Happy New Year!?

Some people put a lot of emphasis on beginning a New Year; making resolutions, a new business plan, starting a new relationship.  I like to think that the New Year is made up of 365 New Days.

God gives us a new day every day to start our life over, make resolutions, business plans, or begin new relationships.  How we choose to live these 365 days is up to us.

The following is known as A Monk's Prayer and I think it says it best.

This is the beginning of a new day.

God has given me this day to use, as I will.

I can waste it or use it for good.

What I do today is important because

I am exchanging a day of my life for it.

When tomorrow comes, this day will be gone forever

Leaving in its place something I have traded for it.

I want it to be gain, not loss;

Good not evil;

Success not failure;

In order that I shall not regret

The price I paid for it.

One thing I know for sure is that when we put God first we can be assured that the New Year will be filled with surprise and wonder.  After all, we have an awesome God who give us the chance every day to make it right and start over.

Have a wonder-filled, happy and holy 365 New Days!

Corn Chowder and Yeast Rolls

We had our first snow a few weeks back but it has since come and gone along with most of the snow from this past week.  Do these count as first snows?  Absolutely!  My grandfather, Vasco Carter, would say, "When a cat can leave footprints in the snow it counts as a first snow."

First snows take me back to a time when my mother, two brothers, my sister and I were living in a one-room cabin on my grandfather's land out on the Bucksport road in Ellsworth, Maine. We were waiting for my father to finish his tour aboard ship with the U.S. Navy.  We were only going to be in Maine for a few months and we, us kids, prayed for snow before we left for our father's next duty station in Puerto Rico.  It is important to know that we had been in Florida prior to our coming to Maine therefore we had not seen snow in a very long time.   So we prayed hard for snow.

One early afternoon we got our prayer answered with a beautiful heavy flaked snowfall.  As we bundled up to go out and play, in borrowed winter clothes mind you, our mother told us to "play out" until she called us in for a special first-snow supper.  

As we played outside, squealing with delight trying to catch snowflakes on our tongues, gathering as much of the accumulating snow as we could into snowballs and snowmen, we would stop every once in a while and peek in the window of the cabin to see what our mother was busy fixing supper.  It was not long before we could no longer see inside as the windows were steamed up from whatever she was making for our first-snow supper.  When our mother called us in we were happily soaked, chilled and hungry.  

I will never forget the sight and smell that greeted us as we came into the cabin.  The oilcloth- covered table had been set with steaming bowls of corn chowder and in the center of the table a plate was piled high with hot yeast rolls.   We could not get our wet clothes off and hung up by the woodstove fast enough.  As we sat down to eat we bowed our heads and thanked God for the food our mother had prepared on the wood stove, for our father so far away, for our family who loaned us winter clothes and most of all we thanked God for the first snow.

To this day I think of corn chowder and yeast rolls whenever I experience a first snow.

Oil Slicks & Dental Floss

How we look at the world is all a matter of perspective.  As we age we have a tendency to loose our child-like perspective.  Because children are still very much connected to their spiritual selves they view the world differently. They view the world with reverence and awe.   As we grow older and more cynical about our lives society seems to squelch that reverence in us.

Here are a couple of examples:

 When our son was about 4 years old he was allowed to walked to the end of the sidewalk to wave goodbye to my husband as he went off to work.   As my husband pulled the car out of our assigned parking spot he noticed a puddle of oil on the ground.  As he got out of the car, sputtering to himself about how much this was going to cost him to fix the problem, our son stooped down and pointed to the oil spot shimmering on a recently rain soaked pavement

and said, "Daddy.  Look at all the rainbows!"

Recently our daughter called to tell us the latest antics of our 3 year-old grandson.  It seems he was helping her unpack groceries when he found the new container of dental floss.   Thinking he was going to put it away, she didn't bother to check on him until he said, "Mommy, come look."  What she found was our grandson sitting very proudly on the sofa with the entire roll of dental floss unwound all over the living room.  When our daughter asked him what he had done he replied,  "I made 'X's.  Look at all the 'X's."   He was right.  And it was the letter he had been learning to write in his home schooling.

Life really is all a matter of perspective.

New Crayons

Yesterday I spent most of the day wrapping Christmas gifts for my grandchildren who live in Japan; I try to get their boxes of gifts wrapped and mailed early.  

As I was putting boxes of crayons into each stocking, I thought again about traditions and how important they become over the years.  

In our family the gift of a finding a new box of crayons in your stocking has been a tradition of ours since our son had his first Christmas back in 1970.  When he and his sister entered their twenties, I decided one year not to include crayons in their stockings, as I thought they had outgrown the gift.   Christmas morning I received a call from each one asking where the crayons were.  I was also told that our son had talked up the crayon tradition to his roommates, and that was the year I made stocking for all of them.  OOPS!  I promptly went out and bought crayons.  I haven't missed a Christmas since.

  

Pay It Forward

Today was the day Art and I got rid of our old green van.  The van was at a point where it would not pass inspection without expensive repairs. On one hand I was glad to get it out of the driveway but on the other I was sad to see it go.

What does one do with an old green van that has seen better days yet could still put many more miles on its wheels if someone were willing to put the time, resources and energy into it?  Donate it to the local vocational school.  That is what we did. We have done this in the past with and old washer and dryer set and my old Yamahopper moped- remember those. 

