"the incident"

At Foodie Proclivities today I'm talking about broiling.  I've been honing my skills for this technique, which really means that I've had some successes tempered by a few spectacular failures and near misses.

One such near miss was this past Advent.  On the day my beloved and I shared on the family Advent calendar, I wanted to celebrate by making fajitas for my beloved, as it's one of his favorite homemade meals.  Using this fast chicken fajita recipe but substituting flank steak for the chicken, I was excited at the prospect of having everything prepared in the hope of having dinner shortly after my beloved arrived home from work. 

Once I knew he was on his way home, I figured out the timing for broiling first the foil-lined tray of beef and then the vegetables. It was going to work out so perfectly -- so I thought...

I peeked in the oven through the door that I'd left cracked open (and by which I had been standing guard) to see a **flame** rising up off the surface of the beef, so as my beloved walked through the door, I had to greet him not with "hello!" but with "help! the oven's on fire!"

Blessedly, it went out quickly on its own after we turned off the oven (me) and removed the steak (he).  We lowered the rack and were back in business.  It was actually pretty tasty thanks to the char I'd unwittingly achieved *plus* the whole house had a bit of the bambini's favorite Mexican restaurant's ambiance going on what with the wafting smoke and all.

As I was cleaning up afterward, I overheard the elder lad say gravely to the younger lad in reference to the dinnertime excitement, "are you going to tell your friends about 'the incident' at school tomorrow?"

special day every day

The younger lad had his "Special Day" on one of the family Advent calendars yesterday.   There were tasty chocolate ginger cookies to devour, a cousin visiting from Chicago to play with, and a new bouncy ball to cause trouble.  We went to school Mass and got a wave from the elder lad.  'Twas a full day.

This morning we went to check and see whose "day" it now is.  After we had announced who we'll be keeping in our thoughts and prayers today, the lad said "but please still pray for me."

We assured him we do every day.

(not so) secret santa

me, conducting an impromptu poll: "What do you think Daddy might like for Christmas?"

lass: "green!"
younger lad: "a green ax!"
elder lad: "a green remote-controlled hot rod!"

We may or may not have looked for these things as we shopped for the children whose gifts we signed up to procure from our parish's Angel Tree as part of our St. Nicholas Day festivities.

This alms-giving aspect of the feast day is equally as important as (if not more so than) the treats our bambini found by their shoes on the hearth this morning (fresh crayons, clementines, and small squares of chocolate wrapped in gold paper).  That's why I chose to go through with the shopping after school (i.e. approaching Happy Hour) and in spite of the chill in the air.  

We are humbled by the tremendous blessings God continues to lavish upon us.  It is our honor and duty to share these with those less fortunate than ourselves, and to teach our bambini to tend to the needs of others  that go unmet.  It involves learning we don't always get what we want when we want it, but God always provides for our needs.

Case in point: a green remote-controlled hot rod...

drumroll, please

There were no shooting icicles or sleeves stapled to gutters, but still I couldn't help but think of Clark Griswold in the 1989 movie Christmas Vacation as my beloved (whose motto for such endeavors is "safety first") scaled a gargantuan ladder to hang Christmas lights on the exterior of our house today.  The elder lad has long been lobbying for lights, but this is the first year for us to hang them outdoors.

It was meant to be a surprise for the bambini, but when the elder lad spotted his father on the ladder out the front door, the lad knew something was up.  "Did you guys plan this?" he wanted to know.  When I answered in the affirmative, the look on his face read "whoa.  I wonder what else they talk about when I'm not around?"  If you only knew...

However disappointed the younger lad may have been to miss out on the ladder scaling fun (as climbing really is his favorite pastime), he and his brother were happy to help flip the switch when the moment was right.  They and their "sissies" were delighted to see the little lights twinkling, and no nuclear generators were necessary to supply electricity to the surrounding houses because of our festive but not ablaze light display (as in the movie I called to mind). 

It was a fitting if freezing activity to usher in the second week of Advent, building upon the preparations and decorations we began rolling out last weekend.   As we prepare to welcome Jesus, the Light of the World, I will always remember the expressions of glee emanating from the bambini as they took in the beautiful light.

hurry up and wait

Yes, I've started Christmas shopping and am getting in the "holiday spirit," but we haven't put up our Christmas tree yet.  We've deferred that for a couple of weeks to live the season of Advent -- that liturgical season leading up to the celebration of the birth of Christ at Christmas.   

