Looking back on 2018 and the need for hope

What a year--2018. Looking back, I'd say it was a whirlwind of a year for me personally. My work life took an unexpected turn for the better, and as the old expression goes, 'I never looked back' once I hopped on this new train--a new focus area and one for which I seem to be suited. It could all change in an instant; I am fully aware of that, but that is the beauty of growing older. One has been down those paths before, so one is less surprised if it all goes to hell again. I hope it won't, but the universe might have other plans, so it's just to stay open to new possibilities and opportunities.

I realized too how important traveling is for broadening our horizons, and planning a trip to a new place each summer has become a fun occupation. I want to explore more of Great Britain--more of England, Scotland, and Wales. I'd love to revisit Italy in order to take in Florence and Sienna. I'd like to see Spain and Portugal as well. I have a feeling we'll get there, one country at a time. For that reason (and a few others), I really do look forward to retirement and to taking some longer trips with my husband and my friends.

But one doesn't always need to physically travel to a new place in order to broaden one's horizons; one need only pick up a good book that will take you where you want to go (or sometimes where you never thought about going). I have rediscovered how interesting American history is, thanks to Caroline Fraser and her wonderful book Prairie Fires--The American Dreams of Laura Ingalls Wilder. If there is one book I can recommend from this year's reading, it is this one. I have mentioned it before in a previous post (https://paulamdeangelis.blogspot.com/2018/08/book-recommendation-biography-of-laura.html), but it bears repeating--the USA has been through some pretty dark times, and it has survived them--climate changes, rampant corruption, economic depressions, widespread poverty, political uproars and turmoil, world wars, and so much more. Our country has had great presidents and terrible presidents. It survived them. We will survive. We may need to undergo some forms of renewal (much like the Catholic church needs to do in order to deal with the sexual abuse scandals), but we will survive. There is comfort in knowing that, and that is what learning about our history gives us--new realizations about where we come from, and even insights about where we might be headed.

Despite the current political chaos that reigns in the White House, our country will survive. The founding fathers built many checks and balances into our system of government. It may seem as thought they are failing one by one, but they are not. The majority of politicians still believe in something good; one must hope that they will rise to the challenge of defending our country's honor and dignity. And if they cannot do it, that we the people must do it for them. Our ancestors left Europe to find a better life in America; perhaps some found that, while others didn't. What they did find was the chance to figure it out for themselves, to think for themselves, to take responsibility for their own lives. They took a risk, and we must take risks too, in order to preserve the freedoms that we have fought to attain. We must not be complacent, self-satisfied, or slothful. We cannot afford to be any of those things. We must find it in our hearts to be grateful and hopeful, because from gratitude and hope spring all that is good, and we must translate our gratitude and hope into positive action.

Light in the darkness

The darkest time of the year--December. Short days, late sunrises, early sunsets. Some beautiful skies at sunrise and sunset. But mostly, there is dark until the snow comes to cloak the veil of night. And then Christmastime comes, with the accompanying Christmas lights and decorations. They are a comforting sight. I try sometimes to imagine a world without the sun, a world plunged into total darkness, day in and day out. It is not a world I would want to live in. I do enjoy taking some night walks, as long as there are city and street lights to keep me company and to light my way. I would not want to live out in the wilderness, say in a forest without light of any kind at night. My imagination would run wild. We are now past the winter solstice, and moving toward longer and lighter days, thankfully.

Here are some recent photos--light in the darkness--heartening every time I see them.

Insights about forgiveness

The difficult situations that we face in our lives challenge our capacity to forgive, especially when we have been hurt by another. I know from personal experience that forgiveness is not something that can be hurried or forced. You cannot simply 'forgive and forget' at the drop of a hat. It's not that easy. Eckhart Tolle seems to have understood that, because he writes so insightfully about forgiveness in his book, A New Earth. I have not read his book, but I run across excerpts from it from time to time, that I think are worth sharing.

It requires honesty to see whether you still harbor grievances, whether there is someone in your life you have not completely forgiven, an "enemy." If you do, become aware of the grievance both on the level of thought as well as emotion, that is to say, be aware of the thoughts that keep it alive, and feel the emotion that is the body's response to those thoughts. Don't try to let go of the grievance. Trying to let go, to forgive, does not work. Forgiveness happens naturally when you see that it has no purpose other than to strengthen a false sense of self, to keep the ego in place. The seeing is freeing. Jesus' teaching to "Forgive your enemies" is essentially about the undoing of one of the main egoic structures in the human mind. The past has no power to stop you from being present now. Only your grievance about the past can do that. And what is a grievance? The baggage of old thought and emotion.

