a prophetic voice-

"On the seventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me..." Don't recall what the gift was in the traditional song, but for me today, the gift was silence...a blessed, blissful silence. You see, after two days of continuous people, I am relishing the peace and quiet and alone-ness. Now, don't get me wrong, or think I am totally Grinchy. I adore having the family all together...eating together...talking and playing board games and arguing (friendly, to be sure) and just being family together. And I wouldn't have the holiday any other way. But I live alone...have a one-person household. And, for those of you familiar with Myers-Briggs testing, I am an INFP... which means that, though I like people, they innervate me, sap me of strength, use up every ounce of my energy. And this morning, when the last of my family departed at 9a.m., I was in the throes of a splitting headache. So, it was back to bed in a darkened room, sleeping until 2:30p.m. when I

The third day of Christmas...my tree graces the living room window and my collection of Santas stand sentinel on the mantle piece. From the CD player come the strains of my favorite Christmas music and in the dining room, the table wears its Christmas finery. In my house on my street, it is indeed the season of Christmas- and will be for the full twelve days, until the Feast of the Epiphany on January 6th. But all around me in this hustle-bustle world of ours, with its "let's move on to the next thing" mentality, the Christmas music has ceased its playing...once-lovely evergreen trees are already at the curb waiting for pick-up...and stores are clearing their shelves in anticipation of filling them with the trappings of Valentines Day. Makes me more than a little sad, all of this rush to have things over and done. The build-up begins earlier and earlier each year, it seems, with Christmas decorations in the stores by Halloween, with Christmas ca

Here it is, the night after Christmas, and all through the house not a creature is stirring...except me, sitting here in front of the fireplace, enjoying the lighted Christmas tree and the flickering gas flames, and relishing the silence. All of the shopping for food is completed...the house is clean from attic to basement... everything in readiness for the influx of family which will begin early Saturday afternoon and continue through the weekend. I am looking forward to the hubbub which will surely ensue... the cacophony which is sure to result from the mix of eight children of varied ages, four young people, and eight grown- ups (more or less, grown up, I mean). Our family- at least portions of it- love playing games like Outburst and Attack Uno when we get together, so Saturday evening is sure to be alive with the shouts, the "ohs" and "ahs" and "oh, noes" which invariably accompany this enjoyable annual activity. And with the arrival o

Thirty-five years ago tonight, my youngest sister, Rennie, was killed in an automobile accident as she was on her way to our family's Christmas Eve gathering at the home of our parents. It was years before I could get through the singing of "Silent Night" at the Christmas Eve candlelight service without tears... without the sense of the shattering of the holy silence of that night of nights. And though the passing of the years has truly brought healing, on this particular Christmas Eve, I am filled with a sense of loss and longing ...a sense of the shattering of peace...a sense of broken hearts and broken dreams. Yes, all these years later, I miss her still...and I know my other two sisters do, too. Rennie, we love you. silent night? Silent night, holy night, All is calm, all is bright... except when it isn't... when the silence is broken by the dreadful sound of crumpling, smashing steel... when the calm is broken by the ominous sound of the te

What a fragrance...the aroma of cookies baking. My house is redolent with the scents of chocolate and lemon...Chocolate Layer Cookies and Lemon Bars, with Cheesecake Dreams and Chocolate Walnut Crumb Bars to come tomorrow. I love baking. For me, it is totally an act of love...using longtime family recipes, handed down from my mother and grandmother, from my aunt's and long-ago neighbors...precious people who populated my life through the years and whose presence I feel each time I don my adoption and begin the prestidigitation, the alchemy...which turns plain, ordinary ingredients into melt-in-your-mouth treats, to be enjoyed by family and friends throughout the holidays. Several years ago, when I was putting family recipes into a book for my eldest granddaughter, I came across a prayer, a blessing for a cook/baker to say...to breathe...before beginning the work, during the ritual of washing hands. It occupies page one of my own cookbook and has helped the act o

