The Song of the Poor Shepherds: An Advent Hymn

Adoration of the Shepherds by Gerard van Honthorst

Poetry is something I usually don't touch with a ten-foot pole. Personally, I think writing a novel is easier than writing a poem and I've never been good at brevity in my writing. However, every now and then I feel inspired to write a poem and then I work away at it until I'm happy with every word and every placement of those words on a page. I get caught up in imagery and symbolism and somewhere at the end of it all, a poem emerges. My first attempt---a poem celebrating the conversion of St. Maria Goretti's murderer, Alessandro, entitled "Alessandro's Ascent"---was kindly published a few years ago in the wonderful Catholic literary journal, Dappled Things, which (by the way), is greatly in need of financial support if it's going to continue to be published next year.

A couple of weeks ago, while on retreat, I felt that creative stirring again as I sat at a frosted window looking at an intensely blue sky and puffs of white steam rising from nearby houses like incense rising to God. Birds tumbled around the sky, completely oblivious to the cold. From the warmth of my room, I started to think about the "pregnant pause" of the Advent season, the long waiting in the cold for the world's Gift, and the image of the sky and the birds started to intermingle into the first lines of a poem. From there, my imagination leapt back 2000 years to the shepherds who were surprised by the unexpected news of a Messiah born in a manger.

Perhaps it was my recent viewing of the wonderful movie, Jesus of Nazareth, which made me feel such an affinity with these poor men and boys who tripped their way to Bethlehem to see this wondrous thing! In the movie, when the shepherds enter the cave, they're chastised by a bossy old woman whose come in to see to the couple with the new baby. The shepherds, who've come such a distance, stand transfixed at the door, unsure what to do, and obviously feeling the shame of their appearances and their presences in this place. It's as if, in that moment, they are no longer standing in the door way of a soddy, musty cave, but at the entrance of a palace. Only when they tell what they have seen on the hill, does the busy-body move aside and the shepherds sidle in, sheepishly (pun definitely intended!), and worship the baby Jesus. All of these images were swirling around in my mind and the end result was this little Advent meditation called "The Song of the Poor Shepherds"---a song which is, I think, close to all our hearts, whether we realize it or not: the deep-down desire for God. This poem is no masterpiece by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, it's about as rough around the edges as the shepherds themselves were. Nevertheless, I do hope you'll enjoy it!

The Song of the Poor Shepherds: An Advent Hymn

By Heather K. Thompson

December 2010

Beneath this sky of azure blue---

Amidst the song of the birds’ tra-la---
Figures move in expectation,

Wayward hearts in celebration,

Voices blend in adoration.

God is drawing nigh.

On a hill near Bethlehem---

Dotted with the least of men---

Angels split the sky to sing,

“Darkness now has taken wing;

Hasten, then, your joy to ring.

God is drawing nigh!”

Listen as their feet go pounding---

T’wards the wish they dared not dream of---

“Can this thing be but illusion?

Lord, my heart is all confusion.

They said flesh was your solution!

God is drawing nigh?”

Panting, craning at the door---

Cold and stench and a baby’s cry---

Yet the air’s like weighted gold here,

And our breath in wonder hold. Sheer

Child divine in human mould. Clear,

God has now drawn nigh!

Beneath this sky of azure blue---

Advent expectations mount---

Wretched Man in sorrow pining,

On the Heart of Heart’s reclining,

Heavenward, our prayers go sighing.

God has now drawn nigh.



Simplicity

Scene from the movie,
Vision – Aus dem Leben der Hildegard von Bingen (2010),
about the life of St. Hildegard





 My aunt sent me an email today about simplicity. The words are those of a benedictine sister from the community of St. Rita in Arizona. I was touched by them, especially in the midst of the Christmas season which is so full of busy-ness. Although not all of us are called to the monastic life, I think there's a lot we can learn from our brothers and sisters who live inside the enclosures of these houses of prayer. Likely, the following excerpt will present different ways to different readers of how to introduce simplicity into daily life. For myself, right now, it means being faithful to all the things God has given me to do in a particular day and being discerning about adding other stuff to that list. I think it also means being simple in thought and prayer in the sense of coming to God like a little child and making my requests with the confidence of a little one. One of these days when I have time to de-clutter, it might also mean that! Here is the passage:



“We have less of many things than is customary in our culture. No TV beyond an occasional feast-day film. We don’t call our best friend at the end of a trying day to complain about the boss. We don’t plough through acres of email or go to the mall for a new outfit to enhance the new me. No career ladder to climb. We left behind the cell phone, check-book, credit cards, frequent flyer miles, book clubs, students or colleagues or buddies in the carpool, wardrobe, boyfriends, and a few other items of interest. We left behind a culture that offers dozens of ways of making us feel important. When this issue arose, the disciples asked Jesus, “What then shall we have?” Leaving aside for the moment the ultimate recompense of the Kingdom of God, we are offered the gift of simplicity.”

SIMPLICITY of form and space.



Our chapel is serenely plain, our monastic spaces are well-designed and free of clutter. We revel in an environment suited to an uncluttered life.

SIMPLICITY of heart.

We surrender affectation of manner and the need to impress.

SIMPLICITY of desire.



We seek to set our longings toward God in the face of his Christ. Simplicity can translate into listening, into attentiveness.We listen to the Word of God in liturgy, and in quiet prayer. We absorb the times and seasons of the days and years, letting ourselves be taught by the wisdom of the natural world. We hear the clamour in our own hearts, asking the primordial questions pressing for new and personal answers. We search for the needs of Christ in the needs of our sisters and those of the world."

Holiday Truffle-Making

At Christmas, we naturally gravitate towards family and friends. We go out of our way to make time for those dear to our hearts. We communicate, once again, with people whom we've lost touch with, though they're memories have lingered on the peripheries of our minds all year. There's something about Christmas which makes us want to try a little harder, do a little better, and be a little more open.

Well, if you're looking for a way to connect or reconnect with family and friends during this blessed season, making truffles might be a great idea! We usually spend inordinate amounts of money buying those gorgeously wrapped concoctions in the store, but they're so easy to make at home! Besides, it's much more fun to make them than to simply unwrap them! I've been doing them for two years now, and they've become one of those Christmas necessities, along with my mum's famous cinnamon buns which make their appearance only once a year on Christmas morning.

