Friendship of a Different Kind

The alarm goes off at 6:40 a.m. in the desert.  Time for Joe to stretch a couple of times, dress and get up to St. Benedict's Hall at Holy Trinity Monastery for a first cup of coffee before Morning Prayer at 7:00.  Me?  Usually I listen to NPR for a half an hour before putting my feet on the floor, going to the iPad and clicking on Creighton's Daily Reflection.  That's 'usually'; today was an exception.  A Memorial Mass was being said for my dear friend Thelma Meyer's husband, Vern, who died six months ago today.   A good man and a good friend, the least I could do was to forget the fact that sleep came late, morning all too early and get myself up and out.

It seems, when I look life in the eye, that in stepping off the well worn path the eye sees so much more clearly.  In the early morning with the sun coming up and shedding a golden light on the mountains in the west,  I simply had to pause at the crest of the hill and drink in the beauty.  Turning to my right, my eye caught a glimpse of a statue of the Blessed Mother standing serenely on an island in the center of Spirit Lake while a covey of ducks paddled by. A cool breeze wafted over my face, the Spirit a movin'.   All was still and the words of a meditation by Al Fritsch, SJ, a priest in Appalachia, came to mind:

        The sign of a true friend is to listen well,
           but to do so one has to remove himself from himself
        and enter into another's world.  
       What we seldom remember is
         that the earth speaks to us, too. 
       But the earth is old, and speaks quite softly. 

Any Excuse is a Good Excuse to Relive the Past

What better to get to septuagenarians off their set point than a lovely day and an excuse to take Flat Stanley on an outing to see our part of Arizona.  He flew in from Grosse Pointe, Michigan last week to get a taste of life in the desert and is to report back to our grandson Joseph's second grade class about his experience.  (For those of you who haven't met F.S. he's a character in a children's book who is flattened when a bulletin board falls on him.  He finds being one dimensional is a great way to see and do as he fits in an envelope and once he arrives at his destination, learns all about a new area of the country.  A great teaching device!)

Packing a picnic, we headed for the Dragoon Mountains. The first time we drove through these mountains eight years ago I commented to Joe, "How eery, this reminds me of a lunar landscape, or what I imagine it would be like.  There are huge boulders - and I mean huge - in the middle of the desert.  Flat Stanley had a good time, climbing on them and crawling through crevices, while Grandma and Grandpa risked sprained ankles and were happy it's too early for rattle snakes.  With the slender dark green cypress trees silhouetted against the brilliant blue sky, it was a great day - and place - for pictures.

From there to a marshland - again a bit of an oxymoron in the high desert - to a wildlife refuge so that our little buddy could see Sandhill Cranes. It was difficult to get good pictures as these huge, long legged birds blend with the environment.  There were thousands of them and we were told they fill the air in the morning when they take flight and again at sundown when they return; the best time for viewing them.  We were there mid afternoon, but even so, it seems F.S. was impressed, but probably not as much as our next stop...Tombstone, 'the town to tough to die.'

This historic town that survives on tourists was crawling with them, so the three of us fit right in.  A dude in a cowboy outfit with a handlebar mustache and a sombrero like hat gamely said, "Sure, I'd be happy to meet Flat Stanley" and not only motioned Joe to stand by him, but handed him his revolver to get into the act.  We passed on going to the Shoot Out at the OK Corral and on stagecoach rides, but got pictures of the latter  rolling down the street, pulled by horses that could probably make the route without a driver.

Truth be known, had we not had an excuse, we might not have made the effort, but what a beautiful day we had.  How grateful we are to Joseph for the opportunity.  It's been years since we took our six on outings.  I'll have to say, a day with Flat Stanley was not nearly as hectic (and not quite as much fun!)

