We decide to find an eatery we have not frequented recently. Though we talked about Indian cuisine, we ended up at a place over on the east side of the city, nestled in a charming little cluster of specialty stores cuddled beside the canal called Aladdin's Natural Eatery.
I used to shop at a toy store there which sold toys that kids loved and were good for them at the same time. Pricey, but even when I barely had two nickels to rub together, worth the investment to challenge and build minds. Besides, they had all kinds of displays that kids could play with, and the boys got absorbed with things there for hours. Nice break for Mom, good list making event for Santa.
Parking is a bit of a challenge, but we find a place near the restaurant and enjoy the short walk in the chill of the evening air. The place is in the final gasps of summer tourism, just empty enough to be enjoyable. We manage to find the front door and step inside. The place is bustling, filled with tables of customers indulging in wonderful foods. The counter by the hostess station boasts all kinds of decadent desserts and we drool over them while waiting to be seated.
Our table is downstairs - we refuse the outdoors option. Too chilly. I look over the menu, quickly realizing that any restaurant that offers natural food does not have the kinds of things I can eat. I know better than to go with anything garlic laden ("but everything we cook has lots of garlic in it - its so good for you!" the waitress exclaims).
There are only 2 things on the menu that I feel comfortable trying. One is a cheese ravioli (despite the garlic, and I would have to ask that there be no tomato sauce). Instead, I go with the chicken dish. After we order, we sit shivering, trying to converse. Finally we ask a passing waitress to close the door to the patio, which she does. That's better.
Our food comes - it is very delicious though my plate has lots of greenery trim that I cannot eat. We chat, catching up on family, events, issues - my son's upcoming wedding, one friend's parents, the other friend's uncle. The setting sun glints multi colors off the water in the canal as we enjoy being together in the breaking of bread (and other goodies).
At last we are stuffed and the sun hangs low in the horizon. We are all ready for a cozy nap by a crackling fireplace, but we tear ourselves away, quickly wandering past the dessert counter with not so much as a regret. With a sigh, we climb into the car and settle in for the drive back to the west side where we will go our separate ways.
The evening has been like a cherry cordial - sweet and satisfying, a cherished time of fellowship and camaraderie. I am so grateful for good friends who graciously listen to me whine, then move on to better subjects without ostracizing me for being less than fun.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Monday, September 5, 2011
Too Deer
Sugar froze, one paw in the air, her head turned towards the woods, sniffing wildly. I glanced towards the woods. A bit of misty fog swirled lazily across the meadow separating us from the treeline. Suddenly, out of the fog a doe appeared, unconcernedly chewing her cud, stepping daintily over the dew laden grass. Behind her, a small fawn, spots fading, stopped to snip some clover from bending stems. Two deer, too dear.
Deep within Sugar a growl began to rise, rumbling through her chest and escaping in a huff from her nostrils, steaming angrily into the morning air. She did not bark but strained against the leash I held fast. Mother deer turned her frosty gaze on us, froze momentarily, then ambled forward, apparently dismissing us as no particular threat to her child.
Sugar lunged forward, managing to pull me a good ten feet toward the big doe she was challenging. The mother whirled around and planted her feet, staring us down while her baby moseyed toward the underbrush. Still Sugar did not bark. Her incessant growl rose within her, some primal longing aching to be followed.
Without looking, Mama knew her child had stepped into the shadows of the trees. She quickly disappeared herself. Sugar whimpered like a spoiled child denied some treat. Then she turned and trotted back toward the house completely unconcerned. What an odd way to begin a day.
Deep within Sugar a growl began to rise, rumbling through her chest and escaping in a huff from her nostrils, steaming angrily into the morning air. She did not bark but strained against the leash I held fast. Mother deer turned her frosty gaze on us, froze momentarily, then ambled forward, apparently dismissing us as no particular threat to her child.
Sugar lunged forward, managing to pull me a good ten feet toward the big doe she was challenging. The mother whirled around and planted her feet, staring us down while her baby moseyed toward the underbrush. Still Sugar did not bark. Her incessant growl rose within her, some primal longing aching to be followed.
Without looking, Mama knew her child had stepped into the shadows of the trees. She quickly disappeared herself. Sugar whimpered like a spoiled child denied some treat. Then she turned and trotted back toward the house completely unconcerned. What an odd way to begin a day.
Sunday, September 4, 2011
One Last Hug
Today is the last time I can attend Community of the Savior for the summer. I have extended my time into fall as far as I can. Next week choir begins at the United Methodist Church, and I am excited to be back there working with such kind and dedicated people. I have missed them over the summer and will be glad to see them again.
I soak in and try to store up the service today, hoping it will fuel me in love and grace, preparing my heart for ministry. There was a time I longed to join a monastery. How wonderful it sounded to be able to spend the day in prayer and worship, singing through the Psalms, every hour of the day connecting with God. I suppose it would be uplifting to do that for a period of time, but eventually, I would want to return to the reality of life, to dirty my hands with dishes and laundry, with nurturing and comforting, with feeding and nursing.
Various retreats I have taken in the past have fallen far short of what I would really like to engage in when I set aside time to spend with God. How challenging it is to find the place and the routine that matches what I would do before God. Would that I could completely enter into His presence, ignoring my surroundings, immersed in Word and prayer in whatever way the Spirit unfolds that, completely unaware of time and others.
So far, the closest I have come to what I know of my personal style is in the service at CoS. So today I take myself on a mini retreat and participate fully in the sustenance offered, ready to carry that light into the world. I shall be back, by God's grace. But I also move forward by the same.
I soak in and try to store up the service today, hoping it will fuel me in love and grace, preparing my heart for ministry. There was a time I longed to join a monastery. How wonderful it sounded to be able to spend the day in prayer and worship, singing through the Psalms, every hour of the day connecting with God. I suppose it would be uplifting to do that for a period of time, but eventually, I would want to return to the reality of life, to dirty my hands with dishes and laundry, with nurturing and comforting, with feeding and nursing.
Various retreats I have taken in the past have fallen far short of what I would really like to engage in when I set aside time to spend with God. How challenging it is to find the place and the routine that matches what I would do before God. Would that I could completely enter into His presence, ignoring my surroundings, immersed in Word and prayer in whatever way the Spirit unfolds that, completely unaware of time and others.
So far, the closest I have come to what I know of my personal style is in the service at CoS. So today I take myself on a mini retreat and participate fully in the sustenance offered, ready to carry that light into the world. I shall be back, by God's grace. But I also move forward by the same.
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