Waltzing at any age

Last weekend, at the wedding reception, we danced to Etta James “At Last” arguably one of the sexiest songs ever written. Once many years ago after a whole day of combining wet hot cow manure with our new garden plot, he took me into his arms and waltzed with me on the driveway between the barn and the house. Covered in mud and manure he told me how beautiful I was. He made me feel beautiful!

After midnight, my legs twisted in cramps, he waltzed me around the bedroom walking out, untying the knots in my legs. What a sweet tender dance of age and love, born out of a life long commitment.

In the movies they always look so elegant, so flawless, but it is better in real life; even as we stumble over each others feet employing dance steps not known to any dance instructors. The dance of two klutzy people who found safety, dependability, and everlasting love.

Blessings, Karen

A rusted pan

It's only stuff. I understand this intellectually, as I put a rusty cake pan (that should have gone to the trash) into a box . I know the pan is not my mother. But I see a childhood of hundreds of sheet cakes made, decorated, and consumed. That's the pan you use to make a sheet cake. My mother was not a great baker. She did not bake from scratch. She loved boxed cake mixes and prepared foods. She was so happy to be living in a time when everything did not have to be done with the basic ingredients. My rebellion was to learn to make food from scratch, especially baking. I taught myself how to make pies, cakes and bread. My creations required three round cake pans for a fabulous three layer chocolate cake, bread pans for honey whole wheat bread, and pie plates for cherry or lemon meringue pies. If fact, I seldom made sheet cakes but I haven't been able to turn loose of the pan. Did I mention that it is made of old tin and so it is rusted and if not lined with foil it makes the cake taste like rust.

My wise friend, Dona, said when she cleared out her mother's belongings by having a yard sale, she did fine until she saw people picking over her mother's pots and pans. These items of everyday life captured more meaning than antique jewelry or furs.These everyday items become sacred in their constant use. I gave my youngest daughter a wooden spoon that belonged to my mother. The constancy of something used in everyday cooking makes it sacred. These homily things become sacred by a lifetime of touching, a life time of use.

Our lives are made sacred by our daily living. If we see each activity of our life as prayer, each action becomes a sacred pathway. Cooking and washing dishes are both ways of praying, ways of putting creativity in action (especially when we are mindful of God's presence). My mother's godliness was present in her mixing up a cake and serving it to us children. The pan only resents her loving action. Perhaps, now, I will throw the pan away. My children have already signed up to inherit my bread pans.

Blessings, Karen

Forgiveness

My friend, the Rabbi Margaret Kline, has invited several people to write in 250 words or less about forgiveness. This topic is concurrent with the Hebrew calendar month of Elul which proceeds Rosh Hashanah and Yum Kippur. Elul is seen as a time to search one's heart and draw close to God in preparation for the coming Day of Judgement and Day of Atonement.

Each contributor is offering so much to think about and readers are encouraged to leave comments. Look up this opportunity @ The Energizer Rabbi's Blog under "Holidays." If you try putting the words into Google you will find fewer bunny rabbits if you put it in as "Rabbi Energizer." Blessings, Karen