February 7, 2010
Published in
this weeks' Living Well Newsletter....
Love and
the Super
Bowl by
Jean Porche
Now you may think
this one’s a stretch, but bear with
me.
For the past 43
years, since 1967, the New Orleans Saints have been my
team. They weren’t a *great* team, more often than
I care to remember they weren’t even a very *good*
team, but the Saints were my team, nevertheless.
The city of New
Orleans felt the same way.. Saints games were normally
well attended and game days were the occasion of football
parties and gatherings. It wasn’t that the Saints
were winning; it was that they were playing. That mere
fact was excuse enough for celebration.
Mind you, we never
fooled ourselves that the Saints were better than they
were. We had some bad years, so bad that local
sportscaster Buddy Diliberto nicknamed the team the Aints
and suggested that fans wear bags over their heads when
they attended the game. (They did, and local grocers
obligingly printed up special grocery bags for the
convenience of customers!) One particularly bad year,
Buddy made a vow: if the Saints made it to the Super
Bowl, he’d wear a dress. That was probably 30 years
ago.
Time marches on,
and this has been our year. With delight, Saints fans
have watched our team perform like the winners we always
thought they were, and finally, our black-and-gold Saints
will play in the Super Bowl. We fans will be cheering
hard, and we’ll celebrate our team, win or lose,
because we love our Saints unconditionally. They play,
we cheer. The outcome is not the point.
And that’s the
way love works. Good times, hard times, victories,
errors...when we love much, we see the effort behind the
error. We see the good heart of our loved ones even when
they are falling short; we love them the way New Orleans
loves the Saints.
It’s the way
all fans love their teams, their movie stars, or their
singers. They all have an occasional flop - or flops,
but a true fan doesn’t give up. They keep on loving
their stars right through it.
Which is pretty
much what Creator does for us, and asks that we do for
others. Love them through the losing streak. We Saints
fans know about losing streaks. If it’s a bad one,
you may watch the game on tv instead of plunk does cash
for a ticket, but you never stop hoping. Neither does
Love.
------------------
What about
Buddy D’s Vow?
New Orleans is a
town where the past mingles easily with the present, and
so now, with the Saints finally in the Super Bowl,
thoughts of Buddy Diliberto come easily to the minds of
New Orleanians.
Sadly, Buddy died a
few years ago, but his vow was fulfilled anyway, thanks
to local newspaper The Times-Picayune and the people of
New Orleans. Check it out here: Buddy
Diliberto Keeps His
Promise
and the
Buddy Parade
February 6, 2010
Today in NOTL: Light snow and cold!
Today’s high temp: -7C/18F. Brr!
We here in Niagara are looking at
negligible snowfall amounts, judging by the weather
bureau, but as I type, the Mid-Atlantic states are
getting hit with another blizzard. Newfoundland is
racking up impressive snow totals as well.
While I haven't experienced the sort
of snow-to-the-rooftops that some have, I grew up with a
bit of snow most years. I suppose we can blame global
warming for the strange seasons we're having now, but as
a child, I remember dustings of snow that melted on
impact every year or so with a few memorable
snowfalls.
The most memorable was a long time ago
when I was only eleven. Now, when it snows in New
Orleans, it's time for celebrating, especially if it
actually collects on the ground and piles up. It was
really time to celebrate snowfall that year - the snow
began falling on New Year's Eve!
My Aunt Gert called early that
morning, coaxing Mama to bring us girls over, but my
youngest sister was only a few months old. Instead, she
sent Dad with my elder sister and me over to play in the
snow with the aunts and uncles and maybe a cousin or two.
All I remember of the ride over was my impatience as
Daddy drove slowly along back streets to my aunt's
house.
Once we got there, though, it was
merriment galore with my favourite aunts and uncles in
attendance. Everyone posed for pictures in the
incredible snowfall (the weather almanac says it was 12
inches/30 cm of snow - a good snowfall anywhere in the
US, much more so New Orleans!). We made a real snowman,
too - so tall we had to get Dad onto a chair to lift the
head into place.
As everyone took turns posing, Dad
winked at us and called one of my uncles over to where he
stood beneath Aunt's large magnolia. We knew Daddy has
something up his sleeve, tease that he was.
Sure enough, my uncle approached as
Daddy looked up into the branches intently. "Can you
make out what that is?" he asked my uncle.
Curious, Uncle looked up. "Where? I
don't see anything..."
Dad made us a sign to watch behind
Uncle's back. "You can't see it? It's right there!
Maybe I need to bring it down a bit..." Daddy gave a low
hanging branch a sudden hard tug and a small avalanche of
snow tumbled down from the magnolia’s broad leaves -
right into Uncle’s face!
The aunts and us kids laughed and even
Uncle joined in - right before he paid Daddy back and a
snowball fight erupted. The aunts hustled my sister and
I inside and fed us hot chocolate and cookies while the
men whooped and hollered like any group of schoolboys.
Now, so many years later, the aunts
and uncles and even Dad are no longer with us, but I
watch the snow fall and, in my memory, I hear familiar
voices laughing.
February 1, 2010
Today in Notl: Beautiful winter day:
sunny skies, gentle breeze, a high of -4C/24F.
"I love my church but..."
How many times have we nodded
understandingly as a visitor or caller spoke those words!
I say understandingly because we Angel Ladies have both
been there.
As a Roman Catholic, I have butted
heads with the hierarchy since I was a schoolgirl. The
discrepancy between teachings and actions, the
illogic-to-me of some teachings and the pettiness-to-me
of others had me shaking my head in confused frustration,
much as I loved the rich liturgy and many of our
traditions.
