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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