No, I’m not talking about that year when I lost all that weight. Or the cliff edge we had to navigate, hanging on for dear life it was so narrow, lest we lose our footing. No. This is a concept that grabbed my attention when one of my favorite authors, Shauna Neiquist, introduced it to me in her writing. “A thin place is a place where the boundary between the natural world and the supernatural one is more permeable -thinner, if you will”. “Where the passage between heaven and earth is a short one, a place where God’s presence is almost palpable. The boundary between the divine world and the human world becomes almost non existent, and the divine and the human can, for a moment, dance uninterrupted.” She goes on to say, “when we find a thin place, we should live differently in the face of it, because if we don’t, we miss some of the best moments that life with God has to offer us. These thin places are gifts, treasures, and they are worth changing our lives for.”

I have felt strongly that these months, when the entire world has been cut off from one another and most of our regular activities and pursuits have been halted, have become a thin place for me. A place where Gods presence is almost palpable. So intense that it feels tangible. Tangible, as in something that can be touched or felt. The portal to communion with God has been opened and seizing the moment has become expedient.

Interestingly enough, when we cease from our striving and our indulging and our speed and our self sufficiency, there is a quiet where we can hear the voice of God. Being honest, there have been, many other voices out there, in this unique period of history, that have been vying for our attention. Fear. Guilt. Anger. Fear. Uncertainty. Suspicion. Mistrust. Fear. Pride. Arrogance. Fear. But as we shelter at home, we have had the choice to turn off all those other voices and invite God’s voice into our experience. Turning off the harmful voices takes intention. And you have to replace those voices with something else. Something more soothing and more calm. I’ve heard the voice of love speaking to me. Literally drowning out the voices out there. Sometimes, I have been successful and sometimes, not so much.

But when I have been able to experience this thin place (and I have much more during this isolation period), it has been a gift of peace and a treasure trove of wisdom and encouragement. It has brought calm and rationality back in front of me, and inside of me. I have been content to bask, for literally hours, in His presence and have his love and grace wash over me. And not feel one tiny bit guilty that I should have been doing something more productive. I have felt that this was the most productive thing I could do. The most healing. The most illuminating. The most reflective. The most corrective. And it has changed me. Continues to change me. I have felt these thin places breathing life and love back into me. There has been a softening. A more willing submission to the one I endeavour to love with all my heart and soul and mind. There is no fear in these moments or hours or days. The thin places have been a gift for sure. I will continually pursue and hunt for the thin places. A little piece of heaven on earth.

I had lots to do today, but, my daughter invited me along on some errands she had to run. I never say no to spending time with my kids, especially if they initiate. I am sure you mothers know exactly what I’m talking about.

First stop, my favorite italian market. We had to stand in line outside as they were only letting so many in. We donned our face masks and waited in line. We expected this. Lexie pulling me over as I was getting too close to the girl in front of us. I forgot. Once we were at the front of the line, the staff member gave us a bit of a judgemental look and said, you’re going in together? Us: is that ok? Him: Fine. As long as long as only one of you goes through the till. What? Plus he wasn’t letting us in until he soaked us down with substitute hand santitizer made in a brewery. It’s very wet and drippy and you end up smelling like a bottle of wine. Me: is it ok if I use my own? Him: Sure, but let me watch you apply it.

I kept getting messed up by the arrows on the floor because in spots there were none and I wondered ‘how to I get over there from here?’ I felt like I was playing a social distancing game of Twister. I’m getting pretty good at my long jump. I got my chocolate croissants and a basil plant and hightailed it out of there. Used to be one of my favorite places. I won’t be going back there anytime soon. I’ll learn how to make my own chocolate croissants.

We stopped at our favorite mall to procure an essential item Lexie needed but, of course, decided to snoop around a bit. You know, go to some of our favorite stores that we hadn’t set foot in for about two and a half months….Brewery hand sanitizer at one store (I used my own) and instructed at the door to only try on clothes in change rooms…even purses and shoes. Then we go over to another store and your not allowed to try on the clothes at all. Just make your best guess on size and you can return it in 2021 if you need to. I stopped quickly at the book store…. donning a face mask and bypassing their brewery hand sanitizer once again. The employee at the door: Wow, that sure smells a lot better than ours. Yes. Yes, it does. I had to keep telling the door guards that my hand sanitizer had 68% alchohol.

One of the mall guards approached us and said: if you are just going to chit chat could you go stand over there? That’s ok,  we were just leaving.