As an adult, not much changed. My love
for the church led me to active participation - parish
council, religious ed, continuing ed of my own,
committees and groups. Eventually I became the director
of religious ed for a huge parish of over 2000 families,
which led me deeper into the workings of the church.. I
spent time living with two religious communities,
discerning whether that might be where I could best serve
Creator.
Not so much. In fact, the more I saw
and observed, the less comfortable I became with the
church. Not with Creator, but with the very-human element
that claimed to express God's will and desires for not
only my life, but for all lives. "What you *understand*
to be God's will," my heart - and sometimes my lips -
replied.
That was a mistake, I was told.
Because I did not acknowledge the absolute divine
perfection of the teaching I was given or the hierarchy
and its divine right to be the God's mouthpiece on earth,
I had no faith. Mind, I had a lot of faith - but it was
in God, not necessarily in God's self-proclaimed
spokesmen. (You see how I avoided saying 'HIS' spokesmen?
No faith. God is a male, I was told. 'Since when does
pure spirit have sex-determinant organs?' I asked. Boy,
you sure don't have any faith at all, I was
told.)
Pope JP2 was the final straw for me. I
can respect that he felt he acted for the good of the
church, but one of the needs of the church is to be open
to the Holy Spirit and its movement. When he began
stacking the church's deck by elevating to bishop or
cardinal a posse of hardline, pre-Vatican-thinking
bishops, that just smacked of human thinking. Why didn't
he trust that the next popes would be just as divinely
guided as he?
Church laws seemed human to me,
inasmuch as Jesus sure didn't give us the books of Canon
Law. Why NOT women priests? Or married clergy? Even to be
open to the possibility was heretical, I was told, but
read the Bible as I might, I found more support FOR them
than against them.
Trust Holy Mother Church, I was told.
Don't bother thinking about these things. God's ways are
higher than man's ways. Don't think, just obey. And if
you doubt, your obedience is that much more beautiful to
God.
As I type that faces come to
mind...The Queen watching with uplifted brow as Snow
lifts the apple to her lips, the Grinch smiling in oily
satisfaction as Cindy Lou sucks her candy cane. Catholic,
yes, but Roman...not exactly.
Nevertheless, the church was definite:
not only was I required to accept and believe with full
sacred assent those few teachings solemnly defined as
infallible, but all the ordinary teachings of the church
as well, particularly with regard to ordination of women
and married clergy, and not to do so meant I was a
heretic, who incur automatic excommunication, btw, heresy
being one of only a few horrors that do.
So what's a God-loving, progressive
Catholic girl to do? Pray hard, and pray I did.
As my Aunt Gert would say, 'Ah, le bon
dieu!' She was right: God is good.
I was led to the perfect place for me,
a church that puts the teachings of Jesus in first place.
A church which focuses on what Jesus said was most
important in the two Great Commandments and Matthew 25
(whatsoever you do). A church that recognizes that
understandings of God differ and doesn't profess that it
alone has the words of life. A church that lets God be
God and acknowledges that we humans don't have all the
answers. A church that is Catholic, but not Roman
Catholic.
It is truly the perfect place for
me!
Jean
January 18, 2010
Hi all and thanks for taking the time
to check in today.
It has been a bit of a sad start to
the New Year with the passing of Jean's dad and the death
of another dear friend who was the Chancellor of the
Community Catholic Church of Canada.
And yet, despite the sadness, we have
been blessed with time to work on some projects and get
the online church community going.
We've had two internet worship
services now and they are going well. It will sound
familiar to anyone from Anglican and Catholic traditions.
We've tried to make it upbeat, yet keep a feeling of
"going to church" in it. :) You can check it out at
http://www.blogtalkradio.com/holyangelsonline.
Just click on the player to the right and you can hear
the archived service. It is about 20 minutes
long.
We've created the Holy
Angels Online Community and
that has been going well. You can even join
us on Facebook!
Many of you know by now that Deb is a
polymer clay artist and creates some very special pieces.
We've been asking the angels in our daily prayers for a
new way to present the wonderful offerings that we create
to a larger market.
Deb was making some necklaces the
other day when the idea for a "Cardio-Gram" floated into
her head. She thought of sending the necklace with a
"readout" like a Cardio-Gram with a message from the
giver's heart.
As with all inspirations, we set about
to flesh it out and spent most of the last several days
planning and organizing it. We are so excited!! It
incorporates all the things that we are about - a loving
message, a fun and unique presentation, necklaces and
handcrafted items that we love to do and a way to
brighten someone's day!
Deb is busy making bracelets today and
Jean is making some beautiful watercolour hearts and
bookmarks. Later this week, we'll be putting up
"auto-dangles," the things you hang from your rear-view
mirror. We thought this would be a great thing for the
guys in your life. You can see the necklaces and the
whole
idea here.
You can help us out by spreading the
word and sending people to this website. If you know
someone who has been looking for a reading, suggest
Jean's services. She is also doing more hypnosis and
past-life regressions. If you know of someone who could
benefit from an inspired medallion, tell them about Deb's
amazing work in clay.
As always, we include free,
inspirational offerings to give your day a lift. Check
out the videos we have uploaded to You Tube. The link is
in the panel to the left under "Inspiration."
And, if visiting this website has
helped or inspired you, please consider sending along a
small donation or tithe. You can find that link to the
left too.
We are so grateful that we can offer
these unique and wonderful products and services to our
ever-growing community. To stay in the loop, make sure
that you are on the mailing list. You
can subscribe here.
