Doing incredibly well on the field--leading the class team and strong on the city team--and finally got his kit!
Saturday, November 30, 2019
Friday, November 29, 2019
Mass at the Vatican
Sebastian and Annie's school was celebrating the 150th anniversary of the order that runs it. They are called the Sisters of the Most Blessed Sacrament (Santissimo Sacramento). They had Mass at the Holy Spirit Altar at the front of St. Peter's, arguably the most beautiful part of the whole basilica. Sisters from around the world came and celebrated, and many students, parents and faculty from our local school attended--Sebastian, Annie and I included.
We were to arrive at the school at 6:30 am, a painful hour. Getting the children in the right places, then I went to the parents' area where we were to catch our bus.
But at 6:45 am, before the sun had risen, 100 parents were shouting and complaining that the wrong bus had come. They waved their hands in the air, cigarettes lit between their fingers, shouting that a big bus had come for us, and the small bus for the children, and it was supposed to be the other way around. It was a typical scene that I have not completely assimilated to yet. Then a woman asked me what the woman shouting said. I told her in Italian, "The bus #8 is for 3rd, 4th and 5th grade parents." She broke into laughter and said, "Only the foreigner knows where to go!"
The whole morning made a hundred bus trips on the Summer Rome Program with Ron in charge, all of which went smoothly, seem like a new level of accomplishment.
Then we made it into Rome, and workers were setting up a Christmas tree in St. Peter's Square, something I've never seen in the summer. The school children were so happy and it was a really lovely time for all.
I saw Annie and gave her a sip of water from my water bottle. I then found Sebastian and tried to do the same. The nuns literally shouted at me that water bottles are not allowed in the basilica. I calmly responded that as soon as the bottle was empty, I would throw the bottle in the trash (just recently having learned the word for trash, and knowing full well that water is not allowed through security). But they still didn't let the water touch his lips, so firm were they about the rule against water bottles on this trip.
We entered the basilica, and had a beautiful Mass. I prayed for so many friends and family. The readings could not have been more poignant. The nuns from all over the world spoke in their own languages as they read the readings and the prayers of the faithful. One woman from Scotland prayed, "That the Church would continue to appreciate religious for their faithful service toward the revitalization of the Church." I thought, "Yes, and mothers too." God bless our Church!
We were to arrive at the school at 6:30 am, a painful hour. Getting the children in the right places, then I went to the parents' area where we were to catch our bus.
But at 6:45 am, before the sun had risen, 100 parents were shouting and complaining that the wrong bus had come. They waved their hands in the air, cigarettes lit between their fingers, shouting that a big bus had come for us, and the small bus for the children, and it was supposed to be the other way around. It was a typical scene that I have not completely assimilated to yet. Then a woman asked me what the woman shouting said. I told her in Italian, "The bus #8 is for 3rd, 4th and 5th grade parents." She broke into laughter and said, "Only the foreigner knows where to go!"
The whole morning made a hundred bus trips on the Summer Rome Program with Ron in charge, all of which went smoothly, seem like a new level of accomplishment.
Then we made it into Rome, and workers were setting up a Christmas tree in St. Peter's Square, something I've never seen in the summer. The school children were so happy and it was a really lovely time for all.
I saw Annie and gave her a sip of water from my water bottle. I then found Sebastian and tried to do the same. The nuns literally shouted at me that water bottles are not allowed in the basilica. I calmly responded that as soon as the bottle was empty, I would throw the bottle in the trash (just recently having learned the word for trash, and knowing full well that water is not allowed through security). But they still didn't let the water touch his lips, so firm were they about the rule against water bottles on this trip.
We entered the basilica, and had a beautiful Mass. I prayed for so many friends and family. The readings could not have been more poignant. The nuns from all over the world spoke in their own languages as they read the readings and the prayers of the faithful. One woman from Scotland prayed, "That the Church would continue to appreciate religious for their faithful service toward the revitalization of the Church." I thought, "Yes, and mothers too." God bless our Church!
Thursday, November 28, 2019
Thanksgiving in Frascati
We had an extraordinary Thanksgiving in a country that does not celebrate Thanksgiving. I ordered a turkey two weeks ago and went to pick it up this morning from the meat market. They first said it had not arrived, and then that it was two tiny turkeys. But then, the brought out a perfect, 18 pound turkey. I was delight.
I went home and dressed it and got it in the oven. It touched all sides of our tiny oven--a perfect fit! :) Then I made homemade dressing with cornbread I had made from scratch the previous day, plus Roman bread and whole wheat bread. I also made gravy, sweet potato casserole, mashed potatoes, homemade macaroni and cheese, green bean casserole, and apple pie. We had wine and tea and soft rolls. I put some cherry chutney on the table in place of cranberry sauce. And I had never made pie crust without vegetable shortening, but it turns out, there are lots of legitimate ways to make pie crust.