Our Advent wreath is in a place of prominence (if out of reach and in need of some greenery) and we've begun the family Advent calendar my beloved's grandmother puts together every year.  Each day of Advent we pray for a person, couple, or children in the extended family.  It's a beautiful, long-standing tradition in his family, one in which we "pray with one another... for one another," as she pens on each calendar. We have a calendar for both sides of my beloved's family.

We got out the nativity scene and have stashed tucked the baby Jesus in a drawer until Christmas morning (here's hoping he stays there).  Mary, Joseph, and the donkey are over yonder on the kitchen counter; the wise men and their trusty camel are on the mantel. 

I'm hoping to put together a Jesse Tree, an Advent activity in which ornaments symbolizing events from  Creation through the birth of Christ are hung on a tree branch (or in our case, the ornament tree I received for Christmas last year that has stayed up year round, holding paper bird ornaments for the lass's first birthday party decorations, Easter eggs during that festive season, and an array of bambini hats after that).  I've wanted to do this every year for the past several but haven't gotten all the ornaments together -- and that's still the hang up this year.

As with other celebrations and observances, I'm trying not to get mired down in the minutiae of decorations and details, taking the bambini with me on a confusing, stressful decline.   If we don't get a Jesse Tree together this year, God willing we can work on the ornaments later in preparation for next year.  Advent is already evident in our praying for our loved ones with the aid of the family Advent calendars, lighting the Advent wreath, serving others by our St. Nicholas Day observance, and retelling the nativity story. 

Tuning into the stillness and wonder of the reason for this season is a tall order amidst all the hustle and bustle.  A taller still order is helping our bambini focus on the true meaning of Christmas with so many distractions, temptations, and mixed messages about what's really important.  By rolling out the seasonal decorations incrementally, we hope to deepen the bambini's understanding and, by turns, experience of Christmas.

In some stores it's been Christmas for weeks or even months now.  We're not there yet.  This time before Christmas is one of expectation and hope.  I know what it's like to be a month out from the expected day a baby is due to arrive, wondering if the day will ever come, trusting it will, and using that time to prepare our hearts and minds to receive the gift of God Incarnate at Christmas.

Advent goodness

I am woefully behind getting up any Advent decorations, but we're still trying to observe a hopeful and expectant Advent.  We made St. Nicholas Day a centerpiece of the early days of the season.  This weekend we'll be trimming our Christmas tree and decorating our house (if our lad feels up to it), fitting as we celebrate the Third Sunday of Advent called "Gaudete Sunday" or the "joyful" Sunday, rejoicing as Christmas draws ever closer.   And for the third year in a row, we're enjoying The Very First Noel, an excellent animated video about the Three Kings' journey to Bethlehem.

The most important preparations are those that we make in our own hearts to receive our King of Kings at Christmas.

St. Nicholas Day

Yesterday we celebrated the Feast of Saint Nicholas, patron saint of (among others) children, brides, and sailors, who serves as a sort of historical basis for our modern day Santa Claus. He was actually a saint born in the third century who became Bishop of Myra in what is modern day Turkey, perhaps best known for the example of charity he gave by providing the dowries for a family of young ladies too poor to wed otherwise.    

Celebrating this feast day is a significant part of our Advent observance, as it places a premium on the consideration of the needy at this otherwise extravagant (at least, in the worldly sense) time of year.  Every year since our elder lads' first Christmas, we select children our own children's ages from our parish church's angel tree to buy Christmas gifts for.  Last week we went shopping, and the lads helped select things they thought "their boys" would like, such as trucks or blocks or puzzles, as well as some sorely-needed things like hats, mittens, hoodies, and pajamas.  They also helped choose gifts for a girl our lass's age, like diaper supplies, some soft blocks, and jammies.  It wasn't easy at first to choose some fun-looking toys to give to someone else we'll likely never meet, but the thought of other children without such things resonated with the lads, and they soon were thinking of ways to show even greater generosity.

This "Saint Nicholas shopping" is an opportunity to discuss our responsibility to those who cannot meet their own basic needs, a responsibility we feel keenly.  The need for almsgiving knows no season, but Advent is an especially ideal time to answer that need with joy, and to help our children live the virtues of charity, generosity, and kindness. 