Have a great day. We are going to be
playing with clay and art, and that is always a happy
thing.
Deb and Jean
January 11, 2010
It has been two weeks since my father
died.
Yesterday we had our first Holy Angels
online gathering for Sunday worship. It went well; Deb
created beautiful prayers for it. As deacon, one of my
jobs during worship is to do readings and to offer the
intercessory prayers - the ones that feature the needs of
the community.
I made certain that my father's name
and our dear friend Art's were down for the intercession
for the departed. I knew, of course, that I'd be reading
them; don't know why it didn't occur to me that it might
be better to have Deborah do that part.
Nothing could have prepared me for the
crashing realization that accompanied reading my father's
name, as I have heard names read in church all my life,
in the prayers for the departed. I thought I'd
'understood' that Dad had died - I've talked about it,
cried about it, prayed about it and so on.. Whatever I
had understood...well, today made it real-er.
Unfortunately, in my usual Lucy
Ricardo fashion, the realization didn't hit me after the
fact but instead exploded as I was reading the prayer and
saw the familiar names on the page. I got through it but
I don't remember the rest of the service. Luckily, I
didn't disgrace myself by doing a Lucy
WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! in the middle of the service.
Small favours.
I was thinking about Dad this week.
His favourite movies were comedies that featured actors
like Bing Crosby and Bob Hope, Jimmy Stewart, Cary Grant.
I've spent some time watching some of those old movies
the past couple of weeks, thinking about how Dad enjoyed
a good laugh. Cary Grant, especially, brings my dad to
mind. In some of his 'screwball' comedies, Grant pulls
faces and does a lot of physical comedy, funny dance
steps and so on.
As a young child, five or seven or so,
I remember how Mama would get my sister and I ready for
Dad's return home from work. By the time he got home,
we'd already had our baths and had fresh dresses on and
Mama had touched up her hair and makeup too. All his
girls, ready for their guy.
I remember sitting on his lap or
standing beside his chair, pulling his hair into his face
- making a mess of it, really - and his doing
'monkeyshines to our squeals of delight. Sometimes he'd
dance with Mama to records or the radio, and we'd make
him dance with us too, standing on his shoe
tips..
When we were lucky, Dad would do more
than dance with us. He'd dance *for* us, doing a comical
bunch of steps reminiscent of the Three Stooges or the
Marx Brothers (whom he loved) or Cary Grant in
Indiscreet....(the dance scene is on YouTube, and I can
see my father doing the funny steps while we laughed).
Anything for a laugh, that was Dad.
After dinner, sometimes Dad and Mama
would play Fish or one of our games with us. Sometimes
we'd play records - think, vinyl CD - and pantomime them.
We'd sneak up on Mama with the colour plates of snakes
from the dictionary and make her jump - Mama is still
deathly afraid of snakes and doesn't even like to hear
them discussed, lol.
They were very good days.
Jean
January 5, 2010
Yesterday we announced that we
launched the Holy Angels Online Community. It has been a
dream of ours for awhile and we are very excited to be
offering this extention of our ministry to people all
over the world.
Today we got a rather nasty note from
someone who reacted strongly to the word Catholic.
And, while we can appreciate that not everyone has had a
happy experience with the Roman Catholic Church, the
angry member didn't do her homework and check out the
church's website. She simply flamed us in a very unkind
tone and jumped to unwarranted conclusions.
You see, I am a Bishop.
I also believe in Angels and am an energy healer.
Jean channels angels and guides for people, and is a
Deacon. The Community Catholic Church is supportive of us
as clergy AND as Angel Ladies.
This ain't your typical catholic
church, because it ain't ROMAN. It allows us to be who we
are as we explore what it means to be spiritual beings in
these frail and human bodies. It offers a community for
those who have been turned away or turned off or full of
unanswered questions by the church of their birth. It
even embraces those who understand Jesus as "Christ
consciousness" rather than the traditional view of the
Church's teaching. And, for those for whom it matters,
this church has valid orders and apostolic
succession.
The word catholic means universal --
and while that word carries with it some unpleasant
baggage for many people, we mean that we are
catholic in the purest essense of the word. We are
inclusive, progressive and believe that there are many
paths to the One Source.
Our vision, folks, is to create a
community that open and affirming and willing to discuss
all manner of topics of interest. We see things from a
Christian window, but we also recognize that every
spiritual path is valid. We are all One together. The
angels have taught us that and when you look at the words
of Jesus, especially in John's gospel, he says that
too.
So, this is not a community for
everyone. We know that. Those who are more bible-based
and evangelical will not want to join. Those who have
shaken the dust of "organized religion" may not wish to
join us either. But we have heard the heart-felt
frustration and longing of those for whom a faith
connection is important; who value the sacraments and
also have been "awakened" to more expansive spiritual
understandings.
We have sat on the Spiritual/Religious
line for a long time. We are empowered by Spirit and also
the Archbishop to move forward. This is a new kind of
community that we are building. We are really excited and
we hope it will resonate with you too.
Check it out at http://www.holyangelscommunity.webs.com
Deb
January 3, 2010
Today I was pleased to look outside
and see the snow mounding in the driveway. I love snow.
And as things do this past week, Dad came to mind. He
loved the beauty of snow - in photographs! Having been
stationed in New Jersey before shipping out to the
Pacific in WWII, he’d seen snow and a lot of it.
That was enough for him.
Deb took a couple of great shots of
the view from the front office this morning, so here they
are. Dad would have admired them and been glad to live in
summery Louisiana.
