Doom and Gloom

It has been a life long practice of mine to frame activities, events, even a variety of trials in a positive way. It is what I do. My most recent birthday marked sixty-nine years of the gift of life. The blessings that surround me are great. There is the gift of home-much more that just a shelter, but a place of comfort and abundant memories. Our refrigerator and cupboards are full of good nourishing food. The closets and drawers are a testament to having far more clothing than we actually need. Our monthly income meets our needs and then some. One of my most remarkable gifts is the gift of family. As a middle child I am "bookmarked" by an older brother and younger sister who are not only gifted artists, but very funny people. It fell to me to be the responsible serious one.
Although my first marriage ended after fourteen years, it gifted me with two extraordinary daughters who are my closest friends. The eldest is an artist, teacher and world traveler. The youngest sings like an angel and is the mother of my two adorable grandsons.
As if all of this blessing were too little, God gifted me with a man who is a treasured companion and dearest friend. He knows me better than anyone and loves me anyway.
All of this and yet my current mood is one of great perplexity and deepest concern. Our country has always had its challenges. After all my husband and I are "Baby Boomers". We were the products of post World War 2 optimism.  We experienced the angst of the 60's and hope that everything would work out ok in the end. Yet here we are facing one of the most contentious and crazy election cycles in memory. Both parties are rabid in their support (or condemnation) of their candidates. Both candidates make me cringe, hence the title of this post, "Doom and Gloom".   These are actually my nicknames for them. I've also heard the choice characterized as, "Crazy or Evil". You can decide who gets what title.
The singular issue for me at this time in history is the way we treat babies before they are born. If we are comfortable ignoring the fact of their personhood...who is truly safe? It seems, like Esau, we have sold our birthright for a bowl of soup. We were hungry. We didn't want to be encumbered. We have a right to decide. We are lost.
Besides always trying to find a positive way to frame things I have always steered clear of contentious political exchanges. My plan is to maintain that except to say, no one is exempt from facing their choices. There is one small sliver of hope for our country. It is the mercy of God.        

Endings

Life is full of beginnings and endings. A new school year...then the chaos of the last week. Things are packed away, desks are cleaned out, papers and projects are passed out and finally the teacher's desk is cleared off. When a trip is planned you anticipate it for weeks or even months. Suitcases are mentally packed, places to visit are researched and you check the calendar from time to time to see how many more days remain until you finally leave.
The traveling part may be challenging and difficult. You may not sleep for, I don't know, maybe 32 hours. One in your party may be very ill..., but arrive you will. The first week is adjusting to your new location, time difference, possibly a trip to the doctor and a few forays to explore and have a first "look see".
Then comes the pleasure of finally relaxing. You sleep in. You set your own schedule. No rushing is involved. You begin to feel at home. Meals are cooked and enjoyed. Discussions around the table are the norm. There is no TV with alarming, blaring news. No phones ring.
There is a vineyard across the way from the old, comfortable home. A tiny village is a short walk way. Driving through the countryside is an exercise in gratitude for so much beauty. Neighboring villages provide all the mountain climbing you are capable of. The mountain top villages also offer views to last you the rest of your life.
Inevitably the last few days arrive. You begin to think of repacking the clothes you put away after your arrival. Last arrangements are made. Last souvenirs are purchased. Last photos are taken.
You have been given an incredible gift. Your heart is heavy with gratitude. Your prayers include much thanksgiving.
Then all too soon you walk out the door and say, "Au revoir".

