Celebrating Easter

St. Mary's After the Service Coffee time

          Easter—“He Is Risen” rings through my ears and in my heart.  Our Easter Sunday provided us opportunities to make wonderful memories.  Firstly, the weather suited the day—with patches of broken clouds and sun shining through.  At least the morning was dry.  

          The eleven o’clock morning service at St. Mary’s had some unexpected visitors.  A black Labrador named Farley came for the first time as a part of his training to be a guide dog to one of our regular church members.  He’s just over two years old, sleek coated and eager to please.  I’m sure we will see more of him in the future.

          At the end of the service the vicar introduced a couple celebrating a significant anniversary.  They had been married sixty years ago on 27^th April in St. Mary’s.  How wonderful to have a couple who have years of wisdom and experience to set an example for married couples today.   

          Most church services at Christmas time are graced with folk who do not attend a weekly service.  Easter is a similar occasion in terms of additional worshipers coming with family as part of celebrating Easter.    For us, our “extended” family included our friends from Scotland.  We walked home from church, discussing our options for dinner. 

          Since we needed seating for nine people, I checked on-line to see about getting reservations on the day.  One restaurant was full.  I found the phone number for The Harvester, which is about the same distance to walk.  The table available soon had our name written down.

          Spring is known for sudden rain showers; and we were “blessed” with a wet walk to the restaurant.  Thankfully, the shower wasn’t heavy and short-lived.  How lovely to discover the reserved table was a round table, with a booth.  It was easy to see each other and chat happily away, eating food someone else had cooked for us.  And we could leave the dirty dishes! 

          After enjoying a leisurely meal, we trooped back to our home.  The “Daniel” family needed to collect bags they had left at the flat before going back to the White House in Langley.   http://whitehouselangley.co.uk/

          Hugs all round were the order of the evening as the “Daniel” family prepared to leave.  “Maverick” and Maisy walked with them, leaving me time to sit quietly and ponder the many blessings God has poured over me.  Yes, I’d cooked for lunch for fifteen people for Saturday—but it had been a pleasure.  We had worshiped together, deepening the bond of love and sense of family.  Connections between two ministries had been made, and I felt privileged to have a part to play in that. 

          This Easter past filled my heart to overflowing with thanksgiving, love and joy. 

          Serving Jesus, Author of our faith

“Lady Helene”

         

         

Maybe for her first birthday?

             

   The last week of June 2015 I was on the phone with “Chantilly.”  The conversation went something like this:  “Nana, you know what Phe-Phe asked me?” 

                “No.” I replied, going along with the pretence.  After all, “Princess Phe-Phe” was only a day or so old.  I figured the Mama would know what the little one would want and interpret for me.

                “She told me,” Chantilly continued.  (I could hear the smile in her voice.) “that she would like for you to crochet her a pink blanket.” 

                “Really?  Well, since she asked so nicely, how can I say no?”

                Unfortunately, I’ve been slow in getting this project done.  Although I wanted to get started straight away, it was August before I made it to the Haberdashery shop to buy yarn.  It took me a while to find a pattern on-line.  So now that now that Phe-Phe is six months old, I figure it’s time to move this project up on the priority list.  

                 The square on the right is what the finished block looks like.  After they are all that size, I will sew them together into a blanket.  

 

                The link to the pattern is here:  http://www.allfreecrochet.com/Baby-Afghan-Crochet-Patterns/Baby-Blocks-Blanket-from-Bernat

                 

                 After I bake an applesauce cake, I’m going to park on the couch and keep my crochet hook busy.  At the rate I'm going, it might be for her first birthday! 

Serving Jesus, Author of our faith,

“Lady Helene”

Eleven years, eight days...

                Early Sunday evening, and I would love to lay down and take a nap; but it is too late for that.   I got back to the house about 3.30 pm—which would have been an excellent time to have a kip.  Especially since “The Maverick” is working this evening.  Instead, I check my e-mail, played card games on my computer and checked the TV guide listing for tonight.

 Inside my mind waged this little battle of laziness verses determination to write a blog post.  Hmmmm…to give into my sleepiness and satisfy my lethargy, or live with the guilt and disappointment from a lack of disciple and nothing to show for my afternoon?  Which option do I prefer. 

                The “I shall persevere” won. 

                Today is Sunday, 26^th January.  Eleven years  and eight days ago The Maverick and I exchanged wedding vows at Indianapolis Christian Fellowship on a snowy Saturday afternoon.  The morning started out bitterly cold, clear skies and sharp, biting wind.  Carrying a cup of coffee and a breakfast sandwich from McDonalds, I trudged through the re-frozen snow of the church parking lot to the building.  I was the first one there—arriving about 9.30 am. 

                By 2.30 pm that afternoon, the temperature had dropped a bit, the winds had brought grey, snow-laden clouds.  I stood at the back of the church, next to the coat racks, listening to the Twila Paris song, “He is Exalted” playing over the loud speaker, and watched my bridesmaids proceed into the sanctuary. 