It's Lent...Time to Look Life in the Eye

It's Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent and the forty day journey to Easter. It's a time for me to look life in the eye.  Doing so, I see all too clearly how many times I have fallen short of the mark.  Times I have treated others unkindly - in word and/or deed.  Times when I have thought my way was the way that whatever was at issue should be done.  Times when I have failed to listen - to others or to the depths of my being where a still voice  speaks of what is right.  Times when my attitude has been haughty and my eyes have not been the eyes of love.

Looking more deeply I see times when I have not given - either alms or time -  to those in need.  Times when my plate has been full to overflowing and the refrigerator filled with leftovers that all too often are not used.  Times when my prayer has been shallow, focused on my needs and, yes, my wants.

Yet, time and again I am forgiven.  Time and again I am given another chance.  Time and again I am called back into the arms of Love.  The words of two old hymns ring true, ' Morning by morning, new mercies appear' and 'I know that my redeemer lives'...because of this I find in looking it in the eye that life truly is good.

Blessings to you on your Lenten journey!

Remembering My Mother's Words

Sounding in my ears on Thursday were words I so often heard my Mother speak when she was my age, "Kid, I just can't do it like I used to!"  The 'it' she was referring to was cranking out a full days work.  At 56 I was clueless as to what she mean, twenty years later after spending the afternoon in the Monastery bakery I understood full well, I was pooped!

Looking life in the eye, it's true, aging does diminish our energy level.  Yet, it has its compensations, mine is being a member of the Dough Dough Sisterhood....the group of women I bake with in preparation for the weekly bake sales at Benedict's Bakery. 

Dorothy Ann, Rose and Nancy

Sitting with my feet up I reflected on the afternoon.  I thought of how Mary Jo helped Clara prepare the pans for the Quick Breads she was making so she wouldn't have to be on her troublesome feet as long.  In my mind's eye I saw Nancy wrapping the bread Dorothy Ann had made in the morning now that it had cooled, saving DA a trip back up to the bakery to do it.  And there was Thelma zesting oranges and lemons before squeezing them to give my arthritic hands a break and, at the sink, was Rose washing all the bowls and utensils the rest of us had used, such a gift when we were tired.

Like Mom, we can't do it like we used to, but we don't have to...there are loving hands to help us.  Life, indeed, is good.

Remembering My Mother's Words

How often of late my Mother's words sound in my ear, "Kid, I just can't do it like I used to."  The 'it' she was referring to was putting in a full days work without hardly a pause.  At 56 I was clueless as to what she meant; twenty years later, I understand full well!

Looking life in the eye, I can attest to the fact that energy levels diminishes with aging. Thursday, after returning from the bakery I, was pooped.  Sitting down and putting my feet up I reflected on the afternoon spent with eight other women - all charter members of the Dough Dough Sisterhood.  It's not all that exclusive an organization, all that is required to belong is a willingness to bake for the sales we sponsor to help support Holy Trinity Monastery.

Sitting there, in my minds eye I saw again Mary Jo help Clara by lining up the ingredients and making the pans ready for the Quick Bread that is Clara's specialty.  With feet that bother her, standing too long isn't any fun for Clara; M.J. makes it easier for her. I also saw Nancy wrapping the Monk's Bread Dorothy Ann had made earlier, but had left to cool.  With this done, D.A. won't have to make a trip back up to the bakery.  And then I heard Thelma say, "Do you need any lemon or orange zest for your scones?  I can do that and squeeze them, too, if you like.  It will give those arthritic hands of yours a break."  All the while Rose is at the sink washing all the bowls and utensils that come her way.

I not only saw, I heard again the stories that were shared, the laughter that accompanied many of the stories.  I thought again of Mom.  No, alone we can't do it like we used to, but when we put our hands - and our hearts - together it's amazing what we can accomplish.  I've said it before, but it's true...life is good!

How Sweet It Is!

Yes indeed, sweet it is, and on several counts...

1) Benedict's Bakery had its' first sale last Friday.  In preparation, the Dough Dough Girls baked their hearts out and laughed their heads off while doing it...what fun we all have!

