Handle With Care

I have been away from the computer for a while. Just returned from a week-end at the Chesapeake Bay, where I re-connected with a group of friends that go all the way back to first grade. What a gift it is to sustain friendships over a lifetime! Also spent a couple of days in Pennsylvania, visiting with my parents. It is always good to go "home."

This morning, I began my day with a cup of coffee, sitting in the backyard with a Bible and a journal. I turned to some notes from my time in Taize. The Bible Study was centered in the first few chapters of Genesis. Led by Brother Peter, of Taize, the studies were rich in insights, fresh in perspective and followed-up with evocative questions. We were invited to read the 7 days of creation like a chronological dance into freedom, noticing the gifts that were given, as each day of creation unfolded. For instance, with the first day, as night and day/light and darkness are created, there is the gift that makes it possible to see. It is inspiring to read Genesis 1 in this way, and to contemplate the gifts that have been offered to sustain the relationship that God desires among God, the universe and humanity. Brother Peter interprets the Sabbath as God's rest, in order to contemplate the creation....and to see that it is good.

Since returning from France, we have dug ans planted a modest vegetable garden. Our yard is pretty unruly, having taken a growth spurt in our absence. Some dead trees were removed while we were away, leaving empty brown circles. The weeds are thriving. The birds are singing. The sun is shining and there is a gentle, cooling breeze. I had been dreading the task of attempting to tame the wilds, but as I was reminded of the gifts in all of this, I was brought to a sense of wonder and joy. For the next couple of hours I happily planted some flowers and pulled lots of weeds...as the unruly gardens became a playground.

Among the questions Brother Peter 'planted' with us: What is your first impression of God, in the creation? and How do we exercise our responsibility for the creation?

On Sunday, I will begin a week at Camp Whitman, where I will serve as a Volunteer Leader with a group of Sr. High Counselors-In-Training. Our summer-long theme is "Handle With Care," and draws largely from the Genesis Scriptures. (I was delighted to discover how the Taize Bible Studies and the Camp Whitman curriculum coincide). I look forward to continuing my contemplation on the gifts in God's creation...and to exploring the invitation to partnership in handling with care the network of relationships into which I have been called.

I will be without access to technology during my time at camp. I will resume blogging upon my return home, July 4th.

Blessings to all,

Cheryl

Adjusting...Or Not

We have been home for several days now, still very much in the midst of transitioning back into our lives here. Our bodies have not yet adjusted to the time zone difference, waking early and fizzling out shortly after dinner time. Our palates have not yet adjusted to a return to food, American style. It was a large accommodation to stop at Wendy’s on the way home from the Toronto airport. It may be fast, but it is not nearly as satisfying as a sandwich from a café or brasserie. And I already miss the café au lait to which I awakened each morning. Our ears have not yet adjusted to a totally English-speaking environment. Lindsay, especially, misses hearing the sounds of the French language. Our minds have not yet adjusted to such American traditions as Wegmans…it was sensory overload after having grown accustomed to shopping in neighborhood markets that sell only one type of food item…and SUVs – with the price of gas at 6.00 euros per gallon, (over $8.00) the French are driving small cars, Smart Cars, or riding motorcycles or bicycles, or using public transportation…and the absence of flower vendors everywhere. Every block has at least one florist and in restaurants, you are likely to encounter what Lindsay referred to as the “ubiquitous” rose man, who roamed from table to table with fresh roses for sale.

On the other hand, it is good to breathe fresh, clean air. Cigarette smokers are more publicly prevalent in France. A new “no-smoking inside restaurants” law has all the smokers sitting at the outdoor café tables – it was difficult to walk down any city street without inhaling someone’s smoke. It is good to be back in the comfort of our home, no longer living out of suitcases, searching out Laundromats, trying to navigate unfamiliar roads, or running to catch trains. It is good to have the rest of the summer for reading, writing, and reflecting, and enjoying life with family and friends.