Next stop, the garden store.  The whole hand sanitizer thing again. These great big spray bottles. No thanks, I already showered. Mostly freewheeling there. Pleasant enough. However, I overheard a staff person telling these ladies, that were mumbling under their face masks, bedding plants are the new toilet paper. We are out! Finally, standing outside on the curb waiting for Lexie and I had to keep moving so I didn’t accidentally touch anyone trying to get by. Felt like a game of dodge ball.

Yes, the stores are opening but the fun is gone. Maybe shopping was never meant to be a fun activity.  Maybe I got it all wrong.  I’m not going back to any of these places in a long long time. I mean, I get that they are just following protocol so they can be open. I get that. If they don’t do these things then they will be shut down again. I do get that.  I actually feel bad for them.  But just because they are open, doesn’t mean I have to go there. And I mostly likely will not return for quite some time.  It’s my choice. I am quite enjoying the benefits of online shopping. I can get my essentials at the grocery store and everything else, online or go without. Which isn’t such a bad idea anyway.

I didn’t realize how good we had it prior to this. I just took my long leisurely afternoons at Chapters and Starbucks for granted. Like they’d never end. Meeting friends there to chat for hours. Going to movies every Friday night. Taking all out out-of-town visitors to Chinook as a form of entertainment. Going to our favorite patisserie’s when the day was lovely. Driving out to Banff or Lake Louise for the afternoon. I read today that an Albertan found a hate note on his car, parked momentarily, in Revelstoke, telling him to go home (most in expletives). Is this the new normal? Because if it is, I will be more than happy to stay at home forever.

My husband suggested we go out for dinner for my birthday – because – we can now. I’m thinking, let’s just have a BBQ in the back yard. I’m not afraid of catching anything (and I’m trying to do my part not to spread anything),  it’s more that I just don’t like the world anymore. And I don’t like how it’s making people act.  Paul ( of biblical fame) suggests  we make it our ambition to lead a quiet and simple life and mind our own business…. i think I’ll try that. I’ll stay home and take care of my sourdough starter.

It seems everyone is baking bread during their home isolation. Even if they never made it before. The flour and yeast aisles are pretty much bare at the grocery stores. And many people are making sour dough bread starter (because you don’t need yeast). I’m pretty sure if sourdough starter were a vaccine we’d have enough, just in Calgary, for the entire planet.

I think we have a love hate relationship with bread. On the one hand it is irresistible fresh out of the oven with some real butter or some jam. Even with nothing. Just rip off a chunk and inhale it. Let’s not forget the way it makes your house smell like heaven while it’s baking. On the other hand, it’s straight up carbs and there are many that don’t feel people that eat carbs are worth taking up space on the earth. Carbs are the enemy. Thus, bread is too.

But I don’t think there are very many that can turn down fresh baked even if they don’t believe in it. If you are a perpetrator of fresh bread expect to be despised by these ‘no carb’ cults.

I’m pretty sure that bakers and cooks and even regular people are buying up all the flour and yeast because they are convinced that, if you have these, you can bake bread and you’ll always have food. (don’t get me started on the just add water pancake mix). It reminds me of the manna that the Lord provided daily for the Israelites when they were wandering in the desert. They did live on bread alone. And I don’t remember reading that the Lord switched it up at all. No wonder they were complaining that the food in Egyptian slavery was better.

There are so many ways to do bread. Fresh. Ripped. Sliced. Toasted. Cinnamon buns. Raisin bread. Focaccia. Naan. Bruschetta. Bread pudding. Croissants. Sandwiches. French toast. Croutons. Sourdough. Banana bread. Stuffing. Dinner rolls. Bread sticks. Crustinis. Crumbs. And it’s all good.

There is no denying that bread is comfort food. Maybe that’s what everyone is after. The Comfort. These are unpredictable times and everything is changing daily. We don’t know what’s true or real. Bread is stable and certain and gives us what we want. Bread is bread and it’s makes us feel good (until it doesn’t). Helps us forget about the crazy, even if only while we are eating it or baking it or smelling it. Who says we aren’t making a lot of dough staying at home?  I know I am.

