A Scottish Celebration

“Well Alfred,” said Mother, looking at the sumptuous Scottish dinner laid out before them.  “Our Scottish housekeeper Agnes Findlay has done very well by us this evening.  Look what she has provided for dinner.”

Laid out on the table before them were Scotch Eggs, Cock-a-Leekie Soup, Baked salmon with terragon, Colcannon, Kale Salad, and for dessert Black Bun, that rich traditional Scottish fruit cake.

“What a wonderful way to celebrate our annual remembrance of that fine Scottish poet, Robbie Burns,” answered Alfred, bowing his head and praying the old grace that Robbie prayed at a dinner for the Earl of Selkirk centuries ago.

Some hae meat and canna eat,            Some have meat and cannot eat,

And some wad eat that want it,         And some would eat that have it not,.

But we hae meat and we can eat,       But we have meat and we can eat.

Sae let the Lord be thankit.                So let the Lord be thanked.

            “Alfred,” asked Mother, what do the words Ne Oblie on your family crest mean?”

            “It means, Do Not Forget,” said Alfred.  “The crest and our tartan tell us that we are actually part of Clan Graham; that is the Grahams of Montrose, our ancestral home.  The Eighth Duke of Montrose said, "the best of our traditions are contained in the ideals of chivalry, bravery, and Christian service to our fellow man. Of all the Scottish Clans Graham of Montrose is known for it loyalty and faithfulness.”

           

            “That certainly describes you, Alfred,” said Mother with a big smile.  “You have always been chivalrous and brave, and your loyalty won my heart a long, long, time ago.”

            “And you, Mother, have always been my Rose,” said Alfred breaking into that lilting melody of the old Robbie Burns song,

O my Luv's like a red, red rose

That’s newly sprung in June;

O my Luv's like the melodie

That’s sweetly play'd in tune.

As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,

So deep in luv am I:

And I will luv thee still, my dear,

Till a’ the seas gang dry.

            “Alfred,” said Mother, actually blushing, “Whatever would I do without your love?  With your love and support I have decided that I will go to the Talliaferro family reunion.  Thank you for being willing to go with me.  I couldn’t go without you.”

            “And you Mother will always be my beautiful Rose of Montrose,” replied Alfred.

The union of husband and wife in heart, body, and mind is
intended by God for their mutual joy; for the help and comfort
given one another in prosperity and adversity; and, when it is
God's will, for the procreation of children and their nurture
in the knowledge and love of the Lord. 

[The Book of Common Prayer, p. 423]

My Beautiful Rose

“Oh, look Alfred, the Antique Rose Emporium catalogue has come in for the spring planting.”

Alfred wandered in from the solarium, put his Bionic Classic Gardening Gloves down on the table and joined Mother in looking at the catalog.  “I wonder if they carry a fragrant rose like Chrysler Imperial or Sutter’s Gold; even a Mister Lincoln rose?  That would do very nicely,” said Alfred.

Mother had pensive look on her face as she continued to thumb through the catalog.  Finally she said, “Alfred, I was a little surprised when you called me by my name Rosabella the other day.  That brought back some memories that I wasn’t quite prepared for.”

Alfred responded, “When we were first married I always called you Rosabella, but when Jeremy was born, we began to call you Mother and it gradually just became an accepted pattern.”

“And glad I was of it, Alfred,” said Mother. “Rosabella is just so Sicilian, and it reminds me so much of things in the past that I would rather forget.”

“But, Mother,” said Alfred, “Rosabella is a beautiful name.  It means Beautiful Rose, and you have always been my beautiful rose.”

“Alfred, you have always been such a romantic,” said Mother, “and don’t think that I don’t appreciate it.  But I have to tell you I was originally very glad when you and Jeremy just began to call me Mother; it helped me leave some of those old things behind.  Besides that Rosabella Montrose just sounds so odd.”

“Well,” said Alfred, “it might help to know the origin of my last name Montrose.  You know that the name came from my ancestral home near Aberdeen in Scotland, and it comes from the French word Mont and Rose the flower.  You are indeed my Rose of Mount Rose, and beautiful you are, and always have been.”

            “Rose of Montrose does sound better than Rosabella,” said Mother.  “Rose of Montrose sounds very Scottish, but Rosabella reminds me of my background, and I don’t always feel beautiful inside.  In fact, if I think about it, it just brings old guilts to mind.” 

            “Mother, do you remember Father Goodfellow saying that there are four types of guilt?” asked Alfred.

            “Not, really,” said Mother.  Then, slightly embarrassed, she said, “I wasn’t really in much of a mood to listen last year,” then added hesitantly, “please remind me.”