This morning, as I listened to a CD of music I brought back from Taize, a flood of memories returned and reawakened my desire to consider how we might weave experiences of contemplative prayer, in community, more intentionally into our congregation/community/presbytery lives here. I read three books during our travels: "Three Cups of Tea," "Breathing Space" and "There Is No Me Without You." Each of them took place in a culture that is different from the one in which I live (although Breathing Space is situated in the US – the Bronx is not exactly Ontario, NY). Each of them explored the storyteller’s passion to engage a particular social justice need by building relationships in his/her own context: peace through access to education in Pakistan, new life and hope emerging from poverty and violence in the Bronx, and caring for orphaned children in the AIDS crisis in Ethiopia, respectively. How could I be more intentional about seeking out and becoming acquainted with those living on the margins of my community? Where are people struggling around me? How could I begin (or continue) in relationships that might lead to the discernment of appropriate responses? These are a few of the questions that are now bubbling to the surface. They are not new questions, for me, but questions that continue to pull at my heart, requesting renewed attention.

In the words sung by the brothers of Taize, and all who join them in prayer and solidarity:
"The kingdom of God is justice and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit. Come, Lord, and open in us, the gates of your kingdom."

Blessings to all,

Cheryl

Parlez-ing Francais

Generally, when it comes to the debate about U.S. immigrants learning English, I have a great deal of empathy for those who want to retain their native language. Language is more than the words used to communicate. It is an expression of culture and a mode through which the essence of identity and belonging are expressed. It takes a great deal of effort to learn and use a new language. However, the ability to do this also allows access to the full expression of life in a new place.

Upon our arrival in France, I was curious to discover how I would manage with the language. At one time (30 or so years ago), I was fluent, but I haven't used French much since then. Although almost everywhere we went, there were English speakers, I wanted to be able to communicate with the French in their language--rather than expecting them to be able to accommodate to mine. I wondered, if I ask a question in French, will I be able to understand the answer? I found my French was adequate for all of the basic transactions that come with travel: restaurants, hotels, and train stations. I could read and understand the descriptions on placards at tourist sites and follow the spiels of tour guides, speaking French. I enjoyed following Scripture and prayer and singing hymns in French. As our time unfolded, my vocabulary and comprehension grew, while my ability to speak seemed to diminish (maybe it was a confidence thing.) But I've lost too much grammar and syntax and the nuances required for conversation seem to be buried deep in the recesses of long-term memory. Still it is amazing how much came back. And, I found such delight in listening and noticing which words and phrases are most commonly used in everyday speech. It amused me to discover common French expressions that, when translated literaly into English have an a humorous or thought-provoking nuance...

"coupe faim", the expression for snack, literally means to "cut hunger"

"Droit d'auteur" is the way the French say "copyright." It translates "the right of the author."

In restaurants, when waiters or waitresses come to the table to take your order they say,
"Je vous ecoute," which translates, "I am listening to you."

Gift shops often carried souvenir mouse pads. In French they are called, "tapis de souris,"
or "rug of a mouse."

A speed bump is a "dos d'ane" or "back of a donkey"

To flush a toilet is "chasse d'eau," or chase with water

In an ad for yoga, there was a reference to "respirer profondement," which means "breathe deeply," but gave me quite a chuckle when I translated it it more literally: "respirate profoundly."

To have the blues or be down in the dumps is to "avoir les cafards," which translates "to have cockroaches."

To faint is to "tomber dans les pommes," or fall into the apples.

You can get into trouble when you translate too literally, so Jack found out. On the day when the train station at Lyon was jam packed with soccer fans, a railway official came through to designate where folks were to stand for various destinations. In an effort to gain clarification, Jack shouted, "Pourquoi?" - which in his rudimentary, literally translated French meant "For what?" (Destination) However, Pourquoi is actually the French word for "Why?" So when the train official said stand here and Jack said, "Why?" she thought she was being challenged. Not a pretty picture, until we explained the miscommunication.

Many Europeans have at least one language other than their native language. We overheard an American business man declare that he gets along well in France, as long as they provide a good English translator. I wonder if he's ever considered learning French? Yes, it is important to retain the use of one's native language. However, much can be gained by learning and using the language of the places one lives and moves and conducts one's life and business. Everywhere we went, folks sized us up as an American family, looked at Lindsay and said, "Mais vous parlez bien le francais." (But you speak French so well.) Surprised, they were.

My admiration grows, for those who are able to function in a bi-lingual context. We are home now, full of memories and experiences to share. Parlez-vous francais?

