The Warmth of Your Smile

It’s a quiet early September morning. Very early. In just a few moments it will not be quiet at all. A flurry of activity will begin to encircle me and I will be needed in all sorts of ways. Right now, I focus on the wisdom of the saints and try to gather my thoughts and offer my prayers; this is a habit that has blessed me abundantly, a habit I know is the very sustenance of my soul.

St. Jane de Chantal, who writes so directly to the heart of mothers, of women, reminds me without reservation or exception: “First, upon awakening in the morning, turn your thoughts to God present everywhere; place your heart and your entire being in His hands. Then think briefly of the good you will be able to accomplish that day and the evil you can avoid, especially by controlling your predominant fault. Resolve, by the grace of God, to do good and avoid evil. Then, kneel down, adore God from the bottom of your heart and thank Him for all the benefits and graces he has given you.”

What is the good that I can accomplish today? Surely there is the omnipresent to-do list. And the crazy, ridiculous, drive-children-everywhere schedule. Those are good things I can do. They benefit my family and contribute to the well-being of the people I love. I am an efficient listmaker. I’m quite sure I’ve earned an honorary degree in iCal. I’ve got driving to soccer down to such a science that I can be certain dinner is cooking while I’m driving. Check. Check. Check. All good.

But blessed Mother Teresa warns those of us who are queens of efficiency: There is always the danger that we may just do the work for the sake of the work. This is where the respect and the love and the devotion come in — that we do it to God, to Christ, and that's why we try to do it as beautifully as possible.

Work for the sake of work? I do have days where I barrel through. I go from one item to another, forgetting that the list serves the people and not the other way around. I fall victim to “just a minute” and small faces crumple as I achieve. They don’t want “just a minute”; they don’t want a tower of efficiency. They want a warm lap. They want me to look them in the eyes when they recount the latest teenage drama. They want my undivided attention. They want me. And, truthfully, it is my job to bring warmth and beauty into their lives just as much — or more — as it is my job to be chauffeur and cook.

Therein lies the challenge of my September morning. Dear God, please show me all the good I can do and show me how to do it as beautifully as possible. The answer rings forth readily — a very simple thing really. All He wants from me today is the gift of my smile. Nothing is more beautiful to a child than his mother’s smile. With every task, at every chore, He wants me to smile. And every time I address a child’s needs or answer the call of my husband, I am called do it with a warm and genuine smile. Upon smiling, I will feel my shoulders relax and my countenance soften. I will generate unique beauty. Good things will follow.

The warmth of a September smile: It sets the tone for a busy, productive, beautiful new season.

--reviving this one from the archives at the Catholic Herald today (they've reformatted the site there:-) as we work at home. It's Boot Camp week before our autumn rhythm moves into full swing. I'm posting this as a genuine reminder to myself.  We're working hard to prepare the environment for our studies and to establish excellent habits so that each member of this family can serve the others well in the coming term. 

Kitchen Reprise

Once I told someone that if this homeschooling mom gig didn't work out, I'd love to have a cooking show. I like to cook. I like the art and the science of making food taste good and look beautiful. I like messing with presentation. I like to put plates in front of my family that make them slow down and savor the moment. Maybe it's genetic. I come from a long line of Italian cooks who respect the beautiful  .

She scoffed. Scoffed! She actually said that food was just something to make, eat, and clear out of the way. She said she couldn't be bothered with thinking too much about it. She had a family to feed and it was sinful somehow to give food more than its utilitarian thought.

I gulped. Didn't talk to her about food again.

Last year, I relinquished my inner foodie. First, I acknowledged that it didn't play well with all-day-long morning sickness. Then, it didn't hold up to the admonition not to be on my feet more than necessary. Then, it died altogether when I was banished from the kitchen and sent upstairs for 6 weeks of bedrest. After the baby was born, I couldn't really multi-task the premature baby nurturing and tasks that required--well--my hands.

We didn't starve. Remember, the foodie thing is genetic. Almost all of my children appear to have inherited the gene. The jury is still out on the one who puts hot sauce on everything. They COOK, these kids. And they care about presentation. The eight-year-old is particularly fond of finding just the right garnish. 

