I hung up my priestly things and came home after a week’s retreat.
Inside the door, I said my hellos, reached into the closet and put on my practice robe.
I said, “This is no reflection on you, but this is what I must do.”
He said, “I know. So I did a little bit and then left the rest for you.”
I sorted the laundry to calm the eye.
Ran the vacuum to clear the mind.
Mopped the kitchen free of stubborn stickiness.
Freshened the fish tank. Changed the towels. Emptied the trash.
Tomorrow I think I’ll clean out the rain gutters.
I know my place.
I know the way.
I am home and happy.
Having the good life is simple when you practice the one you have.
Posts Tagged ‘Kitchen Wisdom’
My new practice robe
January 3rd, 2010 - 10 Comments
I want to run away from these people
August 16th, 2009 - 11 Comments
The world needs a homemaker
August 4th, 2009 - 28 Comments
Forgive the double posting from The Laundry Line, but this is so very important to see everywhere we look:
Last week I attended a retreat and came home infused with quiet calm and well-being. Then I glanced at the headlines in the newspaper and was shocked anew at the unimaginable depth of pain in this world. The scope of suffering is inconceivable. How can we respond in the face of this? Where do we begin to do good? I will tell you the only way I know to begin.
Empty the full hampers, sort and wash the laundry without resentment or commentary.
Sweep the floor of dust, mud and crumbs at your feet.
Don’t ask who made the mess.
At the grocery store, give your place in line to the person behind you.
Ask the checker how her day is going, and mean it.
On the way out, give your pocket money to the solicitor at the card table no matter what the cause.
Buy a cup of lemonade from the kids on the sidewalk stand. Tell them to keep the change.
Roll down your car window when you see the homeless man on the corner with the sign. Give him money. Have no concern over what he will do with it.
Smile at him. It will be the first smile he has seen in a very long time.
Write a thank you letter. Yes, a letter. If you do not have a reason to write one, do it without a reason.
Do not fight with your partner, your roommate, your spouse, or your children. If that seems impossible, just do not engage in the next fight, and don’t worry about the one that comes after. It might not come.
Do not try to convince anyone else of your point of view. That’s why they call it “point” of view. The point is just you.
If you feel yourself tensing in frustration, no matter what the circumstance, say, “I’m sorry.”
Do not indulge in despair over the futility of your impact or question the outcome.
Make yourself at home and take care of it as your own. It’s the only one there is.
Daily bread
May 24th, 2009 - 9 Comments
My grandmother set her bread to rise each day before the sun yet dared to dawn, wresting two loaves into the oven before a shadow had stirred. She saved a handful of the dough to roll into the morning’s coffee cake and topped it high with buttery struesel. By the time I tramped into her ancient kitchen on summer mornings, the air bloomed with the sweetly sour greeting of yeast. It was breakfast time, and no one needed to ask.
Her house is now flattened, ground into the dust of the earth’s eternal crust. She is gone and the time has passed. But what she fed still ferments on my tongue, and I recognize my place and lineage.
I made pancakes today.
