Tag Archives: memorials

Cooking and commemorating.

church, family, food and cooking, , , , , , ,

Because of the convenient timing of their visit, I was able to conscript my daughter-in-law (definitely Daughter-in-Love) Joy and my grandchildren into my cooking crew, to prepare an agape meal at church in memory of my late husband, “passed from death into life” ten years ago. Memory eternal †

One day two of the boys shopped with me for 45 pounds of potatoes, 20 pounds of carrots, eight cabbages, a big box of cocoa, and many other good ingredients. That day I also put 22 pounds of Great Northern beans to soak, and we squeezed the lemons (from my tree!) for the juice to put in the Greek Beans.

I boiled the wheat and started to assemble the koliva, which Laddie decorated on Sunday morning. On Saturday Clara helped me to dry the soaked beans, and we carried them to church along with all the other ingredients.

The children were incredibly cheerful and hardworking slaves. We all worked for more than six hours on Saturday, with ample breaks as needed for younger conscripts.

They did laugh at me afterward when I apologized for enslaving them, and said they didn’t feel like slaves at all, and that in spite of their sore feet it had been fun. That’s how we all felt.

Liam singlehandedly assembled the chocolate carrot cake brownies (picture at top). This whole menu is the same one I made twice before as a memorial meal. Every time the brownies have turned out a little different, and this time they were quite compact, but still tasty and popular. It’s always hard for people to believe that they contain no eggs or butter; they are completely vegan.

All of the beans, roasted potatoes and brownies were eaten at Sunday’s lunch or taken home by parishioners, and the leftover cabbage salad will be enjoyed after this week’s Presanctified Liturgy.

It really was a great meal, but at this point I can’t imagine making it again — I’m still thoroughly wiped out from being chef for a weekend. And happy, so very happy, to have been able to do it, with family helping this time. These children are too young to remember their grandfather, but they were able to contribute to a big project done in his honor, and that was very special.

Sunday afternoon I took three of the children to the beach! I know, it seems crazy that I would have the energy to do that, but the fatigue hadn’t yet hit me. It was supposed to be sunny out there, but just as we drove over the last hill the fog descended on us, and stayed with us the whole time. We flew kites and chased the waves and Brodie built a sand castle. One kite flew so high up into the fog that it disappeared from sight, and took 20 minutes to reel in. We came home with wet leggings and shorts and shoes, but glad hearts. After all that kitchen work, it was great to be out in the wide open weather.

Laddie’s birthday was this week, and we celebrated with his other grandparents and cousins in a nearby town. Spring has fully sprung, bringing 80 degrees worth of sunshine yesterday and today, then a 20-degree temperature drop and rainy week up ahead. I’m sure I’ll have more springy pictures to share soon. And April is coming on fast!

St. Andrew — and then December.

Christmas, church, saints, , , , ,

Attending Divine Liturgy on the feast of St. Andrew — what a life-giving way for me to start the day. It was a long and busy day that had me driving back and forth and all over, which is why I am only now getting to the computer to tell about it, now that we are, liturgically, in the following day.

It was a chilly morning, in the middle of the week; the little church was cold in its bones and for the first half hour I stood so close I was almost touching the wall furnace. Who would come on such a morning for a relatively unimportant commemoration? The rector came, of course, with joy. The choir director led a choir of four singers, including a nun from the monastery in the next county.

Two men named Andrew and Andrei were there, because it is their saint’s day, and who would want to miss that? One mother of an Andrew came to remember her son’s saint.

St Andrew's Day is a day of celebration in Scotland (Getty Images)Saint Andrew, the first of the men whom Christ called to be His disciples, eventually became the patron saint of Scotland, and Mrs. Anderson came in her tartan plaid skirt to remember that aspect. She also pointed out to me that her married name means Andrew’s Son.

I myself like to participate for the sake of the Scottish ancestors that both my late husband and I have; not only that, but two of my grandsons were born on this day, and that makes it special to me. Six or eight more people were present who weren’t obviously tied to this specific feast, but I’m sure all of us were happy to receive the Eucharist and be united to Christ in that way.

Mrs. Anderson had yet another reason to be there: She was very close to a very dear parishioner named Constantine, who died on this day more than ten years ago, and every time we celebrate the feast of the Resurrection with Divine Liturgy on November 30, we also sing memorial prayers for him. She made a small portion of the memorial dish of boiled wheat, called koliva, for us to eat together in his memory at the end of the service. You can’t see the wheat in this picture because she topped it with lots of dried fruit and fresh pomegranate seeds. It did make a good breakfast.

By then, the church was warmed up, but we could not linger as long as we might have liked. Out we went into the sunny day, and to all of our responsibilities. One of mine was going to the dentist, and I’m glad to get that out of the way. Afterward, I had the fun of shopping for special ingredients — and more butter– for baking Christmas cookies. The boys at the checkout stand got to talking about how they used to put out cookies for Santa. And here it isn’t even December yet! Although it likely will be before you read this.

So I wish you a December that is peaceful and bright.
(And don’t eat too many cookies before Christmas!)

Our silence tries but fails.

death, history, poetry, , , ,

On Remembrance Day in Britain, many people join in two minutes of silence to memorialize the dead. When Malcolm Guite did that, it prompted this response:

“There was something extraordinarily powerful about that deep silence from a ‘live’ radio, a sense that, alone in my kitchen, I was sharing the silence with millions. I stood for the two minutes, and then, suddenly, swiftly, almost involuntarily, wrote this sonnet.” 

SILENCE

November pierces with its bleak remembrance
Of all the bitterness and waste of war.
Our silence tries but fails to make a semblance
Of that lost peace they thought worth fighting for.
Our silence seethes instead with wraiths and whispers,
And all the restless rumour of new wars,
The shells are falling all around our vespers,
No moment is unscarred, there is no pause,
In every instant bloodied innocence
Falls to the weary earth, and whilst we stand
Quiescence ends again in acquiescence,
And Abel’s blood still cries in every land.
One silence only might redeem that blood —
Only the silence of a dying God.

-Malcolm Guite

Please hear Fr. Guite read his sonnet here: “Silence”

Silent Cross, by Margot Krebs Neale

 

 

 

To widen our heart beyond the bearable.

quotes, , ,

It being the day (2003) that Metropolitan Anthony (Bloom) of Sourozh fell asleep in Christ, I want to share a quote in his memory:

“The Gospel is a harsh document; the Gospel is ruthless and specific in what it says; the Gospel is not meant to be re-worded, watered down and brought to the level of either our understanding or our taste. The Gospel is proclaiming something which is beyond us and which is there to stretch our mind, to widen our heart beyond the bearable at times, to recondition all our life, to give us a world view which is simply the world upside-down and this we are not keen to accept.”

― Metropolitan Anthony (Bloom) of Sourozh