The kids went to school, and then we had our big meal. Meanwhile, Ron has been asking our family to go all Italian, speaking only Italian together, for many months. Finally today seemed like a good day to start. So rather ironically, on our American holiday, we spoke only Italian. The kids have all improved so much over these past few months, I could not believe how good they were. The highlight of the Italian, however, was Ron saying our Thanksgiving blessing: "Padre, grazie per I suoi regoli" which means "Father, thank you for your many rules." We all started laughing out loud at the table. He broke from the prayer, looked up and said, "Whaaat??" We said, "Regali (gifts), not regoli (rules/laws)." He laughed hard and it was a great start to a boisterous meal.
This Thanksgiving, I am grateful for so many friends and family, and the chance to be here in Italy. But a true highlight is my new niece, Jenna June Miller. Kimberly and Ken are blessed with this beautiful child and I cannot express my gratitude to God for answering our prayers!
Thursday, November 21, 2019
My Rome
Wandering around my favorite spots of my favorite city, I happen upon. . .
Campo de' Fiori
Trastevere
Campo Marzio
La Citta Vaticana
Il Tiber
Piazza Navona
Campo de'Fiori sotto la pioggia
Viale di Trastevere
Wednesday, November 20, 2019
Old World Living
It has been fascinating to experience the temperature drop to 48 degrees F and only at that point to have the landlords (husband and wife) decide to check whether the heater works. And then to discover it does not work and for the electrician to have to order parts for the individual radiators that exist in some (but not all) of the rooms, and then wait for a week until they come in and then the electrician can get the thing working. And then to learn that the landlord's plan is to heat the place from 5:30am-9am, and then from 6pm-10pm.
Do I miss central heating?
It is a different way of life, to have experienced a temperature difference from August to November from 100 to 45 decrees F, and just to have the windows open the whole time; to plan your day according to the weather, to wear a down coat inside several hours a day, to slog through mud every time it rains just to get to your car, and to have to get out of the car twice every time you want to go somewhere, once manually to open the gate and a second time to close it. It is wild to go to the store every single day to get fresh produce since you have no storage space; to be at the store and for there to be a whole isle of pasta, another isle of tomato sauce, a whole isle of parmesan and another of pancetta and prosciutto. . . and very little else in the whole store.
I don't think I miss central heating. We open the windows most days if the sun is out, just to freshen things up even if it is cold. In the States, I always wish we could freshen up the house by opening the windows, but it's always too hot or too cold. So now, I can.
Do I miss central heating?
It is a different way of life, to have experienced a temperature difference from August to November from 100 to 45 decrees F, and just to have the windows open the whole time; to plan your day according to the weather, to wear a down coat inside several hours a day, to slog through mud every time it rains just to get to your car, and to have to get out of the car twice every time you want to go somewhere, once manually to open the gate and a second time to close it. It is wild to go to the store every single day to get fresh produce since you have no storage space; to be at the store and for there to be a whole isle of pasta, another isle of tomato sauce, a whole isle of parmesan and another of pancetta and prosciutto. . . and very little else in the whole store.
I don't think I miss central heating. We open the windows most days if the sun is out, just to freshen things up even if it is cold. In the States, I always wish we could freshen up the house by opening the windows, but it's always too hot or too cold. So now, I can.
My flower bed with cyclamen and roses
View from our living room window
Wednesday, November 13, 2019
St. Cecelia
A new favorite saint and basilica: St. Cecelia. I've known her story for many years. Refusing to denounce her faith, she was martyred by decapitation. Legend has it that she continued to praise God for several days. She is the patron saint of musicians.
This church is so BEAUTIFUL! When they found her body INCORRUPT in the catacombs in the 8th century, they moved it here. And in the 17th century, Moderno sculpted an incredible depiction of her slain, which lies above her casket. So moving.
The jewel of the basilica is the underground crypt, covered with mosaic and bas-relief from floor to ceiling. Gorgeous.
I've asked her to pray for many of my friends and family, whom I love so much. St. Cecelia, pray for us.
This church is so BEAUTIFUL! When they found her body INCORRUPT in the catacombs in the 8th century, they moved it here. And in the 17th century, Moderno sculpted an incredible depiction of her slain, which lies above her casket. So moving.
The jewel of the basilica is the underground crypt, covered with mosaic and bas-relief from floor to ceiling. Gorgeous.
I've asked her to pray for many of my friends and family, whom I love so much. St. Cecelia, pray for us.
Sunday, November 3, 2019
Praying with the Saints--Literally
I had a day to myself (thank you, Ron!) and so I made a pilgrimage into Rome to see St. Monica who is buried in the Basilica of St. Augustine. It was All Souls Day and I could not think of a better person to pray with me for all the souls I love so much.
But in classic Roman fashion, the basilica was closed, with no posted hours.
So I quickly found my way to Chiesa Nuova, rebuilt by Philip Neri and the site where he is buried. I sat and prayed for a long time and found great consolation in thinking of him and being reminded to remain joyful and lighthearted. As he said, "Cheerfulness strengthens the heart and helps us to persevere. A servant of God ought always to be in good spirits. Charity and cheerfulness, or charity and humility, should be our motto."
