Water into Wine

When a Jesuit friend asked me to teach writing skills to his students, I was tickled all the shades of the rainbow.  I pointed out that while I loved to write, I had neither qualifications, training nor the necessary experience to teach.  His response? Just do it! (Yes, he beat Nike to that slogan though not everyone knows it)

Fortunately, my first student had a decent grounding in the basics and her writing skills did need some direction which was within my scope to offer.  We hit it off beautifully and went from strength to strength.  As a test case, this one was definitely A-OK.  As I taught, so did I learn.  As I answered, I found new questions of my own.  And as the students increased in number, so did my interest in the form and medium – the Internet. Five years on, I was fairly seasoned!

Today’s papers brought the news that 55 year olds, with no apparent handicap other than that they had retired from gainful employment, were joining retirement day-care centres.  I, too, had hoped that retirement would bring a comfortable chair, a lazy day, a good book, background music and perhaps a little chit-chat with like minded friends.  Not so.  At 61, I am still struggling to fit 28 hours into the 24.  

Now, a nun who is Principal of her school has decided that I should teach her children to sing.  I can manage Happy Birthday and play the scale of C-major on the keyboard with enviable accuracy but teach music?  I don’t think so.  Sister thinks otherwise.  Just do it (Nike again!).  In the meantime, I have found that with practice my repertoire of key signatures has grown – I now no longer blanch at 4 sharps or flats – and  I can accompany the choir and cantor at Mass without any ‘ouch’ moments.  Except when they hit a wrong note despite my hitting the right key.

I have made the discovery that a very ordinary talent can be coaxed to the next level especially when it is being prodded vigorously in the rear!

I have also made the discovery that retirement has its own interpretations.  Not everyone refers to the same dictionary.

And it appears that the Lord has never stopped changing water into wine.  Wine improves with age.  At 61, I give myself the compliment – con brio!

Thank you for the music….

She is a fairly active 89 nudging 90, but in my mind she is still the young nun with sparkling eyes and a happy smile.  She taught me science in school and the piano outside school hours.  There was something about her: Joy? Infectious enthusiasm? The love of children? The love of sharing? Perhaps it was a combination of all and more, but we loved her and loved to be in her company.  She taught and we learnt, seemingly effortlessly.

Sr. Genevieve is a childhood memory.  I last encountered her when I was eleven years old at Maria Goretti Convent School, Bareilly, some fifty years ago!  Another time, another place. By some strange coincidence, I was able to catch up with her again, and that too at a time in my life when I was retraining my keyboard skills after a long (make that very long) hiatus. I bumped into a couple of Canossian nuns, enquired after her and was provided a postal address in Belgaum, to which I sent a tentative missive.  Would she remember me?  She did!  And now we enjoy a sporadic correspondence.  She is still buoyant, still encouraging, still affectionate – not deterred by age or infirmity.  And she still teaches music!

I have neither training nor experience to teach, but thanks to the eternal optimism which afflicts most religious, another nun has roped me in to teach her ‘little ones’ how to sing.  It seems as though a circle has been drawn over time – what I have learnt, I will now pass on.  

I am grateful for not just the imprinted memories of ‘do-re-mi…’ and childhood songs, but also the example of patience, encouragement and the gentle humour which accompanied the lessons.  

Sr. Genevieve, you were and are the perfect mentor. Thank you for the music. Thank you for being you.

An AI in an EI Kitchen – Part VI: Learning to love Lonvas

Every true blue, dyed-in-the-blood EI knows his or her Lonvas.  My husband’s credentials were faultless and so, obviously, he loved his Lonvas twice a day, every day, if possible.  I, being a loving wife, resolved to provide accordingly.

