However, maybe Phil’s wonderful salsa is a better memory. When Phil was married in the 1990s, his wife Holly introduced him to the joys of the outdoors—gardening, growing flowers, camping, and even preserving the fruits of their labor. When he bought a home in 2004 in Canal Winchester after their divorce he transferred some of those skills and put a nice size garden in his back yard, which overlooked a pond. We heard stories, much to our disbelief, about enriching the soil, buying fertilizer, a rototiller, the problem with rabbits and birds, and buying flats of tomato plants. With an abundant crop of tomatoes and peppers, he turned to canning, and soon had developed a nice little distribution system for pints of his salsa. The kitchen pantry was filled with glass canning jars, large blue stockpots like my Mom had, and bags of sugar and spices. He would perfect his recipe from year to year, and we’d often talk about it. Sometimes he gave a pint to a special friend or two, or he’d take them to work to give to fellow employees, and I think some were even shipped to friends and relatives. And it was HOT!
With the good memories that Father Mike helped me recall, there are also sad ones. I think of losing Holly and her daughter in the divorce, I think of the shopping we did together for just the right house, I remember how much he loved his home and that we sold it in June after he died, I remember the annual parties he had there inviting friends from the past, neighbors and others just passing through his life. I remember he had a stroke in 2017 which blinded him in one eye, and after a frustrating year of relearning how to see, to drive and to function with distorted vision, he gave up gardening.
There are many references in the Bible and Christian theology about a heavenly banquet. At communion we say, “until Christ comes in final victory and we feast at his heavenly banquet.” Phil now has a taste of that wonderful feast to come.
I don't know how long the July 29 talk will be available, but it's up today.
1 comment:
What a beautiful post, Norma! I have always loved the words of the old communion service; as a matter of fact, I have always used them as a soporific when I have trouble sleeping (which thankfully is not often.) The part you quoted here while reminiscing about Phil's salsa is a particularly beautiful part of the ritual.
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