Now, before I give you my recipe, I should make it clear that by truffles, I don't mean the funghi! Yes, there is a type of truffle which is a relative of the mushroom family. Here's a nice definition for it (has anyone ever tried one?) and a picture:

Truffle: "An edible fungus which is found underground. It is round and can be black, white, dark brown or grey in color. The scarcity and decline in truffles has led this once widely used item becoming an expensive garnish. Probably the best and most expensive truffle is the black Périgord truffle. There are some 70 varieties of truffle. Truffles are also sold in jars and cans, truffle oil can also be bought and used to finish dishes with" (http://www.cookeryonline.com/Resource/GlossaryS-Z.html).

Obviously, the chocolate truffle (the subject of this post), derives its shape and appearance from the naturally-occurring truffle, right down to the soft sprinkling of cocoa "dust" which sometimes envelops these chocolate truffles and is meant to resemble the soil clinging to freshly-picked truffles. At any rate, chocolate truffles are a delicacy in their own right. They're centres are made up of ganache---that delightfully creamy substance I mentioned in my post on chocolate mousse cake earlier this year. The combination of heavy cream, real butter, honey, and your choice of flavourings, make truffles a delectable treat for the palate. What you do with the outside of a truffle is up for grabs! I usually dip the cold centres into couverture (melted chocolate). Some people simply roll the ganache balls in cocoa. The web has lots of ideas, so browse around, or experiment for yourself!

Whatever you do, though, make this recipe with someone else! Truffle-making is a multi-step process with rest times in-between: perfect for sipping tea with a friend or chatting over a glass of wine or simply hanging out together in the kitchen and sharing stories. If you're making them with children, it's a great way to help the kids develop their motor skills---not to mention their patience (but do be prepared for messy faces, hands and walls!).

A hard-won tip: When it comes time to rolling the balls of ganache, sprinkle cocoa on your hands. The cocoa acts like a wheat-floured surface when kneading bread: it prevents sticking! It also means that your hands will be a little less messy when you're finally done---not to mention that you'll leave more chocolate for the truffles by following this simple step.

So, without further ado, here's the recipe. If you try it out, leave a comment and tell us how it went and what, if any, variations you made!

Truffles

Ingredients

Filling

1 large chocolate bar (400-600 grams)

450 mL whipping cream

3 tablespoons honey

2 tablespoons butter

Flavourings, peanut butter, etc. (optional)

Couverture

1 large chocolate bar

Method

1. Make a double-boiler by placing water in a pot and putting another pot over it. Turn heat to medium-high.

2. Place chocolate in the second pot and melt.

3. While chocolate is melting, combine whipping cream, honey and butter and bring to a boil (either in microwave or on stove top). Remove from heat as soon as cream starts to rise.

4. Pour liquids into melted chocolate and stir vigorously with a wire whip until smooth and velvety (tip: pour liquids in stages)

5. If adding flavours or other ingredients, now is the time to do it!! If adding liquid flavours start with a few drops and test. Flavours will settle as the chocolate cools, so don’t over-flavour. If adding peanut butter, you may want to warm it for a few seconds in the microwave so that it is easy to stir into the chocolate.

6. Put in fridge (or freezer) until set. Test by inserting a spoon into the mixture. You should be able to make a ball with the chocolate. Could take up to two hours or more. Keep an eye on it!

7. When chocolate has set, remove from fridge and, scoop out about one teaspoon at a time. Roll into balls and place on a parchment-lined cookie sheet/tray. (Tip: use cocoa on your hands to prevent sticking. Work fast! Chocolate melts at body temperature!)

8. Place balls in fridge while you melt the chocolate for the couverture. Allow melted chocolate to cool.

9. Dip chocolate balls into melted chocolate and place on lined cookie sheet/tray. You may repeat this step as often as you wish. Allow to set in fridge. Enjoy!

10. Optional: decorate tops of truffles with chocolate designs or royal icing.

Surprises

Do you ever have those moments when you see something and you wish you had a camera to capture the moment because you're fairly certain you'll never see that sight again? I had just such a moment this morning and I'm still kicking myself that I didn't have a digital camera on hand (note to self: it's time to invest in a digital camera!). The next best thing was to do an image search for icicles and sunlight. The picture on your right is as close a reproduction of the awesome sight I witnessed this morning, but you have to imagine an entire street as far as the eye could see on either side sparkling intensely like that.

It was one of those divine surprises through nature: a little burst of joy! When I left home earlier this morning, the day was grey, chilly, morose...I headed out with my head partially tucked into my scalf and my eyes on the ground watching for black ice patches. I'd just spent about five minutes fruitlessly scraping at my car. I realized, eventually, that there was no way I could get it road-ready and be able to make it to Mass on time. So, I'd set out on foot instead. I was going briskly and was pleased to find that, although the sidewalks looked a little messy, they weren't too slippery. That made my way easier. However, when one of the parishoners and his family stopped to give me a lift, I took it gladly. My bones haven't quite acclimatized to the cooler weather yet and I find myself diving into warm spaces without too much prompting. By February, I'll be walking around fearlessly like any natural-born Canadian, but this is only November, after all!

Anyway, the hint of a surprise on the offing started as I sat in the church and suddenly realized that there was an unexpected shaft of light coming in through one window. The occasional ping of melting ice outside the window was also promising. By the time I emerged forty-five minutes later, there was a great expanse of unlimited blue ceiling with a few stray whisps of white cloud trailing along. Behind me was an ominous grey mass of cloud trying to looking imposing, but utterly failing next to the sheer blue beauty whose proportions roughly rivalled that of a small ocean. And then, the sun came out!