The recipe book was helpful – the ingredients and method were the simplest I’d ever come across.  How mistaken!  First heat the oil.  Did that.  Now throw in the pods of garlic and smash them in the hot oil.  Well, that’s exactly what I did.  Have you tried smashing hard garlic in hot oil with the back of a spoon?  The garlic slipped and slid all around the base of the utensil and the hot oil spluttered and splashed (the numerous blisters I sported were testimony to that) and frustration rose proportionately.  Garlic conquered, I added the meat and stirred to let it brown.  Not too bad. Now add the bottle masala.  Not wanting to appear stingy, I added a ladle full. Now add the thin milk from a coconut.  I looked at the coconut in all its perfection.  How does one get thin milk? Called up sis in law.  She explained.  Came back to meat now browned to black.  Removed utensil from the stove.  Cleaned and scraped the coconut and extracted thick and thin milk as directed (thick comes first and then the thin!).  Added as indicated in cookbook.  Added  bottle gourd, skinned and diced (Right? Wrong! It needed to be cut to look like the brackets at the beginning and end of this statement) Tamarind juice and salt to taste completed the ingredients. Covered the vessel and allowed to cook till meat tender.  Opened lid after specified time and looked at an unholy curdled mess.  So much for a simple, can’t-go-wrong recipe!! How on earth did it become an unchallenged favourite?

What unlocked the memory?  An introduction to an EI who remarked, ‘So, you married an EI, do you know how to make Lonvas curry?’  And I replied with aplomb, ‘With both hands tied behind my back.’  Well that would be a stretch, but you get my meaning.  After all the years and having prepared hubby’s favourite at least three times in the week, I am definitely an expert.  I can, in my own estimation, turn out an impeccable Lonvas with its smooth creamy gravy and distinctive aroma.  I love to make it because, yes, it is simple and it lends itself to such a variety of combinations: shark fish dressed with a generous sprinkling of garden fresh coriander leaves; egg poached in the bubbling gravy, vegetables mixed as in a harvest festival, meat and veggies, prawn and veggies, lobster, crab.  I could extol the virtues of Lonvas till the end of time.

The funny thing is that while the EIs love it, others turn up their noses.  I can’t imagine why.

In my unbiased AI opinion, it is delicious! And yes, I could eat it twice a day, every day if possible!!

The collected works….

Through all my years of reading, I have fallen in love with certain authors.  So, when I come across Omnibus Volumes sporting ‘The Collected Works of…’, I promptly grab them off the library shelf and indulge in a read fest.  Reading and re-reading favourites is a joy-filled event for the bookworm, as any bookworm will tell you!  I have cried my way umpteen times through Little Women, chuckled as heartily through all of Durrell and Herriot and sat terrified (despite knowing the outcome) through tomes of Crime and Horror – a genre that has just too many favourite authors to list here. Right now, I am indulging in PD James, Dorothy Sayers and Agatha Christie from the past and look forward to the new acquaintance of Jonathan Kellerman and Carol Higgins Clark. 

That’s the beauty of the printed word.  It is there, to visit and re-visit.  It allows you to look forward to new friends in the offing and to keep up acquaintance with old.  One need never lose touch.

Which is why I am sad.

In the past week, we have enjoyed a series of Masses for the blessing of our homes in the Easter season.  This means that we have also enjoyed a series of sermons which have been instructive, inspirational and practical.  Sermons that are sadly transient because they are spoken and are alive for that time span only (perhaps a little longer till memory fades).  The homilies were delivered by different priests, each drawing on personal experience, adding their own touch of humour and sharing their interpretation of a topic. Each was unique.  Each was a treasure.  

One tech-savvy priest blogs his sermons, shares them on Facebook and they are there for all to visit; saved in e-format with the option to print.  They can be returned to whenever the heart demands and they can be shared across time and space, for the love of the Word of God is timeless and is relevant to all people without exception.  Social Media take a bow!

Now, if only we could persuade all our priests to preserve their preaching as well – a sort of ‘Collected Work of Best Sermons’!  

And here’s a thought to wrap up this blog – the printed message in my morning paper: living on earth might be expensive, but we get to travel around the sun for free!  

Now, isn’t that something!