One of the things I remember best
about my dad was how much he loved my mom. How many times
I heard him say how things that might anger another
husband - pulled covers, cold feet, a restless sleeper
beside you - were simply, to him, part of being married.
My older sis had, at one time, urged my folks to get a
new bedroom set with a king-sized bed. “Why would I
want a bigger bed?” my dad asked me later. “It
makes me happy to have your mother right beside
me.”
Dad was a Libra, and people born under
that sign are noted for being lovers of fairness and
beauty, which he was, and for being romantics at heart.
That was Dad.
I remember one Valentine’s Day he
presented Mama with a large candy heart. The cellophane
was missing. “It’s already opened?” Mama
said, puzzled. “What happened - did you get
hungry?” Dad just smiled and she lifted the lid to
discover that he had not pilfered a chocolate but had
instead written a poem to her on the inside of the box.
When I was about twelve, Dad qualified
for his company’s annual convention and was gone for
a week, leaving us girls and Mama at home. At the end of
the week, he returned bearing gifts for us all. Among
them were little personal desktop notepads for myself and
my sisters.
Being the paper-lover I am, I
instantly opened the gold metal case and flipped through
the pristine pages. “Hey, there’s something
written on mine!” I exclaimed and the others checked
their notebooks as well, to Dad’s
chagrin.
Alone in Washington, Dad had been
thinking of Mama and us, his girls. Each of our notebooks
had, hidden in an inner page where we'd unexpectedly find
it at some point in future, a note from Dad speaking of
how much he loved and missed us. I remember that mine was
signed ‘A lonely guy far from home, Dad.’ That
his words came straight from his heart, I am sure.
Now, as memories drift to mind,
it’s for us to miss him. We do.
Jean
December 30, 2009
We tell people all the time that our
loved ones are near to us when they cross over and that
they should be alert for little signs. You’d think,
then, that I’d know to watch.
But when I was awakened by the
windchimes outside my bedroom window in the wee hours
yesterday morning, I was thick-headed with sleep and not
very alert at all.
It was a windy night as a cold front
was moving in, so the chimes had been going strongly all
night. In the wee hours, though, I was awakened by a
whistling from the chimes. Yes, a whistling sound, rather
like someone whistling ‘Yooohooo!’
In my sleepy state, I noted to myself,
‘It’s the windchime....’ but then
reflected that I’d never heard them whistle that way
before. Could it be a person walking by? No, the sound
was on the verandah, just outside my window. Must be the
chimes, I concluded.
At which point, the chimes toned
‘do, me, sol, do’ - the four notes the sections
of a choir would tone in rehearsal. That struck me hard:
those four notes I’d heard so often in six years of
choral singing, each note crystal clear, each equal in
length and sounded in turn. I’d never heard a wind
chime do THAT before.
I pondered that unusual occurrence.
Was it the wind? As though in answer, the chimes rang out
as they usually did - random notes, unequal in length.
Ok, that’s how the chimes sound, I thought to myself
and prepared to sleep again.
But there it was...do, mi, sol,
do....followed by that yoohoo whistling sound...and Dad
came to mind, whistling to the radio or as he did chores
in the yard. Could it be Dad? Immediately - do, mi, sol,
do. “Hi, Dad...love you,” I thought in my
heart. There was that yoohoo whistle, followed by the
more normal clanging of the chimes.
When I awoke, the incident was lost to
mind. Late last night, as I spoke to my sister on the
telephone, she asked if I’d noticed anything and the
odd experience came to mind once more, happily
so.
How lovely to know that our loved ones
are around, aware of us, loving us from the other
side.
Deb has experienced that many times as
she has officiated at funerals. She tells of a time when
one fellow died, leaving behind a daughter, wife, and ex.
As they chatted, prior to the service, one of the women
mentioned that she had had a scare earlier that day.
As she was drying her hair, the drier
and light in the bathroom had suddenly gone off, causing
her to fret that there was a power outage and that
she’d be late to her dad’s funeral. But no, the
wall switch was off. As she turned it on, lights blazed
and the dryer purred to life, leaving her to wonder how
the switch had gone from on to off with no one in the
room except her, drying her hair.
The other two women reacted strongly.
“The same thing happened to me!” they said and
recounted similar stories of lights going off due, not to
power outages or fuses being blown, but the switches
turning off unassisted. They shared a few tears and
chuckles at the thought of their loved one’s teasing
greeting and joined the others for the
service.
The service went well, with several
people coming forward to offer their thoughts and
remembrances of the departed. As Deborah returned to the
podium to continue the service, however, she found it
difficult to see her notes. Looking up, she realized that
the lights overhead had been turned off! From her seat at
the front of the room, she would easily have noticed had
anyone entered to adjust the light switches beside the
entrance to the room. “Look up,” she invited
those present, and the women chuckled, recognizing a
confirmation of their dear one’s loving greeting as
a funeral director hurried to, yes, flip the switch to
turn on the bank of lights.
Truly, love never dies. We’ll
miss our dad, as we all miss our departed loved ones, but
death is only an appearance. The ones we love are waiting
for us on the other side and, sometimes, they give us a
little nudge to say they remember, just as we
do.
Jean
December 29, 2009
I am my father’s daughter.
That’s pretty much a given for
every daughter, I know, but in the past month or so,
it’s become an idea I ponder.
My dad had Alzheimer’s, and in an
interval of a few short months, he went from a man who
knew me and with 
whom
I could converse to someone who wasn’t sure who Jean
was and had little more to say than ‘Ok.’ A lot
of things I would have said to him had to go unsaid,
except in spirit. I wanted to tell him I was proud to be
his daughter. I wanted to tell him that I more than loved
him, I respected and admired him. I missed the chance to
tell him.