~Eckhart Tolle (A New Earth pg.66)

A peaceful Christmas scene

Comparing religion and the gospel

A friend of mine posted this on Facebook today, and I thought it was worth sharing:

Thoughts to reflect upon--Staying Catholic at Christmas--by Ross Douthat

I found this opinion piece to be well-written; it offers food for thought in this chaotic world, a world that includes a Catholic church that faces and has faced sexual scandals that are appalling. I've written about this before, but this article sums up how many Catholics are feeling about their religion and their church these days. Well-worth reading........

https://www.nytimes.com/2018/12/22/opinion/catholic-christmas-church.html?action=click&module=Opinion&pgtype=Homepage

The man who captured divine light in his paintings

Thomas Kinkade's paintings capture light in a way that no other paintings manage to do, at least the paintings I have seen up to this point in my life. There is absolutely something divine about that light and the feelings it creates in the viewer. The closest I can come to adequately describing his paintings is that they portray a vision of heaven, a vision that I can relate to--coming home, the feeling of belonging somewhere (inclusive), family, love, warmth, spirituality, inspiration, joy, and pastoral settings that are all about peace. They tap into a universal longing in us all--the longing to be a part of an all-encompassing love as felt in that light, and to feel that peace; they are divinely-inspired. Perhaps the artist felt that longing as well; his personal life was certainly not as peaceful as the life portrayed in his paintings. Regardless of how Kinkade lived his life, he had a God-given talent that he used well to produce some beautiful paintings. He did not hide 'his light under a bushel basket'. His critics have accused him of being overly-sentimental, among other things, but I don't agree with them. I don't find his paintings sentimental, I find them to be spiritually-influenced visualizations of how life could be, and perhaps that is what the artist both longed for and wished to impart.

Making struffoli for the holidays

An Italian tradition that my father and mother followed each Christmas when we were children--making struffoli. They made it together, sitting at the dining room table. My mother would roll out the dough, and my father would cut small pieces of the dough and roll them into small balls that my mother would fry in peanut oil. Once they were drained and cooled, she would pile them all together on a big plate and cover them with honey and some candy sprinkles. Struffoli are to die for, and we loved them. We could never really get enough of them. They're sticky, gooey and wonderful.

Here is a photo of struffoli that resembles the struffoli my parents made, and a recipe for struffoli that my parents used. 

(photo from https://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/struffoli-51203810)

This is the struffoli recipe my parents used (from my father's mother who was born in Caserta, Italy, very near Naples):

• Mix 2 cups sifted all-purpose flour and 1/4 tsp salt.
• Add 4 beaten eggs, slowly, and then 1/2 tsp vanilla. Mix to make a soft dough. 
• Turn dough onto a lightly-floured board. Knead, then divide dough in half. Roll each half to form 1/4-inch wide long strips. 
• Cut each strip into pieces 1/4 to 1/2 inch long. Roll into small balls. 
• Fill a 2-quart saucepan up to the halfway mark with peanut oil. Fry as many of the small balls as can float, over medium heat. Fry until brown. 
• Drain the struffoli on absorbent paper. Let cool. 
• Place the contents of a 16-ounce jar of honey in a small saucepan. Add 2 tsp sugar. Boil until clear. 
• Take the cooled struffoli and dip pieces in the clear honey, arrange them on a plate, and cover with candy sprinkles. 

This year's Christmas editions of favorite comic strips

This is one tradition I look forward to every year at Christmastime here in Norway. They have a tradition of publishing Christmas editions (julehefter) of everyone's favorite comic strips, including Donald Duck and other Disney characters, as well as Blondie, Beetle Bailey, and Calvin & Hobbes (called Tommy og Tigern in Norway). Here is a sampling of this year's Christmas editions that I've purchased:

Reminders of past times with loved ones

I bought four more Christmas films so that I can watch them whenever I want during this holiday season:

• Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer (1964) https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0058536/?ref_=nv_sr_1
• Dr. Seuss' How the Grinch Stole Christmas (1966) https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0060345/?ref_=nv_sr_3
• Scrooge (1970) https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0066344/
• The Snowman (1982) https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0084701/?ref_=nv_sr_3

Scrooge will forever remind me of my brother and my mother, who both loved the film. So I know I will be feeling nostalgic for the times I spent with them at Christmas while I am watching this movie. They also loved the film The Snowman. Christmases now and in the future will always be a reminder of loved ones who have passed. While I don't focus on death or sadness, they are both a part of life. There is no real life without them. Experiencing sadness makes the happy times in life happier, because one knows what sadness really is, so that one can appreciate and be thankful for the happy times. 

