Friends and Biblical Roots

In a moderately run down area of Brooklyn congregates a large Chasidic Jewish population. Looking at their long beards, black suits and hats, and dangly strings hanging at their waists, one would assume that they are an introverted clammed up sect. However, the opposite is the case. Their leader, Rabbi Menachem M. Schneerson, has directed his people on final preparations for the Messiah. To do this, they wish to let the world see them, understand them, and to teach us, Jew and non Jew alike, what we must do to have a world ready for a Messiah. For this purpose, they invite strangers in to see their way of life.

Briz and I had such an opportunity on his birthday. We waited for Rabbi Beryl Bernstein in a library filled with books written in Hebrew and Yiddish. I was particularly taken with an ancient collection called THE KOSHER HOUSEWIFE. I was fascinated by the various recipes, and numerous rules to help a household remain kosher.

There we sat discussing chassidic philoshophy - one swaying Chassidic Rabbi from Tennessee, 2 southern baptists, 1 modern Orthodox Jew and 2 Mormons. He took us to the synagogue. We watched from above in the women's section as the men took out their phlacteries, and bound one box on their heads and another around their arm. The married ones, covered their heads with the white prayer shawl. Some had strollers with young children who toddled around getting into mischief as they worshiped. They began reading to prepare their minds to talk with God. Then they met in groups around the room. As the spirit took them, they rocked to and fro, and the praying took on a sing song quality. I was mesmerized... moved... longed to know more.

The Rabbi spoke to us with much wisdom. He told us that the reason they do many things that seem silly is to increase their relationship with God. He compared it to a husband/wife relationship. The man works hard to pay the rent, but that does not build the wife's love. The flowers and the things a man does that make no sense to HIM make her love him more. Therefore it is in the nonsensical that we build our love for God, not in just doing what makes sense to us.
We toured the Mikvah, a place he said many Jews had never seen because only the women go there to ritually clean each month before resuming relations with their husbands for the two weeks allowed to them. The twelve days when the man and wife are not permitted to sleep in the same bed, pass each other food, talk with each other or even touch fingertips seemed really harsh, yet after the Rabbi explained how what they were doing was to create love, bonding, and commitment, I understood and more... I deeply respected them for going to such lengths to follow the commandments.

We were allowed access into the Rebbi's library where their priceless treasures are kept- 770, the world wide center for their sect of Judism.

We watched scribes use a feather quill to painstakingly print the Mezuzah on the hide of a Kosher animal following the hundreds of rules that govern this practice.

We visited the small room where 3 men worked by hand to shape cow hide into phlacteries and fold the Torrah passages and place them in the correct compartments.

In short, this was the highlight of my New York trip. It was so comforting in a world full of depravations and self gratification to witness a community deeply dedicated to God, spirituality, morality, marriage and community. The rabbi could tell I was hungry for more, so he gave me websites where I can peruse Jewish scholars and daily discourses from the Torah. Yeah!!! I am so excited. The websites are a treasure trove of fun for me.

Huddled Masses

We were herded onto the ferry. Hundreds of smelly people jostled, pushed and fought for a seat, then for a view. Completely exhausted from our red eye flight, I had little patience for the crowd around me and wondered how the experience could be worth it. Upon reaching THE statue, the lines were hours long to go through security just to get in the base. As I stood awaiting my turn I marveled at my companions. In front of me was an Iranian family wearing head scarves. Behind was an Indian family with flowing scarves and red forehead dots. I made it a game to find an English speaking group somewhere in line. I finally found a Jr. High group. Germans, French, Armenian, Brazilian... endless nationalities crowded in anticipation to see the statue. Where were my fellow Americans? Recalling the crowd of the boat then watching the grateful eyes in the multi national and lingual lines, I could picture easily the boats filled with immigrants who waited patiently for days outside Ellis island hoping for asylum. By the time I reached the inner statue, my heart was full. The immigrants had faces for me. When I read the plaque on Lady Liberty, I wept.

