Holy Fools

Two days ago I was walking down 13th, armed against the spastic weather and mulling over some heavy things on my mind, when I came upon a homeless couple. Naturally they asked for any spare money, which I honestly didn't have at the time. They were a little on the crazy side (who wouldn't have been, sitting out in that fickle weather?), and spent some time joking around with me (or, you know, at me). Then the man noticed the cross on my neck and asked, "Can I have that cross, then?"
I answered no, it had been a special gift.
"That is special, very special," jabbered the woman. "A cross is a special thing."
"Wear it well," the man added.

Which kind of took my breath away. I took in these words and turned away from them as they started making ironic remarks about being the warriors of Jesus and how they liked my sailor's jacket (read: peacoat). Such unexpected wisdom from an unexpected (and rather flippant) corner. I think Christ told us that the poor would always be with us, not so that we would always have to take care of them, but really, because they know things, too. I certainly had nothing to give them; and in the midst of the pain I had been dealing with, I was admonished to step up to the challenge of the cross around my neck. The moment that I received it came flooding back to me, when Father Jerry clasped it on at my baptism and quoted, "Whosoever shall follow after Me must deny herself, take up her cross, and follow after Me." My cross is those painful things, and I must take them up. Easy to forget (why is that?!), and so, so good to remember. Those things aren't really better, but more hopeful, I think. I hope.

Yours, etc.

After that perfect sunny day came a rather cold, rather stressful month. But each day is a gift. I am left hoping that, if at all possible, all my senioritis has defected to this year. Fingers crossed.

It has been a beautiful Sunday, though, made much more so by Lemon Tart and Tom Waits. I've decided that my baking endeavors should have an appropriate music pairing. Following the success of "Blondies & Ben Folds", I decided to try matching my gluten-free lemon tart (in anticipation of tonight's company) with Tom Waits, who, if you haven't listened to him, has a voice that I've heard described as raggedy and bourbon-soaked. I find him rather charming, and a great accompaniment. Sweet, lemony-tart, bourbon-y...I like it.

I had to run to the store for a lemon before I began the tart, and was amused to find that the receipt for the little lemon had a quote from Sarte listed at the bottom (it's natural-foods store. They like to hand out tidbits of philosophy with their merchandise). This is what my Sartrian lemon advised: "A lost battle is a battle one thinks one has lost." I really hope it holds true for the tart.

Yours, etc.