I've been watching a lot of Hallmark Christmas films on one of the local channels here in Oslo that has been showing a Christmas film each day during December. I haven't been able to watch them all, but the ones I have watched are sweet, often romantic films, that follow a tried-and-true pattern: boy meets girl or girl meets boy, they are attracted to each other but other things get in the way of their being together, there are often trials they have to overcome before they can acknowledge their feelings for one another, and then finally, they can be together. I thought I was past watching such films, but the older I get, the more I enjoy them. They have simple sweet plots, the characters are most often kind people with normal life problems, and they treat each other respectfully. In short, they are really films about normal ordinary people to whom I can relate. Some few of them are memorable; others are forgettable, but quite enjoyable to watch. I'd rather watch them these days instead of filling my mind and soul with disturbing and violent images from crime films and series. The real world is full of both, so I no longer need to see them on film. 

Dua Lipa's Electricity

I wasn't sure what to make of this song when I first heard it. But the more I've listened to it, the more it's grown on me. Dua Lipa is such a good singer, and I enjoy the riffs in this song. Enjoy!

Preparing for Christmas

Christmastime is one of my favorite times of the year. It's the feeling in the air, the sense that something is happening around you, the feelings of hope and anticipation. I never fail to be inspired and moved by the hope and spirit of this season. Advent is the time we have to prepare for Christmas, and as I wrote in one of my previous posts, I have fond memories of preparing for Christmas as children in grammar school. I can remember some of those times like they were yesterday, they have so much meaning for me. Many of those times are coupled to what we did in grammar school, but also what we did with our parents. What we do together with children to prepare for Christmas is something they will remember for their whole lives, whether it is baking cookies or making gingerbread houses, going to Christmas exhibitions and markets, going to church and looking at the nativity creche, or going to see The Nutcracker ballet (for the umpteenth time--I never tire of it, although it is always sold-out now here in Oslo long before I get around to buying tickets). My parents took us into Manhattan a few times to walk around and look at the department store windows (Macy's, Lord & Taylor, Bloomingdale) that always had beautiful Christmas decorations and scenes. Afterward, my father would buy roasted chestnuts from a street vendor; I remember to this day how much he liked them (and how much we didn't). He worked in Manhattan for many years; I remember he liked to go to the food section at Macy's at Herald Square before Christmas, where he bought Italian hard candy with different fruit fillings for us and plum pudding for my mother. He would also purchase a panettone, a sweet bread loaf with raisins and candied fruit that we ate every year for breakfast on Christmas Day. And he and my mother would also make struffoli, an Italian (Neapolitan) dessert made of deep fried (in peanut oil) marble-sized balls of dough that were then covered in honey and candy sprinkles. 

It is those memories of my family Christmases that I carry with me always and that I celebrate each year in combination with the Norwegian traditions of my husband's family that have now become our traditions. But beyond the cultural traditions, it is the religious and spiritual traditions of Advent that I remember well--having an Advent wreath with four candles, and lighting one for each of the four Sundays during Advent. When I was in my mid-twenties, my local church in New Jersey would have nights when we would distribute food we had made to the poor and homeless; it also sponsored evenings where we would get together at different people's homes to discuss the scriptures (a type of Bible study, I guess). We would also pick a charity and donate as a group to that charity. Our local church in Tarrytown where I grew up also had a gift tree with tags hanging on it; we would pick a tag and it would describe what gift was wished for by a young girl or boy, without naming their names. Sometimes they wanted toys, other times clothing. We would also collect canned foods and give them to the church that distributed them to struggling families who did not have enough food. My heart was always cheered by the sight of the huge piles of canned goods and food that were collected. We were raised to pay attention to those less fortunate than we were; we were raised to care about our fellow man, and to give because we had enough to give. The concept of giving to the less fortunate was not something we only did at Christmas, but for some reason, what we did during the Christmas season made a huge impression on me, especially as a child.

The priest at church today talked about finding time for prayer during Advent. He said something that struck me as so true--that God makes contact with us (initiates it) in many ways, giving us countless opportunities to get in touch, so that our prayers are not so much requests for something we want from God as responses to God's attempts to contact us. That makes prayer a two-way street and I like that idea. It makes the connection near and personal, and it is a reminder to pay attention to what happens around us, because what happens around us and in our daily lives are the possibilities we have to listen to the voice of God and to prepare for Christ's coming.