The City Burns
Pondering the actor with his brilliance
enticing me into ecstasies of morbid intrigue
evil as entertainment
as evil reigns
weeping and hysteria
tumble me downstream
heartbreak and madness
the horror of missing
the brainstoppingly obvious
forgotten child
abandoned parent
scraping the fiddle
while the city burns
First published in Slamchop Poetry: http://www.slamchop.org/ann-van-wijgerden
I propose we do away with the unfortunate saying, “There’s more than one way to skin a cat”, and adopt the more feline-friendly:
‘There’s more than one way to make a lasagne.’
And to get the ball rolling, here’s a lasagne recipe, which originated from a Filipina friend, and evolved through the years, inspired by available ingredients, constrained by family taste buds.
What makes this version unique is its layer of bacon and sliced hard boiled eggs. If you haven’t tasted it already, try it. It could become one of your favourite dishes, as it’s become one of ours!
Ingredients:
– 500g lean ground pork or beef
– 200g chopped and fried bacon
– 4 or 5 hard boiled eggs
– 100g (approx) grated cheese
– 1 large onion
– 4 or 5 cloves garlic
– 1 tin (approx 400g / 14 oz) diced tomatoes
– 1 packet (approx 250g) tomato sauce
– 1 heaped tablespoon peanut butter
– half teaspoon turmeric
– a few drops of tabasco sauce
– 1 teaspoon knorr liquid seasoning / Maggi
– salt and pepper to taste
– oven ready lasagne sheets
– olive or coconut oil
Method:
Separately
– Chop then fry bacon
– Hard boil then slice eggs
Meat sauce
– First fry chopped garlic and onion in the oil.
– Add the ground pork or beef. Cook together, then drain excess fat.
– Add the turmeric, salt and pepper. Mix well.
– Then stir in the tinned tomatoes, tomato sauce, liquid seasoning and tabasco sauce.
– In a separate bowl mix the peanut butter with about a cup of hot water until it’s a smooth sauce, then add to meat sauce.
– Stir well and simmer for a few minutes.
– Add more salt, pepper, tabasco sauce, liquid seasoning, peanut butter – if necessary – until you have the taste you like.
Assembly
– Bottom layer in the lasagne dish: meat sauce
– Then 1st layer of oven ready (precooked) lasagne sheets
– Next the layer of sliced hard boiled eggs and chopped fried bacon (*)
– 2nd layer of lasagne sheets
– Next layer of meat sauce
– 3rd layer of lasagne sheets
– Top layer of meat sauce
– Cover with grated cheese
Bake in preheated oven
– 180 C / 356 F
– 35 – 40 minutes
Optional:
– Stir fry a chopped medium / large carrot and a handful of green beans (also chopped) with the garlic and onions, before adding the meat
– Serve with a salad and / or radish sprouts
– (*) Put the chopped fried bacon on top layer of meat sauce (with grated cheese) – as in above photo – instead of with layer of eggs.
Enjoy!
“I think a father’s job, when it’s done best, is to get down on both knees, lean over his children’s lives, and whisper, ‘Where do you want to go?” (Bob Goff)
Honestly, what did you think, what did you feel when you read that sentence?
Fathers, did you think, ‘Yes, I can totally relate. This is how I want to raise or have raised my kids’? Or did you think something like, ‘Sounds nice, but I can’t relate’?
And to all of us, is this how you experienced your father? Some of us can say yes. Some of us will say no.
Fathers are fellow human beings, who are not perfect, and to one degree or another, may be quite broken. If we are fathers we can be all too aware that we fall short of being perfect fathers.
And so many of us are also only too aware that our relationships with our fathers are or were far from perfect.
Broken people, broken relationships, often leading to more broken people.
That’s the reality check, and here comes the good news:
Because of God as our Father, because of God’s Fatherhood, because of His faithfulness – our brokenness as fathers, our brokenness because of our fathers, is NOT the end of the story, our brokenness does not have the final word on our lives.
This is not empty theory or wishful thinking. I saw it happen in my Dad’s life. It has happened and is happening in my life: God is bringing wholeness where there was once brokenness.
It’s our connection, our lifeline with God that is key, no matter what our past was or our present is. Here’s that connection:
“You can tell for sure that you are now fully adopted as his [God’s] own children because God sent the Spirit of his Son into our lives crying out, “Papa! Father!” Doesn’t that privilege of intimate conversation with God make it plain that you are not a slave, but a child?” (Galatians 4:6 & 7)
Happy Father’s Day, to all you fathers, however whole or however broken you may feel. God your Father meets you, loves you where you are.
Happy Father’s Day, to all of us children of fathers, however whole or broken we may feel. God our Father meets us, loves us where were we are.
This was shared during the service at Church Simplified; see the live recording on the Facebook page posted June 18, 2017 (starting around the 13th minute):
https://www.facebook.com/churchsimplified/
photo: bahay kubo view over Manila, May 23, 2017
“The moment bigotry becomes a form of patriotism, America is no longer America.”