Within instants, the bright blue sky became a prelude to glory. Every bit of ice on tree, ground, hedge and shingle became a prism. As if the earth had suddenly caught a glimpse of its own magnificence, it sighed, and all the trees started gently swaying in the breeze and the sound was as if a million party-goers had lifted their forks and started tapping on the rims of their crystal glasses. The breeze had also stirred up some of the snow, so there were particles of light dancing in the air and settling on my face. It was one of the most delightful experiences of the snow so far. Funny how I forget, every year, how wonderful the ice and snow is. I've been dreading it this year because I enjoyed being outdoors so much over the past few months, but after seeing what I saw today, I'm finally eager to see the landscape draped in white again. I won't go so far as to say I'm eager for the slick sidewalks, but it is good to be reminded that even ice---when suspended on a tree---is a thing of gratuitous beauty.

And speaking of surprises: I know I've already passed this on to most people on my mailing list, but in case you haven't seen it yet, you've got to watch how a food court full of unsuspecting shoppers at the Seaway Mall in Welland, Ontario, were transported out of their ordinary lives last week by a group of ingenious singers. (Thank you, Rebecca and Mrs. Walker for passing this along). It is definitely one of the coolest things I've seen in a while! Enjoy! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SXh7JR9oKVE

Prayer Vigil for the Unborn

A five-month old baby in the womb

In a couple of weeks, Advent begins: a time of preparation for the celebration of Jesus' birth into the world, as well as a time of anticipation for his second coming. An awesome time of prayer and bustle. In the midst of it all, is the realization that, for so many, there is no joy or anticipation over their coming into the world. The reality of abortion follows us into this holy period of the liturgical year. As we coo over the Baby Jesus, we need to remember all the tiny lives in danger of never knowing a loving glance this side of Heaven.

In his wisdom, the Holy Father, Pope Benedict XVI, has declared the start of Advent 2010---beginning at Vespers on November 27th---a time of prayer in solidarity for the unborn.

The following is a letter sent through "Spirit and Life." It is taken from the Human Life International e-Newsletter dated November 12, 2010. Read it, pray about it, and hopefully sign the petition. When you've done all that, maybe you'll consider joining me on November 27th in prayer for life in the womb (as well as for the mothers and fathers for whom the coming into the world of their little ones is not a time of joy, but of great distress!). I'm planning on going to Our Lady of Lourdes Grotto in Vanier that day to pray a rosary. Would you like to join me? If so, let me know! If not, I'm sure you'll find some other way to remember the intention in your prayers. God bless you all!

Worldwide Prayer Vigil for the Unborn


On Saturday November 27th, His Holiness Pope Benedict XVI will celebrate a solemn Prayer Vigil for All Nascent Human Life in St. Peter's Basilica, coinciding with the First Vespers of the First Sunday of Advent. It is the wish of the Holy Father that similar vigils be celebrated in Cathedrals and parishes all over the world, which is expressed in a magnificent letter written by Cardinals Antonio Cañizares Llovera, Prefect of the Congregation for Divine Worship, and Ennio Antonelli, President of the Pontifical Council for the Family.

The beautiful liturgical season of Advent is full of hope-as Christians we prayerfully anticipate the arrival of the Redeemer. Yet at the same time that we prepare ourselves to celebrate the incarnation of our Savior, we have to be ready to defend the unborn against all the anti-life ideologies that dominate contemporary society.

This vigil follows the path marked by the Venerable Pope John Paul II, who strongly recommended that to create a new culture of life, "a great prayer for life is urgently needed, a prayer which will rise up throughout the world." (E.V. 100) This prayer will encourage Christians to remember that they have a fundamental duty to proclaim that nascent life has to be defended always and everywhere. This prayer will give Christians the spirit of fortitude required to be coherent with the teachings of the Church, without making any compromises with the world.

Prayer should be the foundation of our active apostolate, because if what we do is not grounded in the elevation of our hearts and minds to God in a spirit of humble subjection, it can become mere activism. It is in this spirit that HLI sponsored the recent Fifth World Prayer Congress for Life in Rome in October.

Each newly-conceived human person is a sign of hope to world. In the moment of the creation of the immortal soul of a new person, the Lord gives him a mission to aid in His plans for the redemption of all mankind. He gives to this person unique talents for the benefit of society. So if the life of this extremely young person is destroyed, not only do we have abominable crime, but we are deprived of the talents that the Lord had given to this new person for the common good of the Church and society. Just imagine if St. Thomas of Aquinas would have been killed by abortion, the Church would have lost her greatest philosopher and theologian. If the parents of St. Theresa of Avila would have rejected her-our spiritual life would be very much impoverished and the Church would have been deprived of many Carmelite monasteries. And imagine also if Domenikos Theotokopoulos (Il Greco) would have suffered the same terrible fate, we would have been deprived of one of the greatest Christian artists of all times.

Clearly, contemporary society is spiritually, intellectually and artistically impoverished, as we have killed millions of little ones that had the potential to sanctify and enrich society with their God given talents.

In this Advent and in future Advents, we should foster and increase our devotion to Our Lady of Hope, as Cardinals Cañizares and Llovera recommend in their letter on celebrating this vigil. She is normally depicted as majestic, and is often carrying a baby in her womb. This avocation of Our Lady reminds us of the months that she was expecting the birth of the Christ Child that she was carrying in her womb. In particular this title of Our Lady is celebrated on the Third Sunday of Advent, as was earnestly recommended by the Tenth Council of Toledo in the year 656, which was presided over by St. Eugenio III. In the Catholic tradition, Our Lady of Hope is also called Our Lady of the "O" because her celebration coincides with the most beautiful "O" antiphons that mark the last Sunday of Advent: "O Sapientia," "O Adonai," "O Emmanuel," and others of great beauty.

Our Lady is our Hope not only because she brought the Savior to the World; she leads us to Him and is the channel of all His graces.The traditional image of Our Lady of Hope received a heavenly confirmation with the apparitions of Our Lady of Guadalupe in the sixteenth century, where the image of her imprinted on the tilma of San Juan Diego is of a lady carrying a child.

Of course, we revere our Blessed Mother in all of her traditional, historical appearances. During Advent, however, we look to Our Lady of Hope in a special way. With this ancient title, she points us toward a theological virtue that is particularly necessary in our difficult times.

