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!