share the good news, especially in the midst of the trail of words I’ve written about Daddy.

New life comes.  And it’s always unsettling.  And this new baby is a reminder that there is joy amidst sadness, and somehow, between all the comings and goings, we float on hope that everyday life will make perfect sense in the end.

Chocolate Sheet Cake

27 Wednesday Jan 2010

Posted by in Far Away Places, In the Kitchen, Life at Home

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On the Irish Ruins of The Quiet Man set

Buying my father a Christmas gift has never been easy.

Just ask my brother Jon  —  he’ll tell you all about the time he learned too late that  Dad was not a Willie Nelson fan — at Christmas or any other time.  But one year, about sixteen years after that Willie Nelson Christmas, I thought I had finally come up with the perfect gift for Dad, when I offered to take him to Greece, to see the land of his father’s birth.

It should come as no surprise to learn that Greece was not on Dad’s radar.  Instead, my father wanted to go to Ireland.  And not just any old place in Ireland — Dad wanted to make a pilgrimage to a city I had never heard of where a movie I had never heard of had been filmed.  In other words, Daddy had his heart set on a visit to Cong where the movie The Quiet Man had been filmed.

Being the gracious gift-givers that we were, we exchanged Greece for the Irish vacation of Daddy’s dreams.  And before travel plans were finalized, the trip grew to include three days each in Paris and London.   All this horsetrading of countries taught me that my beloved father — the quietest man I had thought to ever know — could be quite vocal when it suited his purpose.

In the end, it didn’t matter where Daddy wanted to go.  To his three traveling companions, it was all good.   The days and nights were a blur of memorable sights and sounds, that collided and bumped into each other like fast-moving scenes from the roller coaster ride my sixty-eight year old father rode at Disneyland Paris.

There were the soaring spaces of Paris — Notre Dame, the Louvre, the Eiffel Tour and the Arc de Triomphe — the green rain and gorgeous plump flowers of the Irish countryside, along with lazy sheep crossings on the way to an intrepid picnic on Dingle Bay shared with sea gulls — a ‘mind the gap’ tour of London tubes and seeing history come to life with visits to the Tower of London and walking in the footsteps of Jack the Ripper.

And then there are all those special memories I will always hold dear, like when Daddy, wearing his new tweed jacket and cap, was mistaken for an Irishman by tourists.  And then there’s the photograph of Dad above, standing near the ruins of the “White-O-Mornin” cottage featured in The Quiet Man.  Daddy took in all fifteen days with wide-eyed wonder.  All the memories are precious, especially as I think of how quiet Dad has really grown over the last year, so that he can no longer string two words together.

Amidst all the changing scenery and countries was the constancy of my sister’s chosen dessert of chocolate cake.  It is because of this shared trip with Daddy, that I can no longer see a slice of chocolate cake without thinking ‘Christi.’   And the sweet irony of the association is that I don’t even think chocolate cake is my sister’s favorite dessert — on her birthday, she always asks for a light lemony cheesecake instead!

But two days ago, when I was enjoying a slice of my family’s favorite chocolate cake, I thought of Sis and this shared memory of a fifteen day tour dotted by pieces of chocolate cake.  And with today’s visit to Dad, it seemed right to flip through the photos from the trip and share this recipe with you, along with the few memories that will forever be held together by crumbs of chocolate cake.

Make a chocolate cake memory and you’ll see what I mean.  From my life to yours.

Chocolate Sheet Cake

2 cups sugar
2 cups flour
1 tsp salt
1 tsp baking soda
2 sticks butter
1 cup water
4 Tbsp cocoa
1/2 cup buttermilk
2 eggs
1 tsp vanilla

In a large bowl, sift together all dry ingredients.

In a saucepan over medium heat, bring butter, water and cocoa to boil.  Add the hot mixture to flour mixture.  Sitr well.

Add remaining ingredients and mix well.  Pour in a greased jelly roll pan (10″x15″x2″) and bake at 350 for 20 mins.

Chocolate Frosting

1 stick butter
4 Tbsp cocoa
6 Tbsp milk
1 box powdered sugar (16 oz)
1 tsp vanilla
1 cup chopped pecans (optional)

In a mixing bowl, add powdered sugar.

In a saucepan over medium heat, bring butter, cocoa and milk to a boil.  Immediately pour over powdered sugar, mixing with an electric mixer until smooth.  Mix in vanilla and nuts.   Immediately spread over hot cake.