Little nuggets of gold crop up in unexpected places. This one popped up in the Netflix series ‘House of Cards’ (season 4, episode 12, to be precise.) I had to stop and rewind, just to hear it again.
“The moment bigotry becomes a form of patriotism, America is no longer America.”
A universal law, I reckon, applying to any form of patriotism, any country. In fact, any group of humans.
The moment I turn to hatred and discrimination to express my love of country, I bring shame to my country and no longer understand what makes it beautiful.
The moment I turn to hatred and discrimination to express my love of God, I blaspheme His Name and have no idea who He is.
And how on earth does a love for one’s country disintegrate into a hate for those who are different? Or how does loving people in my group mean that I feel obliged to despise outsiders. This is the rationale of fear, among other things. It is probably also the result of a couple of serious misunderstandings: of love being on a tight budget (as ridiculous as a mother hating her son just because she loves her daughter), and of ‘other’ being somehow intrinsically evil.
And, because it’s always nice to end on a positive note, here’s another little nugget, one that popped up in a letter from a chap called Paul to a bunch of folks living and working amongst those who held very different beliefs. Paul had some very practical conversation tips:
“The goal is to bring out the best in others in a conversation, not put them down, not cut them out.”
(The Message, Colossians 4:6)
Imagine how different the world would be if we just put that into practice!
“John the Baptizer came fasting and you called him crazy. The Son of Man came feasting and you called him a lush. Opinion polls don’t count for much, do they? The proof of the pudding is in the eating.”
The Message; Luke 7: 33-35
Folks were so busy putting John and Jesus in boxes, they missed what was really going on.
How about me then? Am I so focused on what others think, I forget to even try to figure out for myself what it all means? Am I so caught up in expressing opinions, I forget to actually taste the pudding, and double-check reality?
Doesn’t focusing on the wrong stuff ultimately make me disengage? I stop asking questions, stop caring. I abdicate.
So, I miss the announcement, ‘The answer’s coming!’ And then miss the one, ‘The answer’s here!’
But it’s not too late.
Someone gimme a spoon!
Photo: Insanitea dessert @ Yoyo bubble tea, Rotterdam, the Netherlands
Luke 6:1-11
I wonder if Jesus took a sort of divinely-sneaky delight in upsetting those religious boffins of the day… though sad for their sakes, that they were so obsessed about the wrong things.
One of those obsessions concerned the Sabbath: the concept of taking regular breaks to rest, reflect, and celebrate. Of course, the original idea is brilliant. Even essential for the well-being of humankind! But those in authority at the time had twisted the whole thing on its head (something I suppose religious extremism tends to do). Instead of the Sabbath being a God-idea to bring a healthy tempo into our lives, it was turned into a self-inflicted bunch of man-rules; precise dos and don’ts for a particular day of the week, with dire consequences if you strayed.
Then Jesus walks in, totally unfazed, and breaks every one of those Sabbath restrictions, healing and blessing folks right left and center. And how those religious-rules-enforcers hate Him for it. Now exposed as they are to how far away from God’s intentions THEY have strayed…
And what about us? What about me? Have I taken any God-idea and tweaked and twisted it into some sick thing of my own – something that has very little to do with the original intentions. This seems to happen a lot with humans and their religious setups…
For that matter, how is my relationship with this whole Sabbath idea?
Is it a matter of certain rules to follow so I feel a bit more holy?
Or is it a way of life to embrace, paced with grace – to rest, reflect and celebrate?
Photo: Sherman: an expert at doing the resting bit
Orion Magazine run a fascinating project called ‘The Place Where You Live’. Here’s my contribution:
Manila. I know two of her boundaries: the one on the west where I work, and the one to the east where I live. The first is along the coast. But cast all thoughts aside of any hint of tropical beach beauty. This area of Manila Bay is more like a sewer. It’s literally the garbage dump of the city. Here is recycling on a massive scale. But it’s not for environmental reasons, it’s for survival. Thousands of Manila’s poor literally scrape through the city’s waste, picking out wood, plastic, metal, whatever they can find to sell to the junk shops for enough pesos to cover the next meal.
We first arrived in the Philippines almost thirty years ago. Then we worked and lived in the same area, along the western boundary: a poverty-stricken concrete jungle by the cesspool sea. We went for months on end without seeing a blade of grass, a bird, a tree. About five years later our bucket of stress overflowed; we crashed and burned. We returned to Europe, leaving the NGO work behind us, our tails between our legs.
Fourteen years after this miserable exit, we returned to the scene of our demise. Well, not quite. Our work location has remained almost exactly the same as before. Where we have come to live, however, an utter contrast. For the last nine years we’ve been happily perched on a green hillside, surrounded by trees, grass, open spaces, as well as the sights and sounds of creatures beyond count, whether they be bird, reptile, amphibian or insect. How many times have they rescued me from the despair of the city’s ugliness…
The western and the eastern boundaries, not more than 30 kilometers apart – which Manila traffic translates into between one and a half to three hours away. When we plunge into the pollution to cross the city to work, I often arrive slightly shell-shocked. The trip home, however, is completely different: darkness covers the urban insanity, plus I’ve spent the day connecting to the reason why we’re here: the people.