A portion of our products

3) The baked goods themselves were sweet - pecan rolls, cinnamon buns, scones, quick breads (three kinds) pecan pies and tarts, bars (lemon, apple-nut bars, almond, British Flapjacks and brownies - mini bundt cakes, pineapple upside down cake, two kinds of cookies, bran and blueberry muffins, as well as biscotti, pecan brittle and angle bliss.  In addition, although not sweet, there was Monks bread, baguettes, and artisan breads.  (Are you tired just thinking about it, or hungry hearing about it?!)

3) There were big smiles all around when the total was tallied...$680.00!  This, and the fact that we have a good time together, makes it all worth while.  It is our way of helping this small, yet very dear, Monastery.

4) And, as I write, it is 70.9 with the weather to hover in the low 70's for the rest of the week...talk about sweet!

One Busy Day!

If you don't mind my saying, I'm pooped!  Having just returned from a six hour stint in Benedict's Bakery - even with a two hour break for Mass and dinner -  my back is letting me know .

Even so, to be a part of this great group of women mucking around (you can muck things other than manure, can't you?) in sugar and butter, flour and buttermilk, cranberries and pumpkin, and any number of other ingredients is good fun (since several of us tend to be messy I'm afraid it doesn't qualify as the 'clean' kind) even if it is hard work.

Arriving at nine a.m. I found Maria making Alaska Wilderness Lodge cookies that looked and smelled good enough to die for.  Each of the eight Dough Dough Girls has her specialty; Maria's is cookies.  When she finished with that batch she was on to Snickerdoodles.  On the other side of the work table, Clara and her sous chef, Mary Jo, began the first batch of quick breads...banana nut.  Before they would call it a day they would have cranked out pumpkin-pecan and cranberry-nut, eight mini loaves of each.  They are a real team.  Mary Jo is from South Dakota and is a barrel of fun.  It isn't surprising that Clara caught Lyle's eye as a teenager.  She's still a pretty woman and the only one of the bunch that bothers with make-up!  Both have hearts of gold as, of course, does Maria.

Nancy M. from Iowa (there's a Nancy from Minnesota, too) came in but didn't find much space to work so hung around lending a hand washing bowls and utensils, wiping counters, wrapping anything ready to be wrapped.  As for me, I make the scones.  Because my back tires, I measured the dry ingredients yesterday, came up this morning and mixed them up and cut them out and put them on a cookie sheet in the freezer..  They'll be baked fresh on Friday morning - two batches, orange-cranberry and dried cherry with white chocolate chips.  When I left, Nancy M. claimed my spot and began mixing the cranberry-almond biscotti.

After dinner (the main meal is served at noon and all who volunteer eat with the community) it was back to work.  Nancy was making good progress on her project - biscotti are time consuming - enough so that I could find room to start on the 'volcanoes' (actually they are cinnamon-chocolate mini bundt cakes, but they look like volcanoes, so that's what they'll be sold as.)  With only one pan with twelve molds, it was a two stage process to make a full recipe.  Mary Jo will add the glaze before the sale begins at 10 on Friday.

And there's still tomorrow!  Thelma - who happens to be the same Mrs Meyers of the 'Clean Day' cleaning products - will make pineapple upside down cake.  Nancy B will crank out two pans of almond bars, Sherry will make brownies and pecan bars and then Nancy M will make a double batch of cinnamon rolls that will be frosted on Friday morning and Marilyn will make pecan rolls, blueberry muffins and lemon bars. 

Dorothy Ann is the bread baker and she'll come in at the same time I do on Friday morning to finish her artisan bread, while I mix up some British Flapjacks (which in no way resemble a pancake, but are yummy) and bake the scones and bran muffins (I mixed a mega batch on Monday.)

It's a busy three days, yet it's fun and the folks that come week after week, year after year wouldn't miss it.  Wish you were nearby, I would love to be able to take a break and have a goodie and a cup of tea with you!