Blessings to all,

Cheryl

The Opening Of The Window

Following our round-about route to Chamonix, we settled into our hotel room, with its windows over-looking the mountains. Even with gray clouds hovering at the tree line, it was a beautiful scene: the spire of a church steeple, the Alpine-style buildings of the village, and the evergreen-clad hills rising in the background. We wondered when or where we would see Mt. Blanc – the highest summit in the Alps – and went to bed hoping for a break in the cloud cover.

The next morning, I drew back the curtain from the window, and there was a snow-clad mountain peak where there had been only clouds the night before. It was as if the mountain had materialized, overnight. Our hostess at the hotel told us they hadn’t seen the mountain in three weeks, so persistent have been the clouds. “If you want to go up the ‘Aiguille de Midi,’ I suggest you do it this morning,” she said, “before the clouds return.” The Aiguille de Midi, translates ‘The Mid-Day Needle.’ It is literally a rock needle at 12,600 feet above sea level. We rode in a gondola and soared up the face of the mountain. Disembarking, the view was breath-taking. At that level, ice and snow were everywhere. We could see mountain climbers and granite cliffs. The thin atmosphere quite literally took our breath away. We spent quite a while up there, snapping pictures and marveling over the amazing views in every direction.

On the way back down, we stopped at the Plan D’Aiguille, a (relatively speaking) level plateau from which hang-gliders were launching themselves off the edges of cliff and soaring in great circles over the valley below…eventually touching down after about a 20 minute flight. Breath-taking, exhilarating enough for me to watch….Jack and Lindsay were wishing they could soar, too.

Predictably, the clouds rolled back in by mid-afternoon and the window on the mountain closed. By day’s end it was pouring rain.

We found a little Reformed Church in Chamonix, and stopped in to join the little congregation for a Bi-Lingual Sunday evening service of praise and prayer. On this evening, with the three of us, the congregation totaled 8! Their pastor was away at a conference, and the service was entirely lay-led. It was simple and informal, and we were grateful to be able to join this gathering of faith, bearing its witness in the midst of the town’s tourism. Among those gathered were a man who’s just finished an assignment with the International Red Cross in Africa, a young woman from the U.K. who has been working in Chamonix this year, the worship leader, who is originally from Zimbabwe, and a couple of permanent residents of Chamonix. Each of us coming from different places, with differing needs, all of us looking for a window to stay connected to God and to a community of faith.

Our Chamonix adventure ended with the opening of yet another window on the mountain. This time, an early morning peek out of the hotel room window yielded nothing but fog---not even the tree line was visible. After I showered and dressed, it was my intention to go downstairs for a leisurely cup of coffee, while waiting for Jack and Lindsay to arise. Taking the spiral staircase down to the lobby, I glanced out the window, and there was the mountain again. In the space of less than ½ hour the fog had lifted completely, and the skies were blue. With just enough time to squeeze in one more Alpine adventure before our planned departure, we boarded the rack-and-pinion Montenvers Train to the Mer de Glace – Sea of Ice…France’s largest glacier.

The little train carried us up 1930 meters above sea level, to look out upon a snaking ribbon of ice, coated with a dusty gray mantle of dirt. The ice descends deep into the earth and winds as far as the eye can see. Intrepid hikers and mountain-climbers were walking across it, en route to ascend and scale the heights. It was impressive to see this chunk of ice, which, like many of our earth’s glaciers, is shrinking.

Looking at the majestic mountains and the diminishing “Sea of Glass,” it is sobering to think that the window could close indefinitely….another reminder to be intentional about the way we live and care for the earth.

Blessings to all,

Cheryl

P.S. I expect this will be my last post from France. We return to the U.S. on Thursday, June 12. I hope to continue the practice of blogging once we are back home.