Dad was born in 1920, a time when
being a man of honour still meant something, along with
ideas like duty and integrity and faith and charity. He
lived by those ideals and he instilled them in us, his
daughters.
Dad loved animals and taught us to be
kind and to respect them although he grew up in a
generation who saw a clear divide between humans and
animals. When a clever bird had nested in a large can of
nails forgotten on a high shelf in the garage, Dad
brought my sister and me in, day after day, to see the
eggs and, when they hatched, the baby birds.
Mama recalled coming into the darkened
kitchen early one morning to see Dad at the window,
flashing his white teeth over and over. When she asked,
he pointed to a branch outside the window where an owl
cocked its head curiously as Dad bared his teeth once
more. Mama shook her head, but Dad enjoyed the close
encounter.
I love the night sky, the stars and
especially meteors, thanks to Dad. In the middle of one
hot August night when I was ten or eleven, he came into
our bedrooms and woke us girls. “Come with me if you
want to see something you’ll never forget,” he
said. We were five daughters by then, but of us and mom,
only I took him up on the offer.
He led me out the back door, where we
settled on the cool cement steps with the dog between us.
“Just watch,” he said. To my amazement, a star
blazed across the sky. Dad told me about the Perseid
meteor shower and we sat for what seemed like all night
long, talking quietly while the neighbourhood slept and
the dog lay contentedly dozing. You were right, Dad: I
have never forgotten it.
Dad was a voracious reader. “How
can you be bored?” he’d ask my sister and me.
“Don’t you have a book?” I was probably
about seven when he took my older sister and me to what
seemed to me to be the most incredible event in the
world: The New Orleans Symphony Book Fair. In Gallier
Hall, room after room was filled with tables holding
books of every description - priced five or ten cents. We
came home with Schwegmann’s bags (very large heavy
paper sacks from grocer Schwegmann who boasted you got a
lot for your money at his store) filled with books. A
book for Dad was always a welcome gift; which book didn't
matter - Dad was interested in everything.
Dad was a union man, a rep or shop
steward for the local branch of his company, and a
Democrat. For him, fair play and looking out for the
little guy was part of being a good Catholic. He taught
us people were people, regardless of economic status or
gender or race, and that a good person judged others on
individual merits rather than appearances. I never heard
him utter a word of bigotry in all my life; I never knew
the infamous N-word until I was a young teen and
encountered it in some classic work (Kipling, I seem to
recall).
For most of my life, Dad earned his
living selling insurance, specifically whole and term
life insurance. I thought his company sold only those two
insurance products - later I found they had a full range
of products, but Dad felt there were better deals on home
and auto insurance so he didn’t sell them, just the
life insurance he felt was a genuine value.
He used to chuckle about his
supervisor who would occasionally accompany him on sales
calls to show Dad how to increase his sales. Dad would
always manage to sit out of eyesight of the supervisor.
When that high-powered salesman would start his pitch,
Dad would catch the eye of his clients and shake his head
‘No’ or give them a thumbs-down.
Later, he would return and discuss
what would serve his clients well, often selling them
less insurance than they wanted to give them time to work
it into their budget. “You can always increase your
coverage later,” he’d say, ‘but if a
policy lapses, you’ve lost money. Start with what
you can afford easily.” And later, if the friends on
his route fell on hard times, he’d often cover their
payments - or take garden produce in lieu of the money -
until they were able to catch up. Dad sold protection,
and he protected his clients.
When his own father died, there was a
bit of confusion in the town. Both men were Morris
Porche, but with differing middle names so that Dad was
not a junior. We expected a tiny wake, since most of
Grandpa’s contemporaries were gone, but to our
amazement, the large reception room at the funeral home
was overflowing into the hall with strangers.
They were Dad’s policy holders,
come to pay their respects. My sisters and I were
surprised as many of them, realizing the mistake, gave
Dad their sympathy and then came to us to tell us about
our father. “You should be proud of him,” we
heard again and again. “Your father is a man of
honour,” one fellow told us several times, looking
deep into our eyes to make sure we understood that he
meant it.
Dad always loved Mark Twain's quote
about his father - how much the old man had learned in
the seven years between Twain's own 14th and 21st years.
Dad and I had heated arguments when I was a rebellious
teen, debates that sometimes turned angry and harsh.. I
was one up on Twain, though: at 14, he thought his father
was ignorant. Even when I rebelled most strenuously
against mine, I knew that my father was both intelligent
and genuine. I might not have liked what he said, but I
knew he spoke the truth as he knew it.
“Lying isn’t worth it,”
Dad told me once. “Be big enough to tell the truth.
Cowards lie; you be different. Take your lumps if you
have to, but stand up for what you believe.”
I’ve tried to live by that and have had a fair bit
of grief as a result now and then, but that’s ok. I
am my father’s daughter, after all.
Dad died yesterday, after some years
of pain and decreasing health. He was ready, and I know
he is at peace, but I am saddened by the thought that so
few men alive today are what Dad was all his life: a man
of honour.
Jean
December 28, 2009
For the first time this season, there
is a nice blanket of snow out there, making the world all
sparkly and beautiful. My snow tolerance is rather
short-lived, but at this time of the year it feels
festive and nostalgic.
I have been grateful for the clear
conditions we've experienced so far this season -
especially Christmas Eve. I have been doing services at a
little church about an hour west of here every once in a
while, and was invited to lead the Christmas Eve service.
