It’s Good And Good For You

I’m blessed to be married to a good cook. Actually “good cook” is an understatement; great cook or fabulous cook is more accurate. It’s fair to say that we eat better than most. Our son who cooks professionally credits his mother for both his success in the kitchen and his love of food.

My standard line when served yet another delicious meal is usually, “It’s good and good for you.” Truth be told, the “good for you” might sometimes be a stretch. Someone much smarter than me once said, “Man cannot live by bread alone.” So occasionally we need a little butter or cheese or chocolate…

After living the better part of last year in England people often ask us if we miss our life there. The answer is always yes. When asked what we miss most, I usually say the food (and wine). There’s a common misperception in the U.S. that English food is bad. We found it to be quite to the contrary. The produce and meats and cheeses in our local markets were fresher and usually locally produced. And good French and Italian wines were inexpensive. English wine is lousy but this is made up for by the excellent cheese and goat butter.

Wild Duck Inn - Ewen, England

Wild Duck Inn – Ewen, England

Dining out in England could be at times challenging. There are plenty of ‘Fish and Chips’ shops and every village seems to have a Curry restaurant. Some of those places are a bit dodgy. But great restaurants can be found and often in unexpected places. Two of our favorites: The Wild Duck Inn located in a tiny village called Ewen and Cricklade House in Cricklade which is an old Saxon town. Both were just minutes from where we lived. Of course our best meals in England were served in Oaksey in our own cottage – thanks Deb!

I’ve never intentionally plugged a business in my blog but recently we had a restaurant experience that reminded us of some our best meals in England and Europe. We dined with great friends, which always makes a meal better, at a small restaurant just minutes from where we now live. Another amazing meal in an unexpected place. Stone Soup Cottage in Cottleville, Missouri is without a doubt the best dining experience we’ve had since leaving England (with the exception of Deb’s kitchen of course).

Chef Carl and his wife Nancy have converted a small house into an intimate restaurant. The food is beyond spectacular and the warm and welcoming environment add to the charm of the place. In Europe when you dine out you “own the table” for the evening. No one would ever bring you the check until you ask. None of this “I’m just leaving the check, please take your time.” which translates into “Please hurry up, we’d like to seat someone else at this table.” In much the same way at Stone Soup Cottage we were allowed to dine at our leisure. Carl’s creations were exquisite and Nancy’s wine pairings were perfect. We thoroughly enjoyed and savoured every morsel.

Dining at Stone Soup Cottage is not inexpensive and it might literally take months to get a reservation but it’s worth saving your pennies and planning ahead. After all, sometimes treating yourself really is “good and good for you.” And Deb deserves a break every now and again.

Bon appetit,

Denis

http://www.stonesoupcottage.com/

Nearly a Near Death Experience

For several years now we have vacationed on the Gulf of Mexico in Florida with our daughter, son-in-law and grandkids. Last week was our week on the beach. The first full day it rained – all day! So when the sun came up on day two, we were ready to have some fun. Because of the storms from the previous week and the subsequent strong waves and rip tides, red caution flags were flying. My daughter and I were undaunted. We would ride the waves but do it cautiously. After a few minutes in the water it became apparent that we were too far from shore. It all happened very quickly.

My daughter Bess abandoned her flotation device (actually just a swimming pool floatee) and swam toward the beach. As I watched her make it safely to shore the waves pushed me further and further out to sea. I considered leaving my floatee and swimming but by then I was in very deep water and after fighting the waves felt too weak to swim. I held on to my floatee.

So much to live for...

So much to live for…

While I was being submerged by capsizing waves and being pulled by the undertow I came to the realization that I might not make it. My son-in-law swam out to attempt a rescue but the waves were too strong for him (and he’s a strong guy). Again I thought – I MIGHT NOT MAKE IT. I never felt panicky just tired and a little dizzy. I came to the conclusion that drowning wouldn’t be painful – I would probably just doze off and slip into the water – THE END. As each gulp of salt water came more and more frequently it was clear that this was bad – really bad. But I wasn’t ready to die. So I paddled with my arms and kicked with my feet and hugged my floatee for dear life. DEAR LIFE.