Separating the Sheep from the Goats

We have endured our first encounter with major travel glitches. Most of the time, the train system is an efficient and intelligible way to get around in France. But when there is a problem, there is also the domino effect. For us, it began with a misunderstanding in Nice that put us on the wrong train. Several hours and four attempts at the ticket window later, we finally figured out another way to get to Chamonix, our next destination. In the process, we discovered it makes all the difference, what questions you ask. Repeatedly, we were told, “No space on the trains to Chamonix, today or tomorrow.” But when we asked for a train to Lyon (a connecting hub to Chamonix), it was no problem. Not on the day we expected to get there, but the next day. We had to book a hotel in Lyon and adjust our reservations in Chamonix, but a way was opened and for that we were grateful…

Until we showed up at the train station in Lyon to board our 9:00 a.m. train for St. Gervais…then on to Chamonix. The train station was swarming with people. At the appointed hour, we went to the departure platform to stand with the masses. A train arrived and we were swept into a human tide and crammed, bag and baggage into the entry way of the train, which was posted not only for St. Gervais, but also for Geneva, Switzerland. That’s when it dawned on us – today is the opening day of the Euro 2008 Soccer Tournament in Geneva. The throngs of people were soccer fans, Geneva bound…and quite a few others, like us, trying to get to other places in the region. The train was going no where and we were informed those of us headed to destinations other than Geneva would need to board another train. Eventually, the whole train was emptied and it left the station sans passageurs (without passengers), while everyone waited for more trains and more instructions.

Eventually, the train officials began moving through the crowd, designating particular areas for the various destinations. Here for Geneva, there for St. Gervais. “It’s like separating the sheep from the goats,” I quipped. “Which is which?” my family asked, to which I declined to respond. The crowds and delays meant we would miss our intended connecting train to Chamonix. We had no idea what other options we would be offered upon our arrival in St. Gervais. Would we be able to make it all the way to Chamonix by bed time? If not, where would we spend the night? Will we get to see the Alps? And when will the cloud that has been hovering over France disperse? These are the questions that occupied our thoughts as we sped toward St. Gervais.

Yes, there was a connecting train, within a half-hour after we arrived in St. Gervais. We made it all the way to Chamonix by mid-afternoon. We have seen the foothills of the Alps, but the stubborn clouds are still hovering. There is a hopeful forecast for tomorrow. We are situated at the foot of Mt. Blanc, the highest summit in the Alps. We hope to explore the heights tomorrow, weather permitting. If not the heights, there are mountain trails that can be walked. Who knows, maybe we’ll see some sheep…or perhaps it will be goats we encounter. I wonder if it’s raining in Geneva?!

Blessings to all,

Cheryl

Sanctuary

Sunday morning found us not at church (malheurusement), but at Clos Luce, which was, in its own way, a sanctuary, holy ground. Our couple of hours at Clos Luce offered nourishment for heart and soul. This is the castle where Leonardo Da Vinci spent the last three years of his life. Leonardo’s words, mounted on plaques throughout the chateau, spoke to us of his wisdom, of truth, as he saw it, and of light…across the centuries. Translated from the French….

"What can stop hatred but love?"
"A day well lived gives a good sleep. A life well lived gives a tranquil death."
"It is necessary to contemplate. It is necessary to think: the one who thinks little is fooled much."
"Wisdom is the daughter of experience."
"Strength comes always on the other side of an obstacle."
"It is easier to oppose yourself at the beginning that at the end."
"Love triumphs over all."
"If you want to stay in good health, follow this regimen: do not eat anything without the desire for it."
"The water ranges the mountains and fills in the valleys. If she wanted to, she could reduce the world to a perfect sphere."

Reading words like these, we were surrounded by reproductions of some of Leonardo’s drawings and paintings, beautiful furnishings, and classical music playing softly in the background. In his bed chamber, where he died, is his beautiful rendering of the annunciation to Mary—a print of which I purchased There were also drawings, explanations and small models of some of Leonardo’s inventions. Beyond the chateau are gardens with life-size models and reproductions of his works. Huge canvasses hung from the trees bear the likeness of some of his works. Also nestled among the plants, water, and trees were Leonardo’s sketches, revealing the close student of nature that he was.

Prolific inventor, problem-solver, and artist, Leonardo was an inquisitive student not only of nature, but also humanity and human systems. Many of his inventions, we discovered, were attempts to solve the problems of cities or make wheels or gears move more efficiently. Some were pure flights of fancy, such as a design for a helicopter and a contraption with wings like a bat that was an attempt to make it possible for humans to fly. We wandered, we marveled, and we were moved to gratitude for the gifts and the legacy, not only of Leonardo, but also for all who made it possible for his gifts to be expressed and preserved. Leonardó’s years at Clos Luce were the gift of King Francois I, himself a dreamer who must have seen in Leonardo a like-,minded soul…and thus opened the space for him to work. The chateau and its accoutrements have been carefully preserved and are reverently displayed. Some of the models of his inventions were rendered b y IBM.