Ron and the kids decided at the last minute to come into Rome for an evening Mass, and then out to dinner in Rome. On the subway home, we commented that instead of going to Mass at St. Monica's (the parish in Dallas), we went to St. Monica's (where she is buried). But since that church was closed, we casually dropped by Philip Neri's instead and paid him a long visit. Such a wild opportunity to be here and pray with the saints, literally!
But in classic Roman fashion, the basilica was closed, with no posted hours.
So I quickly found my way to Chiesa Nuova, rebuilt by Philip Neri and the site where he is buried. I sat and prayed for a long time and found great consolation in thinking of him and being reminded to remain joyful and lighthearted. As he said, "Cheerfulness strengthens the heart and helps us to persevere. A servant of God ought always to be in good spirits. Charity and cheerfulness, or charity and humility, should be our motto."
Ron and the kids decided at the last minute to come into Rome for an evening Mass, and then out to dinner in Rome. On the subway home, we commented that instead of going to Mass at St. Monica's (the parish in Dallas), we went to St. Monica's (where she is buried). But since that church was closed, we casually dropped by Philip Neri's instead and paid him a long visit. Such a wild opportunity to be here and pray with the saints, literally!
Friday, November 1, 2019
Friends with Bees
If you've been reading my posts since our family moved to Italy, you've heard about the fact that our windows remain open since there is no air control or A/C system, but that there are no bug screens on our windows. Remnants of old ones were in the window frames, and so in August I asked the landlord to fix or replace the screens in order that bees, wasps, flies, mosquitoes, and interesting varieties of local Italian bugs stay outside. He had his grounds keeper remove the frames, bring them to a repair shop. But here we are in November and they have not been installed (despite many requests).
In these months, I have transitioned from fighting bugs fiercely, to making friends with the situation. It helps, of course, the the weather is cooler, so there are fewer mosquitoes. But I've learned when to pull the shutters for a short while, like when cooking meals, and when to shut the windows, such as ones on the north side of the house in the morning or the east side in the afternoon, or all of them right at sunset.
The other day the 6 kids had just returned from a long day at school and sat down to a huge lunch I had prepared for them: bruschetta, then pasta carbonara, then roasted zucchini and sausages. They recovered as they ate, and told stories about giving class presentations (the main way students get graded in Italian schools), the cheating going on around them, the professor with weird hair, the professor with clothes from the 80's, the professor who looks like a pigeon. Tears come to their eyes as they explain that the math teacher does not know math. One of the kids tells how he explained (in Italian) to his new Italian buddy why Christians should not have sex outside marriage as they sat in the front row of chemistry class. They both have "A's" in chemistry so the teacher did not mind.
As we talked over lunch, a bee flew into the window just out of arm's reach from my seat at the head of the long, rectangular table. I softly waved my hand and said in a gentle voice, "Out, please." The bee flew right out and did not come back.
One of the older kids said: "All growing up, we heard stories about saints and animals. St. Francis spent time with the birds and tamed the wolf in Gubbio. St. Benedict preached to the fish. St. Rita had bees fly in and out of her mouth when she was a baby without stinging her. But all those years, we lived in a house in suburban Irving, and so it all seemed so extreme. Now, living here in this 17th century house on a vineyard in Italy, you just politely asked that bee to leave and it left. Those stories suddenly seem a lot less noteworthy!"
In these months, I have transitioned from fighting bugs fiercely, to making friends with the situation. It helps, of course, the the weather is cooler, so there are fewer mosquitoes. But I've learned when to pull the shutters for a short while, like when cooking meals, and when to shut the windows, such as ones on the north side of the house in the morning or the east side in the afternoon, or all of them right at sunset.
The other day the 6 kids had just returned from a long day at school and sat down to a huge lunch I had prepared for them: bruschetta, then pasta carbonara, then roasted zucchini and sausages. They recovered as they ate, and told stories about giving class presentations (the main way students get graded in Italian schools), the cheating going on around them, the professor with weird hair, the professor with clothes from the 80's, the professor who looks like a pigeon. Tears come to their eyes as they explain that the math teacher does not know math. One of the kids tells how he explained (in Italian) to his new Italian buddy why Christians should not have sex outside marriage as they sat in the front row of chemistry class. They both have "A's" in chemistry so the teacher did not mind.
As we talked over lunch, a bee flew into the window just out of arm's reach from my seat at the head of the long, rectangular table. I softly waved my hand and said in a gentle voice, "Out, please." The bee flew right out and did not come back.
One of the older kids said: "All growing up, we heard stories about saints and animals. St. Francis spent time with the birds and tamed the wolf in Gubbio. St. Benedict preached to the fish. St. Rita had bees fly in and out of her mouth when she was a baby without stinging her. But all those years, we lived in a house in suburban Irving, and so it all seemed so extreme. Now, living here in this 17th century house on a vineyard in Italy, you just politely asked that bee to leave and it left. Those stories suddenly seem a lot less noteworthy!"
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