HLI Poland has sponsored a multilingual, international petition of solidarity with Pope Benedict XVI, who initiated the historic call to prayer for life. All who want to join the Holy Father and the universal Church in this special vigil are invited to sign the petition at http://yes-for-benedict.net/. The petition will be presented to the Holy Father after the date of the vigil.

For details on how to participate in the Prayer Vigil for All Nascent Human Life, HLI recommends the excellent resource of the US Catholic Bishops at http://www.usccb.org/prolife/papalvigil/.

Sincerely yours in Christ,

Monsignor Ignacio Barreiro-Carámbula,

Interim President, Human Life International

Those Quiet Moments

My days have been filled with silence of late. Largely working from home now---something I always thought would suit me very well---brings its own struggles. Things have slowed down drastically. I'm still occupied, but not to the extent I've been for the past---oh...ten years or more! I'm so used to having tens of things to do, that the fact I can actually sit around in the middle of the day and enjoy a cup of tea at leisure is miraculous! I'm still teaching, but the demands are less and I pretty much set my own schedule these days. My new part-time job adds a bit more variety to my days, but, for the most part, home is now my domain.

No children to run after, no husband to tend to, but the life of the home and the various domestic demands have begun to take priority. Cleaning times, cooking times, laundry times....All of these things are part of my routine. I love it! Today, I came home from Mass, and enjoyed (believe it or not!) polishing the wooden furniture in the living room and dining room and getting at the dust bunnies under the couch. I'm not sure what I've become. Sometimes, I'm concerned about myself. Three years ago, I was jostling to work on a crowded bus every day, sitting in a tiny cubicle, and getting the big bucks. They called that "being successful." It didn't feel like it then, and I'm glad to be away from it now. But what do you call what I'm doing now. I'm not looking to climb any ladders (unless it's to get the cake dish from the top shelf in the kitchen) and I'm certainly not making any money to write home about. But, you know what? I'm happy! I thought women weren't supposed to be happy dusting and cleaning and cooking. Maybe I forgot to read the memo....

Not to over-idealize the situation. There are times when being at home is really hard. Perhaps the biggest adjustment is embracing the silence. Sometimes, whole days go by where the only voice I hear is my own: singing, thinking out loud, praying. Daily Mass and snippets of conversation with the lovely old ladies who have embraced me in my parish are sometimes punctuated by the occasional phone call from family and friends. But mostly I'm seeing to my duties in a shroud of silence, my heart still, my whole being very calm. Sometimes, it's heavenly; other times, it's tortuous.

My brother recently bought me a car and today I experienced one of my first "quiet moments" in it while waiting outside my part-time workplace for my shift to start. Sitting there was like being in a cocoon. I think all the silence of late has lent me the ability to become profoundly quiet wherever I am. So, even with the world bustling around about me, I sat there, feeling as if I was resting in a womb, and thought I'd crack open the Psalms for a few words of wisdom to carry me through my approaching shift. One of the plusses about silence is that when God speaks, you can hear Him loud and clear. Sitting in the belly of my car, the words sprang off the page and spoke directly into my current situation, touching all my raw emotions like iodine to a wound---painful and healing. I soaked them in with a sense of wonder.

The reading was Psalm 34. I thought I'd add the verses here in case someone out there could use the reminder. Here, I was reminded that God is near, even though silence can sometimes seem like residence in a vacuum. He reminded me that my prayers, sent up like a trail of staccato puffs from a pipe, were heard in the stillness of His Heart. He showed me that I am His and that my hurts meant something to Him, even if it felt as if the rest of the world was wholly indifferent. A "Praise for Deliverance from Trouble": that's the title the editors gave the psalm. Sometimes, my trouble is thinking that silence means being alone. I think I need to remember that God resides in the quiet moments and that what seems to be one heart beat (mine) is both of our hearts beating in tandem.


Psalm 34



Praise for Deliverance from Trouble


Of David, when he feigned madness before Abimelech, so that he drove him out, and he went away.


1 I will bless the Lord at all times;
his praise shall continually be in my mouth.
2 My soul makes its boast in the Lord;
let the humble hear and be glad.
3 O magnify the Lord with me,
and let us exalt his name together.
4 I sought the Lord, and he answered me,
and delivered me from all my fears.
5 Look to him, and be radiant;

so your* faces shall never be ashamed.
6 This poor soul cried, and was heard by the Lord,
and was saved from every trouble.
7 The angel of the Lord encamps
around those who fear him, and delivers them.
8 O taste and see that the Lord is good;
happy are those who take refuge in him.
9 O fear the Lord, you his holy ones,
for those who fear him have no want.
10 The young lions suffer want and hunger,
but those who seek the Lord lack no good thing.
11 Come, O children, listen to me;
I will teach you the fear of the Lord.
12 Which of you desires life,
and covets many days to enjoy good?
13 Keep your tongue from evil,
and your lips from speaking deceit.
14 Depart from evil, and do good;
seek peace, and pursue it.
15 The eyes of the Lord are on the righteous,
and his ears are open to their cry.
16 The face of the Lord is against evildoers,
to cut off the remembrance of them from the earth.
17 When the righteous cry for help, the Lord hears,
and rescues them from all their troubles.
18 The Lord is near to the broken-hearted,
and saves the crushed in spirit.
19 Many are the afflictions of the righteous,
but the Lord rescues them from them all.
20 He keeps all their bones;
not one of them will be broken.
21 Evil brings death to the wicked,
and those who hate the righteous will be condemned.
22 The Lord redeems the life of his servants;
none of those who take refuge in him will be condemned.

Happy New Year!!

O.K., so I know it's not January 1st, but this week was the beginning of the new school year, not to mention the return to duty of our politicians. For all of us, I'd say, the day after Labour Day signals the beginning of things. The trees certainly seem to be earnestly in readiness for Fall now! (I saw the most stunning little red maple leaf on my walk today.) And the weather's suddenly taken an abrupt turn. It started with chilly nights over a week ago, but now, we've got chilly days too. As I write this, I'm covered up to my waist in a duvet and I've got my kettle constantly on the boil! And the Canada geese have been squawking off to warmer climes for the past few days. Everywhere, there's a turning. Change is in the air.