Oxymoronic...that's the only way I can describe the puzzling and almost vitriolic reactions to President Obama shaking hands with Cuba's president, Raul Castro. Will this pose problems for Obama, one news service blares. Should Obama have done this, asks another. Is there something more behind this, queries still another. And I am left shaking my head, wondering yet again if our president can do anything right in the eyes of some people. Were you critics listening, I am wondering, to the eulogy President Obama delivered today? Were you watching, as people from nations all over the globe came together...yes, together, to honor a man who taught the whole world about the meaning of forgiveness...of reconciliation. So within this context, on this day of all days, why wouldn't Barak Obama shake hands with Raul Castro? Why read something more into it? Why not accept and honor this action as the only appropriate thing a gracious man would do, under the circumstance

Even as we prepare to celebrate the coming of the Prince of Peace, including the buying and the wrapping and the sending- t here are countless people- sisters and brothers- whose very lives are being held in limbo because of the failure of our Congress to take any action on immigration reform. When will we Americans- those of us who have the blessing of being born here (which we usually take for granted)- when will we realize that our lives, as we know them, with their  comforts and affordable food and clean homes depend upon the hard work of people who are willing to do work which WE ARE NOT... willing to put forth their very best effort in the hope that they will be able to make life better for their families...yet are recipients always of abuse and prejudice from the very people who need their services, their hard-working hands and backs and lives. On Tuesday, Dec. 17th, in Greensboro, NC, there will be an all-day, water-only fast in behalf of these brothers an

A lovely, quiet Advent evening...the fire in the fireplace adding a touch of warmth and comfort to my beautiful blue living room, with its decorated tree in the front window and some of my collection of Santas on the mantle. I have lived with this room for nearly twelve years, yet I never tire of its sense of welcome, its sense of being a nest, and its reflections of my life. On the walls, there are pieces of art made for me by friends: a pen & ink drawing made many years ago by my dear friend, Mae; a scherenschnitte, an intricately cut paper design, created by my precious friend, Bonnie; two drawings of African animals, made by Kenyan artists; two word-paintings created by a woman in Greensboro; a lovely photograph canvas of Beatrice and her grandson, Eugene, taken by talented photographer, Ginny; and my newest piece, a colorful canvas in acrylics by Rwandan artist and friend, Innocent. As I sit here, enjoying the silence, cherishing the solitude, I am filled wi

Today, I baked gingersnaps, in loving remembrance of my mom. I hadn't made these delectable  cookies since baking them for her at Christmas 2009, her last holiday with us. They were her favorites- spicy and slightly crisp- and I baked them for her often, keeping the cookie jar full so she could enjoy having two or three each afternoon with her tea. As I was rolling the dough into balls, rolling the balls in sugar, and lining them up on the cookie sheets for baking, I was thinking of her...recalling her pleasure at something so simple. And Mom did find delight in simple things, never expecting or demanding that life hand her "spectacular" or even "special". She accepted what came, what life had to offer, and lived with and through it all with both amazing grace and dignity. She was a true "lady", in the old-fashioned sense of the word... even in her old age, bearing the losses and indignities of advancing years with patience and a

First Sunday in Advent...World A.I.D.S. Day...the first day of December...a convergence of images and ideas and thoughts as I sit here in the early-morning darkness, awaiting the rising of the sun. superstition... The Ancients, in these ever-lengthening nights,      lived in ever-deepening fear that      the light would not return...      the darkness which enshrouded them      more and more would remain,      the earth a cold, unfriendly place where      neither humans nor beasts could      long survive. How welcome firelight and candlelight      must have been...causing the fearsome      darkness to retreat, holding the encroaching,      threatening shadows at bay...granting the light      of hope amidst cold and dark. Darkness became the enemy...light the friend      which promised life...and even in this modern      age, when superstition has given way to      explanation, even now, we light the corners      of the night with perpetual, ever-shining light,