Making Sense

Two small pots sit on my kitchen window sill.  One of them is a basil plant that keeps us supplied for our favorite appetizer, caprese salad, or as Steve and I call it, tomatoes and mozz.   As I put it up in the window this morning, I noticed that one of the leaves was getting brown; so I pulled it from the stem.  And the air was instantly filled with that beautiful basil smell.

I was hit with the fact that the Father provided so many small treasures for us to enjoy through our senses.  So today’s blog is an ode to my favorite sense-satisfiers.

Sight:  My sweet man snoozing in his leather recliner way too early in the evening after a hard day battling wind on the golf course.  The Spanish moss in my live oak whipping back and forth from that same wind.  My Claire bent over a jigsaw puzzle.  Jake’s eyes lighting up when we surprise him with a visit.  Snowflakes floating.  The easy glide of an egret across the lake.  An owl sharing a long, intimate stare with me.  Sunset streaks of pink and purple.

Sound:  The soft snuffle of Chloe’s snore.  The delight of one of Maggie’s songs coming on Pandora.  Waves rolling in.  The precision of a Bach invention.  The soft patter of rain on the patio.  Laughter.  The lonesome sound of a single Canadian goose.  The mockingbird that wakes me up and somehow I don’t mind.

Touch:  The softness of my down comforter as I pull it up under my chin.  The feel of puzzle pieces that fit just so.  The breeze that floats in through the open window.  The slight sting of a hot shower on a cold day.  The soft down on a newborn baby’s head.  The feel of a brisk, cold wind on my cheeks when the rest of me is wrapped in warmth.

Smell:  Homey goodness seeping from Steve’s breadmaker.  My gardenia bush outside the front door.  Citrus housecleaning supplies.  Fresh-mown grass.  Rain coming and the freshness after.  Roses, lilac, wisteria.  Cinnamon cider simmering on the stove on a fall day.  Freshly laundered sheets.

Taste:  The first juicy peach of the season.  Chocolate – milk, dark, with nuts, with nuts and fruit, without nuts, I could go on and on.  Warm cookies straight from the oven.  A tall glass of cold milk with those cookies.  Fried chicken.  Red velvet cake.  Lemonade, slightly tart.  Cheese and grapes.  Steve’s fresh-baked bread.  Sweet peach tea.

Open your eyes!  Taste and touch.  Go out and listen for the details of this amazing world and have a blessed, a truly blessed day.

1Chronicles 16:32, 33; Psalm 13:61; 66:5
Let the sea resound, and all that is in it; let the fields be jubilant, and everything in them!  Then the trees of the forest will sing, they will sing for joy before the LORD, for he comes to judge the earth…I will sing to the LORD, for he has been good to me…Come and see what God has done, how awesome his works in man’s behalf!

On Looking Up

This blog finds me where I would prefer it not, doing what only a great love for my dogs keeps from being a dreaded chore.  I was picking my way across the side yard and entered the back, methodically walking in wide lanes picking up my dogs’ “surprises.”  My mind was in neutral – no thoughts one way or the other – when I looked up just in time for a great blue heron to go sweeping by a few feet away at eye level.  I turned and watched as he flew across the lake and disappeared behind a house.

I was able to enjoy his flight for a few sweet seconds and he was gone.  I immediately realized that if I had been looking up the whole time, I would have seen him approaching and how exciting that would have been!  (Understanding that “eyes up” in this instance would have been a risky way to go and that my shoes might not have appreciated the lesson.)

But the example stands.  How many times I have advised a friend, “Keep your eyes up!  Don’t look at your circumstances.”  And how many more times have I ignored that same advice myself and gotten mired down in the details of my life.  Sometimes I’m walking through by rote, one foot in front of the other, doing chores, running errands, not thinking – just doing.  Occasionally I remember to carry on my day-to-day without arguing or complaining (Phil. 2:14), but mulling over some little details that nag at my mind and bring me down.  In short, letting my normal circumstances or life’s trials rob me of the joy that waits whenever I encounter Jesus.  

Whenever I imagine Him standing there, smiling and eager to visit just because He loves me so, my spirit lifts, the circumstances fade away, and somehow He has once again taken my burdens up to carry Himself.  Eyes up!  Don’t miss the blue herons that God sends your way.

Psalm 34:8-10
Taste and see that the LORD is good; blessed is the man who takes refuge in him. Fear the LORD, you his saints, for those who fear him lack nothing.  The lions may grow weak and hungry, but those who seek the LORD lack no good thing.