And nature helps keep us here.
Photo: View over Manila
Orion Magazine here: https://orionmagazine.org/place/manila-the-philippines/
Sunday morning,
What does that mean?
That there is hope
In our darkness,
That death will not have
The final word.
This meditation was written for a Dutch Lent booklet back in 2014. Smokey Mountain II, the relocated original Smokey Mountain dump site, included a massive charcoal burning area, where many of Manila’s poorest families lived. As a place to call your home, it was probably one of the filthiest, unhealthiest places imaginable. It was closed down late 2014.
“Last week we were introducing some friends to Smokey Mountain II, a giant garbage dump in Manila. (*) A couple of young girls tagged along with our group; their particularly skinny and bedraggled appearance prompted us to ask: “Do you go to school?” One shook her head. “Where do you live? Can we talk to your parents?” we asked.
“Yes! Yes!” said she, as she scampered off. We hurriedly followed her, not wanting to lose her as we wound our way among the shacks of this ‘village’ built on and from the city’s waste, hoping our group of guests could keep up with us.
As I picked my way over the garbage, trying not to step on or in anything too nasty, once more I was also manoeuvring through my emotional world: between that abyss of dismay (people have to live this way!!) and the surprise of encouragement (their smiles!), between the stark reality of shocking poverty, and the astounding reality of those friendly faces…
Her parents weren’t home when we reached her little wooden shack on the edge of the charcoal burning area; they were on the other side of the dumpsite scavenging. We wrote down her name and details. “Do you want to go to school?” This was the most crucial of our questions. Will she take hold of this opportunity to finish her schooling, so that she can find a job later and escape the vicious cycle of poverty and hunger? Will she?
Easter: The Cross planted down in the garbage dump of our lives; God intervening in human history, in my history. What will I do? Take hold of the forgiveness and redemption offered me? This Ultimate Love Gift, costing more than I can possibly fathom. Will I take hold of it with both hands? Will I trust God to lift me up off the ash heap of my life and into His Resurrection Life? Will I?”
(*) For more about our work see: http://www.youngfocus.org
Years of clarinet lessons and speech therapy had simply not worked. Despite my parents’ determination to do something constructive for their super-shy daughter, I could still barely be understood when I spoke, such were the depths of my shyness and inarticulateness! The clarinet had not improved my breathing, nor the elocution lessons my elocution. If anything, the hole in my self-confidence was dug deeper.
I’m participating in the Writing Contest: ‘You Deserve to be Inspired’, hosted by Positive Writer. http://positivewriter.com/writing-contest-you-deserve-to-be-inspired/ This is my entry…
So, that was back in the 1960s and 1970s when allergies were barely recognized. Now it would be glaringly obvious that this wheezing little girl was highly sensitive to house mite (or the poop thereof). The tight-chestedness, which made breathing not that straight forward, and the constant phlegm on my lungs and in my throat, resulting in an ugly, gargling voice, were simply the symptoms of asthma triggered by the overabundance of that infamous mite in the old houses I grew up in.
And at some point in my childhood I gave up. Communication and me? Just too painful. Even saying my name at school registration each morning, was an agony of humiliation.
Thankfully this was far from the end of the story. Through my late teens I had what felt like life-saving spiritual and emotional input from people around me. My physical health vastly improved in my early twenties when I moved from the U.K. to the Netherlands – cleaner houses, fewer mites. Then to the Philippines – too warm for my least favourite insect. And of course, I now had the medication to keep asthma at bay…
Today, when reflecting on where I find my deepest joy, it is in teaching, public speaking, and in writing. No one in a million years, myself least of all, would have guessed such a future for the mumbling, withdrawn kid I once was.
And, of course, I’m still on my journey. It’s not a case of having completely found my voice, I’m finding my voice. So far I’ve experienced freedom of expression in Dutch, in public speaking, in teaching, and in writing non-fiction. I’m still finding my voice in speaking Tagalog (Filipino) and in writing fiction.
If I could pass anything on to you, dear reader, it is this:
We need regular reality checks: we can’t move on from where we’re not. Spiritually, emotionally, physically, psychologically, practically, the whole gamut. Let’s just take time to reflect: where am I, how am I, really and truly, in these areas? The truth, however uncomfortable, sets us free. Free to move forward.
And don’t be surprised if your biggest weakness turns out to be your biggest strength, sometimes precisely because it’s been through a refining fire.
Another thing: We’re not meant to go this alone. Without a shadow of a doubt I would be nowhere without the help of people I’ve crossed paths with along the way, whether I recognized it at the time or not: The pastor who took a very insecure teenager under his wing, giving regular counselling; the friend who paid for very expensive allergy tests; the kindly editor of a London church paper who commissioned a series of articles…
And yet, and yet, when it comes to actually taking the step of courage for our voice to be heard, to be read, it’s only myself, it’s only yourself, who can do that.
Whatever you face, my friend, grab hold of Courage and go for it!
Find your voice!
Photo: Cloud iridescence over Manila, May 29, 2016.
CrackedCeiling 