Category Archives: Soul Care

The Stage is Set

06 Sunday Dec 2009

Posted by in Life at Home, Soul Care

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The Nativity Stage is Set

Writing proved good therapy yesterday as it lifted my blues and allowed me to pick up the pieces of my day; as soon as the post was published, my husband and I bundled up in our coats and hats.  Then we walked west to visit this year’s Mesta Park tour homes.

The homes were well-staged.  Everywhere I looked I found some little treasure, some little historical detail that had survived who know’s how many owners to share their hundred year old story.  And of course, the homes were dressed in their holiday finest.

But as nice as the homes were, it’s always good to come through my own front door.  I walk in through the small vestibule to see it all with fresh eyes;  immediately, I spot the greenery that covers my banister.  Then my eye falls on the unadorned tree.

Not quite a “Charlie Brown” Christmas tree, our ten-year old artificial tree is small in stature.  Four feet from top to bottom.  Most of our ornaments, purchased to dress a nine-foot tree, don’t even make it out of the basement anymore.   First priority goes to all the decorations made by our children when they were little boys and girls.  Any remaining space goes to ornaments that tell stories about our lives — people, places and events.

This ornament made by Kara’s six-year old hand always get a choice spot.  After all, the little glitter paper star  tells the story behind Christmas itself.  Love is the star of the Christmas story.  From beginning to end, Christmas is about love.

God loves Kara.  God loves me.  God loves you.  It boggles our mind that this should be so, for Lord knows,  there’s nothing that we can do or say to deserve it.  And little Kara is so obviously confused about this message of love.  A nice teacher probably wrote the story in big and bold red letters, as teachers everywhere are known to do.  But little Kara working in blue highlighter can’t quite get her writing hand around the message.

“Kara God loves Kara,” my six-year old child writes.  What was Kara trying to say?  Was it Kara loves God?  Or was she trying to repeat God loves Kara in her own hand, like one who writes a teacher’s words over and over until the lesson sticks.  Or  is it that God’s love begins and ends with Kara?  And me?  And you?   Whichever it is, just like Kara, we stumble and stutter for the right words and actions to express God’s love, only to have it come out all jumbled.  Lost in translation.

No matter what Kara intended to say, the red pen was right in pronouncing that God loves Kara.  And had we been in that classroom, we would have made stars that told the story that God loves you and I.   This is the ancient love story that was handed down to me and was handed down to whoever my storyteller was… and so on, all the way back to St. John himself, who doesn’t bother with the likes of a nativity story or wise men or shepherds or this bit about there being no room in the inn.

Instead John starts his story all the way back to the beginning of time and says Jesus Christ was there.  And then he rattles around a bit, perhaps a little confused and dazed by all of God’s love just like my six-year old Kara was until FINALLY, John writes a verse that even a six year old can memorize:

“For God so loved the world that he gave his own son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.”

And this is John’s Christmas story in a nutshell.  John sets his gospel stage with love.  And he leaves the rest of the story, and even the story itself, to the likes of us.

If I were six, I might tell the story better.

Tomato Basil Soup

04 Friday Dec 2009

Posted by in In the Kitchen, Life at Home, Prayer, Soul Care

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The memories of tasting a new soup can be as wonderful as the soup itself.  And so it is with this particular soup.

I don’t remember the year but I recall it was around Valentines Day when I was first treated to a taste of this simple soup.  My friends Kathy and Litha had conspired to give twelve of their shared girlfriends the best sort of Valentine ever – an invitation to a luncheon, to share and bask in love from their kitchens and in the love of God herself.

These women did all the cooking in advance.  So guests arrived to be welcomed by the hostesses, to tables so prettily set, that we knew ourselves for the special company we were.  We were seated and waited on, one course after another.  The creamy red soup came first, served with dainty cheese wafers, all home-made.  Then the sweet ending was some type of raspberry and chocolate confection that was almost too pretty to eat.  And I don’t recall what came in between, nor do I remember what was said by any one at the table, though I recall that later we circled up in Litha’s living room to share our favorite biblical passage about God’s love.

But I’ll never forget how it felt to have a seat at the table amidst such fine company.  I felt that this is how the world should be…everyday, not just on special occasions. I felt love all around me.  And the love made me feel infinitely precious.

