God Has a Sense of Humor ;)

Today I suffered what might be the first Advent 


wreath injury known to humankind. While putting up 


the Christmas stuff in my classroom, I was carrying 


too much, started to drop it all, launched it back up 


into my arms, and wound up stabbing myself in the 


eye with one of the candles, leaving a piece of wax in 


my eye as well. Yes, I am that clumsy. Then I turned 


to find one of my students drawing a crucified 


snowman, or a snowman on a cross, whichever you'd 


prefer. True story. 


Tomorrow I am wearing my glasses and hoping for 


drawings of flowers and robots.


Edited to Add: Just noticed that this came out appearing to be some lame excuse at poetry, when in fact it was just an error in copying and pasting from another location.  And yet somehow, after the day's many misadventures, it seems oddly fitting.

FOG ON THE BRIDGE

On New Year's Eve, I drove across the longest bridge in the country to visit my parents.  I did not want a New Year's Eve filled with booze and cigarette smoke and bleary-eyed dejection, crowds of unknown people pulsing with longing and anxiety for things they cannot even name, strange bodies seeking each other at midnight in desperation.  I've lived that New Year's, and it's not for me.  I wanted to welcome in the new year surrounded by the two people most important to me, my puppy in my lap, a cozy fire, hot chocolate, cinnamon rolls, and an old black and white 1940's film.  But first there was the fog to get through.

This time of year we always battle fog.  Not snow or sleet---fog.  Fog that creeps in from both lake and river and blankets the city from all sides.  Like a cat in a bag struggling to get out, to find its way.  There were restrictions on the causeway.  Only 35 miles per hour, and only one lane open.  My mother urged me to wait to leave.  But I wanted to get home, to begin what I had set out to do.

Only the night before, while reading Margaret Silf, I encountered the notion of different spaces being sacred---gardens, temples, sanctuaries, islands, and. . .causeways.  Yes, a causeway.  A bridge that transports you from one place to another.  That spans great distance.  Creates a link, a connection.  A physical manifestation of prayer, which spans the distance between us and God, connecting us to Him.

In the fog, I struggle with things that have plagued me all year.  Patience.  I want to set the pace.  I want to go as fast as I choose.  And yet even if I disregarded the speed limit, such a desire would be impossible to meet.  We were in one long, solitary row of cars; the car in front of you, and the car in front of that, and yes, the driver in front of him---all of them contributed to how fast we would go.  All of them contributed to the decision, had a stake.  How frustrated I become in life when I can't call the shots.  When I have to admit that things are out of my control.  Control.  Yes, another issue.

In the fog, I lack control.  I can't see in front of me more than a few feet.  Just the lights on the tail end of the car in front of me.  I have to slow down.  I have to concentrate.  And I have to admit that I don't know what's ahead.  And that's okay.  But it's never okay for me.  I always want to know---not just what's a minute ahead, but an hour, a week, ten years.  Instead of just being present where I am, I must know exactly what's going to happen, how it will occur, and put forth effort to manipulate it or control it.  I can't do that in a fog.  I just can't.  Really, most days, my whole life is a fog.  Any sense of control or foresight is just pretense, a false means of comfort.

Where is real comfort?  In God, of course.  I know He will see me across that great bridge.  I know He sees even when I cannot.  Release.  Trust.  Be still.  All things that were struggles in 2011.  All things I must embrace in 2012.

Here I am on this journey that some might consider dangerous.  I could have stayed at home.  But God wants us on the journey.  He wants us out in His world, no matter how foggy.  Among so many names for Christ, He is known as the Light of the World.  The sun peeks out from the clouds, slowly at first, then with more vigor.  Its rays begin to burn off the fog.  Jesus the light of the world, a beacon in the fog.

As I approach the shore, only a bit of fog remains, floating beside me almost like a cloud.  And out of that gray haze come two pelicans, their broad wings spread, their beaks lifted high.  For a moment, they coast beside me, as if they are following me, before dropping down into the depths of the lake.

Pelicans.  Our state bird.  In medieval times, they believed that pelicans would wound themselves and feed their young with their own blood in times of starvation.  Like Christ and the Eucharist.  In fact, St. Thomas Aquinas actually described Jesus as "the loving divine pelican."

There He was beside me, even in a fog so deep it was seemingly impenetrable.  Dear God, thank you for being with me even in the midst of my greatest confusion, even when I feel most alone.  Thank you for helping me to recognize Your presence in that moment.   Help me to remember this moment always.  And open my eyes to those countless moments every day when You are with me, and I don't even know it.  You are always with me.  Open my eyes, Lord.  Open my eyes.

NOTE:  All photos are from nola.com.  I would never take pictures while driving, especially in a fog!

GRATITUDE

Today I am thankful for. . .

7.  my best friend having a wonderful time on her 30th birthday

8.  the week and a half I had off for Christmas/New Year's (that ends today)

9.  the beautiful music I'm listening to

10.  the Holy Family (their feast day was yesterday)

Nativity created by my class and two others.

11.  so many amazing books to read!