After what seemed like hours but was really more like forty-five minutes, through luck and nature’s grace, I finally fought the under tow and came close to shore. A kind stranger came out to help me in the last 20 feet or so. My family met me on the beach with cheers and tears and swears and I collapsed in a heap.

I joked that I wouldn’t need salt on my afternoon margarita and tried to downplay the entire episode. I apologized to my wife Deb who had “told me so”. And I promised to NEVER be so careless in the water again. And I silently thanked God for the grace of allowing me more time.

I don’t know how close my “close call” actually was but it was close enough. Of course I was in the water the next day and several more days after that but only when the red flags were not flying. I’m not afraid to die but I’d rather live (there’s so much to live for!)

Oh, did I mention I saw a shark in the water, too?

Peace,

Denis

Cuidad de Mexico Sin Mi Amor (Mexico City Without My Love)

It probably sounds cliche but what I enjoyed most about living last year in England was being there with my wife.

image

Today I’m leaving Mexico City on a trip that was mostly business but after 15 or 20 visits to Mexico (I’ve lost count) I finally visited the Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe. Although the churches are beautiful – actually three – old, newer, and newest – and the rest of the gardens and plaza are amazing it was a bit of an empty experience without Deb. Such is the life of a traveling business person in love with their spouse.

Still in love after all of these years!

We’ll get to Mexico City together but until then I’ll have the memories of London, Edinburgh, Rome, Paris, and Madrid. And truth be told my best times with my wife are the days that are ordinary. Those days in which time seems to stand still; those days that are golden just because we can afford to waste time (which is never really a waste when we’re together).

image

So today I was privileged to tread the steps of Juan Diego who in 1531 spoke with the Virgin Mary and witnessed the miracle that Mexicans still honor today. But while walking this holy place I was keenly aware of another miracle that happened in 1973 – Debbie loved Denis!

I’m headed home tonight. And after 40 years the miracle continues.

Peace,

Denis

 

 

 

Looking For God In All The Wrong Places

Recently my five year-old granddaughter Anna decided that God is probably a man because “God is kind of a boyish sounding name”. She also remembered that in her Children’s Bible, God is referred to as Jesus’ father and because fathers are men God must be a man, too. I suppose we’ll deal with the Holy Spirit’s sexuality later.

Such is the need for concrete theology when you’re five years old. Anna needs black and white answers. And I get that. But what about adults? Why are so of us many hung up on the minutia? Why is the rule book so important? Why do we try to put God in a box. Why is it necessary to humanize the divine? Why does it seem that we must always make God small enough to fit in our limited view of life? And where do we find God? In the clouds? In our churches?

Lately I have realized that I’ve been looking for God in all the wrong places. Or at least I’m not looking EVERYWHERE. Or in EVERYONE. Thus I limit God. I suppose that there’s a little five year-old inside me that wants (needs) God to be a man and wants (needs) God to be up in heaven at the controls. That would be easier in so many ways. It’s comforting to think that I can just tuck God away for safekeeping. To be pulled out and dusted off when I need God. Of course we ask for God’s help and mercy during tragic times. Often it’s hard to find God in catastrophic events like the tornado this week in Oklahoma. Where are you God? If you are truly omnipotent, then please make the bad stuff stop!

Blog photoBut I believe that God’s hands are at work in pulling survivors from the rubble. I believe that God is in those who are comforting the mourning and bringing relief to the suffering. And I keep finding God in people who fill my life with love and joy.

Mostly I find God in my wife’s touch, in my children’s voices, and in my grandchildren’s laughter. God is present in the Eucharist but also present in my friends and my neighbors and the clerk at the local market and in my co-workers. It just takes a little focus (prayer) sometimes to see Him/Her.

So church is fine and clouds are beautiful and nature is awesome but I don’t find God there as often as I’d like (should?). God is here with me. And you. Next door. Down the hall. Just around the bend. God refuses to be limited by my human constraints and I keep reminding myself that God is not distant. I am.

