Since I stopped working I have struggled with maintaining a regular schedule. When society shut down, each day began to seem just like the last. I missed going out to lunch with my friends and instead caught up on Zoom calls. I missed dinner with my husband at our favorite spots and seeing our servers that we had adopted as our own. I missed sushi.

So after awhile, I decided I would treat myself to sushi once a week. I combined takeout rolls from one of my favorite sushi bars with a television show and a new tradition was born. Now, I eat sushi on Tuesdays, or sometimes on Mondays, a few times on Wednesdays. The points, I eat sushi once a week, all by myself as an act of self care. I no longer wait for a date night with my husband or lunch with a friend to enjoy my favorite dish.

After two years of being cautious about being in public spaces, we have slowly been tiptoeing our way back into society. My husband has worked straight through due to his job being labeled an essential business. Otherwise, we have been limiting our social engagement mostly to close family and friends. Lately, we have been gathering with a group of his current and former coworkers for brunch once a month. This tradition began about six years ago. On Sunday, one of the people asked us “what’s new with you guys?” I looked at her and had absolutely nothing to say. We had seen her a few months ago and I searched my mind for something that would qualify for an interesting answer to her question.

This question got me to thinking about how I spend my time. We have not traveled in over two years. I am not working, so there is no job related information to share. Once a week we have dinner and a few hours of play with our granddaughter and her parents. So what am I doing with the rest of my time? Let me take you through my day.

I get outside. A walk down to our neighborhood pond is my favorite way to get in nature and appreciate creation. There may be ducks, geese, a heron, or deer. Noticing the flowers and trees bud, then bloom, connects me to the season. I notice where the sun rises over the water as the days expand and contract.

I read. Mysteries, romances, literary fiction, historical fiction, memoirs, and inspirational non-fiction take me to times and spaces that I will never experience in person. Books in print that I can hold in my hands with pages made out of paper help me greet the day. I read scripture, daily devotionals, and spiritual tomes as I drink my coffee. Audio books accompany me as I clean the house, walk the dog, drive to see friends and family, and get groceries. Electronic books keep me company in waiting rooms and parking lots. Then they calm my mind as I turn in for the night.

I listen to podcasts. In these days of inflammatory news reporting on television, it is difficult to know what is true and how to handle the onslaught of information. I have curated a list of podcasts where I consume news, spiritual inspiration, entertainment, and general education. One of my favorite is two female attorneys who examine laws, political posturing, Supreme Court opinions and the news. Then they break it down into information that I can understand without all of the political hype.

I create. A few years ago I started painting with watercolor. It had always challenged me and I am still learning new techniques. I enjoy macrame, knitting, and other crafts. There’s something about creating that clears my mind and resets my brain.

I interact with my friends. Over the last few years friendship has looked different, but I still value supporting my friends. Sometimes we get together on the phone, or maybe over Zoom. Other times, social media is our favorite way to relate. A well timed meme can lift a person’s mood. Carving out time for a long lunch is essential.

I enjoy my family. Spending time with my family is my number one priority. After 41 years, I still pick hanging out with my husband every day. Being a grandparent is my greatest joy and I cherish our time together. Watching our son and daughter-in-law parent and adult is a great experience. My sister moved close to us and I get to explore the city and try out restaurants, shops, and museums with her.

So, there is not much new with us. My life is simple and sweet and what many may call boring. But I do not think I would change much if I could.

A few weeks ago, I noticed growth where there had not been anything in previous year and wondered what it could be. It looked like it was some type of tulip, but we had never planted any of those since we moved in almost six years ago. Later, I remembered that our landscaper had mentioned planting bulbs last fall. He had hidden something in the soil two seasons ago. Since that time we have had freezes, snows, hard winds. We have had diseases and dissension. What a gift to see a bud emerging from that spot. A beautiful tulip grows there, as well as several other spots in the front flower beds. When times are tough and scary, it is helpful for me to see the hope of growth. What can we plant today that will bring joy and hope in the future? 

There is a table in our living room that comes from my dad’s mother’s house. We called her Nanny and she lived in a big house in south Texas. When she died, my parents took a few tables, some artwork and some kitchen pieces. They placed the table that I now own on a landing right off the stairway in the home where I grew up. It held decorative items and often became a drop spot for a lot of junk.

Whenever I dust this piece, or water the plants that live there, I remember how much life this table has witnessed in the generations of our family. Yesterday, I was vacuuming under the table and noticed the cross piece where it had broken and been repaired. The reason for that break hit me with sorrow as I know that it was caused by some of the dysfunction that we tried to keep hidden. The anger, addiction, sadness, and grief that led to that broken table has partially healed, but the effects of them are still present. The spot where the table was glued back together is noticeable. It was not an expert job, but one that was good enough to make the table usable again. There are many days and weeks where I do not see the scar, but it is always there. I could clean up the glue and make it look more presentable, but I think I will leave it just like it is so that I can always remember that healing is messy.

I saw you today in my right hand. The fingers turn slightly to the right just like yours did.