The Power of Place

This old road side shrine to Our Lady has become a landmark of reaching home. We are all deeply relieved to see her. She tells us, "Never mind the narrow roads and speeding drivers. You have arrived home safe. I've been looking for you." St. Mary, after all, is first of all a mother. Like all good mothers she always waits for our safe arrival home.
Provence is unlike anyplace I've ever been. I'm not sure I can adequately describe how. Mark and I live in a beautiful old neighborhood of Los Angeles. My morning walks take me by stately homes built almost a hundred years ago. The gardens, lawns and trees I pass by never cease to refresh me. Even the apartment we've lived in for eighteen years is surrounded by lots of trees and running water. We are blessed.
But Provence is different. The surrounding vineyards, olive orchards, wheat fields, stretches of lavender and sunflowers are teaming with life and sounds. The cicadas never stop their loud, insistent song. Cars wiz by our old house and certainly don't seem to mind the narrow country road. It appears some people are in a hurry. We however are not. We have taken a deliberate month long retreat to just be. There have been enough wonderful explorations into the endlessly charming hilltop villages and towns. When we rest for a day we rest deep. When we listened to the rain and thunder this morning it was like a benediction. There have been countless dinnertime conversations around the table. I am so thankful Michele has such different views about world events. She not only keeps us on our toes, but adds much wit and laughter.
This very house has blessed us. The cool tile floors, the small but efficient kitchen, the lovely upstairs bedrooms with views to the distant hills. At night we can see the lights of Roussillion and sometimes the light of the full moon.
It has not all been smooth. Michele continues to battle her weeks long chest cold. My throat has been sore for the last week. Mark hates driving here. Marketing is a challenge as is communication. But gathered up all together there has also been an incredible sense of well being.
The French countryside in the south is a kind of "rest cure" for weary big city dwellers. Being able to take time to draw, paint, pray, write, reflect, discuss, rest and even hang clothes on the line has made this time less like a vacation and more like a gift.

Windows dressed with linen

One of my favorite things about our house in Joucas is the windows. It is an old house with thick walls and deeply set windows. The windows upstairs overlook  beautiful vineyards, an olive grove and distant hills. The downstairs windows overlook the spacious courtyard and the laundry I just hung out a couple of hours ago. The bundles of lavender we've purchased in Apt and Sault look perfect in the window sill. The sill is also a place to prop up recently completed Watercolors.

The coverings of all the windows are simple linen panels. The ones downstairs have a monogram of "B" and "A".

Michele is sitting in the window to the far right next to the massive fireplace. She placed an apple in a corner of the sill and is sketching it.

Perfect.

A Quiet Monday in Joucas

After a busy first week and weekend we decided together that today would be a "stay at home" day.
Michele just came down the stairs and said, "I love this doing nothing". She also said that she had been reading the news and was going to switch to fantasy. Good call.
This morning our breakfast was eggs over easy and toast I made from baguette slices fried in butter. I use butter for everything. Of course there were cups of long shot espressos with cream.
My bubble bath in the lovely pink bathtub was a blessing. The bathroom window was open to blue sky and clouds. After my bath I hung out a sheet and the tablecloth we've been eating on. It and a heavy rubber padding covered the white round table-just like one I would like to have.
Mark helped me trying to reconstruct the chronology of the past week for my datebook. The dates on pictures we have taken helped.
It was quite a week. I had a fall in Joucas-skinned knee. Fender bender (minor, but upsetting) at the Notre-Dame de Senanque Abbey. Mark had a more serious fall over an unseen cement rise in Apt and a shattered IPhone screen. We had a difficult time trying to find the Cathedral of St. Anne. The Lavender Festival meant there were lots of road closures. The mass was more than half over by the time we wandered in, but the quiet beauty and songs in French brought tears.  There has been far more breathtaking beauty than upset. Michele is beginning to feel well, although she still has a nagging cough. We are all deeply grateful.
This morning I was able to read/pray my usual Morning Prayer from my well worn 1928 prayer book and even more used KJV Bible that was a gift from my parents in June of 1963. I brought a very small folding icon and small candle. The Old Testament lesson was from Samuel. It is a very sad dialogue between God and Samuel. Israel demanded a king to be like the nations that surrounded them. God told Samuel not to worry, Israel was rejecting Him not Samuel. Later on of course, the people of Israel suffer under the rule of Saul. He looked good, seemed promising, but it didn't end well for Saul and many others. Saul had a divided heart...never a good thing.
A day of rest and reflection. A day to ponder the wonder of actually being in the south of France for several more weeks. A day to breathe deep and give thanks.

A day to reflect on being at such a lovely address. An address with no numbers, just a name.

We awoke this morning to rain showers and now after breakfast it is still overcast. None of us really feel like getting dressed or going anywhere. The surrounding countryside, farms and villages are simply breathtaking. Yesterday we ventured into Roussillion for market day. The views of the Luberon valley form the top of the hilly village were stunning. The trees, vineyards, farms, red rock cliffs and earth were neatly formed into a view unlike any I've ever seen.