It started at 7:30 and this time of year, weather can be
a factor in a drive that long.
The roads were great, the night was
clear and I was feeling very happy as I joined the
community for the service. On the way back, I took a very
pretty route through some smaller towns to see the lights
and enjoy the evening. Then, I took a bit of a shortcut
over by the Welland Canal, feeling very good about life
and looking forward to the party awaiting with Jean and
the kids.
Then, as I was driving down the
parkway that runs beside the canal, the car pulled to the
left and a horrendous noise began. It was a blown tire. I
began to worry. This was a desolate road. Canal to the
right. Industrial buildings to the left. The nearest
"peopled" area was about a ten minute drive away.
I called Jean on the cell and told her
what was happening. I didn't have much time or battery
power left on the cell and so, I kept going until
I reached the bottom of the parkway and turned into
a wide parking area near one of the bridges of the
canal.
I got out of the car. It looked as
though I had no tire at all. It wasn't the safest place
to be parked, but it was well lit and too cold for anyone
to be lurking. I called the roadside assistance people
and was told that I would have to wait at least 45
minutes. So, I got back in the car and called home once
more giving an update. I was a little disappointed.
Christmas Eve. A long wait ahead. No extra money to get a
new pair of tires in the budget.
It wasn't 15 minutes when I saw the
tow truck coming down the street. A cheery, burly fellow
jumped out and set about changing the tire, filling the
rusted never-used spare with air and making sure all was
well. I was so grateful that he came immediately upon
getting the call. I was on my way before I knew it
and home in my nice warm house a half hour
later.
It could have been so much worse.
I know that there were more desolate places that
would have been much more scary. Had I taken the highway,
it would have been much busier and perhaps much harder to
pull over to a good place on the road.
So, I am grateful for angels who
watch over us day and night. And I am grateful for the
many blessings that fill my life.
How about you? What are you grateful
for today? What has been a highlight of this year for
you? What do you desire to come to you in the New Year?
Put it out there. State your wishes.
Write them down and give them life. Then watch as the
angels and the Universe work to bring them to
you.
Peace,
Deb
December 17, 2009
Hope you're enjoying the recipes and
getting some ideas for your own holiday cookie
table!
If a big batch recipe is good, one
that allows for variation is even better. Usually, such
recipes start with a master cookie mix to which add-ins
allow for variation.. You can google lots of these
recipes. Other recipes are divided and each portion is
finished with different flavourings and extras.. Here's
one that's fast and good:
Buttery Bites: Chocolate and Cherry
variations
2 1/2 cups sifted flour
1 1/2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
1 cup butter
1 1/2 cups sugar
1 egg
2 tsp vanilla
1/2 cup chopped candied cherries
1/2 cup chopped pecans
1 square (1 oz) unsweetened chocolate, melted
1. Sift or whisk together flour,
baking powder and salt. Set aside.
2. Cream butter; add sugar a small amount at a time and
cream well after each addition.
3. Add egg and vanilla; beat until fluffy.
4. Blend in dry ingredients in several additions.
5. Divide dough into two equal portions: To one half of
dough mix in cherries. To the second half add pecans and
chocolate.
6. Chill dough until each portion can be shaped into 2
rolls, 12 inches long.
7. Wrap in waxed paper. Chill until firm.
8. Cut int0 1/4 inch slices.
Bake on ungreased cookie sheet at 375,
10 minutes or until lightly browned.
Makes 8 dozen.
Tip: lightly toast pecan halves or
pieces by spreading them onto a lightly sprayed cookie
sheet and baking at 300 for 3-5 minutes. As soon as they
smell tempting, take them out as they can scorch.
Don't stop with plain chocolate and
cherry cookies, though. Mix up a second batch and
experiment! Mix up a second batch and add mint to the
chocolate portion; maybe use a cup of walnuts in place of
the cherries and nuts and add cinnamon or other spices -
whatever takes your fancy.
Another way to vary cookies is with
extracts. We love snickerdoodles - those spicy sugar
cookies that melt in your mouth. It's a quick recipe, and
I generally make a batch of the usual cinnamon flavour. I
make a second batch as well, though, splitting the dough
and flavouring each half with different extracts and
add-ins. Cherry extract with cherry pieces works well, as
do citrus extracts with zest, but don't stop there - make
your own variation and start a cookie tradition in your
family! Here's my Snickerdoodle recipe.
Snickerdoodles
2 3/4 cups all purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 cup unsalted butter, room temperature
1 1/2 cups granulated white sugar
2 large eggs
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
Coating:
1/3 cup granulated white sugar
2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1. In a large bowl whisk together the
flour, salt, and baking powder.
2. In the bowl of your electric mixer (or with a hand
mixer), beat the butter and sugar until smooth (about 2
to 3 minutes).
3. Add the eggs, one at a time, beating well after each
addition. Scrape down the sides of the bowl. Beat in the
vanilla extract.
4.Add the flour mixture and beat until you have a smooth
dough. If the dough is soft, cover and refrigerate until
firm enough to roll into balls.
Dough can be made a day or two ahead
of baking.
When ready to bake:
Mix cinnamon/sugar coating in shallow dish.
Shape the dough into 1 inch balls and roll in the coating
mixture.
Place cookies about 2 inches apart on cookie sheet and
flatten gently to about 1/2 inch or so.
Bake about 8 - 10 minutes, or till pale golden brown
around the edges.
Remove from oven and place on a wire
rack to cool.
Store in an airtight container, at room temperature, up
to 14 days.
Makes about 6 dozen cookies.
