Musings on a Pitcher

Voting chips clink against the metal pitchers being held for each sister participating in the community meeting. The chip indicates her vote on the issue that is up for a decision. The color of the chip carries her voice of yes (white), no (black) or undecided/unsure (red). As I watch and listen, I wonder how long we have used our “down-home” way of voting, sometimes using chips, sometimes written choices. The blue-handled, white metal pitchers (a half gallon) have served us several times annually for at least 75 years. Some show their age through their bared spots of chipped enamel. I suspect that research would find that at the beginning of our use of them, different kinds of beans were collected in these same pitchers. Later we upgraded to our current voting chips. We have not modernized to technological devices. Why change? Our current method gets the task done and done well.

Since my recent experience of collecting voting chips, I have mulled over items I take for granted that add to the sense of familiarity and hominess to my life. Here at our monastery, we receive rhubarb as a Minnesota gift each spring—a treat we especially prize as rhubarb custard pie. We pray our daily common prayer (Liturgy of Hours) at scheduled times. When we deviate from these times, some frustration, tardiness and absence—due to forgetting the adjusted time—usually occur. Our chapel dome stands as a beacon to our neighborhood at night. Inside, the dome draws our attention and energy upward. For many of us it pulls our spirit to God and to what is our best self and vision for our lives.

When I was growing up at home, my dad treasured a polished agate about the size of a golf ball. My siblings and I liked to hold it and run our figures over the lines that highlighted its beauty. Carmel rolls welcomed us to Sunday brunch. Mom’s fritters—that we called raised donuts—were another food specialty. I recall that she planned to fry them as we, her children, our families and friends, came in from college and homes away from home. The aroma drew us straight into the kitchen. We’d reach out to the treats, take a donut and shake it in a paper bag of sugar. The next sound: “Mmmmmmm!” Another item that held a central and memorable place in our home was a bookshelf. Books were always important to Mom and Dad and to us, their children, although we didn’t read them regularly. They promised stories. They motivated us to learn about the world. They provided an environment that witnessed the value of education.

Special items, such as metal pitchers, a bookshelf and rhubarb pie, serve as companions on my life journey and anchors for some of my favorite memories. I trust you hold such treasures in your environment and memory. Are they given your gratitude? What are new ones that call for your attention and care? Which ones might be with you for many years? Maybe they will claim the familiarity and even fondness we give our voting chip pitchers here in my monastery.

By Mary Reuter, OSB

Photo: A metal pitcher and voting chips. Taken by Alyssa Tasto.