The biggest change for me this week has been the launch of my online literature classes, Caedmon Tutorials. Four lovely students have joined me to explore Medieval Literature for the next eight months. Figuring out the technology has been the biggest battle, but I'm enjoying learning how to make it work. It feels really good to have a challenge. The readings are great fun too. Next week, we're looking at elegies: "The Wanderer," "The Seafarer," "The Wife's Complaint," and "The Husband's Message." Kind of a bleak start, you might think, but the elegy is a fascinating form because of the way it conforms to the human psyche's response to grief: an initial lamentation as the loss sets in turns to praise and idealization which finally comes around to consolation ("Tears assuage sadness," as St. Thomas Aquinas says).

I feel as if this Summer just past has been a kind of elegiac period: the lament over not being able to find a teaching job in the school boards; the creation of Caedmon Tutorials, born out of a need to be useful; and now, the consolation of having made a start and realizing that it is something very good (thanks be to God!).

And so, I return, too, to this blogging business after a full two months hiaitus. My dear followers, if you're still out there and haven't given up on this page, come back again every now and then, won't you? And Happy New Year!

Chocolate Mousse Cake

There are some things in life which are just so special, they deserve a blog post! Yesterday, I trekked up the road in blistering 34 degree weather to our neighbourhood grocery store. With list in hand, I browsed the aisles for decadent things: dark chocolate, whipping cream, butter, and eggs. [Does anyone else out there ever feel guilty for the things you take up to the cashier? I always feel I need to apologize when I've deviated from vegetables, fruit and fish! It's a good thing, then, that I was also buying ingredients for my brother's birthday barbeque, so I proudly unloaded the lettuce, tomatoes, yellow pepper and humble pun of ground beef onto the conveyor belt]. When it is very hot outside and you are walking with dairy items, you tend to walk a little quicker....Consequently, by the time I collapsed over my threshold, I looked like I'd just run in from a delightful spritz in a garden sprinkler. Let's go with that theory, shall we!?

Chocolate Mousse Cake! I was now armed and prepared to tackle a culinary feat which only the bravest will face (on a sweltering day). With the A/C cranked up to prevent any unwanted collapsing of said mousse, I set to work. Chocolate Mousse Cake is a multi-step process. I began with the cake base. For what it will grow up to be, the deceptively simple chocolate cake, which is no more than an inch high when baked looked rather sad and mundane as it cooled. But, already, the lovely smell of baked chocolate was filling the air with promises of things to come!

With the cake base done, I set about to the cream---literally and figuratively. This is the heart of a chocolate mousse cake. There's no getting around it! You mess this up, you might as well just pack up and call it a day! The fact that the ingredients are so costly makes a do-over something only the rich can afford to risk. So, sending up a quick prayer, I put the egg yolks, sugar, and salt in the mixer and whisked them up. Heated milk followed shortly after. Meanwhile, the dark chocolate was melting, and a pot of boiling water was on stand-by awaiting its critical part in the play.

Now for the aerobic exercise. The recipe called for eight vigorous minutes of constant whisking over the simmering water. Once you put that bowl over the hot water, you have to be ready to go, go, go!  There's no stopping now. If you do, you risk cooking the delicate eggs yolks rather than creating a creamy custard. I whisked until I could whisk no more, and then I changed hands. "cook, stirring, until custard is 160°F (70°C) and thick enough to coat back of spoon." That's what the lady said! It wasn't happening. Horror of horrors! The custard was curdling! Ignore it! came the little voice in my head that often saves me from despairing too quickly. So, I forged ahead and beat that custard until the buzzer went off. The result was not the luscious, smooth, satiny custard I'd expected, but something between baby cereal and cottage cheese. That's o.k., Heather. It's not over yet! I encouraged myself.

Into the custard went the rum flavour, the vanilla, the melted chocolate and that amazing secret ingredient without which no mousse could claim existence: the gelatin! When it was all deliciously cool, I added whipped cream and it all came together. The sorry-looking custard became something almost divine with the addition of that whipped cream. It was miraculous! The mousse was complete and I think even Martha Stewart would agree that it was perfect.

But a Chocolate Mousse Cake is a drab little, half-done thing, without the final addition: the ganache! Ganache is one of those lovely things that the French decided we cannot live without. It's post-revolutionary because if it had been invented in the days of the guillotine, it's creator would certainly have been beheaded. The thing is simply too decadent for common life! Funny how such a simply made thing can be so complete, so irresistable in itself. All you need to do is choose your very best chocolate (I used Swiss) and pour over it heated, bubbly, heavy (ie. whipping) cream. Within seconds, the chocolate starts to collapse in the bowl. A few deft swirls of a wire whip will turn a heterogeneous soup into the silkiest, creamiest mixture you've ever seen. I cooled this beauty, and then swept it across the set mousse---which, by this time, had been applied in two layers inside a spring form pan. The one inch chocolate cake, cut in two and filled with mousse, had become what it was meant to be: three inches of luscious Chocolate Mousse Cake!

The only thing harder than making a Chocolate Mousse Cake is waiting to eat it. We're having it tonight as the crowning glory to my brother's 25th birthday. It was his very special request, so I'm crossing my fingers that it tastes as good as it looks. If you'd like to try out this delectable recipe yourself, I got it on the Canadian Living website. Give it a try and let me know what you think! P.S. The image is courtesy of http://www.apartmenttherapy.com/ .

Caedmon Tutorials

Blogging is a bit of a lonely world, I'm discovering. I suppose somewhere in a portion of my brain, I thought doing this might make a difference in somebody's day---I just forgot that that person might only be me. The desire to connect my life with others'---that's at the heart of this insatiable desire to write, write, write. There's no instant gratification for the beginning blogger. It does really just boil down to slogging through a post, getting out all those pent-up ideas, realizing that I need this more than anyone. Why is it so important to share oneself with others? I guess it goes back to humans being social creatures and all that. I've always been the kind of person who doesn't mind her own company....But sometimes---often---I need the others. I think I'm coming to that more and more as the years go by.