Giving My Strength

Temperatures have plunged – well, in South Carolina they more take a little jump off the back step – but they are at the coldest they will probably be this year.  We hole up in our houses and sleep like bears when we can.  Time doesn’t slow down the way it does in the summer.  Where does it go?  It seems to slip through my fingers more during the winter.

Is my time my own?  Deuteronomy 6:5 says I am to “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength.”  Jesus repeated that in Matthew 22:37-38, calling it the first and greatest commandment.  The first of the Ten Commandments is “You shall have no other Gods before me.” (Exodus 20:3)  So this is fairly clear – no other gods, no idols, complete devotion to God.

“Devotion” sounds more like a feeling kind of thing.   Some days I do better at that than others.  And I know it’s not how well I move under my own steam but how much I rely on God to get me through.  But some days I think of Him, love Him, pour my heart and soul into Him.  I’m trying to develop that mindset more and more.

It’s that whole strength thing that hangs me up.  Because I’m pretty sure that one is going to involve my body.  So when I’m sitting comfortably in my rocker on the porch and I see my neighbor in the yard, I really can’t ignore that impulse to go and chat for a minute or two.  When I’m putting off cleaning that closet, knowing I need to do it, my whole strength is not involved in obedience.  ALL my strength.  That involves every single thing I do – housework, fun stuff, reading, studying, praying and cooking.

If I’m loving God, I’m obeying Him by serving and by spending time wisely.  And yeah, I know.  I’m retired and the hours just stretch ahead in blissful plenty.  But here’s the deal:  to the person given much, much will be required (Luke 12:48).  It’s not a problem of my knowing what it is He wants me to do on a minute by minute basis.  I just flat out sometimes don’t want to do it! 

Loving Him with all my strength?  Not as often as I should.  Can I get an exemption from physical exercise?  Not so much.  It seems pretty clear.  Now I just have to figure out how to do it without “grumbling or complaining.”

Pantheon

Friday morning, November 15^th, we were to catch our ship from Civitavecchia, the port city for Rome.  Still disoriented, I had no idea what time it really was…only that the sun was shining and Steve was standing, fully dressed and holding coffee, by the side of the bed quietly calling my name.  (Have I mentioned that this is the sweetest man on earth?) 

 

Our driver was coming at 11:30 and we had a precious couple of hours to see the Pantheon.  He was going, with or without me.  But he had also bought me a couple of pastries to sweeten the deal.  I was up and showered in no time and we set out on a bright fall morning.

 

The streets were bustling – it was a work day for people after all.  Have I mentioned how completely thin and chic most Italians are?  And they do have the most gorgeous shoes and boots.  We dodged scooters and walked as quickly as we could for the couple of miles or so.

 

I was in my mid-twenties the first time I came up from a subway in New York City and caught my breath in amazement and excitement.  I haven’t had that sensation since, until that morning.  We came out of one of the narrow alley streets and there it stood – a magnificent antiquity in the clearing of a busy neighborhood.

 

Before this trip, Steve and I had no idea of the difference between the Pantheon, Parthenon or Acropolis.  We had studied them in school; and we had studied some (via YouTube) before we left.  I will never again forget the difference.

 

The Pantheon was commissioned by Marcus Agrippa as a temple to all the gods of ancient Rome, and rebuilt by Emperor Hadrian in about 126 AD.  It is one of the best-preserved of all Roman buildings. It has been in continuous use throughout its history, and since the 7th century, the Pantheon has been used as a Roman Catholic church dedicated to "St. Mary and the Martyrs.”   The square in front of the Pantheon is called Piazza della Rotonda.

 

It is said that if you plan to visit antiquities, the Pantheon is what you should see first because it is the best preserved.  The great dome has a hole in the center and the center of the floor has holes for a drain.  The area is roped off so that when it rains the water can run out.  The dome would collapse without the hole.

 

The columns are enormous and beautiful.  They are in the Corinthian style (the most ornate).  As we walked into the building, we were amazed by the art and sculpture.  I felt the need to pray and the conflict of standing in a building that was built for gods and now used as a center for worship of the one true God.  I sat down on one of the pews and tried to absorb the history I was seeing.  It was the first of many instances of my own inadequacy to fully “feel” what I was experiencing.

Fontana di Trevi

Before I ever knew anything about Rome, I knew the Trevi Fountain.  When I was very young, I used to watch old movies with my Grandmother, John.  (That’s another story for another time.)  I’ve known “Three Coins in a Fountain” for over fifty years.