                The back doors closed, and I walked to my place, on the arm of my friend’s arm.  The music swelled and the doors opened.  I looked at “The Maverick” and “Major Will” (who was officiating the ceremony.)  “Major Will” had and ear-to-ear grin on his face.  “The Maverick” had dropped his jaw, and I could see his eyes fill with tears of joy. 

                During the ceremony there were moments of quiet reflection, moments of laughter and moments of rejoicing music.  I don’t remember all the finer points throughout, but I do know that at the end of the ceremony we were husband and wife. 

                Last Saturday, 18^th January, “The Maverick” asked me if I wanted to invite anyone to join us for a meal out—to celebrate our special day.  We asked “Ms. Celia” to join us.  “Ms. Celia” was kind and provided a lift to the restaurant to which we went—Le Bettola--http://www.labettola.com/

                I worked at Worldspan Inc. in Hayes, Middlesex from 2004 to 2007.  I commuted to Hayes on the 81 bus daily, which drives by Le Bettola every day.  “The Maverick” rides his bike past the restaurant on his way to work at  the airport.  We wanted to find someplace other than the regular eating places we have eaten at before.  This was a celebratory meal.  When he asked me if I wanted to go there, I was delighted.  I’d wanted to eat there for years. 

                Only one other family was in the restaurant when we walked in, which seemed curious; that is until I realised it was early, only about 6.30 pm.  The 7.30 pm, the place was busy. 

                Le Bettola is a traditional family-run establishment, with bed and breakfast rooms available upstairs.   The atmosphere is an interesting balance of rustic yet contemporary.  The back part of the restaurant is a banquet room that can be reserved.  But for this evening, it was open.  It is actually a conservatory with a grape vine growing along the ceiling rafters.  In the summer the vines actually have grapes which are used for a house wine. 

                Seeing as how I am tea-total, I ordered lemon aid.  “The Maverick” and “Ms. Celia” shared a bottle of house wine.  The drinks came with bread, butter and a dish of olives with chilli.  Although I usually don’t like olives, for the sake of the evening, I ate two—which were flavoured with garlic as well as chillies.  The bread was warm, the crust crunchy. 

            For my entrée I ordered Spaghetti Cartoccio, which is spaghetti prepared with mixed seafood and baked in the oven.  “The Maverick” and “Ms. Celia” ordered Tagliatelle Volare which is

tagliatelle with squid and prawns, tossed in white wine, chilli and garlic, finished with a concasse of fresh chopped tomatoes.  It’s been some time since my taste buds were that happy!  The pasta bowls were full—and if you left hungry, it was because you didn’t eat! 

If you live close to Heathrow, Windsor or Hayes, Middlesex and want authentic Italian—then Le Bettola is the place to go. 

                I’d tell you what I had for dessert, but I don’t know the name of it.  But, it had ice cream, cream and coffee in it. 

                Unlike a lot of restaurants, who have one server per table, the food was served by several people—including the owner.  When one of them had a moment, they would stand and answer questions:

 “Is that wisteria? “

                “No, madam; that is a grape vine.  And if you come in the summer, you can see the grapes hanging down.”

                “Are the olives roasted?”

                “No, they were seasoned in a pan of butter, garlic and chillies.  It’s a traditional recipe.”

                “Is the bread brought in?”

                “No, we make all our bread here on site.”

The music playing subtly in the back ground, was a mix of contemporary soft rock and traditional Italian music.

                Our decision to visit Le Bettola again was unanimous, especially as the meal for all of us was very reasonable. 

               

                I am so thankful that “The Maverick” and I are so blessed.  Each year I think about how long I waited to get married; honestly, being a wife to “The Maverick”—who is kind, generous, funny, resilient, committed to God and tome—was worth the wait. 

Hanging out with family

                Here in England, school holidays are about six to seven weeks long.  Holiday season begins the very last week of July and goes through to the end of August or first week of September. 

                When I think of summer holidays, memories of mid-year in Indiana surface in my mind.  Our parents arranged for us to spend time with our grandparents. 

                My father’s mother we called Granny.  (She didn’t like the sound of Grandma!).  She was married to Gramps.    My mother’s mother we called Grandma.  (She had an aversion to the term Granny!)  So differentiating between them was simple.  From the summer of 1970 until we graduated from high school my sister and I spent two weeks in southern Indiana at my Grandma’s house and two weeks in Illinois at Gramps’ and Granny’s house.  Maybe I’ll write about some of my memories later.  But I brought up the idea of visiting grandparents, because my life was enriched by spending time with them.  And I wanted to repeat that practice with my grandchildren. 

                One of the differences between being a grandchild myself and my grandchildren, is family size.  It was only my sister and me that my parents had to arrange transport for.  It was just two that my grandparents had to feed and entertain—whether together or separately. 