If you have recipes you'd like to
share, email us! We'd love to try 'em out!
December 16, 2009
Cookies - what is Christmas without
them? I love to bake dozens and dozens of cookies so that
I can make small - or large! - goody trays for friends
and loved ones when they come to call. When friends ask
how I manage it, I smile and say I enjoy baking. I do,
but I have a secret weapon: recipes that make big batches
of cookies! Here are a few of my favourites.
Mexican Wedding Cookies aka Almond
Crescent Cookies
1/2 lb (2 sticks) butter
2/3 cup confectioners' sugar, sifted or whisked, with
more for rolling
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 teaspoon almond extract
1 cup almonds, coarsely chopped
2 1/3 cup all-purpose flour, sifted or whisked
Oven: 350*F Ungreased cookie sheet or
use paper lining
1. Cream butter and 2/3 cup sugar
until fluffy. Add extracts, then almonds.
2. Stir in flour and mix well.
3. Divide dough in half and roll each half into a log 1
inch in diameter. Cut each log into small pieces, and
roll each piece into a small log, about 2 inches or so.
Place 1 to 2 inches apart on baking sheets, forming into
crescents.
4. Bake for 15 to 20 minutes, or until lightly golden.
Cool briefly, then roll in additional sugar and place on
rack to continue cooling. When completely cool, re-roll
in sugar.
Makes 5 dozen crescents. Store in
airtight container.
Sweet Dreams
1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter
1 1/2 cups firmly packed light brown sugar
1 egg, room temperature
1 teaspoon vanilla
2 1/2 cups unbleached all purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon ground ginger
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 12 ounce package semisweet chocolate chips
1 cup chopped walnuts
1 cup powdered sugar
1. Cream butter. Beat in brown sugar,
egg and vanilla.
2. Combine flour, baking soda, cinnamon, ginger and salt.
Blend into butter mixture.
3. Fold in chocolate chips and walnuts. Refrigerate until
firm. (Can be prepared 1 day ahead.)
When ready to bake:
Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Lightly
grease baking sheets.
1. Break off small pieces of dough; roll between palms
into 1 inch rounds.
2. Roll rounds in powdered sugar and arrange on prepared
sheets, spacing at least 2 inches apart.
3. Bake 10 minutes. Let cool 5 minutes on sheets.
Transfer to racks and cool.
Store in airtight container.
I'll post more recipes before
Christmas, but here are a few ways to make one recipe
look like several:
1. Dip some in melted chocolate.
2. Dip others in melted candy bits - mint, white
chocolate, etc.
3. Roll some in nuts, some in coconut, some in sprinkles,
etc.
Enjoy!
December 9,2009
As promised in the newsletter, here
is a baked rum cookie recipe. Thank goodness for no-bake
cookies this holiday, as the oven has given up the ghost
and needs repair before we can bake once more. Hope you
enjoy this recipe!
Baked Rum Cookies
1 cup butter
1/2 cup confectioners sugar (aka icing sugar or powdered
sugar)
2-1/4 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon rum extract*
1 teaspoon vanilla
1/2 teaspoon salt
3/4 cup finely chopped walnuts
*baking removes the alcohol, so extract is used in this
recipe
1. Cream the butter, add the
powdered sugar in gradually and cream
well.
2. Sift the flour and salt and work
into the butter mixture. Work in the vanilla, rum extract
and walnuts. Chill 30 minutes or so.
3. Pre-heat oven
325*F.
4. Roll dough into balls, about 1
inch.
5. Place on cookie sheet, sprayed
lightly with cooking spray, about 2 inches
apart.
6. Bake 12-15 minutes or till
done.
7. Cool briefly, then roll in
confectioner's sugar.
8. Let cool completely, then roll
once more in sugar.
Store in air-tight container. Roll
again in sugar before serving.
Best made several days to a week in
advance.
Jean
December 5, 2009
Names are important. I don't mean
whether it's Jean or Allison, but your name as an
extension of yourself and your reputation. When we put
our name onto a list or a petition or an endorsement, to
me, that is powerful. It means something.
For example, I am a fairly active
mail artist. I create art which I exchange with other
artists in swaps. These are rather like art-raffles, in
which you receive back a surprise card for each you
submit. Sometimes, looking at a card I have received, I
feel some disappointment and wonder that an artist
recognized in the community for a particular standard of
work would willingly put his or her name to the card I
have received. I know that when I look at one of my
cards, if I feel any question as to whether I would be
proud to show it to the group, it gets trashed. I don't
want to put my name on any art that doesn't make me
proud.
It's the same with forwarded
emails. Some folks forward with abandon. I read things
carefully to determine whether I want my name associated
with it. Is it something I would be proud to represent?
And it's the same with
organizations. It's one thing to be a member of an
organization, but when it comes to being an officer of a
group or a member of the staff, I take it very seriously.
And when that group expresses ideals I can support, I
give my own support wholeheartedly.
But what happens when, after having
done so, the organization or group or whatever shows
itself not to follow its own guides? What happens when an
organization you care about shows signs of power misuse
and plays favourites? What happens when the organization
fails to live up to the ideals that enlisted your support
in the first place?
How can one serve as a
representative of any group when its actions are
hypocritical, deceptive, or unfair in practice? Does one
close the eyes tightly and carry on? How long should one
tilt at windmills before throwing down the lance and
leaving the field?
Not easy questions.
Jean
November 26,
2009
Goodness, where did
November go?? It's Thanksgiving already, and I'm a bit
surprised it's already here, but it's only a bit after 6
p.m., it's dark as can be outside, CHFI radio has begun
24-hour Christmas music, the Christmas tree is twinkling
away in the corner, decked out in angels, and life is
good.