Now, though, I'm back in the kitchen. I choose menus that are a bit more involved than I probably should. I stand at the counter and do quite a bit of peeling and chopping. I am certain to make a mess as I go. I can almost hear my utilitarian commenter clicking her tongue and telling me that there is no place for creativity in the kitchen, that it's a waste of time and energy. No matter. I find loving, thoughtful creativity has much the same effect in the kitchen as it does in the schoolroom. joy in the beautiful process is contagious and it draws us all in.

I'm not in the kitchen alone. Ever. The creative process and the creative product draw my children to me. They want to help. They see the joy that cooking brings and the want to be a part of it. And there we are, busy creating, when something else happens. They start to talk. Big ones. Little ones. They instinctively know that that recipe with all those steps will hold me here in this sunny yellow room. I will not leave. I will not turn away. I will listen. And they can be assured that I will hear the subtle seasoning in their stories. I will be attuned to the questions they hope to be asked. I will the mom in the apron who knows that it's not about the white sauce at all. It's about the inevitable conversation that happens around good food. It happens at the table, of course. We eat as a family and never are at a loss for words. But the intimate conversation, the sharing of hearts, happens over nearly-bubbling milk, whisk in hand.

I take the time to consider food. To consider cost. To consider skills. To consider time. To consider cleanup. And I decide again and again to choose the thoughtful, creative approach. Because, really, there are so many ways our children need to be nourished. Food is just the beginning.

~from the archives because I'm thinking these thoughts again today.

My Latest Obsession

When my sister and I were little, we played this game called "house." But it wasn't your typical "house." We would pretend that we were grownups with husbands and babies. Still sounds typical. We'd gather dolls and doll accoutrements. Still typical. And then, we would sit for hours with the Ethan Allen catalog and "pick out our houses." We kept lists. The whole idea was that when we played house, we were supposed to pretend that we were the kitchen on page 94 or the green and white sunroom on page 112. Hours, I tell you. We spent hours clipping pictures and making lists.

So, a few nights ago I had a text conversation with my sister, who is now a pretty amazing interior decorator with a gigantic fancy house and a sunroom that looks exactly like the one remember in the catalog.

Krysti: Hey. <<snip--chatter ya'll woudln't really understand>>

Me: <<snip. Chatter back>> I was just about to call you anyway. In need of massive redecorating here. Will you help me?

Krysti:  Tell me when. Give me a budget and a color scheme. <huge joke there--"budget" has a different meaning for each of us;-)>

Me: Whenever you can come. Are you still living at the beach?

Krysti: Let me know what types of rooms and color so I can start to pull stuff.

Me: The whole house needs repainting and reupholstering and drapes and probably furniture.

Krysti: What colors do you like?

Me: Handmade by Benjamin Moore. After that, it's all about the bluebells and maybe some red. And there's my pottery.

Krysti: So navy grey with cranberry or tan?

Huh? Who said that? Where's the Ethan Allen catalog? I need a point of reference.

Me:  You have to come see. 

Krysti: Do you have an idea notebook?

Me: Oh. My. Goodness. I do. I'll send you a link.

And so I introduced my sister to the 2011 version of our favorite "picking our houses" childhood game:

 Pinterest

I went to the Fat Quarter Shop and started pinning colors. And now I'm obsessed. With color and with the Fat Quarter Shop. And I don't even quilt. Yet. But I have a quilt design wall on Pinterest. Because I will. Oh yes, I will. I know I will because I had this sense that my sister and I were about a mile off on understanding exactly what I was shooting for. So I googled decorating style definitions and found the one that best suited me. Or the me I want to be:

Country Cottage:

This style is relaxed and casual.  Think cozy farmhouse with warm woods, rustic furniture and antiques  {that's the nicest way to say my house is full of my extended family's very nice hand-me-downs}.  Use colors of red, green, blue and yellow with floral, striped and checked fabrics.  Accessories include quilts, stoneware pottery, twig baskets, embroidered linens and books.

Well, I've got the books, the baskets, and plenty of stoneware. I'm embroidering. Obviously, I must learn  to quilt. And to assemble a lovely collection of floral, striped and checked fabrics. While I'm finding links for Krysti, I might as well plan Christmas projects.

How's this collection for this snuggly throw?