Peace,

Denis

Family Matters

Recently while waiting for a flight, I saw my cousin at the airport. She was headed to Texas to visit her sister; I was on my way to New York on business. We hugged and kissed and exchanged the usual pleasantries and then we both went our separate ways. But I was changed a little by that brief encounter. As I boarded my plane I recalled fond memories of our childhood and our shared experiences and I realized once again that family matters. I thanked God then and there.

FamilyLivingPictureWe’re all born into families. Many of us marry into families. Others of us are adopted by families. Some families are small. Some are large. And it’s all relative (pun intended).

Our need of family intrigues me. We need to belong. We need to be part of a group of individuals that share a common bond; common link; a common ancestor. This need to band together is primordial. We gather as one. One people. One tribe. One purpose.

I’m certain that there are people who like to live alone. Hermits perhaps or cloistered nuns. But most of want to live with others; to share our lives with others. We need to be a part of something bigger than ourselves. And families seem the perfect way to do that. The shared experiences. The shared traditions. The shared memories. The shared joys and sorrows. That’s what makes us family. That and our love for one another. In our caring for and being cared for by family we see God’s love in action.

Families are not just biological creations. Some families are individuals not joined by birth or marriage but joined by love or common cause. We become family by giving of ourselves to one another. We become sisters and brothers through our need for one another. We lift each other up; we carry one another’s burdens; we celebrate one another’s victories; we laugh together; we cry together; we pray together.

Recently I experienced the amazing love of family when my mother-in-law passed away. My wife and her brothers came together to support my father-in-law and to carry one another through the most painful of times. Their tenderness for one another and their love needed no words; no grand gestures. It was just pure and simple and profoundly beautiful. I have never been prouder of them or prouder to be a part of them.

Of course there will likely be many sad days ahead. Grief slips in and attacks us when we least expect it – a song, a photo, a favorite food, or some long-forgotten memory can trigger an emotional overload. Our loss can be truly disabling. But we trudge along and we cherish our memories and get busy with caing for one another. And we adjust. And we adapt. But we NEVER forget.

And this is why family matters.

Peace,

Denis

Searching

Have you ever searched for something that you have misplaced? A book; a letter; a photo; a gift certificate put away for safe-keeping. I will look in all the usual hiding places, re-tracing my steps and trying to imagine what I could have done with the lost possession. Surely I didn’t throw it out. Or did I? Was I careless and tossed it out with other discards? Did I hide it away too well? Usually my searches are frantic and relentless. Too often they are fruitless. Sometimes I will find the hidden item with great relief. But mostly I just give up; surrendering the lost item to the great unknown. Is there some black hole in the universe that holds all my lost treasures? I suppose I will never know.

The Prophet Isaiah wrote, “Seek the LORD while he may be found, call upon him while he is near.” Is God another treasure that I have misplaced? Was I careless and too busy with other seemingly more important things to remember where God is in my life? Have I packed God away somewhere safe to retrieve on some special occasion – saving God until I have time or need? Or when I feel sufficiently worthy of God’s love?

It occurred to me this week that in the past I’ve probably misread Isaiah. God can ALWAYS be found and God is ALWAYS near. It’s me that is lost. It’s me that is distant.

So I’m searching. But I’m learning that God isn’t somewhere in the cosmos; somewhere high in the clouds above looking down on me. God is here. God is now.

IMG_4302

A glimpse of heaven

And I’m finding God in the most ordinary places – in Deb’s love and devotion; in my grandchildren’s sweet voices and loving embraces; in the kindness of strangers; in music; in art; in nature; even in myself (often after a frantic and relentless search). God is here. God is now. Sometimes we just need to open our eyes (and our hearts) to see those glimpses of heaven in our midst.

I think that Isaiah was imploring us to make ourselves open to God’s call – “Stop searching; the Lord is here.”

Peace,

Denis

Listen as the St. Louis Jesuits sing: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nLjgnSKepow

Remember When Valentine Was a Saint?