Well, here's yet another way I propose to make connections: This month, I launch my online English Literature Tutorial service, Caedmon Tutorials. Reading, writing, and thinking: these are all activities which one can very happily do all alone. But my tutorials seek to bring people together to talk about great books, to contemplate what they mean and how they apply to our own lives. I'm so excited about this new venture! It seems to connect in one package all the things I care about so much: faith, writing, books, people, education, innovation, sharing, creativity....

I have to realize that it may take a while to catch on. The idea of schooling via the internet is still relatively new. For me too. How to reproduce a classroom atmosphere on the computer? It'll be a challenge, for sure, but I love new challenges and am eager to get this one started. It's been a wonder just planning the courses and I look forward to posting the syllabus soon.  Just thinking about some of the authors and works I'd like to introduce has got me enthused: Tolkien, Lewis, all those wonderful unknowns of the Medieval period!

If you haven't checked out http://www.caedmontutorials.com/ yet, I invite you to do so! I hope you'll join me on these explorations of life-changing literature. By the way, I'm thinking of starting an online book discussion via this blog in August. I've been meaning to re-read the Narnia  books. I'll start posting my thoughts in August and hope you'll join in and share your own with me as I go along.

Where Were You When the Earth Shook?

Tuesday, June 22.: It was an ordinary day. I woke early, ate, and started working on putting together a website for my latest venture, Caedmon Tutorials. I got so wrapped up in what I was doing that I completely forgot to stop at lunch time. Then, at 1:43 p.m., my stomach started protesting, so I pushed off from my desk and made my way downstairs, my tastebuds already geared for a piece of toast with cheese and a big, steaming cup of tea.

I wandered around the kitchen in that aimless way people have who have performed a chore a zillion times before and could probably do it their sleep. 1:45 p.m. I was stirring honey into my tea when the ground shook. In some obscure part of my brain, I regisered the possibility that a large truck must have just driven by on the road. Our rather flimsily-built house seems to absorb any and all movements from the main road not far away. But then, the whole house started to shake as if someone had taken it in their hands and jostled it about.

All of a sudden, objects started dropping from shelves and desks upstairs. I could hear them smashing to the floor. I went into panic mode. For the life of me, I could not remember what you're supposed to do in an earthquake. I'd only experienced one other quake before this one. It was in 2006 and then I had been with my mother and it was not as dramatic as this one. Was I supposed to retreat to the basement? Hmm...That didn't seem right....Wasn't that for hurricanes and bombs? Common sense kicked in: the thought of being below ground level, and therefore closer to the shaking, shifting centre of things was not an option! The doorframe! That was it. Now I remembered. You had to brace yourself in a doorway. I'm not sure why. Something about the angles, maybe, and their ability to hold up the weight of things above you? Whatever the reason, I braced. The shaking became more violent and primal screams started to erupt from my throat.

I remember thinking: "So, this is how I'm going to die," except, I didn't feel blase about it at all. I was screaming the name of Jesus and begging Him to make it stop. Even as I screamed, a part of me felt very self-conscious---as if someone might be right outside listening to me and I felt ashamed for being so afraid, so unprepared. I always thought that when my time came to die, I'd be ready. But, all I could think about was how painful it was going to be: a whole house falling in on me. Or, worse yet, a sink-hole swallowing me up. And I was all alone. If my family survived, they'd come back to the ruins and they'd never find my body. My mind conjured pictures of sink-holes in Quebec, in South America, in Asia....And I thought of Haiti...And I felt all the fear and all the sorrow of those poor people as the earth took them, one by one....And I realized, I am not ready to die. But the second realization was more startling than the first: whether I was ready or not, it really wasn't up to me. I guess it was the feeling of utter and complete helplessness that made me shake---and the shaking had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that the earth was heaving underneath me.

"I have to get out of here!" I thought. If I was going to die, I didn't want to die like that---buried under rubble. And there was always the chance that someone else was outside on the path. Just to see another human face would be a consolation. I half-crawled, half-ran for my shoes (yes! I had the presence of mind to consider shoes!) and pryed the door open. The rumbling was subsiding. The path was clear. Was I the only one feeling this? I looked around. Then, I saw my very pregnant neighbour emerge on her front steps with a telephone in hand. Further down the way, a group of old ladies who'd been lounging about in one of their gardens were standing on the path looking around. They were all rattled, of course, but I was the only one who seemed to think death was imminent. I tried to put on a brave face as I went for my pregnant neighbour. She was kind enough to ask me how I was doing when I should have been the one to ask her; to suggest she sit down; to consider boiling water for her....Something....One of the nice old ladies down the path started walking towards me. I went towards her, again with the thought to comfort, and she ended up enfolding me in a huge hug and asking if I was o.k.  "Oh, you poor thing, you're shaking!" she said. "If you need anything, come to us. We're just out in the garden."

The shaking had stopped. All in all, the thing lasted 20 seconds. It felt like 20 minutes, at least. I sheepishly thanked all my neighbours and hobbled back home to make some phone calls and ensure all my loved one's were o.k. Satisfied, I sat down on the couch and stared blankly around for a long time. Even now, as I think about it, I'm amazed at how life can be blithely going in one direction and then, all of a sudden, completely change course. Ever since I turned 30, I've been thinking a lot about mortality. My mortality. Morbid, I know, but the thoughts will come. On an up-note, the earthquake really got me thinking about the need to make the most of every moment. And so I've been trying to do just that. One of my favourite quotes is from Pope John Paul II's fountain of wisdom and I think they adequately apply to now: "This is no time for sitting idly by in fearful mediocrity."

Introducing Quills and Candles

It is fast becoming apparent that blogging is an addiction. Last night, I decided to start a second blog, this one all about being a writer. I needed somewhere to ruminate on what feels like a necessary act: the urge to write. I'm currently working on editing my novel, The Company of the White Stag (for the upteenth time), as well as working on a children's story, "Jacob and the Winter Boots," for my Institute of Children's Literature assignment. You'd think I had enough writing projects to work on. But, the more I write, the more I need to reflect on why I'm doing it. "Reflect." I never heard the word used as much as over the past year of Teacher's College. My colleagues and I reflected until we were blue in the face, until the word started to feel like sawdust in our mouths. And yet, here I am, one month after my final practicum ready, once again, to reflect. My new blog, Quills and Candles, will probably also turn into a place to retreat when I want to throw my manuscript out the window or withdraw from the Institute altogether. I'm hoping it will also, eventually, become a virtual community of Christian writers sharing ideas on the vocation of writing and the joys of being a sub-creator.