Clos Luce invites us to see, as he did, the possibilities beyond the limits of our own minds. Although the "congregation" with whom we gathered was tourists and the experience was the celebration of the gifts of a human being…it had the fingerprints of God all over it. For those who have eyes to see and ears to heart and hearts to understand, Clos Luce is also a witness to the manifold expression of the gifts of God – visible in nature and flowing from God’s creative and beneficent hand to animate the mind of Leonardo Da Vinci. Leonardo was able to see and think and imagine way beyond his day. In his own words…"I plead to God, light of all things, to enlighten me, so that I may treat with dignity the light." Amen.

Blessings to all,

Cheryl

Going to the Dogs

We have departed the Dordogne Region, where there was so much to see and appreciate that we find ourselves hoping to return someday. But now, we have traveled to the Loire Valley, an area known for its chateaux and wineries. Not unlike our own Finger Lakes Winery Region, the landscape here is adorned with neat rows of grapevines, fields freshly planted with corn and some with already ripening grain. The roses are blooming in the Loire Valley…not to mention the iris, geraniums, pansies and fragrant honeysuckle.

The chateaux here are castles built by kings, not for purposes of fortification, but for sheer pleasure. In our time here, we visited three of them: Chambord, commissioned by King Francois I, who, at age 20, became king and dreamed of building the most impressive castle anywhere. It is huge, with elaborate adornment, including a central spiral (double helix) staircase. Francois only spent 72 days at his dream house…its construction actually went on long after he died.

We also visited Cheverny, the most elaborately furnished of the chateaux, and a castle where fox hunting – on horseback with hunting dogs – it still practiced. We planned our time to be at Cheverny for the feeding of the dogs—71 of them (a mixed breed that is half English bloodhound and half French pointrou). The 5:00 feeding is a spectacle that draws a crowd. Contained within a kennel with a cement floor, brick-wall and wrought iron railing, the hounds relax, play, rumble and occasionally howl…until their trainer enters, when the howling commences in earnest. He releases them to a rooftop caged-in area while he prepares the "dining hall" below.

Step 1: ½ hour before feeding time, scoop buckets-full of water out of the watering trough and throw them onto the kennel floor, washing away all traces of dog hair and excrement.

Step 2: Bring wheelbarrow full of meat into the kennel and dump the pile of whole raw chicken, and other various bird parts onto the kennel floor and spread it evenly within the trough that runs from one end of the kennel to the other.

Step 3: Open the bag of kibble. Drizzle the contents of the bag over the raw birds until the bag is empty.

Step 4: Stand at the doorway of the kennel, bullwhip in hand, for 15 minutes, while the dogs watch and wait from their rooftop vantage point.

Watching the various waiting styles is hilarious. Some of them sit with eyes fastened on the food—staring intently. Others lie down, seemingly oblivious to the meal waiting below, apparently confident that they will be fed, in due time. Still others pace and roam restlessly, occasionally howling about it.

Step 5: When the clock tower bell rings 5:00 p.m., walk to the gate that leads to the rooftop and open it to the hounds, now raising a ruckus.

Step 6: Stand between the hounds and their food with the bullwhip, waving it in front of the dogs, so they will ‘’toe the invisible line." Gradually step backwards until you are on the other side of the food. When you are ready, lift the whip and step out of the way. The pack will charge the food, jumping on and among one another in an all-out feeding frenzy. Some will grab whole birds; there will be tugs-of-war, and some, aware that they don’t stand a chance of nabbing any meat, will concentrate on consuming as much kibble as they can. When it’s over, there won’t be a speck of meat or kibble on the kennel floor and the dogs will finish the meal by licking the juices that have dribbled onto the backs of their kennel-mates.

What a riot. This eating regimen obviously fits with the larger scheme of training the dogs to hunt. It would be fascinating to see them in action. Going to the dogs was an unexpected and much enjoyed experience in the Loire Valley.

Clos-Luce, the third Chateau that we visited, was another highlight, worthy of its own blog entry, which will follow this one, as time and internet access allow.

Blessings to all,

Cheryl