We're, as they say in Arizona, back in the saddle again

It doesn't take long, in a manner of speaking, to get back in the saddle and into the routine we put behind us when we left Holy Trinity Monastery last spring.  For Joe this means helping in the office.  When we first came eight years ago, Fr. Henri had a list of projects in mind when we met with the volunteers.  Most of the men signed up to work on maintenance projects: repairing fences, painting guest houses, dredging ponds, shaking the pecan trees and running the nuts through the cracking machine. "We need help in the office, too," he said.  Silence.  Finally good-hearted Joe said, "I guess I could help out there." That was all the prior needed to hear and that's where he's been ever since, filing reconciling charges with receipts and anything else that needs doing.

For me, returning meant joining with my 'Dough Dough Sisters' yesterday for a planning meeting.  Let me explain.  Five years ago the Monastery built a new bakery.  It's beautiful; commercial counters, ovens, sinks, everything one needs to turn out baked products.  It happened that it was used simply to make the Monk's Bread and during the four days of Spring and Fall festivals to prepare a spaghetti dinner. Practical lot that we are, looking the situation in the eye, we asked Fr. Henri, "Why not let the RV women sponsor Bake Sales every Friday in February and March?  We all know how to bake and it would be a way we could add to your coffers."  He's a cautious sort and wasn't sure about the whole idea, but was finally convinced.  After the first sale, when the tally was $456.00 for four hours of sales, he became a believer!

And so it is that for the last four years - with sales increasing every year - we don our aprons, get out the baking utensils and ingredients and get to work.  In a very real way it's like celebrating Eucharist in the Domestic Church - the aprons are our vestments, the utensils the sacred vessels, and the aroma wafting from the oven as the goodies bake, like incense rising to heaven.  The products themselves serve as sustenance to all who come. And do they come!

Our meeting yesterday was centered on getting the publicity out.  Four teams will take flyers that give date, time and location, as well as mentioning the fact that 'every batch is made from scratch'  to some 20 RV parks and businesses in the area.  

This morning Marilyn (from Wisconsin who's our fearless leader) and the two Nancy's (one from Iowa, the other from Minnesota) and myself  met in the bakery to check out recipes and make a list of ingredients that will be needed.  It was quite a list! 

We'll get to work next week, as the first sale is set for February 1st.  The goal is to reach - if not exceed - last years profits...$7,000.  Not bad for eight weeks and some eight or ten ladies, most of whom are well on the other side of 60!

We made It!

After two nights on the road and after putting 1200 miles behind us, we arrived at Holy Trinity Monastery at 10 a.m. yesterday.    With Morning Prayer at 10:15 and Mass at 10:30, it couldn't have been better timed.  Folks on their way to prayer stopped to greet us as Joe - rather than joining them - plugged in the electricity and turned on the water and I checked out the interior of Home-r to make sure all was well.   By the time we scurried up the stone strewn drive (there aren't any paved streets at HTM)  walked past the fountain that wasn't 'founting' and through the heavy oak doors, there wasn't a seat to be had except for in the choir where the community members sit, smack dab in front.

We've sat there before when the tourists are here in full force, but I'm more at home in among the throng.  However, yesterday it allowed for a chance to see several of the folks we'd been looking forward to seeing:  Marilyn and Ray, Clara and Lyle, Nancy and Jim, Kathleen, Nancy and David, as well as Robert and Dorothy and Florence and Tom.  Jim and Judy had gone to Mass in Benson on Saturday night, two couples aren't here yet - Mary Jo and Harvey and Rose and Lee, and Thelma is visiting one of her kids and won't be back until the end of the week, so I couldn't put a bead on them.