 

Pretty much everyone who comes to Rome has three sights in mind – Vatican City, the Colosseum, and the Trevi Fountain.  Because the fountain was the closest to our hotel and matched our energy level best, that was our goal.  We studied our map and headed in the right direction this time.  I had a problem keeping my mind on the goal because I was overcome with the beauty of the buildings and the amazing quality of the people-watching.  But Steve is a little more single-minded and he pulled me along.  

 

I heard the fountain before I saw it.  Its size caught me by surprise.  I had read about it; but the sheer beauty of the sculpture and the architecture “took my breath away.”  Yes, there were crowds of people, taking pictures, tossing coins (right hand over left shoulder, please) and eating gelato.  Since our cruise will bring us back here at the end, I didn’t feel the need to toss a coin.  However, I will toss on my second trip because I most assuredly do want to return.

 

A gelato shop called to us and, after we had pistachio in hand, we found a spot overlooking the fountain and the people and proceeded to “be”.  For the first time of many on this trip, I stared at a piece of history that I simply could not comprehend.

 

The fountain is at the juncture of three ancient roads (“tre vie”) and marks the terminal point of the Aqua Virgo, built in 19BC.  The Roman aqueducts were destroyed by the Goths four hundred years later.  The Roman custom of building a handsome fountain at the endpoint of an aqueduct that brought water to Rome was revived in the 15^th century, with the Renaissance.  The Trevi fountain was completed in 1762.  But the water that still rushes from the fountain has traveled along those ancient Roman aqueducts for approximately fourteen miles!

 

By the time our room was ready in our hotel, we started the walk back.  So many things to see, hear and smell.  The most ridiculous are the newest toys the teens of Rome are trying to sell the tourists.  They are multicolored eggs that, when thrown against the ground, break open and spread like a raw egg.  I didn’t stick around to see how they gather them back up, but somehow they do.  Have you ever timed traffic lights just so?  And they change as you drive through them?  Eggs of every color hit the ground with a splat as we walked by.  So much fun.  I may have to buy one when we go back! 

 

Exhausted and needing to take a bath and a nap and not in the mood to sit in a restaurant, we decided to stop by a little grocery store and get whatever we could find.  We found (for only 2 euro) the most gorgeous sandwiches.  Within an hour, full and comfortable, I went to bed and I don’t even remember taking a breath before I was out!

 

A couple of hours later, Steve woke me so we would sleep later when it was really night-time.  It was getting dark and we set out again to simply wander, again in the direction of Trevi.  We were still tired enough that we knew we wouldn’t be going far.

 

How those alleys changed from the afternoon to the evening!  Playtime for adults!  And I don’t mean in any kind of a bad way.  Just that people were out and enjoying the night.  The teens were now selling some sort of lights that shot high into the air and Trevi and the surrounding area was covered with light and sound.

La Dolce Vita con Scooters

I spent way too much time while we were in Rome wondering what it would feel like to get run over by a scooter.  They were everywhere – buzzing down alleyways, zipping between cars, zooming down main thoroughfares.  I’m not talking about motorcycles and I did not see big Harleys.  These were small to mid-sized Hondas and Vespas.  And those Italians who don’t ride, drive teeny little cars that have no rear end or trunk space and barely hold two people.  Understandable, since gas is almost $10.00 per gallon.

 

Most streets are more like alleyways.  Alleys are different here than in the United States.  They are beautiful cobblestone streets with trattorias and coffee and wine bars.  Most of them have huge baskets of bougainvillea or impatiens. And oh so narrow.  Those who do not drive the tiny cars drive big ones that squeeze between the people and the parked cars.  Even on the main roads, while there must be some sort of law or order, it’s not in evidence.  Lanes are more “suggestions” and a single lane will usually fit two small cars and a scooter weaving between them.  I believe even the “do not hit pedestrians” is more of a suggestion.  I got a bump on the rear end by a big Mercedes that was “suggesting” that he was bigger and perhaps I should move over.  I moved as far as I could and he still hit me in the side with his rear-view mirror.  I felt a little more Italian when it was over.

 

And parking?  It’s hilarious.  There are big areas reserved for scooters and there will be forty or fifty of them near a restaurant or attraction.  Then the tiny cars parallel park (no big ones, I’m pretty sure those just ferry people between the airport and monuments).  They park as close bumper to bumper as they can.  But in the rare case that they leave five or so feet open, someone will pull in nose first and park perpendicular.