  After browsing the small, colorful market we had lunch at one of the charming bistros in the heart of the village. We were led into a back patio with wonderful views.

Upon returning to Joucas we saw a gorgeous field of lavender, so we had to stop.

 Michele and I still have to get our paints out. So thankful we got her to doctor on Wednesday. She is doing much better, but still has a mean cough. All will be well. She will heal, We will do watercolors together. The three of us will explore more villages. We will walk in more ancient chapels and we will pray for the healing of our world.

 St. Michael the Archangel, pray for us.

"Best laid plans..."

The plan was to go through all these boxes. I was going to consolidate, toss, recycle, whatever was indicated by the contents therein. That was the plan. Of course plans change. Continually. And here I am with some unexpected time to deal with this flood of memories. What to do, what to do?

Given that we are leaving the country for a month in a few weeks action must be taken. No dilly dallying around my friends. So where will everything go? Back in the closet I'm afraid. Reorganized of course. Everything will make so much more sense. Little lies I tell myself.

No matter. The time and opportunity have presented themselves and being the responsible citizen that I am I shall take immediate action. After a late breakfast of course. Then there is the need to shower and dress...all necessary of course. Then there is the bed to make and the boxes stacked in the bedroom.

Pray for me my brothers and sisters.

Joyful Mysteries

 

This morning as I prayed the Joyful Mysteries I was reflecting on many things. There is a hearing tomorrow for St. Mary's that could be a turning point. Or not. My youngest cousin is failing in CCU in Ventura. He is 61...praying for him, his six year old son, his wife, his three step children. Thinking of the brevity of life. 

I use a little booklet published by Magnificat and the devotions for today were written by Father Richard Veras. The fifth mystery especially touches my heart. Jesus has been separated from His parents for three days. At twelve years old he has stayed behind in Jerusalem to discuss things with the elders in the temple. Father Veras writes,

"Mary could not have explained how a virgin could give birth,

or how Elizabeth could bear a son in old age,

or how shepherds could find the obscure birthplace of her beloved Son,

or how an old man in the temple could utter a profound prophecy about her Son.

Even the teachers in the temple could not explain Jesus' intelligence."

He continues with,

"The fact that the mystery is mysterious can only be an objection to a small mind which refuses that which is deeper than its understanding."

He close with, "Joy does not spring from intellectual pride, but from being loved."

During a long conversation with my sister, Donna, earlier today we discussed many things that have been going on in our family and in the world. We agreed that pride separates us from knowing the true promptings of God. It is only when we remember who we are, Who we belong to, that we can order our lives with true joy.

The wise men had begun their journey long before discovering the place where the new King had been born. They had gone to Herod for advice about where to look. Herod's advisers knew where the Messiah was supposed to appear and mentioned Bethlehem. Herod, in a sly move to discover the whereabouts of his rival, asked the wise men to return to him and advise him where he might also go and reverence the new king. The star continued to guide the wise men, but escaped Herod's notice.

The wise men's reaction to the Christ Child should inform our own worship,

     "They fell down and worshiped Him; and opening their treasures they presented to Him gifts of gold and frankincense and myrrh." (Matthew 2:11)

God warned the wise men in a dream not to return to Herod with information about the location of young Jesus. The wise men's hearts would have been broken had they known the evil in Herod's heart. 

Joseph, the protector of Jesus and His mother Mary, was warned by an Angel to flee to Egypt, "for Herod is going to search for the Child to destroy Him." (Matthew 2:13)

Herod became enraged when the wise men did not return to him with the information he had asked for. He felt "tricked". He had learned enough from the wise men to know about two years had passed since they saw the star in the east. The solution seemed easy enough to Herod. All he had to do was kill all the baby boys in Bethlehem from two years old and under. The cruel order was given to his soldiers. We observe this heartless act after Christmas on Holy Innocents, December 28th.

The things to ponder on these events in the early life of Jesus are many. Men's hearts are still devided two thousand years later. Some fall down and worship the King. Some say there is no King and no authority over them. Some have allowed their hearts to be so hardened that the killing of innocents does not move them.

Where are we 2016 years since the birth of Jesus?