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she
With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me.
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

Emma LazarusMy generosity toward the huddled masses on the ferry ride back was markedly different. I thought of another who did not say, "Send me your rich, your famous, your talented." But,"bring me your children, your lame, your poor... the least of these and they will find rest." I knew better how to behave.

Hot Dog Hunger

I'm dreaming of a New York hot dog.
Just like the one I ate at Battery Park,
With the onions grilled and sweet,
The Kraut such a treat,
And all beef crispy meat aglow......

Yes. This sappiness comes from a vendor hot dog that still has me waxing poetic. I made a special trip to the store tonight for Nathan's All Beef Kosher Dogs, Sauerkraut, and sweet onions to grill. It was good, but I've got to crack the secret... Who would have thought that a wiener would capture my imagination. If anyone knows the secret could you please please share?

Start spreadin the news,
I'm leavin today.
I want to be a part of it, New York, New York.
If I can make it there I'll make it anywhere,
It's up to you, New York, New York!!!!

Peeper

The castle solarium has gained a new resident. His/her name is Peeper. Ladybug went for a walk to watch the baby ducklings swim with their mothers. She didn't come back and she didn't come back. Briz went one way, then another way. Then I heard sobs as the door burst open and my bug dashed into my arms, obviously distraught. She threw a small peeping fur ball at me and hysterically asked for help because she didn't know what to do.

The duckling was in the mouth of a cat when Ladybug attacked, forcing the release of the little one. She sat and waited, but the mother did not return. I assured her that we would do all we could for the tiny peep. After experimentation of diced fruits and veggies, one worm that dried up, and mushed bananas, we found that he would eat soggy bread, only by hand.
The little one took to Ladybug immediately and snuggles in her lap and gets agitated when she leaves. To get the duckling to sleep, Ladybug holds her hand down into the box, the duckling snuggles up in her palm and together they sleep.

Peeper is now helping her study for her Spanish exam tomorrow.

Mother's Day

Today as on each Mother's Day the past 11 years, I get overwhelmed. From the moment I wake up till my head hits the pillow, my heart fills with gratitude for the blessings and joys of Motherhood.

• Serenades with sly smiles
  
• Sharing a hymnal with a padded hand, trying to follow along as best they can
• Calling Master Tigress, Banana Monkey, and Master Liah in from saving the world to get ready for church
• Combing, braiding, and stroking soft clean hair
• Cards with praise for "fixing my bottom", "laughing at me when I'm silly", and "pretending I'm your pet".
• Artwork depicting me in a helicopter beanie

I appreciate my husband's efforts in helping my children learn gratitude and service. I appreciate his efforts to make my favorite breakfast, and ensure that I have a tidy house to enjoy it in. I appreciate my family allowing the cat on the table for me to pet while I eat. I REALLY appreciate sleeping in till 10:30. But none of this is necessary.

Mother's Day has never been about me. It is about my little women and my husband...the ones who allow me this tremendous gift. It is about a spouse who works hard so I can enjoy this fleeting opportunity. It is about children who allow me to make well intentioned mistakes on them but idolize me anyway. It is about a Heavenly Father who knows best who and what will give me the deep sanding that my proud and wild soul needs. It is learning patience, service, kindness, and unconditional love. It is sharing a life with others - encouraging and learning from each other. It is creating my own little AA life group. Its about becoming.

Though I enjoy my role as a mother most days, I love this day... to revel in it, to thank the Lord that I have this opportunity, to lavish all the love I possess onto my stewardships. Happy Mother's Day All you wonderful moms!

Dance Like No one's Watching

Saturday we were treated to a magnificent feast of the soul and eyes. On the stage where some of the greats have performed, the renowned Virginia Tanner creative dance students held their recital.

Class by class, they moved, swirled and pulsed to the music... as a group, yet individually moved by the music, they moved in their own way as well. Each number was a trip to a feeling- an expression, mainly a feeling of freedom and joy.