As I was listening to our pastors powerful message of truth at our Tenebrae service on Good Friday (we participated at home online) he mentioned that this was probably the lentiest Lent that anyone in our generation or younger have ever experienced.  Lent, in the Christian church, is a period of penitential preparation for Easter. In Western churches it begins on Ash Wednesday, six and a half weeks before Easter, and provides for a 40-day fast (Sundays are excluded), in imitation of Jesus Christ ’s fasting in the wilderness before he began his public ministry.  So,  very often,  believers and Christ followers give up something during Lent so they can spend more time focusing on Christ and his sacrifice for us and what it all means and what He means to us.  This year, Ash Wednesday was on February 26th, exactly two weeks before the proverbial pandemic hit the fan. As an adjective,  penitent means feeling or expressing sorrow for sin or wrongdoing and disposed to atonement and amendment.  Repentant. Contrite.

What is it about the movie ‘Father of the Bride’ that rips my heart out every single time I watch it. Every. Single. Time. First of all….Steve Martin. Could they have picked a more perfect father? The movie is reminiscent of simpler times. More wholesome times. And that house! If it isn’t just the homiest home with the homiest yard I could ever be at home in.  And that basket ball hoop in the backyard, surrounded by trees and verandas and wicker benches with cushions and flowers and grass.  I have wanted a basketball hoop in my back yard since the first time I laid eyes on this movie. My kids were still young and could have benefitted from having one. I was pretty convinced that that basketball hoop was akin to therapy. One would never need it if they could only play basketball in the backyard with their dad, growing up.  All would be right with the world if you had a basketball hoop. We never ever got one because we never ever had a place for one and now we have arrived to this day with emotional baggage. A basketball hoop would have been cheaper than therapy. Do not dwell on the past….

I love Franc. Martin Short invents this character so well. The wedding planner. I am so jealous of him. That is the wedding I want to plan. I absolutely adore that backyard tent wedding. It’s absolutely stunning and I just know I could create that wedding in my backyard if someone would give me the opportunity. Given the fact that it snowed on the day of that wedding gives me hope for planning an outdoor wedding. Of course that was California and this is Calgary. That was a movie and this is reality. San Marino, California. I don’t know if there is such a place but if there is, I want to live there, with its tree lined streets and white picket fences.

The Way you Look Tonite is probably one of my favorite songs with secular lyrics. It doesn’t matter who sings that song. When I hear it I pause and listen and dream that someone might have felt that way about me somewhere …sometime. Sigh.

Anyway, I watched the movie tonite as a distraction from the insanity that is our world right now and it was the perfect choice. I was transported to a gentler, more stable era. A million miles away from here. To manageable problems and happier endings. I mean, they got in a fight and almost called of the wedding because of a blender. Easily rectified. Little misunderstanding. And the craziness in the grocery store was because they sell wieners in eights and hot dog buns by dozens and George Banks was not falling for that ripoff after spending $1200 on a wedding cake and flying all the Sweden relatives over from Denmark and paying $250 a head for every guest at the wedding. Not to mention the new navy polyester tuxedo he had to buy thinking it was Georgio Armani and thinking it was black. Those are the sorts of issues I want to deal with. I know what to do about things like this. Nothing was really out of control. Nothing earth shattering, if you know what I mean.

Tomorrow, Father of the Bride II. I’m so glad there’s another one.