12.  an intelligent, compassionate doctor who truly cares 

13.  When I lie in bed, I see the following view.  And for this I am truly thankful.

14.  New Year's wishes from a dear friend.

15.  Spending New Year's day cooking a meal of black eye peas, pork loin, cabbage, and cornbread with my mother and father.

16.  A warm home on a chilly night.

17.  Safe travel

18.  A job when so many are desperately seeking one.

19.  a cozy fire in my parents' fireplace

20.  God's ever abiding love for me and for all His children.

For more go to Ann Voskamp's beautiful post:

http://www.aholyexperience.com/2012/01/what-the-new-year-needs-most/

Rosemary and Lemon Chicken

You will need:
Salt
Sprigs of fresh rosemary
4 cloves of garlic
red pepper flakes
dijon mustard
2 lemons
2 tablespoons olive oil
4 to 6 skin on, bone-in chicken thighs
cremini mushrooms

Preheat the oven to 450 degrees.  Put salt, garlic, some of the rosemary (off the stem, of course), red pepper flakes, a couple teaspoons dijon mustard, juice from one lemon, and the olive oil in a food processor.  Pulse until a paste is formed (it may be slightly watery---that's okay).  Blot the chicken off with a paper towel (damp meat won't brown).  Gently pull the skin away from the meat and stuff part of the paste into each chicken thigh.  Toss a bit of olive oil in a cast iron skillet.  Put the chicken skin side down in a cast iron skillet and cook for about 5 minutes on medium heat.

Turn the chicken over and add in the juice from the remaining lemon.  Add the cremini mushrooms (chopped) into the skillet, along with the lemon halves and leftover sprigs of rosemary.

Put in the oven and roast for approximately 25 minutes.  

The best part of this meal is that the lemons were fresh off my father's lemon tree from his garden and the rosemary was clipped from my potted rosemary plant on my balcony.  Nothing beats fresh and home grown!

Counting My Blessings

One of my favorite Christmas movies is White Christmas.  Apart from the fun singing, dancing, costumes, and nostalgic appeal, there is a very real message embedded.  Bing Crosby and Rosemary Clooney sing a beautiful song called "Count Your Blessings."

When I'm worried and I can't sleep
I count my blessings instead of sheep
And I fall asleep counting my blessings
When my bankroll is getting small
I think of when I had none at all
And I fall asleep counting my blessings

Whenever I hear this song now, I think of Ann Voskamp's beautiful book, One Thousand Gifts, which I read (twice) this year.  After reading her book, I intended to begin to count my blessings, listing all the gifts that are in my life up to a thousand (or more).  As 2011 comes to an end, I realize that this never came to fruition.  While others are lining up at store counters to get the best bargain, ordering the latest workout DVD or diet product, or buying a slinky strapless dress for New Year's Eve, (all of which I've done at one time or another in the past) I decided I'd better put my energy into something that will prove more meaningful.  So I intend to join Ann Voskamp on this journey.  I do not believe my list will be as inspired, articulate, or visually beautiful (hers has amazing photos), but it will be my list, and hopefully one of sincerity, candor, and joy.  So here goes.

1.  I am grateful for being able to spend today with my best friend.  She lives far away, and I only see her once a year now, but when we come together, it's as if we never parted.  I love her with all my heart.

2.  The beautiful Christmas Eve Mass with the amazing trumpet solo.  I felt Jesus there in that church with us.

from neworleanschurches.com

3.  My sweet puppy dog asleep beside me, snuggled up and sighing as he dreams.

4.  My real Christmas tree, the glory of nature right in my own home, its lights shining and bouncing off the gold and red ornaments and reminding me of the light of Christ.

5.  The ring I received as a Christmas gift from my grandmother.  It belonged to my great great grandmother and reminds me of the importance of family and the way time marches on, the way we can cherish those who came before us.

6.  A sunset drive home on the causeway with dozens of pelicans coasting by and then swooping down into the water.

Our lives and our world are full of gifts, if we just open our eyes to their presence!




<a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://i242.photobucket.com/albums/ff162/annvoskamp/multitudesonmondaysbutton2-1.jpg" ></a>

ONE SOLITARY LIFE

He was born in an obscure village,
The child of a peasant woman.
He grew up in still another village,
Where he worked in a carpenter shop
Until he was thirty.

Then for three years
He was an itinerant preacher.
He never wrote a book.
He never held an office.
He never had a family or owned a house.
He didn't go to college.
He never visited a big city.
He never traveled two hundred miles
From the place where he was born.
He did none of the things
One usually associates with greatness.
He had no credentials but himself.

He was only thirty-three
When the tide of public opinion turned against him.
His friends ran away.
He was turned over to his enemies.
And went through the mockery of a trial.

He was nailed to a cross
Between two thieves.
While he was dying,
His executioners gambled for his clothing,
The only property he had on Earth.
When he was dead,
He was laid in a borrowed grave
Through the pity of a friend.

Twenty centuries have come and gone,
And today he is the central figure
Of the human race,
And the leader of mankind's progress.

All the armies that ever marched,
All the navies that ever sailed,
All the parliament that ever sat,
All the kings that ever reigned,
Put together have not affected
The life of man on Earth
As much as that

ne  olitary  ife.
~~Dr James Allen Francis, © 1926~~

Waiting For Christmas