 

Our hotel, the Hotel de Petris was located in the center of Rome in easy walking distance of many of the sights.  Pretty much any hotel there could be called quaint or charming.  Many of them are B&Bs and, if they have an elevator at all, it will hold only one person at a time.  Since Steve and I are not fond of the idea of hauling luggage up three or four flights of stairs, I booked carefully.  In the final screen of one reservation, I noticed that we would not have a private bathroom.  Thank goodness for the “previous screen” button.

 

The Hotel de Petris has a beautiful little courtyard out front with many potted plants and trees on either side, including lime and orange trees bearing fruit.  The staff is mostly young and so very sweet.  It is very much a family atmosphere, though I did not get the sense that it is a family-run hotel.  There is an older gentlemen who speaks very good English and who seems to “ride herd” over the operation.  He owns a twelve-month old puppy that they take turns walking and bringing back to him.  I felt quite at home!

 

The gardens and interior areas are ancient.  There is an old, round marble staircase that runs up through the center of the building, circling the glass elevator.  It is a marvelous mixture of antiquity and modern convenience.  The stairway is accented with tall arched windows looking out onto the gardens.  

 

Our room was simple, classic and very modern.  (We were very relieved.)  The bathroom was huge and, again, more modern and updated than we would have dreamed.  Lots of glass, a flat-screened TV (situated so that when you looked into the mirror, you would see it reflected over your head).  The shower had really cool tile that was about six inches long and ¼ inch wide.

 

Our first intent was to walk to the Trevi fountain.  (While there were crowds of tourists and locals, we are in the off-season and were able to see the sights with no problem at all.  I cannot imagine how crowded the tiny streets must be in the summer!)  We are the wrong-way Horns after all, so the first sight we actually saw was the Palazzo Barberini.  Let me just put the phrase “it took my breath away” out there and get it over with.  Because that’s pretty much the impact of the entire city.  It’s just old! – in a dear and beautiful way.  And almost any sight will include a fountain of amazing size and some sculpture and marble.  And even that description is so inadequate.

 

We were aware of time and of our tired condition, knowing that we were running low on energy.  So we didn’t stay (and we didn’t have our camera because it was locked up in the hotel with our luggage).  We reluctantly left the Palazzo and started down the hill in the direction of Fontana de Trevi.

Rome in a Sleepy Day

Let me just say that “ruin” means entirely different things on each side of the Atlantic.  But I’m getting ahead of myself.  Some very sleepy observations while we wait for our room (we both hit a wall):

 

• Where the Germans were trim and grim, the Italians are fast and loose.  By loose, I mean relaxed and, well, really very “fuhgetaboudit.”  They are not South Carolina friendly, but they are willing to work with you, especially if you seem hungry or ready to shop.
• I’ve learned that I can go almost 26 hours without sleep and still function.  When I’m traveling where there is history all around, I will still walk five or six miles, even uphill.
• I said I was going to learn Italian before I came.  I learned a little; but I’m finding it like the German.  I’m so scared to use it, I might as well know none as a bunch.
• I have learned that there is some weak something in my demeanor that attracts panhandlers and hucksters (and I suspect it would be pickpockets as well but I’m clutching my purse under my arm like Ruth Buzzy on Laugh-In).  I know how to look straight ahead without making eye contact but it still doesn’t work.  They come flocking in my direction and it takes serious concentration to ignore them.  If I crack a smile, I’m done for.
• The young me could never have handled the raised eyebrows and snide European looks.  I’m American – so it has nothing to do with age or money or thin.  Well, yeah, it is about all those things.  But even when I was very young and thinner, you could’ve given me money and I still would not have been able to pull it off.  It’s an attitude and good, leather shoes.  It’s a scarf thrown just so around the shoulders.  It’s often a cigarette.  And it’s a cool I-don’t-really-care-what-you-think that I never, ever had.  But I do so love to watch it.
• Language makes no difference when there’s a mutual intent to communicate.  Our driver from the airport to the hotel did not speak English.  It was a quiet ride for some time.  Then one of us pointed out a cathedral and asked about it.  Our driver proceeded to give us the information in Italian.  And we repeated what we thought he said in English and we all nodded in agreement.  And from that point we rattled away the rest of the trip – he speaking Italian and we speaking English.  We drove around the Coliseum and laughed about the Roman gladiators pulling people over to take pictures.  They had one man sitting in a chair and were cramming one of those uncomfortable-looking gold helmets down on his head.  And we all carried on about it in two languages and laughed like crazy.

 

I’ll get to the ruins later.  I’ve run out of steam except for one more observation.

• I’ve learned that a sense of humor is a gift from God and there are a great many people in the world who have missed out.