As one group took the stage, the audience took a minute to identify what was different...it was a special needs group. Each dancer had a partner that helped them to feel and move to the music. The girl in the wheelchair was spun, and twirled and posed while she smiled to herself... lost in the music. Another dancer was completely immobile and crumpled. He was slung on another's body as she moved and swung him. I could not see his face, but I could feel his joy in the music as another moved his body. One young man in a lilac dance suit, skipped, twirled, and spun, and skipped some more... showing us with every movement his joy, his beauty. I turned my head and in the dark saw Briz wipe a tear from his eye.


We knew ladybug was dancing in silver but nothing else. A silver group started dancing, but we agreed that the graceful dancers were much too poised and old looking to be our Ladybug's group. The number was half over before we realized that the dainty dancer that leaped through the hula hoops was none other than our Ladybug. How? When? What happened to our Ladybug? Who was that assured YOUNG LADY? Tears fell as I had underestimated my little one again. I met her at the flag my eyes bright with unshed tears, her eyes were alight, her head held high... "Momma? Did you cry?"


"Yes little one. There is nothing I love so much as to see you happy. You were so beautiful."

"I didn't make any mistakes. I just thought about the music and not the audience and enjoyed myself."

Hearing the music....not thinking about what others thought. That is what I took away from tonight... The elderly gentleman who danced entranced through the adult women class, the boy with Downs Syndrome, and my challenged little Ladybug. They all danced like no one was watching and my soul is the better for it.

Special Delievery

The doorbell rang this afternoon. My littlest cocked her head and sang, "Special Delivery!" as she pedaled over to me. I looked in her bucket and found the mail.

It made me smile and giggle ... then made me think. I loved the spontaneous act of kindness offered from this small person. I didn't ask her to get the mail. But the touch that made my day was the use of my food storage bucket and the cheery "Special Delivery" greeting. I realized that I wait to perform grand acts of service, something that will really make a difference-

What if I pedaled my little self over to my neighbors with their mail and a little cookie... smiled and said, "Special Delivery for a special person!" Bet they'd smile just like I did. Bet they'd even giggle. I'll try something like that tomorrow or tonight and report.

I personally am so inspired by children.

5 Beautiful Sights

Five beautiful sights today:

1. A puffy chicken guarding this little chick under her wing while the bustle of the chicken coop scurried around her. Melanie looked at it and said, "As a hen gathers her chicks." The picture's cuter now isn't it!

2. Little people trying to become big.


3. Just plain silliness

4. A environment prepared by a dear friend to say, "I love you" and "I see you."


5. An environment prepared by a dear father for my enjoyment to say, "I love you" and "I see you."

Spiderman Blues

What a day! Usually when I don't post, it is because I my brain is full of frustrated ornery thoughts that I don't want to throw on others. Today was one such day. First, it was a trying day teaching a particularly wiggly music class. One little four year old kept leaping off the sofas onto the other children. "Spiderman. I want to act out Spiderman!"

"I know Spiderman is cool honey, but wait till you hear about Mozart! He wrote the Don Giovanni Opera."

"Hi-Ah!"... he landed in the middle of the cluster of children and sent them flying then engaged one in battle."

"Ah, but Don Giovanni was a wicked criminal. Did you know he killed someone? Oh, wait till you hear about the ghost!" I had him now. The attention lasted till it was time to learn about crescendos.

Later... leaping and karate kicking with his ribbon streamer, "Gotcha! I'm Spiderman!" Little girls cry as their streamers get yanked and their shins get kicked. Sunshine pouts and runs upstairs because she doesn't get the pink streamer. Little Mother has friends over and decides we are too boring and goes in and out, causing the class to chase to the door and ask to go out to join the fascinating world of the big kids. Some little children run into the road with their streamers, others try to get the dogs to chase them and eat their streamers.

"We are moving our streamers in legato, not staccato. Smoothly class. Show me legato!"

After such brain drain, I forgot a dress rehearsal for one of my daughters. As I rushed into Kingsbury Hall one hour late with my daughters, one half dressed, and all looking like orphans, the director chastised me for my general ineptness. Meanwhile one of my children pulled the door stops from all the doors leading to another chastening from another venerable artisan. I drove home in rush hour traffic to no dinner... literally growling as I slammed on and off the brakes. I walked straight in the house, upstairs to my deck and breathed in and out and tried to meditate.