            “Let me put it this way, Mother,” said Alfred.  “You are not guilty because of what Paolo did to you.  You didn’t choose to break the commandment, but your family, tua famiglia, certainly made you feel guilty, and your family was certainly involved in a lot of things you didn’t like or approve of.  It seems to me that a lot of your guilt comes from projected guilt and from vicarious or natural guilt.”

            “Let me think about it, Alfred, let me think about it,” said Mother.

“In you, O LORD, do I take refuge; let me never be put to shame; in your righteousness deliver me!  Incline your ear to me; rescue me speedily! Be a rock of refuge for me, a strong fortress to save me!” [Psalm 31:1-2].  

Speak Softly, Love

Parla più piano e nessuno sentirà,

il nostro amore lo viviamo io e te,

nessuno sa la verità, neppure il cielo che ci guarda da lassù.

Speak softly, love and hold me warm against your heart, I feel your words, the tender trembling moments start.

We're in a world, our very own

Sharing a love that only few have ever known.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=82zt5Fk5YTc&list=PLC77F4E06D055DD11

Mother stood at the dining room table holding in her hand a gilt edged invitation from her brother Calò Talliaferro.  An expression of exasperation crossed her face, “Why does my brother Caló insist on using the old family name?  There is a reason why my grandfather Antonio changed it to Toliver.  It’s almost like Caló is trying to recapture the past.”

“What is it Mother?” said Alfred.

“It’s this invitation to a family reunion in March.  That’s the last thing I want to do,” said Mother. “I’ve done my best to put my family background in the past.  First it was cousin Angelo visiting us to retrieve that lupara shotgun that belonged to my grandfather, now this.”

“We enjoyed the family get together at Assaggio’s in the Boston North-End last year,” said Alfred.”

“You, more than me, Alfred,” said Mother.  “You have always been most gracious and accepting.  For my part these family reunions just bring out all the bad memories.  One just never knows who will show up.  Some of those people I never want to see again.”

Alfred considered this for a moment before asking, “Is there something specific bothering you Mother?”

Mother placed the gilt-edged invitation carefully on the table and shook her head, “I don’t want to talk about it Alfred.  There’s no point.”

“Mother,” said Alfred, “The memories are obviously still painful.  Keeping them to yourself only gives them hidden power.”

“I suppose so, Alfred,” said Mother. “I suppose so.  A lot of it goes  back to when we were students in Boston.  I was at Boston College, and you were at the Boston University School of Management.  You know that before I met you I was dating an Italian boy named Paolo Vizzini.”

“I remember you mentioning him, Mother.” said Alfred, “If I remember, he was quite a brute.”

Mother shook her head again, obviously quite perturbed, “What I didn’t tell you Alfred, was that one night after a date forced himself on me.  When I tried to resist, he beat me.”

“Mother! said Alfred, “No!”

“Yes, Alfred, and that’s not all.  Then Caló found out about it,” said Mother, tears streaming down her face.

“Oh my darling Rosabella,” said Alfred. “Then what happened?”

“Caló just said, ‘Don’t worry about it.  You won’t ever have to see him again.’  In my family that could mean any number of things; none of them very good,” said Mother.  “Every time we have one of those family reunions I’m half afraid that I will see Paolo or one of his family members again.  I just can’t stand the thought of it.”

“Well, I’ll tell you what Mother, if you decide to go, we’ll go together, but we don’t need to stay any longer than you want to,” said Alfred.  “We’ll just make the visit short as we possibly can.  In the meantime it always helps not to keep secrets from those closest to us.”

“I know, Alfred, I know,” said Mother with an odd look on her face.

 “Jesus said to the Jews who had believed in him, "If you abide in my word, you are truly my disciples, and you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free" [John 8:31-32].  

The Silver Spoon

Mother carefully put down her Crown Princess Pattern silver teaspoon on the edge of her saucer and took a meditative sip from her Royal Windsor teacup.  “Did you know Alfred,” said she, “that I have spent most of my life looking for the finer things?”

“You and I, Mother,” said Alfred cautiously, “have always been appreciative of beauty and quality.”

“Yes, but it has begun to bother me just a little,” said Mother.  “Don’t misunderstand me, I still love the finer things, but there is such a thing as a sense of due proportion.”

Alfred took a minute to tamp some Captain Black tobacco into his new Meerschaum pipe.  After all, as Alfred says, “Pipe smoking is a hobby not a habit, and a useful hobby at that; it gives one time to think before responding in tricky situations.”

            Mother continued, “I think it all began when I was very young.  Growing up in the Talliaferro family was often difficult, and I have spent much of my life trying to live it down.”

            “Now, Mother,” said Alfred, “you know that has never been important to me.”

