Tag Archives: Everyday Life

Sanity Prayer

08 Tuesday Sep 2009

Posted by in Life at Home, Prayer

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I’ve been upset most of the day about a family matter.  I can’t talk details; some things in life are not fodder for the blog.  But still —  thoughts churn away and wear me down.

Always, always the matters that matter most are completely out of my control.  How I wish I could protect those people closest to my heart from all the hurts that life inflicts; the hurts that grow out of a shortfall of love.  And the people I most want to protect are those who depend on others to make wise choices on their behalf. 

And what are wise choices one might ask?  Well, that depends on who is asked.  It depends on who gets to cast their vote at the ballot box.   On today’s upset, I had no vote.   Maybe the decision makers considered it to be none of my business.  Obviously, I beg to differ.  Shouldn’t my love count for something? 

At one point in my life — not so very long ago —  I would have picked up the phone and put in my two cents after the fact — said my piece  — given those in charge a piece of my fine mind.  And then regret would sit in.  Almost immediately.  And I would again pick up the phone, no longer fueled by anger, to apologize before hearts grew hard.

But no longer.  These days I go outside and take action on what I can control.  I rip off the English Ivy growing up our home’s bricks.  And then afterwards, I read to keep my mind occupied with a lovely journal of May Sarton.  And then I write so the thoughts will no longer churn around in my mind.  And once delivered, my mind is empty and almost at peace.  Enough so that I can sit and pray.      

Here’s my shortened version of the Serenity Prayer, which today I’ve renamed the Sanity Prayer —  Lord help those who are not so wise.  Even if those is me. 

And as I write this I think I now have a better sense of how God must feel all those times when I make some unwise choice without giving Him a vote. 

Peek-A-Boo

06 Sunday Sep 2009

Posted by in In the Garden, Life at Home, Soul Care

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Mystery Guest under the Roses

A few weeks ago I ran across a mystery plant hiding beneath an antique rose bush.  This pretty little plant bearing purple tinged foilage was growing where I’d sown no seed.  What was it?  And where did it come from?  

Days later, in another part of my garden, I found my answer.  Through a quick match of garden gin rummy, I learned it was the Peek-A-Boo plant.  Living up to its name —  with its small ‘eyeball’ blooms peeking out from  some sweet potato vines  —  the Peek-A-Boo wore the same purple tinged leaves as my mystery plant. 

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PEEK-A-BOOS - Spilanthes, Acmelia oleracea

Once named, other answers soon fell into place.  I recalled that it was growing there because I had planted the Peek-A-Boos in both garden locations.  In April under the rose bush;  and then in May, when the plants appeared to languish, I transplanted them elsewhere in the garden.  Or so I thought.  Now, almost four months later, I see  my late spring transplanting left behind roots — and once the environment became friendly, up grew more Peek-A-Boos. 

Outside the garden gate, playing peek-a-boo and rummy match games are not just for babies and toddlers.  I am learning just how often I hide my own real feelings, by either ignoring them outright (hoping or pretending them away) or by not calling them by their proper name.

I do this without even noticing.  Just recently I’ve talked to friends about how my father is no longer interested in my visits.  But rather than talk about the hurt from rejection, I pretend it’s not there and instead focus on this fallout from Dad’s dementia.  It’s easier to face reasons that feelings, even with myself.  Quick.  Cover it up.  Don’t speak about the hurt.  After all,  Daddy can’t help it because Daddy isn’t Daddy anymore. 

Most of my friends or family give me a free pass on such inconsistencies — on those times when my emotions don’t quite match or fit the circumstances.  But not my trusty spiritual director.  Instead he said something like, wow, that must have hurt.  And in response, my eyes uncontrollably teared up.  The feeling, with its deep roots hiding just beneath the surface of life leaked into reality.  Once the feelings found a friendly environment to live, no longer could they stay under wraps beneath their big beautiful bow of understanding forgiveness.   

Why do I play these games?  Am I afraid people will laugh?  Or worse, not care?  

Home-Made Ice Creams

04 Friday Sep 2009

Posted by in In the Kitchen, Life at Home

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Shortly after Joe and Vicky moved to Beaumont, a few of Vicky’s former church lady friends loaded up an SUV to call on Vicky.  Like the wise men of old, we wise women did not arrive empty handed, for in the back of Litha’s SUV was a freshly baked rhubarb pie for Joe.
I was into making home-made pies during that phase of my life.  As silly as this confession might sound, learning to make a fine home-made pie crust was one of my big post-retirement goals.  Because Joe and Vicky liked pie, and since their departure came in the midst of my pie crust apprenticeship with Joy of Cooking, I promised to bring them a home-made pie of Joe’s choice.
Joe’s pick proved a bit of a challenge, as up to that point in my short pie-baking career, I had never held a rhubarb in my hand.  But relying on fresh rhubarb from Central Market and my good teacher named Joy, Joe’s rhubarb pie turned out surprisingly fine.  Later that evening, I was relieved to hear Joe’s tidings of great joy.  But the best part of Joe’s call came when Joe casually mentioned how perfect his home-made cinnamon ice cream would have been on top of that rhubarb pie.
Intrigued by the thought of cinnamon ice cream, I asked Joe to send me a copy of his recipe.  And Joe did.  But for good measure — because that’s the kind of carpenter Joe is — Joe sent me an extra recipe for a wonderful peach sherbet.  The sherbet is light and citrusy and is easily my favorite of all home-made frozen desserts.  The cinnamon ice cream is also wonderful, and while heavier tasting, not overly rich in sweetness.
Summer will soon fade into Indian Summer.  But with a fresh crop of apples waiting in the stores, what could be more perfect than Joe’s cinnamon ice cream with your favorite warm apple pie?  Try both.  A gift from Joe’s life to mine to yours.
Cinnamon Ice Cream
Yield – 5 quarts

3 1/2 cups of sugar                               Dash of salt
3/4 cup of water                                    3 cups of half and half
2 tablespoons cinnamon                    1 cup of heavy cream
4 eggs                                                         4 teaspoons vanilla
6 cups of milk, scalded
Mix 2 cups of the sugar, water, and cinnamon. Set aside. In heavy saucepan,
beat eggs and 1 1/2 cups of sugar until well mixed. Add milk and salt. Stir over
low heat until custard coats a spoon. Remove from heat and stir in cinnamon
syrup. Cool completely. Add half and half, heavy cream, and vanilla.
Freeze in ice cream freezer.
Peach Sherbet
Yield – 1 Gallon
Juice of 3 oranges (1 1/2 cups)

4 peaches, pureed

Juice of 3 lemons (9 tablespoons)

2 pints half and half
3 cups of sugar

About 3 cups of milk to make 3/4 gal. of sherbet mix

Mix all ingredients together and freeze in Ice cream freezer.