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Yesterday at mass for the solemnity of All Saints, I shut my eyes tight when the time for the second reading came. It was from 1 John, and I love John so much; he is the romantic poet of Scripture. I usually close my eyes at mass, even covering them with my hands, because I find it so useful to get rid of all sensory stimulation in order to absorb the words and their meaning.

But I was surprised; as the reading was read, I found it difficult to disover its meaning. I was left puzzled and confused, anxious to dig deeper. Here were the verses that eluded me:

See what love the Father has bestowed on us that we may be called the children of God. Yet so we are. The reason the world does not know us is that it did not know him.
Beloved, we are God's children now; what we shall be has not yet been revealed. We do know that when it is revealed we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is.

Later at the dinner table, I asked my mother and husband to share their thoughts with me on this particular passage. My mother said, with usual succintness, that it had to do with the 'perfection of love' in us. I knew she was right, but I was not satisfied. I wanted the larger picture explained. Then I turned to my husband, and he offered this thought:

"You know when you are young, and your parents are only mother and father to you; then you grow older, and you learn to see them as they are, as people, with their peculiar love and motivations, with their humanity. You know longer see only 'father' or 'mother' but you see and know them as the whole person. The passage is about the maturity of what it is to see God face-to-face."

This was that kernel of wisdom I'd been searching for. My mind immediately retraced its ponderings back to an earlier moment in the day, when I had been with my mother in the kitchen, and suddenly realised that I liked her much better now than I did when I was a child. Why? I loved her then, and I loved her now. But there was a fullness in our relationship not possible before; as a child, I saw her as 'mother.' 'Mother' was almost like a curtain that hid the rest of the person from me. I could only know her in that role, not able to see her deeper self, her love, anxieties, joys, and downfalls. But now I knew and could enjoy the whole person, as mother, and as herself.

I soon discovered, from my husband's first thought, the meaning of the passage. God has called us into a divine adoption. His love has created us, and as we are created from love, so from love we are drawn up, by Him, into His life. Our true destiny is a deeper intimacy with God than we can imagine. Our true destiny is not only to call Him Father, but Friend, Lover, Brother, All-in-All. If we can 'see Him as He is,' then it means we have been brought to see as God sees. In vision, there is not only the action of the eye, but the perception of the mind. So we shall know God not from outside, but from within the mind of God.

It is as Father that God has called out in love to us. But I have often troubled over this word, 'Father,' as I know others have, too. If our own relationships with our fathers have been at all troubled or disappointing, it can make for us a stumbling block on the way to our loving God. But what I do understand is that that Other---which lives beyond, exists beyond, loves beyond, all that there is, has made us and called us into a divine adoption, in which He asks not to be 'other' or 'distant' to us, but close as a Father is close to His children.

So, as St. John says, for now, as His children, we can be sure of His love. But in our childhood, we cannot imagine the destiny of our maturity. What is it that God shall ask us to call Him when we have grown into saints, that is, the companions and confidantes of His intimate life? Children love their Father, and are loved by Him. But they cannot reach the deeper levels of intimacy with such an one. God always will be our Father, but St. John is disclosing that there is a deeper love, a secret intimacy, still in wait for us.

And this is what it means to be a saint: to know this intimacy, and to live in it, in such a way that is only possible in heaven. Sainthood is the common destiny of humanity, and hopefully it is a path that we are all stumbling along. Mother Teresa was once asked, 'what is a saint?' And she answered, in her simple way, 'A saint is someone who lives with other saints.'

If this is true, then my way to sainthood must has been expedited, since I find myself surrounded by many saints. Some share their dinner at the earthly table with me, and some are saving a seat for me at the heavenly banquet. One special sister in heaven delights me with rosebud bouquets, and a winged protector is at my side in darkness. I chose this picture because it expresses the divine love I already live in, which alone can draw me up to God. A year or so ago, my husband and I attended mass at t

Zip's is the sweetest little dinner that ever there was. It's in Killingly or maybe it's Dayville. I'm not exactly sure. (Just off exit 93 Route 395) It is near Danielson, so if you are looking for an excellent day trip in Connecticut during these months when it is cold and dark and snowy, you could not do better than to go to Logee's in Danielson and to explore their overloaded greenhouses for some choice little Victorian-era hothouse flower and then head over Zip's for lunch.

It will restore your weary soul.

Logee's evokes the dsya of the tussy mussy and the solarium, an era of great fascination, but you'd have to have your head examined if you wished you actually lived back then.

Zip's, on the other hand, evokes a day when everything was clean and shiny and the future looked all so bright and hopeful. Remember family businesses? Remember Mom & Pop's? Remember the modern world before the corporations and chains consumed the landscape with their rapacious hunger?

Zip's harkens back to a time when life seemed reasonable. The size of the menu is reasonable. The portions are reasonable. The prices are reasonable. The food is made of ingredients you'd find in your kitchen, not a laboratory.

The server puts your sandwich down in front of you and the side of fries is just that, a side order. It is not a giant trash heap of artery-clogging rubbish. It can almost look small, until you put the first one in your mouth and it tastes like, get this, fried potato! It hasn't been twiddled with, it isn't covered with any cryptic product of the food science lab. It is not technicologically-designed to be hyper palatable. Nothing compels you to keep shoving those fries into your mouth long past the point where you really wanted them.

They are honest french fries. They taste like simple potatoes. And this turns out to be a surprising and happy novelty. The serving you get is just right. You finish the last one a bit wistfully, but you aren't cravin' like a meth freak. It is food, not chemistry. And that is a happy-making thing.

The soup is homemade and delicious. My friend Cliff ordered the pastrami on rye. At first, when it arrived and was in actual human scale, he was skeptical. So used, are we, to being offered sandwiches teetering on mounds of fries, sandwiches with enough filling for three sandwiches. This sandwich was the size you'd make for yourself, at home. When we were finished, he told me, that he'd misjudged. It was a very good sandwich.

We actually had room for dessert. I decided to try the grapenut pudding! It sounded so odd, I figured it had to be pretty good. It was. It was actually a baked custard that reminded me of a kugel, only more hearty in flavor yet lighter on the tummy. We got up from the table, three of us, and felt refreshed and energized.

So Zip's is a win as a restaurant. But more than that, it is a thing of beauty. The curved metallic surfaces reflect the light in ways that bathe the space with so much positive energy that a feng-shui consultants must weep with jealousy when they come through the door.

It is a lovely dinner that has not been restored, so much as carefully and lovingly maintained. This is the real deal. The surfaces are clean. They are burnished by use, but well-cared for. To have lasted as long as they have in the condition they are in, you know the materials must have been top-of-the-line.

For a photographer, Zip's is the biggest win that ever there was. In this modest space, the love affair between architect/designer and shooter is at its most passionate. Click, click, click. Hand your camera off to a toddler, to a chimp. It does not matter. The pictures will make your jaw drop. This shot was a mistake. I was trying to force my automated point & shoot to do my bidding, to take the exposure that I WANTED, not what it, in its canonical wisdom, had selected. So I had pointed the camera up at the ceiling and depressed the button half way and was holding it. As I moved it downwards, midway through the move I changed my mind. I decided I wanted to change the orientation of the camera. But the combination of holding the button while pivoting my wrist proved too tricky. I put too much pressure on the button. CLICK! No matter. I'm shooting digital. CLICK CLICK CLICK. If, at first, you don't get exactly what you had in mind, click click away.

So yes, if you are in CT or RI or MA, and you can get to this quiet little corner of the nutmeg state, do. It is worth the trip.

ODT zipper