Now you're probably wondering, "Why is she telling us all these names?"  As I wrote them I wondered myself, but then remembered a wonderful women I'd worked with several years ago, Sr. Bessie.  With a heart as big as her girth, she loved to talk and when we would travel up and down the hollers she'ld tell me about Nancy and Walter one day, Sr. Pauline on another day and very often a story about her friend the Bishop or any number of other people.  At first I'd think to myself, "Bess, I don't even know these people, why are you telling me all this?" But in time, when she'd mention one or another of her countless friends or relatives I'd say, "Oh, how are they doing?" or "How did that work out?"  (whatever 'that' was.)  In other words, they became my friends, too.

So consider yourself introduced, it's quite likely you'll hear stories about these folks, too.  My hope is that you'll come to consider them your friends, too.  We're all a little quirky, but we're all good folk!

On the Road Again!

Can it be that for some there is a propensity for travel in our DNA?  If so, my husband, Joe, and I got a mega dose!  There are few things we enjoy doing more than traveling - new places hold a certain allure, but there's something special about returning to a place that is familiar.

And so, to coin a family phrase, "We can hardly!"  The Prius is packed and we're ready to head to Arizona for two months.  It isn't as lofty as it sounds: no posh resort with spas, pools and golf courses, no tile roofed casita or stucco cottage in a gated community.  No, we're going to a monastery that doesn't have a blade of grass, a spa or golf course, but does have an RV park where retirees like ourselves come year after year.  Why?  To a person the reasons given for returning to Holy Trinity Monastery are, "It's so peaceful," It's nice to have a purpose," and "I appreciate the opportunity for prayer."

We'll spend the next two months in 'Home-r', our fifth wheel RV with its cougar emblazoned on the side.  Buying it solved the question looking us in the eye when we retired:  "Where will we live?"  For some 22 years our housing had been furnished.  In a manner of speaking, retiring meant we would be homeless.  Home-r has provided us not only with a roof over our heads, but a way to travel and see the country and our far-flung family.  When prices at the gas station made us gulp as much and as fast as our F-150, we left Home-r behind at Holy Trinity Monastery.

He'll be waiting - Home-r, that is - as well as wonderful people we've met through the years.   You're invited to come along, see how our days are filled, meet our friends, and get acquainted with the surrounding area.  It may not be your cup of tea, but I think you'll have a good time!

What the Heck Does that Mean, 'Looking Life in the Eye?'

Years ago, as a kid growing up on a farm in Iowa, I was sometimes pressed into service herding cattle from one feedlot or pasture to another.  It wasn't my favorite thing to do.  Especially when one of the huge beasts would separate itself from the others, plant its four cloven feet, lower its huge head and look as though it was giving thought to charging me.

It hardly seemed like a fair standoff; a skinny seven year old against an animal ten times its weight and size.  Given this, the nearest fence seemed the best option to me, but this was when my Dad would call, "Look it in the eye, Sis!  Look it in the eye!"

Well that seemed about the silliest darn thing I'd ever heard.  Why ever would I want to do that?  It made no sense at all.  Once he'd distracted the steer and it had returned to the herd, he explained that looking it in the eye took it's power away.  "If he thinks your not afraid, he'll back off."

It seemed risky, but the next time I gave it a try and, amazed as I was, he backed up three or four steps, turned his tale and left me standing there with my mouth agape.

So I've found it is with life.  If I look a problem in the eye, more often than not, I can get the best of it.  Take writing a blog for example.  For ever so long I've given thought to it, but I'd encounter stumbling blocks: "How do I even begin to set one up?" and  "What makes you think you have something to say?" as well as the most frightening of all, "What if no one reads it?"

Then, from the distant past, I hear my Dad's voice, "Look it in the eye, Sis!  You won't know if you can set one up if you don't try, and you can always ask for help.  Come on, you haven't lived for 76 years without having something you can share.  Go one, write it, if you don't they for sure won't read it.  If you do, they just might come!"

And so here I am!  And so are you!  Welcome...I'm glad you're here and hope you'll come back as I share some highlights, some what could be called 'low lights' and, perhaps, even some insights.  For now, as my Aunt Toot used to say when she was leaving,

Too Loo!