We had to cancel our trip to Mexico for a friend of the family’s destination wedding at the end of April.  My son was going to be on of the attendants but he is a nervous traveller so we all decided to go and make it a family vacation.  Whenever that can happen, its a bonus. We were sad to cancel the trip and take a loss in regards to a refund but these are the times we are living in and we really had no choice.  Coronavirus is not being kind to our finances or anybody elses.
However,  at this juncture we are all holed up together here in the south of Calgary in our comfy family home.  It just so happens that both of our adult children are living at home right now and I couldn’t be more grateful to have them underfoot.  They have gone and they have come back and we’ve been wondering why life turns out the way it does but I am starting to get some revelation.   I wouldn’t want them to be anywhere else right now, especially with the hit to the pocketbook.  They don’t have to ‘not be able to pay their rent and be evicted’.  They don’t have to ‘not be able to see us because they are off quarantining in another country or province’. They don’t have to ‘not be able to afford food’ because they can eat at home and I am positively happy to cook for them. I don’t have to be ‘wondering how they are doing and feeling helpless to help them’.   My daughter has been experimenting with running her own business which happens to rely on large events (groups of people gathering together).  Needless to say, she has no work. We’ve all been relegated to home to do our part in flattening the curve.   So here we are.  This is Us.
There was a time when I may have believed that this situation was dysfunctional and co-dependent and a lot of other negative things that people may have judged us as idiots for allowing.  But I finally came to the place where I believed that God knows what He is doing ‘for such a time as this’. I was OK with being considered dysfunctional or maybe actually being dysfunctional.  Once I was OK with this then it didn’t bother me what others would think any longer.   And now, I am thanking God on bended knee that this is our situation.
We get to spend this isolation time together.  We had a dinner party the other night and then played Mexican train.   We built a snowman in the backyard on another day.  Today we went for a walk in a non crowded area and nearly froze to death, together.  Then we stopped at the grocery store for provisions (since we were already out). Probably not a great idea but too late now.  (We are taking all of this seriously btw).  And all returned home happy with our little isolation treats.
Sometimes I don’t like having everyone at home because I like to be alone.  For some reason, I don’t feel like I can do whatever I want when others are here.  Which is baloney because no one ever stops me from doing what I want.  But I do like to walk around the house and pray outloud when no one is home.(That’s not what you thought I was going to day, is it?  LOL)  In fact, I love doing that.  I don’t feel so comfortable doing it when others are here.  So now I do it when everyone is asleep.  And that is nice too.
We are all at home and getting along.  Grateful for that.  Every home and family can’t always make that claim.   We are giving each other their space (except when I insist they get out of their pyjamas and go for a walk).  We have great conversations when the kids aren’t holed up in their rooms.  The are so intelligent and fun. At some point they have to eat.  We like each other even though none of us is perfect.  I have to let some things go.  I can’t have the house spotless all the time.  I have to listen to their shows and music very often.  We have to share the space and we also have to respect each others health by washing and sanitizing our hands and things we touch after we’ve been out.  But there is a mature and mutual respect for what is going on in the world and we are looking out for each other.
This whole situation is totally surreal.  I can’t even believe its happening but if it had to happen then these are the people I want to walk through it with.  These are the people I want to be stuck in an elevator with.

Winners is shut down.  Chapters is shut down.  You can only do drive through at Starbucks.  Church is cancelled as well as our home group.  The office is closed.  Pottery Barn is closed.  H & M is closed.  The Bay is closed.  Nordstrom’s is closed (not that that effects me in any way).  Zara is closed as well as IKEA.  Can’t go to the gym – closed. Can’t travel – not that I’d want to at this point.  Can’t go to the movie theatres.  SO I guess I may as well stay home.  There is no where to go.  This is the ultimate case of “all dressed up with nowhere to go”.  A few fast food places open – well if their food doesn’t kill you, the germs you pick up from the younguns who think they are invincible,  will.
So I am finally confined to my house.  I have often said that if I were stuck in my basement for a year,  I would never run out of things to do…and that is still the truth.  Why is it that once you are told to not go out,  all you can think about is going out?  Now you don’t want to stay home.  I am not sure why because, I, of all people have a wonderful home to be isolated to.  We have food and essentials.  Our home is clean and well decorated. Pleasant.  Comfortable. Warm. Safe. It is definitely a Home, Sweet, Home. We are surrounded by our favorite things.  One of them being our adult children that are living at home for such a time as this.  We get along and love each other.  They are so interesting.  I have so many unread books and a sewing machine and serger that hardly get used when I am busy gallivanting around town.   I have canvases and paint.  I could paint up a gallery.  I have a freshly tuned piano that wants to be played with.   I have journals to fill and a blog to update.  I have a cookbook to write and recipes to be tested.  We have Instagram, Facebook and email.  We have Netflix.  We could watch Christmas movies.  Whose going to stop us??  I mean we already turned our Christmas lights back on to join others across North America in a message of hope.  We have games.    We have been so blessed and now we get a chance to slow down and appreciate and enjoy those blessings that we have been tripping over all these months and years.  Always reaching for that new thing to distract us and to obsess about.
Now we get the opportunity to slow down.  To contemplate.  To exercise gratitude.  To learn.  To relax.  To get to know one another better.  To find peace.  To adopt some new habits.  Some better habits.  To realize what we do and do not need to survive.  To simplify.  To stop the acquiring of things and spending money on stuff.  Time to pray.  Time to meditate.  Time to be kind and generous. A time to re-assess our lives and our purpose and our focus.  I think a lot of us really needed this time.  I know the financial implications are scary but maybe even that is a concept we need to rethink.
There is always a silver lining.  Look for the good in every difficult situation.  It’s there.  And the nature of a mass pandemic as a contagion is that you have to be thinking about the other person.  Its not all about you.  Its not all about me.  Its about doing the right thing.  The compassionate thing.  The selfless thing.  The kind thing.  The inconvenient thing.  And who doesn’t need to hone up those character traits?
Well, I’ve got to go now and drop a bag of flour on my 88 year old mother’s doorstep and then we are having a Netflix party with some of our family that live miles away.  Why didn’t we think of this before now???  Necessity is the mother of invention.