I see you in the mirror every morning. My nose tells me I am not adopted as my siblings used to tease me about.

I feel you as I read mysteries, especially those that take place in a small English village. Your passion for reading shaped me and continues to shape others.

I miss you on your birthday and know that I will miss you more on mine when the card does not come in the mail and the phone does not ring with your cheerful voice telling me about the day I was born.

I miss you when I look at my granddaughter and think about how much you would have loved her. She is so full of joy and I see a little of you in her when she laughs.

Your laugh was infectious and I remember all the times we sat around the dining table long after the meal was gone – laughing for no reason at all.

After you died, a church lady told me that her mom had been gone for forty years and she still misses her every day. These were not helpful words to me at the time, but I think about them every once in a while and realize that she is right.

If only I could have a day to talk to you again and ask you all of the questions that come to my mind about your family, our family, your life.

The pastor at your memorial said that he envisions you in heaven walking without pain or shakes. Those words make we believe in heaven when I have my doubts. I see Dad and Eric with you now – healthy and whole – and it gives me comfort.

Happy Belated Birthday Mom

As a life long United Methodist, my faith has always rested in the Jesus of social justice. The idea of Jesus dying for my sins was present, but not the sole focus of why I followed him. I was always frightened a bit by the people who I would see outside of concert halls with their pamphlets who were quite certain that I did not know Jesus and would certainly be going to hell upon my death. I was puzzled by how they thought they knew me at all, much less well enough to know what was in my heart. You see, I didn’t have that big moment where I turned from a life of sin and asked Jesus into my heart. I have lived with and loved Jesus for as long as I can remember. I was offended by strangers who felt that my relationships with God was not good enough. This was in fact a barrier to my faith for many years. Oh, I did have that moment at the neighbor’s Baptist church “fill the pew” night where I walked down to the altar and later found myself in the pastor’s office with a bunch of other grade schoolers wonder why they thought my faith wasn’t good enough. I repeated the prayer that they told me to, but it just confused me. This pattern would repeat itself over the years until I got it straight within myself that God is love and lives within me.

The idea of “atonement” has puzzled me. I knew that Jesus died for my sins and I appreciate it, I just don’t think that’s all there is to Christianity. When I read A Better Atonement: Beyond the Depraved Doctrine of Original Sin by Tony Jones, I realize that there are tons of ideas about this and many smart men and women spend great deals of time pondering the concept. Tony does a great job of explaining the different types of atonement and where they originated. I find comfort in the idea that I’m not the only one who struggles with this idea. I respect that this is very important to people, but I also realize that I don’t need to worry about the how and why all these things happen too much. I don’t think it really matters if we all agree if Adam and Eve where real people, or an effective metaphor to explain creation to a verbal culture. God is big enough and loving enough for all of us. I just need to love God and love others. I’ll leave the whole bloody Jesus mess to the theologians who get paid to think about these things.

The fifth Friday of isolating due to COVID-19 begins cold, windy and overcast. Days like this tend to be the days I sit a lot, scrolling social media or binge watching random shows. Spring Cleaning has progressed nicely this week and there is only one more room and a closet to complete. So instead of settling into my recliner and beginning the endless cycle of numbing, I decided to do one thing. I picked up the sock.

We have lived in our house for almost four years. For the majority of that time, our neighbors to the west of us were a couple about fifteen years older than us who worked in the western part of the state during the week. We would catch a glimpse of them briefly on the weekend, but we did not interact much. Last Fall, we saw their cars much more often and then a few weeks before Thanksgiving a rented moving van appeared. I soon found out that due to medical issues, the couple would be moving to a smaller house a few miles away. The new homeowners were going to do some painting and other updating. After the beginning of the new year, a steady stream of workers were seen going in and out of the house. That is when the sock appeared.

One of our favorite things about this neighborhood is the easy walkability. There are sidewalks throughout and a short walking path around one of the three ponds. There are squirrels, rabbits, ducks, geese, and occasionally a couple of deer. Right next to the sidewalk at the neighbors’ house was a dirty sock. Every time I walked past the sock I would think about picking it up, but justified leaving it there with several mental arguments. “It isn’t my sock, not my responsibility.” “What if the sock’s owner came back looking for the sock and I had moved it?” “It is awfully dirty, I wouldn’t want to catch anything.” So, the sock lingered there on the lawn. Now, I am not the only person who walks along that sidewalk every day. Even before the “safer at home” declaration there was an active walking or running contingency in the neighborhood. Now that so many people are working from home, there is even more pedestrian traffic. And still, the sock sat there.

So, in an effort to do the next right thing, I picked up the sock. I grabbed an old Target sack, put my hand in it and treated it similar to Pippen’s yard decorations. Did the sun come out from behind the clouds? Did the birds sing a new song? Did COVID-19 disappear? No, of course not. But I feel like I accomplished something and now I am inspired to get into the guest room and get busy cleaning out that closet and setting things right in one little area of my life. Later today, I may eat some chocolate and watch something on Netflix, but for now I’m going to keep moving.