Growing up I celebrated Saint Valentine’s Day. Somewhere along the way it just became Valentine’s Day. I’m not sure why, maybe it was a concerted effort to eliminate all that is good and holy from our world or to brainwash us into buying Hallmark® cards. More than likely it’s just a harmless derivative of what once was a Catholic feast day honoring a saint whose very existence is in dispute. Generally, it is believed that Valentinus was a Roman priest martyred during the reign of Claudius II for aiding and marrying Christian couples (hence the romantic connection). But several Valentines are mentioned in early Christian history and many legends surround the name.

St. Valentine

Whether Valentine was a legend, or a saint doesn’t have much bearing on how we celebrate February 14th. Today Valentine’s Day is a day for lovers. Whether it’s a new romance or a time-tested marriage; whether it’s the celebration of love between parents and their children or best friends; it’s a good day to say, “I love you”. And how can that be a bad thing?

For me, my wife Deb is my Valentine. She’s the one that stands by me through thick and thin. She is my leaning post, my rock, my partner, my inspiration and my joy. She is the one that gives meaning to my life – she is my lifetime Valentine. If some red roses and a romantic meal together will show her how much her love means to me – it’s a small price to pay.

We love one another everyday but I believe that Valentine’s Day is a good day to love a little more. Hug those that are close to you just a little bit tighter. Kiss your wife (or husband) with a little more passion. Send a note to someone that you’ve neglected. Call a friend just to say hello. Help carry a load. Mend a quarrel. Make peace. Love.

Some folks might bemoan the fact that the ‘Saint’ has been taken out of Valentine’s Day, but I think that Valentine cards and heart-shaped boxes of candy are as harmless as bunnies on Easter. And maybe, just maybe, it’s better to honor those saints living among us than some saint from antiquity.

Peace (and Love)

Denis

Storybooks, Legos and Baby Dolls

Our home office is actually a multi-purpose room. It’s truly a third bedroom that was converted into an office and now serves as the toy room, the art supply room, the nursery, the occasional spare bedroom and whenever possible is actually used as an office. I often find my center here. I pray here. I blog here.

OfficeI love this room because it is full of reminders of all the love in my life. This room is comfort and joy to me. And even when it’s a little messy – toys or books or art projects strewn about – it is still a place of repose. Sometimes when I’m alone I read the grandkids’ books to myself, like “You Are My Wish” by Maryann Cusimano Love – “I am your soft lap; you are my climb. I am your story; you are my rhyme.” – what poetry! it just tugs at my heart!

Sometimes this room is full of activity with three grandchildren happily playing or creating some new works of art. Sometimes this room is still except for the soft breath sounds of Noah while he is napping in his crib. Sometimes music is playing through the speakers thanks to a handy son-in-law. And sometimes it’s just me clacking away at the keyboard of my computer and then proofreading and deleting (and re-typing and re-reading and deleting again). It truly is a multi-purpose room.

And the love abounds. It’s found in the favorite toys and books. It’s in the little mementos of our travel abroad. It’s in the photos of friends and family. It’s in a note from Deb of little importance (except it’s written in her beautiful penmanship). It’s in the small plaque that reads, “God Only Knows What I’d Be Without You”.

Office2This room will never be featured on HGTV or shown in House Beautiful. It’s cluttered and a bit haphazard. It’s full of Legos and storybooks and baby dolls. It’s relatively small and it lacks any real style. But it’s our room. And it’s our life. And it reflects our love.

They say that home is where the heart is – this room might just be our soul.

Peace,

Denis

Auld Lang Syne

The old Scottish song that is traditionally sung on New Year’s Eve can be translated into English literally as “old long since”, or as “days gone by”. So at each year’s end we look back at the “days gone by” and reflect on the what, when, why, who and how. Some years we’re just glad it’s over and we’re ready to move on. The best years are the ones when we’ve learned something or survived something or loved anew. In other words: We’ve grown mentally, emotionally and spiritually.

