My parents are getting up there in years and I always have some guilt on these Sundays when we decide to have dinner at home. They are always welcome to have dinner here but they always say no, and it's just not possible to go to their house every single Sunday, so here we are. The house smells almost heavenly with the scent of my Italian meatloaf baking in the oven. We'll start off with a little rigatoni marinara, followed by the meatloaf, and finish off with a salad dressed with the last of the olive oil from Assisi. My husband picked up a cheesecake for dessert.
A few weeks from now, we're having a little reception after Mass so our TLM community can have an opportunity to share some food and some company. I was amused that my pastor asked my daughter if she thought I would be contributing any food. As if I wouldn't! What he didn't know is that the gracious woman who coordinates these quarterly events had already contacted me to ask me if I could help. A tray of sandwiches and a dessert are something easy enough for me to put together.
I like to give the TLM crowd a little taste of Italy or at least of South Philly when we have these gatherings. Many of our regulars are not from the immediate area and I think it must be tantalizing to travel to the Italian Market area every Sunday without ever getting to sample its wares, so it's my little treat. For our last one, I made Italian hoagies which are, for the uninitiated, sandwiches made of prosciutto, salami, provolone, mortadella and other cold cuts on a roll dressed with oil, oregano, lettuce, tomato and onions. For our next get-together, I'm thinking chicken cutlet sandwiches with sharp provolone and broccoli rabe.
The tree is no longer with us, but the Christmas lights on our banister and on the lilac bush in the backyard are, as is the Nativity. The Wise Men have made their appearance and the entire ensemble will be left up until just after the Feast of the Presentation on February 2nd.
We had a visiting pastor at the TLM today. He gave a thought-provoking homily on the miracle at the wedding at Cana. The water had no choice but to be transformed by Christ. By the free will with which we were endowed by God, we do have a choice about whether or not we will let Him transform us.
What will our answer be?
I hope I never forget that this is not a one-time proposition but a life-long process.