THE WONDERfuL MONTH Of MAy

Kim Long, Director of Religious Education at St. Mary of the Pines

WHEN I THINK OF THE MONTH OF MAY I OFTEN HEAR VANESSA REDGRAVE’S VOICE AS SHE WARBLES AWAY WITH A SONG FROM LERNER AND LOWE’S CAMELOT SCORE, THE LUSTY MONTH OF MAY. Though we did not understand the words and sentiment of the song we understood that mom, who had worked all week was home and we engaged in adventures which ran the gamut from house cleaning, to yard work, or if the weather was cold and yucky we worked jigsaw puzzles all while something good smelling was simmering on the stove and above us floated the timeless story of the search (and the understanding) of the elusive grail. Sounds idyllic but it was true.

Memory is a funny thing. If my mother were here to ask she might not see that Ash Street memory the way I do; she might have just played a stack of records to get through the Saturday chores, she might have seen it as an extension of her work week, whereas her presence was so primary to me that her being home and without the constraints of work and school schedules, is remembered through a beautiful, blurry, magical lens.

As a Catholic, May has become synonymous with thoughts that this is one of Mary’s months - August and October being the other two. Visions other than Vanessa Redgrave, jigsaws and sunny days on Ash street dance through my head today- rosaries, sacrament celebrations, lengthening days, the temperatures warming so as to release the fragrances our roses and other sweet smelling flowers contain.

As a mother, May brings thoughts of birthdays to consider as well as Mother’s Day celebrations to orchestrate, especially now that two of my daughtersin-law are also mothers. I don’t think of Mother’s Day as a Hallmark-inspired event. I not only think of the births of each of my children, but also the memories we share, and the good men they have grown to be and I am once again grateful I am their mother. None of that happened in a vacuum, however, so I am beyond thankful to Mother Mary for taking my prayers and concerns which were often tearfully and frantically thrown skyward in moments I would rather forget, and easing me with the assurance only she gives.

My sons and I share many memories and they are seldom retold verbatim. One such memory evokes a very similar feeling as the Saturday memories I share here. This is the memory of a day that was on the tail end of their shared childhood; soon high school and its own set of norms would descend on us but for today the three of them were united. The day dawned cool, almost cold, rain made its way into the picture, a ladder from the attic was pulled down and that became their “headquarters” for the day. As they played I enjoyed pulling together the week’s leftovers for soup or a casserole, making a loaf of bread or a dessert deposited in the oven to bake as I finished up my own chores including laying out their church clothes for Sunday. We did listen to Lerner and Lowe’s score on the same vinyl record, the bumps and scratches only adding to the sweetness, although I must share with you gentle reader that they were much more interested in “Wondering What The King Was Doing Tonight” than in the May song!

In those days before heavy teenagehood, we held one another close and there was a sweetness of mother-son relationship I am so grateful I did not miss. The energy of those Saturdays was as palpable on Wilkinson Street for us as it had been on Ash Street for my siblings and our mother.

Time passes, sometimes memories fade but I think the really important ones, ones which are both a lesson and a blessing, stay with us, secreted away until we need their wisdom and love. In retrospect, the grail may not be as elusive as previously thought for those with eyes to see and ears to hear, and hearts large enough to hold all that is dear, all that is truly important.

There will always be conflict, arguments, hurts, and tears, that is just how life goes for most of us; but in this wonderful month of May let us invite one another to pray a rosary or two, sing something our hearts delight in as we wash the dishes or fold the laundry, relish Saturday as more than a catch up and work day, cherish those memories that are dear to your heart and if they bring a tear to your eye bring the blessing of it forward, glory in the confidence that God is making all things new. Pray for all mothers everywhere. Say a little thank you to Mary for hearing our prayers, frantic or otherwise.

My mom loved gingerbread and gingersnaps. Here is a recipe for lemon sauce that mom always made to dress up her gingerbread from the box.

Mom’s Lemon Sauce for Gingerbread

Works well on anything lemony or plain pound cake (this will dress up “store bought” cake too!

• 1/2 cup white sugar

• 1 tablespoon cornstarch

• 1/8 teaspoon salt

• 1/4 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg

• 1 cup boiling water

• 1 tablespoon butter

• 1 teaspoon grated lemon zest

• 1 lemon, juiced

In a large pot, stir together sugar, cornstarch, salt and nutmeg. Gradually stir in boiling water, then simmer over low heat until thick, stirring occasionally.

Remove from heat; stir in butter, lemon zest and lemon juice and serve.