For us 2012 has been a year to remember. We started our year living in Oaksey, Wiltshire, United Kingdom. And ended our year living back home in Missouri, USA. In between there was a lot of mental, emotional and spiritual growth. We learned how to assimilate in England. We never picked up the accent but we do now know the difference between knackers and being knackered. I suppose that I looked English enough that I was almost always stopped for directions when touring villages in the Cotswolds (being pasty white helped). We also learned how to drive on the left side of the road with only one small accident apiece. Deb learned how to cook Scotch broth and I learned how to grill lamb on the barbecue. And we relished our trips to the butcher shop, the green grocer, the sweet shop and the bakery (with their lardy cakes).IMG_5277

We grew emotionally by realizing that we could be away (far away) from home but never really be gone from those whom we love. Six special visits from friends and family helped us throughout our extended stay. It was good to be ambassadors to our adopted country and discover new experiences with friends (and return to a few of the places we had already discovered). Mostly it was good to know that Deb could survive so much alone time just with me – turns out we still like each other pretty much! I’m a lucky man.

And we grew spiritually, too. Our little church and faith community in Cirencester, England was a respite. No threats of excommunication in England or denial of communion if we voiced support of a social program which was contrary to official Church teaching or voted for the wrong candidate. We were loved by our priest “as we were” and embraced by our faith community “just because…” No litmus test of worthiness required.

Mostly 2012 was fun and funny. We enjoyed being in the UK during the Olympics and Queen Elizabeth’s diamond jubilee. We ate new foods (new to us anyway) and drank good French and Italian wines at bargain prices. We laughed at Benidorm and Father Ted on the telly as well as Aldi adverts. We laughed at our own foibles – like ordering 44 euros worth of macaroons in Paris because we thought the woman behind the counter said 14. Ooh, la, la! Or the (many) times we missed the round-about into or out off Cirencester (our nearest town. Or when Deb nearly got run over (three times) on Abbey Road so we could get the perfect photo. Or when we went to the ‘One Woman Show’ in Edinburgh that required audience participation (I still have nightmares about a big sweaty red-lipsticked kiss – don’t ask!). Or when we thought our 83-year old tour guide in Rome would be easy to “keep up with” but then Rinaldo nearly walked us to our death. Turns out that old Italians have more stamina than not-so-old Americans!

We loved our life in England and we miss it, too. But it’s true that there’s no place like home. Only God knows what 2013 will bring. But I hope that we can continue to grow mentally, emotionally and spiritually.

I hope that you do as well.

Peace,

Denis

D.I.Y.

I like to think of myself as a ‘Do It Yourself’ kind of guy but the reality is that I’m really more of a ‘Try To Get My Son-in-law To Do It’ kind of guy. Let me explain. My son-in-law Travis is a handy guy. He likes to take on projects and he’s not afraid to tackle any home improvement.

This works out well for me. I have lots of projects that I would like to get done. I’m somewhat aspirational in my approach (“I would like to accomplish this task, but…”). Travis is more concrete in his approach (“I have the tools; when do we start?”).

The Home Depot® loves guys like me. I buy the material and Travis installs it. And if I buy more than I need, I just pile it up in the basement. I know that I can return extra materials later but I almost never do. I keep the stuff for future projects (most of which never happen).

I help with ‘my’  home projects but Travis is the one who does the lion’s share of the work. At times I get to be the superintendent but my wife is ALWAYS quality control. Deb also takes care of any color, design or material selection. I have an idea of what I want and Travis knows how to get it accomplished but Deb has final approval. It’s a pretty tightly run organization.

I know that ‘my’ home projects aren’t really mine but I’m okay with that. And so far Travis keeps coming back for more. And Deb keeps coming up with new ideas.

That’s the beauty of family. We are never alone. We anticipate one another’s needs and provide support (and love) as required. Rarely do we have to ask for help. Help is there.

It’s reassuring to know that I am in this life together with my family and my friends. At times I’ve tried to do it all. To carry it all. Whether it be a home project or an emotional or spiritual burden. When someone else helps with the lifting the burden becomes lighter. And as the burden is divided, the blessings are multiplied. Such is the joy of a life shared.

So I’m a ‘Do It Yourself” guy. It just happens to take a village…

Peace,

Denis