Oh, What A Beautiful Morning!!

It's 7:25 a.m. and I've been up for an hour and a half. I'm sipping on a cup of coffee, the curtains are open letting in the (somewhat dull) morning light, and periodically I can feel a cool breeze on the back of my neck. Being up at this hour is no easy feat. You see, I could be in bed, blanket thrown over my head with at least another two hours of shut-eye ahead of me, but last night I made a resolution.

I decided that I need to make myself a morning person. It goes back to my Spring/Summer To-Do List. Sure, I've been able to cross off a few items, but Spring is almost over and if I don't get cracking, I'm going to have an awful lot to do come Summer time. I figured that, if I can start organizing my days a little better---get into some kind of routine---it will make the days not only seem longer and more productive, but I'll also feel like I'm living with a bit more sense of purpose.

Now, I've never been a lazy person. In fact, I once asked my spiritual director what the opposite of lazy is and she said "activism." Maybe you share my malady: you're usually rushing around with about ten different items on your to-do list, all of which should have been done yesterday according to your precise calculations and exceptional prioritization skills; the word "vacation" is banished from all your conversations when made in reference to yourself; and, when a holiday is suddenly thrust upon you, you spend it making to-do lists and thinking of all the things you really should be doing instead of putting your feet up! Unhealthy lifestyle? You bet!

Now, you may be wondering why---with this activism problem---I feel the need to be up at such an ungodly hour in order to....um....accomplish some of those undone things on my to-do list. Well, my particular brand of activism seems to be the result of no discipline and little structure. The other day, I stumbled upon Jennifer Bertman's blog, The Mixed-Up Files, which is a neat place to find out about the "creative spaces" of various artists. I was reading Jennifer's account of the children's book illustrator, Johanna Wright (whose work is worth looking into if you have an eye for the whimsical). Johanna outlined what a typical day is like for her and, for an artist-type, it struck me how pedantic it seemed: get up, eat, go to a local coffee shop to brainstorm picture ideas, come home, answer and send emails, paint, run errands, order supplies, paint a bit more....And that's her daily life with slight variations! Reflecting on that made me think of Charles Dickens and William Makepeace Thackeray, both of whom worked as public servants and would wake up early enough to get in some writing before dashing off to work. And what about all those amazing people behind the walls of monasteries, up before the crack of dawn and putting their minds, hearts and souls to the proverbial plow while most of us are turning over in bed or hitting the snooze button?

Now, I have nothing against sleeping in. In fact, I'll probably maintain the practice at least once a week, but there's definitely something to be said for rising early and making a start. Discipline is not a dirty word. Maybe rising early will give me more time to do what I have to do so that I'll actually enjoy my times of rest when they come....Maybe I'll even take a vacation one of these days! Maybe living an ordinary life doesn't mean being mediocre. So, I'm writing all this down in an effort to concretize the resolution and be somewhat accountable. If anyone out there has any good tips on how to make the most of a day, let me know!

Nostalgia

A few weeks ago, I bought season four of the classic t.v. series, The Cosby Show. Now, if you had the good grace to have anything to do with the 80s, you knew this family intimately and, chances are, you still get a little nostalgic every time you hear the theme songs or stumble upon Bill Cosby's signature dance---maybe you've even tried it yourself (pursed lips and all!!). Bill, Clare, Sandra, Denise, Theo, Vanessa, and Rudy Huxtable. They were like real people to me. I still find myself wishing they were. But why is that? Why did I and so many other people wish to be part of the family?

For me, maybe it started with my dad's old LP of Cosby doing his stand-up comedy show entitled, Bill Cosby: Himself. I've tended to sentimentalize anything that once belonged to my father, appropriating his likes and dislikes, making them a kind of standard for my own life. Over the years, I've acquired more and more of his favourite things and made them my own. I suspect they'll all eventually make their way into this blog. Amongst them are the inimitable works of Charles Dickens, Homer and Shakespeare; a love for teaching and a belief in the importance of education as a life-long goal; the soulful, tribal, eclectic sounds of great African musicians such as Miriam Makeba; the joy of seeing things grow in a garden; of curling up with a good book; of writing. The list could go on....I guess my father gave me these loves like a legacy, and my mother refined them. Knowing that my father loved Cosby (and, incidentally, attended university with him in Philadelphia) makes me love him and his show too!

But I'd probably have loved the Cosbys anyway because of what they had to say about family life. The show strikes me more so now than it ever did, perhaps because present-day family life seems such a fractious thing. The Cosbys weren't perfect and they dealt with some tough issues---like when Clare found a joint between the pages of Theo's geography text book, or when a friend was battling cancer---but they seemed to deal with everything gracefully and, ultimately, with humour. Now there are a lot of comedies out there today, but they all pale in comparison to the Cosby Show---even my much-loved Seinfeld---because, in my opinion, their humour is aimed at ridiculing. Whether the ridicule is aimed at one's self or others, if you laugh at all, it's not because the joke is a hearty one but because someone's stupidity has just been showcased. I don't know if I'm able to express this well....I love The Cosby Show because it brought dignity forward. You felt that the members of the family truly cared for one another. The skill of the actors lay in their ability to bring out the very best about what it means to be part of a family.

And what about Cliff and Clare? Were there ever two more ardent on-screen lovers as they were? And yet, interestingly, there were never any steamy scenes or offensive innuendos. The extent of their love-making generally culminated in a closing scene in which Cliff, dressed in one of his many salwar-kameez-style pyjamas (ha ha!), turned up some jazz music on the old record player, and batting his eyes, sidled up to a smiling, gloriously garbed Clare. He would clutch her to him and the two would dance cheek-to-cheek as the lights faded and the audience applauded. Innocent, unassuming, beautiful, genuine.