What are those funny little cookies that look like mini hamburgers in an assortment of colours? I saw them on our visit to Paris, at every little sidewalk baker and cafe. Our favorite place to stop every morning before a full day of sightseeing was Paul’s. We were so obsessed with the croissants, we barely gave those odd hamburger cookies a moments notice. Frankly, I didn’t think they looked that appetizing. And, I thought they were a little ugly. (Like Uggs until they were all the rage. Or Birkenstocks). We probably passed the Laduree shop several times as we walked the Champs élysées oohing and awing. We visited the Elie Saab boutique and Louis Vuitton and Chloe but walked right past Laduree, the inventor of the macaron as we know it today. Two little almond meringue cookies with a flavoured filling sandwiched between. The macaron was actually born in Italy and somehow made its way to France. It was at La Masion Laduree that they began to sandwich a filling between the two cookies.

It wasn’t until we returned home that we started to see the emergence of this sweet, glorious, haute cuisine delight in our little village. Maybe it was there all the time, we just didn’t have any interest in it. Not unlike the time Mike bought us a brand new car. A Sable. I’d never seen one or heard of it before. Ours was a rich deep wine color and I thought I’d acquired at Jag. Until I started to drive it and realized there was a Sable on every corner… almost.

Once we were aware that this little French delicacy was taking over from the cupcake, we had to be on board. We’re nothing, if not on top of the food and fashion trends. When I say ‘we’, I’m talking about my daughter and I. We examined them when we had the pleasure of tasting them at various events. Well, we must make some, we decided. We will not be left behind. We were already making pies, cakes, cupcakes, sugar cookies and selling them to connoisseurs of fine baking in our circle of friends. I mean, how hard can it be???

Quite. As it turns out. They are very finicky little things. Mostly because of the egg whites or the meringue texture of them. It’s actually much easier to just make meringues. But no, let’s complicate this…it mustn’t be easy. We can’t have every Tom, Dick and Geri making them. You have to beat egg whites with sugar and egg albumen to the perfect consistency. Not too little and not too much. You have to sift, several times, the already fine icing sugar and almond flour. I mean..
Who tried this out for the first time? Apparently King Louis XIV ate macarons at his wedding in 1660. Who knew? They were individual cookies back then. No filling. No sandwiches. So someone just decided to put these ingredients together and noticed that very often the cookies ended up with this frilly little base that is now called a foot. And that foot is everything. I mean, EVERYTHING! What probably started out as a mistake is now the measuring stick for success. So actually I am possibly trying to replicate someone else’s mistake. Very often my macarons look like they have hobbit feet. They still taste delish but they are not haute cuisine at this point. They are just peasant dessert.

Next, you have to do something called macaronage. There are many different theories as to how many times you have to fold the batter into the centre of the bowl to create the perfect consistently. It should end up flowing like slow moving lava. What if I’ve never seen slow moving lava? What then? Some instructions suggest or should drop from the spatula like a continuous thin ribbon. I can relate to that. But do not over mix or death quell. The eggs should be room temperature. They should be older. You have to tap the cookie sheets on the counter to get rid of air bubbles and prevent the tops of the cookies from cracking. You must cook on low temperature so the cookies don’t discolour. But not under bake them. Rumour has it… Ok, I actually heard her say it… that the owner of the Duchess Bakery in Edmonton used to bake her macarons in a toaster oven because that’s all she had, which leads me to believe the finesse is in the preparation of the batter.

I have made these delightful little delicacies with a modicum of success over the past ten years. Tossed many batches of macarons out for fear someone would guess that I am unable to tame these little beasts. The ingredients are delicious so they never taste bad, you just can’t serve them up and call them macarons. Mastering these little dessert hamburgers is the bain of my culinary existence. My Waterloo. Did I mention that the level of humidity in the air also can seriously affect these little buggers? I mean, burgers.

I just can’t base my whole self esteem on whether my macarons turn out on any given day. I’ll just keep making them. Sometimes they are lovely and sometimes not. I’m going to invent a dessert using mutant macarons and I’ll be famous.

To Be Continued