The Fat Quarter Shop is an online quilt shop that specializes in yardage, fat quarter bundles, charm packs, jelly rolls, quilt kits and patterns. And they cater to those of us --ahem--impulsive types who want to start yesterday. They ship every order the same day to customers all over the world!

The Fat Quarter Shop was founded in 2003 by Kimberly Jolly. An avid quilter, Kimberly began her shop as a side business while still working a corporate position. She was cutting, packing and shipping right out of her house during evenings and nights. From the very beginning, she committed to delivering top-notch service for every single order and customer. As the Fat Quarter Shop’s reputation grew, Kimberly decided to make it a full-time operation. Her husband Kevin joined her not long after, and with his help, lots of hard work, and a tireless commitment, the store began to grow.

Personally, once I get to the site, I sort of get sucked in. Who knew there were so many color and print possiblities? So many ways to make so many pretty things? It's an eye candy feast. 

 (this color scheme for the kitchen and family room? too cutesy?-- )

A great way to keep up-to-date with Fat Quarter's latest sales, specials and giveaways (and so to build a stash) is by following their blog, the Jolly Jabber  or by joining them on Twitter or Facebook.

They have a user-friendly website that makes it easy to find any collection, designer, manufacturer or theme. And they are super-friendly and super-enthusiastic in the customer service department. If you ever have a question about a fabric, quilt kit or need help just figuring it all out, they are there with expert, friendly accessible help.

(the studio? -- Proper Promenade)

(the kitchen and sunroom and maybe family room?--Gleam Flower Sugar)

So I pin. And pin. And pin. And pin. And my project list grows and grows and grows. I'm secretly hoping for a blizzard that snows us in all winter. Then, I can justify my stash and have plenty of time to create.

(wouldn't this fabric collection make the cutest baby quilt ever? there's a kit for that you know.)

I'm so going to learn to quilt.

And Then There was Quilt Camp

While Nicky was a golf camp, Katie was at quilt camp. They spent a week in Charlottesville together with my dad and stepmom.  I think I might have been as excited about this opportunity as Katie was. I left a note for Katie to read the first morning of quilt camp

P.S.  Katie, when you get to camp on the very first day, you'll find a sewing machine there for you. To keep. And bring home.

Really! That might be the second hardest secret I've ever kept. The first one was this one.

Grandpa said to tell you it's Christmas in July;-)

Sarah missed Katie terribly the whole time she was gone. On that first night home, the very special quilt found its intended owner. And Katie, who chose the fabric and stitched every stitch with Sarah in mind, snuggled right in next to her for a well deserved good night's sleep.

 

Intentional Weekend: Farmer's Market

Steamy Saturday morning,

 children carried along on the promise of apple cinnamon bread for breakfast when we return home, 

gathering supper from the hands that grew it.

3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

1/2 onion, minced

2 large garlic cloves, minced

2 ounces pancetta (or we substitute nitrate-free bacon)

1 pound ripe plum tomatoes, peeled and diced (we substitute two pints sungold tomatoes, halved but not peeled)

1/4 teaspoon hot red pepper flakes

1/4 pound Japanese or Italian eggplant, unpeeled in a neat 1/4 inch dice.

1/2 red bell pepper, seeds and ribs removed, in neat 1/4 inch dice

1/4 pound zucchini, in neat 1/4 inch dice

salt to taste

1 pound dried fusilli

2/3 cup freshly grated romano cheese

Heat olive oil in a 12 inch skillet over moderately low heat. Add onion and arlic and saute until onion is soft, 8-10 minutes. Add pancetta and saute until it renders some of its fat, about 3 minutes, then add tomatoes and hot pepper flakes. Raise heat to moderately high and cook, stirring often, until tomatoes collapse and begin to form a sauce, about 10 minutes. Add eggplant, bell pepper, and zucchini. Season with salt. Saute 3 minutes. Add 1/2 cup water, cover, readuce heat to maintain a bare simmer and cook until vegetables are tender, about 10 minutes. Check occasionally and add more water if needed to achieve a saucelike consistency. Uncover, taste, and adjust seasoning.

Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil over high heat. Add pasta and cook until al dente. Drain. Transfer to a warm bowl. Add sauce and cheese and toss well. Serve immediately.

Makes 4-6 servings. If you have a big enough pot, this recipe doubles or triples well.

From Fresh from the Farmer's Market