As I was cleaning out the van I was overcome with emotion.  My mind was flooded with memories of the many trips we had taken, the items we had hauled from one place to another and the number of kids and adults we had given rides to over the years.  I was especially overwhelmed with memories of our beloved Chelsea (K-9) who loved to go for rides, especially if they included a hike in the woods with us.   I was also filled with happy memories of car seats and grandchildren, as I vacuumed up fish crackers and Cherrios that were stuck in the folds of the seats.   As I finished cleaning out the van I gave her a pat on her tailgate and thanked her for being a good car.

So if you have need to get rid of an old vehicle that could still be used for parts or fixed and put back out on the road, we encourage you to call the vocational school in your area and ask if they will take them off your hands.  This is just another way of paying it forward.  Who knows a few years from now the mechanic who works on my newer van may have used my old one for a school project.

Watch out for the bay leaf!

I really enjoy traditions that are passed down from one generation to the next.  I enjoy hearing about them from family, friends and even strangers that I meet.  One that has carried over into the next generation in my family is the lowly bay leaf.  

Whenever a recipe calls for a bay leaf there will be the instruction to remove it before serving the dish.  In our family the bay leaf is left in the soup, stew or sauce in hopes that someone will find it in their dish.  When it is found, that person can claim the dime that sits on the table during the meal.  When my children were young they usually finished everything in their bowl or on their plate in hopes of finding the bay leaf; much like looking for buried treasure.  Sometimes I would sneak in an extra leaf or two so that they both got one.  The lowly bay leaf has a sacred place of honor in our family.

As we enter into the Advent, Christmas and New Year season, traditions become even more prevalent.  I will share more of these as the season goes on.

Thanksgiving and Thanks Giving

As I was driving to Bangor to have Thanksgiving Dinner (in the Yankee sense at noon) with my husband at Eastern Maine Medical Center, where he is a Staff Chaplain, I got to thinking about Thanksgiving and how we have come to think of it as a day when we are supposed to go over the river and through the woods to Grandma's house.   What about those who don't have a river to go over or woods to drive through or even a Grandma's house?  Or perhaps they are half way around the world.  What about them? 

 

Within my immediate family this thanksgiving the gathering places were quite spread out; from Hancock, Ellsworth, Waterville and Bangor, Maine to Richmond, Virginia; Denver, Colorado; Falls City, Washington; San Diego, California, to Misawa, Japan.

The further along I drove the more I thought about what the day meant to me.  It means taking the time to count the many things I am thankful for and the many ways I can be thankful.  By the time I parked in the parking garage at the hospital I had decided that I was going to wish everyone I saw a "Happy Thanksgiving" and I was going to tell them "thank you."

I wish you could have seen the looks I got just by saying "Thanks."

Try it sometime.  Thank someone, better yet, thank everyone just for being.  And most of all thank God.

A sacred gift and trust

I received a sacred gift and trust today.  The family of a dearly departed friend gifted me his guitar.  I consider the gift sacred because Brad truly lived in the music he played.  His soul was filled with music and it showed on his face when he played.  I had the opportunity to play with him on several occasions and it was a joy.  The trust - is that the family trusts me with the instrument that was such a part of Brad's being.  They trust me enough to take care of it and to make it sing.  His brother David told me I am to "put my own colors into the music."   In honor of Brad I will do my best to do just that.   

Ahh! Chicken Soup!

There is something sacred about home made chicken soup, and I can't quite figure out if it is in the making or eating.

I am on the tail end of a very bad virus and have been reflecting, over the course of this nasty bug, how I have been comforted.  How those around me, who love and support me, have offered their sacrifices of time and talent at the altar of my needs.

 Phone calls, emails and cards from several friends and family members, with concerns for my well-being, now grace my soul with words of comfort.  But the most sacred act of all came from my husband.  

After I spent a couple of days in fevered sleep, he awoke me with a steaming bowl of home made chicken soup.  I could see the love, concern and pride in his eyes as he handed me the bowl, warning me to be careful, as it was hot.  He waited while I ate several spoonfuls and then asked me if it was okay.  I have to admit I was a little chocked up over the fact that he took the time to do this for me.  Not to say that he doesn't cook for me, he does quite often, but there is just something about someone taking the time to shop for chicken, gather the vegetable from our garden, wash and chopped and simmer and season the soup and then offer it up as if it were the most heavenly food in all the universe.  Which I have to say, at that time, was the most heavenly food in the universe. 

So, is it the making and the giving, or is it the receiving and consuming that makes chicken soup a sacred thing.  I like to think it is sacred on all accounts.  To take the time and talent and create something that will bring comfort to another soul is sacred.  To receive a gift in love from the hands of another human being and be warmed and healed by the very act of giving and receiving is a sacred moment. 

Ahh! Chicken soup!

What is a penny worth?

Many people today think the penny is not worth minting anymore.  If they only knew what a penny would buy they may change their mind.

When my children were little they asked why we saved our pennies in the little Noah's ark bank and the little blue box with UTO (United Thank Offering) printed on the side.  I explained to them that in poor communities around the world a penny bought a cup of milk for a hungry belly, a nickel bought a vaccination against bad germs that kept children from being able to play outside, a dime helped families buy chickens for eggs, goats for milk and llamas for wool to make sweaters and blankets, and a quarter helped build a school, a hospital or a well for clean water to drink or bathe in.  

So whenever we would find change on the ground or in the washer or dryer we would put it in the banks and say, "That's a cup of milk."

My children has since grown up and gone out into the world and yet even today I keep a Noah's ark bank on my dryer and a box with NIN (Neighbors in Need) printed on it in my car and when I find change on the ground or in the washer or dryer I still pick it up and put it in the bank and say, "That's a cup of milk."