            “Yes, but Alfred, it has been important to some others.  Why, just the other day Mildred Hutchins looked down her very long nose at me and said, ‘I hear you’re Italian.’  She somehow had gotten wind of cousin Angelo’s visit to our group at Grace Whittington’s.”

            “I’m surprised it took that long to get around,” replied Alfred.  “Usually juicy tidbits go down very quickly.  But I wouldn’t let it bother you.”

            “But, Alfred,” said Mother, “Mildred Hutchins is such a gossip.”

            Alfred looked up at Mother and said, “Mildred has a mouth that could launch a thousand slips.  One of these times she will bite off more than she can chew.”

            Mother began to laugh, “I guess it isn’t really that important.  What really is important is whether or not my preoccupation with the finer things is really a good for me.  When I made Jesus my King on Christmas Eve something very important happened.  I may have been born a Talliaferro, but now I’m a child of the King.  That puts everything in a different perspective.”

             “It does, Mother, it does,” said Alfred.  “For a start, love has always been more important than things to both of us.  We have always appreciated the finer things, but we have appreciated love more.”

            “That is true, Alfred, thank you, and I’ve always counted on your love,” said Mother. “That makes me feel a little better, but still . . .”

            “Further, Mother,” said Alfred, “There is nothing wrong with the appreciation of quality and beauty.  There is a verse in Psalms that says, “Worship the LORD in the beauty of holiness.”[i]  Father Goodfellow says that refers to the fine garments of the priests in the Old Testament.  Our son Jeffrey gave me an interesting book the other day.  Let me get it.”

Alfred bustled off to his study and came back with a book in his hand. “Listen to this Mother, ‘The celebrant of the sacrament of joy will appear in a beautiful chasuble, because he is vested in the glory of the Kingdom, because even in the form of man God appears in glory.’”[ii] 

            “Oh, Alfred,” said Mother, “That’s wonderful; and now that I have my King I have discovered something else; a sense of awe.  I am in awe that I am loved, and that really makes me want to worship Him in the beauty of holiness.”

---

[i] Psalm 96:9 KJV

[ii] Alexander Schmemann, For the Life of the World

The Christmas Dinner

            “I am undone,” said Mother, “utterly undone!”

            It was Christmas Day.  Alfred and Mother were sitting at the dining room table with their son Jeremy and his fiancé Winifred who had come home for Christmas.

            Mother continued, “I had no idea that it was anything more than just a pretty Christmas  story.”

            She paused and looked at Alfred who said, “Tell me more, Mother.  Tell me more.”

            “Well,” said Mother looking around the table to make sure she had everyone’s attention, “everything fell into place at last Sunday’s service of Carols and Lights.  To see the whole story of the birth of Christ laid out from the beginning to the end made so much sense.”

            She turned to Jeremy and said, “You asked me to read the New Testament, and I did; not once but several times.  I could almost see Jesus walking along the shore of the Galilean Sea with his disciples.  Excuse me, but at times they seemed like such a bunch of dummies.  Then it occurred to me that I was a bit of a dummy myself.”

            There was a hush around the table as Mother bore witness.  She said, “I couldn’t sleep last night so I arose and came down stairs, got my bible from the kitchen and sat by the Christmas tree.  The fire in the fireplace had burned low and I stirred it up and put another log on the fire.  It must have been apple wood; such a lovely fragrance. It was so quiet and so very pleasant.  As I sat there with my bible, rereading the Christmas Story in Luke, I remembered Father Goodfellow saying, ‘This Christmas, let the Christ be born in you,’ and I thought, ‘Why not?’  Then I prayed, and I said, ‘Are you there?’  You see, I wasn’t really sure.  Then a marvelous thing happened.  I knew, I just knew that He was, and I said, “Lord Jesus, be born in me.” and suddenly I felt I was enfolded in His love and His love was all around me.  It seemed to have happened is a moment of time so small I couldn’t wrap my hand around it, but I knew.  I just knew!  I needed a King and now I have one.”

            Alfred bowed his head in silent thanksgiving.  Jeremy and Winifred looked at Mother and beamed.

            “Alfred,” said Mother, “forgive me, I’ve been such an ass and I’ve given you such a hard time, but now I know.”

            “Mother,” said Alfred, “It’s alright, I have often been an ass myself, but I love you.  I have always loved you.”

            “Yes, Alfred,” said Mother, “I know that is true; both the constancy of your love and that occasionally you manage to be an ass, but I love you too.  Now, Alfred, if you will start to carve the standing rib roast, I’ll go to the kitchen.  The Yorkshire pudding should be ready.

The Diamond Jubilee Tea Set

            It was late afternoon and Mother and Alfred were sitting in the solarium looking out over the devastation in the garden.  Last week’s winter ice storm had killed the roses and the blossoms hung limply from their stems; no longer white and red, but faded yellow and dull pink.  But that was not what was bothering Mother.