So often, the
happiness of the moment gets lost in the busy-ness of
to-do lists and people wanting us to do something, see
something, hear something or whatever. It's lovely when
the awareness bursts in upon us that... Ahhhhh, life is
good!.... and we can take a moment to
bask.
And of course, the
message is that no matter what is going on - financial
woes, health concerns, relationship issues - there's more
good than bad around us, always so much to be thankful
for...every moment, if we only realize it, is a reminder
that Ahhhh, life is good.
Here's hoping that
you're finding that the blessings in your life are so far
too many to count. And on this quiet Thanksgiving
evening, the Angel Ladies are very grateful for you, our
readers and supporters through the years. Without you,
there would be no Angel Ladies!
I guess this is
what I get for spending the day making angels, eh? ;)
Lucky me!
October 25, 2009
It's hard-core Autumn in Niagara -
the weather is crisp and cool, and the trees are
stunningly gorgeous. Judging by the trees on the street,
we'll be seeing peak colour shortly.
I never knew autumn colour back
home; we'd get prettily coloured trees - along about
January, lol. The crepe myrtles change colour, but often,
it'd be closer to Christmas when we were in winter mode,
lol.
The best part of autumn, for me, is
not so much the colour, though I love it - it's the
leaves drifting down. When it's windy out, they blow by
and it's exciting! When it's not, they fall like
snowflakes, gently riding the currents of air until they
finally touch down. I can't get enough of it.
If you haven't joined the ning
network, sign up HERE.
We've already had a ning-members-only special (readings
less than half-price!) and we'll have another before
month's end. Don't miss out!
October 10, 2009
We recently heard from
a former client in response to our newsletter (if you
don't subscribe, there's a button on the home page). She
had booked an Intuitive Compass session a couple of years
ago when she was just starting her business.
She wrote glowingly of
her business expansion - which was considerable - and of
her visit last year to Europe, made possible by her
success. She had thought if she could feel more
confident, she'd do better with my practice. 'I had an
image of the development of my business that I had hoped
to reach in perhaps five years but I'm already
there!"
Ok: we know this stuff
works, but I must admit we were a bit surprised by how
quickly it worked for our friend. The next thing we
thought was, "Why aren't we doing this for
ourselves?"
And that's the point
of this blog. We *all* know what works for us, don't
we...but do we actually follow through? Often, we don't,
and it's worth taking a look at why.
So that's the message
the angels had for us today: to be vigilant in doing what
serves us, and if we aren't, to be vigilant in uncovering
whatever it is that allows us to hang onto
no-longer-needed behaviours and experiences, better known
as blocks.
I have a feeling this
is leading up to the blocks material we'll begin covering
on Blogtalkradio (next Sunday, October 18, at 7 p.m.
EST)
October 8, 2009
As mentioned in the newsletter, here is the full recipe
for fruitcake. What? You are not on the list
yet?
Angel
Ladies' free
Newsletter
Cheater’s
Fruitcake
2 eggs
2 cups water
1/4 cup oil
2 pkg. Date or Nut Quick Bread Mix or Spice Cake Mix (Use
a good brand mix)
2 cups pecans (Chop, reserving some halves for topping
the cakes)
2 cups raisins
2 cups (12 to 1 oz.) candied cherries
1 cup cut-up candied pineapple, citron, orange/lemon
peel, etc.
½ cup liquor of choice (bourbon, dark rum, sherry,
amaretto, etc.)
½ cup boiling water
Heat oven to
350º. Grease and flour bottom and sides of 12-cup
Bundt pan or 10-inch tube pan.
Day before
baking day: Put dried/candied fruit into a bowl. Add 1/4
cup of liquor to boiling water and pour over fruit,
stirring well. Cover with plastic wrap and allow to sit
till the baking, stirring every so often. If it sits for
up to 48 hours, you’re good to go; I’d put the
bowl in the fridge after 48 hours.
1. Combine eggs,
water and oil in large bowl. Add cake mix, fruit, and
nuts, stirring till combined.
2. Pour into
greased pan.
3. Bake at 350*
75 minutes till toothpick in center comes out clean.
4. Cool in pan
30 minutes or more, then loosen edges and remove to
finish cooling completely.
5. When
completely cold, wrap in foil, then plastic wrap, then
place in food storage bags and freeze until the holidays
unless you plan to age your cakes.
To age
fruitcake, pour liquor into a bowl, dip cheesecloth
(absorbs less liquor), and wrap cloth around the cake,
then place in an airtight tin (or plastic container or
wrap in plastic wrap and oil). Every few days/week or so,
dampen cloth with more liquor and wrap cake and store as
before.
Aging improves
flavour - to about six months. Beyond that point, the
differences in flavour are relatively minor. If you want
to make cakes now and age till next Christmas,
they’ll be fabulous, but don’t stress out over
reports of cakes aged three years, five years and so on.
Fruitcake
freezes well (wrap carefully. If you want to refrigerate
your cake, dampen, then wrap tightly as refrigeration
tends to dry out cake.
To serve, use a
thin knife, very sharp, and have hot water on hand for
dipping to make clean slices.
I am not a fan
of frosting on fruitcake, so no tips there.
The Ultimate
Fruitcake Cheater’s tip: buy good fruitcake (think,
quality grocery store, not Trappist Monk cakes) now and
begin aging. The cakes will be delicious by Christmas and
you’ll save time and effort baking.
Jean
