After morning prayer and breakfast last Thursday I decided to start my Thanksgiving meal preparations with the pumpkin pie. Even though I was using canned pumpkin and a Jiffy brand mix for the pie crust, preparing the pie was not really "as easy as pie." (Where does that expression come from anyway?) I found myself struggling to open the cans because the hand held can openers that we have are not especially sharp. Eventually I had cut around enough of the can that I figured I could use a knife and my hand to ply the rest open; and I did but not without cutting my left index finger. The cut was not terrible by any means, but required cleaning and searching for a band-aid as well as wiping a trail of blood from the tile floor, which required searching for a rag, while trying to to create more trails of blood. The convent cook was kind enough to light the oven for me. The directions on the back of the pumpkin can said to bake the pie at a specific higher temperature for 15 minutes and then decrease the temperature also to a specific temperature. The knob for the oven did not have numbers on it. The employee told me I should leave the knob in a certain place, there was no oven thermometer, so I had no way of knowing the temperature. I also did not know that you need to close the over door very gently or the gas flame underneath would be extinguished. The second time the oven needed to be lit for the pumpkin pies, I watched as the cook used a lit candle, got here whole body on the floor to reignite the pilot light for the gas stove, actually believing that I would then be able to do it myself later if needed. The package said that pumpkin pies would take an hour to bake; they took over two and one of them was not perfectly set when I decided to remove them because I wanted to put the turkey in the oven, having no idea how long it would take to cook a medium size turkey at an unknown temperature.
In addition to the food provided by Agape Airlines, I decided to supplement the meal with carrots and mashed potatoes that were fresh. Actually in my opinion, the carrots here are often even more flavorful than the "fresh" carrots you can buy in most American grocery stores. I would have loved to have mashed parsnips in with the carrots as my Irish grandmother always did, but I have yet to see a parsnip in Haiti, when I have prepared this in American Convents some sisters found it odd, and I don't even know the Creole word for parsnip, so decided not to even try. Even though mashed potatoes may not be my most favorite food, for a large holiday meal they seemed essential. While cooking the potatoes and carrots on the stove, one of the employees came by to show me how to turn the burner off; I was starting to wonder if I was seeming as incompetent a cook as I was feeling, but then I realized that the knobs on the stove are in English and she probably does not have a modern oven with a stove-top like ours at her home; this was in fact a very thoughtful gesture because I am sure someone had to show her how to turn it off.
When I took the turkey out to check it I must not have closed the oven door gently enough because the oven stopped working again. By this time the employees who work in the house had left for the day and it just so happened that none of the sisters were home, which is unusual. By some miracle the turkey was finished; I was sure that once we cut it I would discover that it was either too dry or that there would be parts that were under-cooked, but thanks be God this was not the case. While the turkey was cooking I was preparing bread to go into the oven. It was rising nicely and I was looking forward to freshly baked warm bread. My several attempts at lighting the oven all proved fruitless; the knob did not turn the way I expected it to, so it seems no gas was going into the oven. When sisters started to arrive for the meal, I asked both those who live here and those coming for the food, to help me light the oven. Despite several attempts, by a few people the oven remained cold. Perhaps only the cook who works here knows how light it. The bread dough had risen and then fallen and would become a flat bread at the orphanage convent for the following morning's breakfast. There was no butter for the bread anyway, because when I requested real butter (expecting a pound), someone went to four stores in Cap Haitian in search of real butter with no luck, they purchased a single stick of Parkay (despite what the television commercials that I unfortunately still remember from my early childhood said, they are really not the same thing.) When I think of how I found preparing this meal to be so challenging that I was beginning to question my cooking competence, I am also aware that here at this convent we have more modern appliances and conveniences than the vast majority of people in this country. Last Thursday too, thanks be to God the electricity and running water were cooperative for most of the day. I was also supposed to set up for 5:00 pm liturgy here at the convent, but while trying to start the oven, open the can of cranberry and prepare the stove top stuffing in the microwave, quickly bathe and change out of my clothes that by that time were sprinkled with various foods, I had neglected to prepare the chapel for the mass, but the sisters who came assisted.
Some people were late for the meal because they had to attend a class or had ministry responsibilities followed by car troubles. The postulants and their director were out of town for a inter-congregational program in the capital, and another sister who lives here was doing business in the Dominican Republic. We were three Haitian sisters, two French Canadian sisters, two American sisters, a young Haitian women who is doing in an internship at the orphanage discerning entering the Sisters of Holy Cross, the orphanage driver, and one of the oldest children who lives at the orphanage since she had needed a ride from school that evening.
During the meal, people were telling stories. We all laughed a lot. Everyone appeared to be enjoying the food and more importantly truly enjoying one another. There was a moment where I experienced a sense of consolation and realized that this meal was in fact well worth the effort. Fortunately there are many moments like that here in Haiti, moments of connecting with a child, joking with a co-worker or sister, seeing even the slightest hint of possible progress, healing or growth in grieving or traumatized child, moments that make the unexpected challenges all worth while. Like cooking, sometimes there are things I have done well in the past , things I could say easily in English, things that are as "easy as pie" at home, that are terribly difficult or at least a bit more challenging here, but then always the moments come, the moments that make it all worth while. Moments when I sense that God is actively in our midst. I am especially grateful for those moments.
Advent
The liturgical season of Advent is already upon us. I love the Advent themes of hope, anticipation, waiting, darkness/light. It is a little easier to enter into the season of Advent here, since there is less of the commercial Christmas craziness. In fact the closest thing to a Christmas decoration I have seen are the beautiful poinsettia plants that recently began blooming in our yard. May you find time and space to enter into this sacred season of Advent.
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| When I was taking pictures of the plant a beautiful butterfly came by. I really think of the butterfly as a symbol of Eater/Resurrection, not Advent, but in reality in each day of each of our lives we probably experience the themes of the entire liturgical calendar. Blessed Advent! |
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