            She sat there looking at the High Tea provided by Agnes Findlay, the Scottish Housekeeper.  Not that there was anything wrong with the High Tea.  What can be wrong about home-made scones, Devonshire Cream, and Black Currant Jelly?  And there was certainly nothing wrong with Whittard’s Ginger and Black Leaf Tea!  No, it wasn't that.

            It was the tea cup.  Not that there was anything wrong with the tea cup, after all who could fault a 1952 Queen Elizabeth II Coronation Tea Cup with its marvellous orange gold bone china?

            Mother was holding the tea cup up and looking at the picture of the young queen on the inside of the cup on the opposite side from where a right-handed person would sip.  “That, Alfred,” said Mother, “seems somewhat disrespectful. Pouring tea in a cup right up to the Queen’s crown is just a little odd.”

            A funny look crossed Alfred’s face.  He was never very good at keeping Christmas gifts secret, no matter how hard he tried, not that Mother was very good at that either.  Alfred heaved a sigh, and said, “Well, Mother, I have a Christmas gift for you that I have had tucked away since November.”  With that he scurried off and came back a moment later with a large box wrapped with Lady Rose paper and presented it to Mother.

            “Oh, Alfred,” said Mother, putting down the tea cup.  “What have you done?”

            Alfred put the box down on the table in front of Mother and she gingerly unwrapped the box.  It was labelled, “Royal Collection. Queen’s Jubilee Tea Set” and Alfred had actually had the forethought to remove the price; which is a good thing.

            Mother slowly unpacked the box and loving laid out each item on the table.  “Oh, Alfred,” she said, “how lovely, how very lovely.”

            “Well, Merry Christmas, Mother!” said Alfred.  “I never could keep a secret very well!”

            “Nor, could I,” said Mother.  Then Mother Picked up the Diamond Jubilee tea cup and looked at it thoughtfully for a minute.

            “Mother,” said Alfred, “I wish we had elected Queen Elizabeth II for President.  We would have had a lot less fractiousness in this country.”

            “You know what I wish for? Alfred,” said Mother, “what I wish for, what I really need, is a King for me, just like in that Christmas Card from Grace Whittington, ‘He is King of Kings, and Lord of Lords.’”

            “For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace.”[Isaiah 9:6].

            

Jesus Calling

         Mother and Alfred were sitting at the Sheraton table in the solarium on a bright sunny November morning.  All the roses they had picked before the frost warning had long since wilted and had been moved to the compost bin; nevertheless they still beheld the myriad of fragrant roses still blooming outside the solarium windows.

            Mother held a small leather bound volume in her hands.  A look of mild consternation and amusement crossed her face.  “Alfred?” she asked, “How can this author title the book ‘Jesus Calling’ when it’s all her own ideas?”

            Alfred put down the Wall Street Journal he was reading and asked, “Where on earth did you get that, Mother?”

            “Agnes Findlay loaned it to me.  She thought I might enjoy it,” said Mother.  Then she paused and added, “How can the author title it ‘Jesus Calling’?  It’s obviously her own thoughts.”

            “Well, Mother,” said Alfred, “there are a couple of possible answers.  She might have titled it ‘Jesus Calling’ because that was what she heard Jesus saying to her.  The other possibility is that she thinks that what she hears also applies to everyone else.”

            Mother gingerly put the little leather bound book down in the very center of the Sheraton table and said, “That’s just it Alfred.  She doesn’t know everybody and she doesn’t know me.”

            “Quite true, Mother,” said Alfred.  “You are unique and somewhat complicated.”

            Mother eyed him suspiciously and said, “Oh?”

            “I meant that as a compliment,” said Alfred.  “If you weren’t unique and somewhat complicated I wouldn’t have been attracted to you to start with.  As for ‘Jesus Calling’, if the shoe doesn’t fit don’t put it on.  What might be perfectly fine for other people isn’t necessarily fine for you.”

            “Oh, thank you, Alfred,” said Mother.  “That puts my heart at rest.  I’ll just thank Agnes and return to the book to her.  After all I wouldn’t expect her to like ‘The Godfather’ just because I do.”

            Alfred laughed, “Tua Família? Now that’s something I’m sure Agnes wouldn’t like at all.”

            Mother picked the book up off the table and gazed at the title for a minute.  She said in a soft voice, “Jesus Calling?” She put it back down thoughtfully on the table and said,  “Jesus Calling.” “I suppose in a way he is.”

            “Yes, certainly Mother,” said Alfred, “in so many ways and each of them unique to each one us.”

“Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me” (Revelation 3:20).