And how rare this feeling is, that I should still be warmed by the memory of that day, seven or eight years later.  That this should be so tells me that we don’t love each other nearly as well as we could, even those in our closest knit circle of friends and family, forgetting for a moment the poor, the hungry, the homeless, the lonely, the grieving that are strangers in our midst that so desperately need a sign of our love and God’s.

Our knowledge of love grows out of a place of belonging, a place where we feel at home, a place where we are loved and accepted no matter what.  And it hits me hard that I could do this more myself.  And should do this more myself.  And though I try to create a place of belonging within that monthly contemplative prayer class I facilitate, I wonder how the experience would differ if I were to  host the group in my home, at least on occasion, instead of meeting at the church.

It’s food for thought.  And in the meantime, I think I’ll carry Kathy’s soup to next Thursday’s pot-luck supper.  Maybe a taste of it will warm their hearts as much as mine… and maybe it will warm your heart too.  From my life to yours.

Tomato Basil Soup

(Original Recipe — 10 cups of Soup) (My adaption of Kathy’s recipe follows)

1 28 oz can and 1 14 oz can crushed tomatoes
4 cups of tomato juice or chicken broth

Simmer together in a large sauce pan over medium heat for 30 minutes.

14 basil leaves

Adding basil, puree in small batches in blender or food process (note:  small batches are important as hot liquid is very explosive when being processed or blended).  Alternatively, use an immersion blender and leave the soup in the sauce pan as I do.

Return to the sauce pan.  Add remaining ingredients; heat through, careful not to boil.

1 cup of heavy cream
1/4 pound butter
salt & pepper to taste.

Alternative Ingredient List – Makes about 7 cups

I reduced the fat content and changed the ingredient list for staples I keep on hand.

Using same recipe process described above…

2 14.5 oz cans of petite diced tomatoes, briefly processed in a blender or food processor
1 8 oz can tomato sauce
1 14 oz can chicken broth
7 – 10 basil leaves
2 Tbsp butter
1/2 cup light cream
1/4 tsp salt
1/4 tsp pepper

Vocation

30 Monday Nov 2009

Posted by in Good Reads, Life at Home, Soul Care

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The day comes down to this… me at my writing desk and Maddie laying on the bed behind me.

It feels good to sit after such a busy day. It was one of those days, that after it’s all over, we wonder how we ever fit it all in:  taking  my Addison’s dog in for a check-up, going to the grocery store, doing laundry, baking bread, making lunch and then an entire afternoon at my writing desk immersed in Frederick Buechner’s writing.

Max is doing pretty good, given where we were a few months back.  This past week though, I’ve noticed a little loss in appetite and a few other potential “bumps in the road” that I thought might be tied to the fine-tuning we’ve begun on Max’s hormone replacement therapy.  So today’s visit was all about buying some peace of mind.  With a trip to Surfside Beach in our near future, I want that poodle boy of mine to be fit as a fiddle.

Stuck at the doctors all day, poor Max missed baking day though.  And we missed him.  It’s crazy that we can miss the one that’s not here, even with two dogs still keeping me company.  But Max got a clean bill of health with another order to further adjust his meds.  I’ll be glad when we’re on “maintenance.”

Spending time with Buechner is always holy time.  I’ve decided that Buechner is the patron saint of our Everyday God.  His writing has nurtured my spiritual life in a way that’s beyond words.  Truly.  I remember a former pastor first mentioning his name, sort of in passing.  But I don’t think I’ll ever forget the first time I laid eyes on one of his sentences.  It was literary love at first sight.

It was just a small quote from Buechner, something that I imagine happens a lot with Buechner’s words.  I’m getting ready to do it here.  But I’ll never forget how beautiful the words were and how I felt, that in reading this short sentence, I had just been handed truth in bulk — a lot of meaning for the cost of a few words.

And I pray I have not built this up too much, that you will be disappointed in my short sentence  cum sacred souvenir; but then how could I make too much over this, since this was how I felt reading that first sentence.  I remember putting down the book I was reading, and immediately logging onto Amazon.com to buy my first Buechner book  — Wishful Thinking, A Seeker’s ABC — the very book that contained my sentence.

The quote was the last sentence of Buechner’s definition for “Vocation,” and even taken out of context, it was good.  Very good.  Beyond good.  So what was the sentence that began my journey with Buechner?  Simply this:

“The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet.”

The day comes down to this… me at my writing desk and Maddie laying on the bed behind me.