Happily, my sweetheart read the signs of an impending volcano and offered to make dinner, which is a rare occasion at the castle. As I vented my frustrations on the weeds, my sister-in-law, Becky arrived, full of help and happiness. Becky is funny, animated, caring and totally sweet. The best thing about her is the way she makes me feel. When she leaves, I feel like a really neat and interesting person. I once heard that a truly beautiful woman is not the one that you notice when she walks in the room, it is the one who notices you. I buy it. One hundred percent. Becky couldn't have looked more beautiful.

Between my husband and Becky, I prepare for bed a happy woman. To celebrate my happiness, I want to share my favorite desert for this time of year, Sticky Rice with Mangos from my favorite Thai restaurant. I wait for the Champagne Mangos to come to Costco, then I feast on sticky rice until I am sick. So here is to helping others through their ornery days. May we all do it with sticky rice.

Sticky Rice with Mangos

• 1 1/2 cups uncooked short-grain white rice
• 2 cups water
• 1 1/2 cups coconut milk
• 3/4 cup white sugar
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1/2 cup coconut milk
• 1 tablespoon white sugar
• 1/4 teaspoon salt
• 3 mangos, peeled and sliced

DIRECTIONS

1. Combine the rice and water in a saucepan; bring to a boil; cover and reduce heat to low. Simmer until water is absorbed, 15 to 20 minutes.
2. While the rice cooks, mix together 1 1/2 cups coconut milk, 3/4 cup sugar, and 1/2 teaspoon salt in a saucepan over medium heat; bring to a boil; remove from heat and set aside. Stir the cooked rice into the coconut milk mixture; cover. Allow to cool for 1 hour.
3. Make a sauce by mixing together 1/2 cup coconut milk, 1 tablespoon sugar and 1/4 teaspoon salt. Cook till thickened
   
4. Place the sticky rice on a serving dish. Arrange the mangos on top of the rice. Pour the sauce over the mangos and rice.

PJ Day

The other day Sunshine wanted to spend the day in her pajamas. She went to dance, to the store, to a friend's house, and to church to decorate for a wedding ... all in her pajamas. Yes they were decent. But does a proper mom allow such things?

I don't know about a proper mom because I've never met one. She was adamant, and frankly, I did not feel like arguing over flannel with a four year old. At dinner Briz questioned me, "You LET her spend the day in her pajamas?"

"Yep. I've got bigger fish to fry."

On to less disturbing thoughts, we had a lovely dinner celebration for Cinco De Mayo tonight. I'll post it ASAP. I love involving my friends. It really makes it a celebration.

A True Princess

Every little girl knows the truth about their identity. They know they are a princess. They look in the mirror, enamored by who they see. An elegant hairstyle is all they need to walk through the halls of church, head held high, secure in their own elegance. And oh, the thrill of a twirly dress! There is nothing so wonderful, so bedazzling as to feel your clothing swirl around you. Real princesses twirl.

Somewhere along the way, little girls forget the truth. The mirror stops reflecting the truth because they stop looking in the right mirror. The mirrors at school, work, and sometimes even home reflect too skinny, too fat, too curly, too straight... and the little girls forget the joy of twirling, french twists and their own greatness.

At the castle, we believe in princesses. We try to do everything we can to battle the evil mirror that tries to trick our princesses into believing that they are scullery maids. To that end we remind them that "It is love that marks the true daughter of the king." (The True Princess, by Angela Hunt) It also helps to have a father that sees your beauty, that brings you treasures from his travels and best of all, reads to you.

Why? He is the first man in his daughter's life, the first authority figure in her life, and his character is invisibly overlaid onto his daughter's image of the King and how he feels about his beautiful daughters.

One day, if Briz and I have done a good job, our little women will choose another man to take his place. This knight will see their innate royalty and will cherish them and fight for them as we have done.

No one acts inconsistently with who they see themselves to be. For this purpose, I must keep the mirrors clean, and the twirly skirts ready for ALL the girls in this house.