                I have four step-children.  Collectively, we have seventeen grandchildren.  There is no way our first-floor flat could contain a group of children.  At the very most, we could handle two for a week or two.    

                Given this, I came to the conclusion that it was easier for me to go spend a week with them instead of them trying to come to me. 

                August 2^nd, I with The Maverick and “Trusty Steed” (his bike) took the train to Dorchester, where we spent the night with “Walley & Gaz”   Their Victorian home was snug, with a tight stair case, short landing and three bedrooms upstairs. 

                To my chagrin, I forgot my camera. 

                Whilst “Walley” and I curled up in chairs and chatted, their youngest son, “Morrie”  nonchalantly came over and climbed onto the chair with me.  His favourite thing is play-dough.  I was obliged to roll out a yard-long worm!  But one has a difficult time turning down a six-year-old.   “Gaz” cooked a delicious pork roast dinner. 

                The next day The Maverick had the pleasure of riding from Dorchester to Wareham.   That Sunday was cool, partly cloudy, making for excellent riding weather.

                Happily riding in the front seat of “Gaz’s” car, the rest of us arrived at “Lacy & Mr. Biz’s” house.  They had just moved into this spacious refurbished farm house with it’s large lounge, and five bedrooms.  The kitchen has an old-fashioned gas cooker, as well as a small gas stove and oven.  The downstairs toilet and shower are off the laundry room.  The second bathroom and toilet are at the top of the stairs. 

                When we arrived, it was to find “Lacy’s” and “Walley’s” cousin, “Darr” making a fire in the barbeque.  A 50 gallon drum barrel had been converted into a grill.  Being from Zimbabwe, “Darr” was familiar with the African “Brie” lifestyle.  And being a head chef, he was more than happy to create marinade for the beef and chicken. 

                Including “Darr’s” daughter, eleven children filled the afternoon with playing, laughing, a few tears and happy chatter.  Although cool, the weather was warm enough for half the children to play in the pool in the back garden. 

                Four chickens and three ducks seem unfazed by the extra people meandering in and out of the garden.

                Because we hadn’t seen “Lacy” and “Mr. Biz” for a few months, The Maverick and I found ourselves sitting up till 2.00 am Monday morning, chatting with them.  Guess there was a lot to catch up with. 

                The Maverick caught the train late morning on Monday to come home.  He had to work on Tuesday.  I stayed until Friday.  Several times I was disappointed that I’d forgotten my camera.  But I will make sure to take it next time.

                Tuesday  “Lacy” took me, “Lollie”, “Cookie” and “Man-Cub” to Swanage, a traditional Victorian sea town.  http://www.visitswanage.com/  “Lollie” and “Cookie” enjoyed paddling in the waves and playing in the sad.  “Man-Cub”, only 10 months old, was fascinated by all the stones, grabbing sand—with the intent of putting it into his mouth.  Our two-hour stay included having ice cream. 

"Cookie", Me and "Lollie" in front

                Wednesday “Mr. Biz” was chauffer to “Lacy” “Cookie”, “Man Cub” and me.  “Mr. Biz” drove over the hills of Dorset, using back roads to help me see the breath-taking beauty of the area.  Our destination was Lulworth Cove. http://www.lulworthonline.co.uk/ When we drove into the car park, I looked up the hill and thought “No way!  You’ve got to be joking!”    We were facing a hill of about a 30 degree angle.   The path was graduated, with crushed rock and landings.  We took it slowly, but I made it to the top of the hill.  However I didn’t actually see the horseshoe-shaped cove, as it meant going down the hill.  Physically, I had reached my limits—knowing I wasn’t fit enough to traipse down the hill, then come back up again and back down again.  However, I wasn’t the only one who decided that the top of the hill was sufficient for the day.  Even so, the view from the top  hill was worth the trudge up the hill. 

                Eventually, we made our way back down to the shops by the entrance to the car park.  We had hot, fresh fish and chips.  “Man Cub” using his four teeth, made good work of a sausage.   We had to stand in line for ice cream.  It was made from organic milk from a local dairy. The kind of ice cream that needs to be savoured. 

                Wednesday, “Jame-oh” became ill, running a fevor.  So Thursday, “Lacy” and “Mr. Biz” spent the better part of the day at the A&E (Accident and Emergency).   The doctors kept them, wanting to make sure that “Jame-oh” did not have appendicitis.   Food poisoning was the verdict.  They gave him instructions for a light diet and some tablets.   “Jame-oh” was insistent he was going to Cadet Camp.   So, although uncomfortable, he was glad it was only something he ate. 

                Friday, 9^th August, I had a very easy, and pleasant journey home on the train.   By the time I’d arrived home though, I was tired.  Yet, as I looked back at the week, I can easily say it was time well invested.  I’m looking forward to doing it again.

Serving Jesus, Author of our faith,

“Lady Helene”