St. Nicholas Day isn't meant to be a mini-Christmas morning, but it *is* a day to celebrate the beautiful children in our lives.  Ours awoke to encounter a few little surprises throughout the day.  Some families leave chocolate coins, clementines, walnuts, or other yummy treats in their stockings.  Seeing as how our children don't have stockings (Mama wants to make those in her spare time, so they may be waiting a while.), I drew some on paper sacks for the lads' treat bags.  They were very understanding.

We have a few books about Saint Nicholas that we read each year.  One we particularly like is Santa, Are You For Real?  by Harold Myra (strange coincidence, the author's last name and the city of St. Nicholas's ministerial service).  It's a book my beloved's parents read to him and his brothers as a child, and seeks to answer the question head on in a way that keeps the focus on Christ and the magic of the legend alive.

Another is Saint Nicholas: The Real Story of the Christmas Legend by Julie Stiegemeyer, which despite its title is actually a fictional story.  This book's strength lies in its personification of the key players in the whole gold-in-the-stocking story.

As we journey forward toward Christmas, we hope to carry the spirit of Saint Nicholas with us, keeping in mind his devotion to Christ especially in children and the poor and needy.  Considering Christ's humble birth and His reassurance that whatever we do for the least of His people we do for Him, we know we can only fully experience His joy by also embracing His cross and His mission of love and charity.

back on the bench

A few weeks ago, the music director for the Catholic parish to which we belonged before moving to bigger digs in a different area of town to accommodate our growing family asked me to substitute for the organist at one of this weekend's Masses.  I agreed with some trepidation, because I just can't "wing it" like I maybe could have a few years ago when I was playing the piano all the time.  Practice time is limited at best.  It cannot be my highest priority.  And besides that, to just "wing it" at Mass is simply disrespectful in my mind and therefore unacceptable.  Christ and His people deserve better.

Still, a trained, seasoned musician like I am should've been able to realize that something was amok *and solve the problem* sooner than I did when I sat down to play this morning.  The piano in this church is situated with its soundboard facing a brick half wall -- not the most ideal, acoustically-speaking.  As I played the first notes of the opening hymn, I tried my best to project the sound as I had been trained.  Try as I might, it sounded as though I were playing in a sock.  Having had only a couple sips of coffee this morning, I thought this was owing to the piano's facing the wall and continued to play as heavily as I could with a disproportionately delicate sound emanating from the piano.  It was only a little while later (after a few more fuzzy songs) that I realized the middle pedal was stuck down, and once I dislodged it, things were much different.  It would not surprise me if people in the back were surprised to hear a piano suddenly playing at all halfway through Mass, as I suspect I wasn't all that audible up til then.

These substitution outings are not easy undertakings for me -- or my family.  There are some logistical aspects of them that are larger than just me.  When I was about 15 or so, I broke my wrist Rollerblading.  Several weeks into my recovery, I boldly told my mother that I was ready to Rollerblade again and that if I got hurt again I'd just have to deal with it.  She was quick to point out that I wasn't the only one having to deal with it -- the entire family was affected.   In some respects, today's outing was similar.  Instead of going to the parish we now call home and celebrating the First Sunday of Advent with our present parish family, we returned to the one we'd left a little over a year ago.  My father came (as would have my mother and sister, had they not been indisposed), and so did my beloved's parents.   It was a later Mass than we usually attend, which spelled a set back in the lunch & siesta routine we try hard to maintain for our bambini's collective benefit.

But I can honestly say it was worth it.  Looking out across the congregation, I caught my younger lad's eye.  He smiled and waved at me.  Seeing his sweet face, and then those of the rest of my family gathered there to support me, I was filled with a sense of gratitude for the season of life in which I now find myself.  I was so happy to see him run up to me after Mass, and hear him thinking back through our outing this morning as he settled in for bed tonight: "You play the pwano.  You not break it.  Daddy not play the pwano.  We stand up.  We kneel..." 

I was honored to be asked to play today, and though I may not have given the cleanest performance, I gave the best one I could given the parameters within which I work these days.  I wanted my children to see me using the gift God has given me in His service.  That's an important example I hope they internalize.

It was a fitting beginning of Advent, the season in which we prepare the way of the Lord, awaiting His coming with hopeful expectation, readying our hearts and minds for God's ultimate gift to humanity.   Stuck pedals notwithstanding, these four weeks of Advent are our opportunity to lay the gifts God has given us at His feet.  His Grace will make them perfect.