An internet evangelist…

Why is it that inspiration strikes in the most inconvenient moments? I get visited by a host of ideas either when I’m stirring onions on the stove, visiting the loo or dropping off to sleep; in any event, there is no keyboard to hand. By the time I’m able to boot the comp, the thoughts have flown and it is almost impossible to recapture the freshness of the original idea.

Today, I was musing over a number of happenings, emails, communications, conversations and things to do – a very usual beginning to my day. My first task since Lent began is to post, to our parish blog, a discourse on the readings of the day together with a prayer and an action plan – the work of a dynamic, straight-to-the-heart-of-the-matter, no-holds-barred priest in our parish. This gives me the opportunity to read twice over and reflect and also feel that twinge of discomfort. And I return to that endless question – why am I here? I look at others around me as they stride confidently into the day – purposeful in all that they do. They know exactly where they are going and what they will achieve.

When goals are material ones, they are easy to identify, to work towards and to realise (particularly if you believe that the universe conspires to give you your heart’s desire!!). But, if you are lucky, life hands out a reality check. Suddenly, you realise that there are other goals. Ones that are not so clear; in fact, they are a little blurry. Now, I step out diffidently, one feeling step at a time and I have to ask for guidance – is this where I place my foot? What is it that I am really called to do?

There is no thunderclap from the clouds, or a voice from heaven (today’s environment is very noisy compared to that of the Old Testament – noisy enough to muffle the thunderclap!). Instead, there will be an email with a request or a phone call regarding something that needs to be done, a request for involvement in a ministry, a cry from someone who is lonely or misunderstood, a visit to share joy or bring one another upto date. A signposted path and small steps that take me through the day.

And there are bonus strides: all the opportunities to share on Facebook and blogs the happenings and events, the interactions, the ability to use the written word and know that others read. To forward the message of the Gospels and to urge others to share it too – in thought, word and deed. To know that somewhere a seed is sown that might bear fruit. To recount examples and experiences of how some are making a difference. To feel God’s direction in my life (even though God does not always sound or look like I expect Him to!)

Does this make me an internet evangelist? Is this my role? I’d love to think so!

Deed for the Day

For provoking insights and practical action, go here:

http://hnfollowhim.blogspot.in/

Ants

I love the nonsense poetry of Ogden Nash (I love most things that border on the ridiculous!) and one of my favourites is the one on the ant:

The ant has made himself illustrious
Through constant industry industrious.
So what?
Would you be calm and placid
If you were full of formic acid?

What reminded me of this verse today of all days? The first reading at Sunday Mass!

The ant has been held up to us as an example of ‘constant industry’ and it is an example we seem to have overdosed on. Everyone today seems to be in a state of constant motion, always doing something: if we are not rushing between destinations and chores, we are networking through sms and Facebook. A casual encounter will invariably elicit the question, ‘So, what are you doing today?’ How many of us would be happy to say, ‘Absolutely nothing!’ ??

I do make it a point to check the reading that is assigned to me. Today’s reading was a cinch - no tricky words, no intricate sentences, no confusing punctuation or pronunciation. In fact, it was familiar – the good old ten commandments. Yet, when I read at the lectern, the words seemed to be imbued with the unfamiliar. It was as if someone else was speaking and I was the listener. And I was hearing the commandments for the first time, with resounding clarity. Nine commandments were simple one liners, but the third was a detailed exhortation to ‘keep holy the Sabbath’ – in effect, ‘ …rest with me as I rested after creation - be still and know that I am God.’

Orthodox Jewish practice observes the Sabbath rigorously, beginning on the Friday evening and ending twenty-four hours later on the Saturday. They have done this unbroken through the generations from the time of Moses. And in the Jewish State everything is shut. It is the law. Among Christians, the Sabbath is observed on the Sunday. It is a busy day. It is a day for catching up with all the undone chores of the week gone by. Or perhaps chilling out and unwinding with a different kind of activity, always aware that Monday is dogging Sunday’s heels!!

Be still? Be absolutely still? Physically and mentally? That seems impossible. Already I can hear the objections in my mind, ‘But, I have to….!!!’.

Could this be the reason why we find it difficult to ‘know God’?