There's not much that interests me on t.v. these days. Maybe that's a good thing. After all, there is so much to do in a day and so little time to do it! But, when I need to relax, the Cosbys are a sure bet every time. I suspect I'll be hunting out the other seasons in time---maybe putting them on my Christmas and birthday wish lists for the next few years (hint hint!). Anything which interests and inspires a person over decades is worth a little reflection. I like to think of it as being intentional about what I love and how I spend my time. I guess that's what this blog is, ultimately, for.

A Curiously Beautiful Picture

Had I been really up on my Calendar of Church Feasts, I would have timed the launch of this blog with today's feast in honour of the Sacred Heart of Jesus. It would have been appropriate since the image of a luminous heart is most adequately expressed in His Luminous Heart. Unfortunately, I only found out about it this morning. Oh, well! A quick online survey of information regarding the feast revealed that it's existed in the church since 1856, that it is celebrated 19 days after Pentecost, that it always falls on a Friday, and that it is honoured by Roman Catholics, Anglo-Catholics, and Lutherans alike!

But what I'm really excited to share today is the picture which accompanies this post. In the Eucharistic Chapel at Annunciation of the Lord Parish in Ottawa East, this very image hangs over the tabernacle. To this day, I have no idea who painted it. In the gloom of the chapel, it almost seems to be emerging from the wall itself, like a vision. When Annunciation first became our home-church, I remember going into the chapel and looking at this image. I found it austere, gruesome, even ugly! You can almost feel the sharp edges of the crown of thorns poking into the tender skin. In some masterstroke, the painter has been able to capture the effect of eyes welling with tears. It's a little eerie....The whole body, although seemingly draped in a robe, could just as well be scorged flesh. At the centre of it all is a luminous heart, gashed, spouting flames, crowned with a simple cross, and surrounded by a halo of light and thorns. The Latin incription, translated "God so loved the world", forces you to raise your eyes again to the heart, to the eyes. The eyes...They look at you with a soft intensity. I've sat in there and gazed and felt gazed back at. They are soft, but firm, loving, but sad. They are the kind of eyes you can drown in.

At Pentecost, I walked into the chapel and the painting was gone. Periodically, someone changes the pictures around. I'm always thrown for a loop when they do that. It's disconcerting. It's as if someone came into your home, rearranged your furniture without asking and left! The image of the Sacred Heart has not been returned, but I'm sure it will. It always does. I never learn my lesson....I'm always secretly afraid they won't bring it back. I don't find it ugly anymore. In fact, it's become, for me, the image of God's personal love. If you're ever in the East End, drop by Annunciation, look for the chapel and kneel there a while. With Jesus in the Tabernacle and this beautiful image just above, it's a sacred holiday for the soul!

Jaunting and Rambling

As I sit down to write my very first blog post, I can't help but wonder who else, but me, would care to read about my jauntings and ramblings? I'm completely new to the world of blogging. I've never really been the kind of person who cared what was going on in other peoples' lives---at least not to the extent that I would want to follow their musings each day via a social networking tool. I care about one-on-one exchanges, individual lives, that sort of thing....Here, on cyberspace, I am about to become exposed to the world....A world, frankly, which has so much else to do than care that Heather is currently very excited about starting up an online tutorial service, or that I've been asked to make a double baby-shower cake for next week, or that I'm finally making headway on C.S. Lewis' Space Trilogy, or that I just graduated from Teacher's College....

And yet, the need to write about it all---these little pieces which make up a, wholly, insignificant (or, I should say, simple) life---is irresistable. I have my former writing partner, Tamara, to thank for encouraging me to do this. Tamara said that every writer needs a blogspot. I was shocked, amused, horrified....What? Another thing I "have" to do! But I have all this time on my hands at the moment, so I wrote down "start a blog" on my Spring-Summer To-Do List and so here I am about to embark on detailing my jaunts and rambles. Will anyone else care to know? Probably not...At least not companies in droves. I suspect my family and a few friends may, out of kindness, take a peek---because those are the kinds of people God has seen fit to bless me with: the kind who care about what I'm doing (and Heaven knows, I've always got something up my sleeve!). I suspect I will enjoy reading back on these notes every now and then as a way to recollect where I have been, what I have come to, and what things fascinated me at any given time. Basically, this is a dream-blog, meaning that I wish to write here about all the things that make me insanely glad to be human and alive!

My friend, Cathy, and I were talking it over in the Gatineau Hills some weeks ago. We were musing about the need for good news, about the way we both felt we needed to familiarize ourselves with what's going on "out there" but at the same time feeling deflated in the attempt. Right now, if I were to turn the t.v. on or thumb through a newspaper, I would find something about the oil spills, about a suicide bomber, about some murder, about the rising tide of abortions and same sex-marriage legislation....But what about all the glorious stuff! You know! The fact that it's Springtime and rainy outside. The fact that nothing cures any ailment better than a cup of tea (preferably enjoyed by the pot-ful from little cups that require you to stick up your pinky to enjoy it). The fact that, last weekend, a deacon and his wife traversed our home and blessed it and that we crowned Jesus "King of our Home." The fact that I'm learning, for the first time, about the wonders of Classical Education (how on earth did I ever get to be 30 without exploring this approach to education?). The fact that out of my tiny brain is growing this amazing novel which, although it has far to go to be worth reading by anyone but me, is becoming something beautiful by diligent work. The fact that a woman I don't know took the time to write to me this morning (a very lengthy email) in response to my query about starting a tutorial service. The fact that my friends, Rebecca and Renata, joined me on Monday to inaugurate our encyclical study on Pope Benedict's letter, Deus Caritas Est. The fact that my brother---who is a paragon of health---is doing such an amazing job leading a bootcamp and I've had the pleasure of being part of it....Oh, the list goes ever on and on....

So, these are the things I'm going to write about, as much for my own sanity as for anyone else's. This is to be a sort of catalogue of wondrous things: the big and the small. Too often to do we go about completely unaware of the things which daily brush up against our lives, which enrich and enliven us. This year, for me, has been (and continues to be) all about clarification, clarity, illumination....light flooding in. Knowing. Seeing things as they are. Seeing with God's eyes. I suspect reflecting on the things which make my heart luminous will help shed a bit more light on my own path. Maybe on yours too?