Category: Everyday Life

It seems as though every time we experience a disaster; man-made or natural, frightened cries begin to echo through social media correlating whatever is happening to passages in the book of Revelation predicting of the end of the world. But before we all head off to wherever we think we should be during the rapture, I think there are a few things worth considering.

First of all, proclamations of the end of the world are not new. Throughout history there have been folks claiming the end was near. Here’s a link to a list of 10 courtesy of the Encyclopedia Brittanica https://www.britannica.com/list/10-failed-doomsday-predictions. My favorite is the Prophet Hen of Leeds. Who knows, maybe she was the inspiration for the story of “Chicken Little,” a tale the exemplifies just how important a little perspective is.

Secondly, pandemics are not new. A quick trip to Wikipedia reveals the stats on epidemics and pandemics going back two centuries. ( https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pandemic) I have no doubt that when people were in the midst of these crises, there were those who believed that it was the end of the world. And, for many of them, it was. Let’s face it, when we die, and we all will eventually, the world we have built for ourselves dies with us.

Lastly, on to the book of Revelation. As a Catholic Christian, my understanding of this scripture may vary from other Christian traditions. Catholic teaching holds that this book was written in an apocalyptic style, full of symbolic language and allegory, telling the story of oppression and persecution, not necessarily a prophecy things to come. Apocalyptic literature was a form of writing that was popular at the time it was written and its audience were familiar with the symbolism used. To the first century community of persecuted Christians living in Asia Minor Revelation it was a call to stand firm in their faith; a reassurance that God would not abandon them in their struggle. In that respect, Revelation is appropriate for all believers today as we are either asked to stay inside, away from each other or conversely, asked to go out into the community and work, risking our health. We are united in our struggle and faith is more important than ever, especially when fear attempts to reign over us.

From my perspective, I find it more reassuring to ponder the first book of the Bible instead of the last. Genesis 9:11 is a good place to start. God’s covenant with Noah should reassure us all that we are in good hands. I suppose it is no coincidence that so many people have begun to display rainbows in their windows; the symbol of God’s promise to us all. Rainbows are a symbol of hope; a tangible reminder to just about everybody, that no matter how badly the storm may rage, it will eventually pass and all will be well.

I know it is challenging to remain positive in a time when we receive daily death counts from Coronavirus each time we turn on the TV, but at this time of year especially when Christians have just celebrated Easter; a time when we remember Jesus’ triumph over death and Jews have celebrated their Passover; when God saved His people from death, we are again reminded that God is always with us. And no matter what your faith tradition is, it isn’t as important in what you believe as it is that you believe and hold your faith close, now more than ever.

I’ve always been a saver. Not a hoarder. A saver. I like to save things that I think will come in handy sometime in the future. I have a closet in my office that is full of storage boxes containing scraps of fabric, notions and yarn left over from projects dating back more than thirty-five years. Some might see my stash as junk, but for me, every time I open a box, it’s like looking through a photo album. Each scrap and ball of yarn triggers the memory of the maternity top, baby gown, toddler romper, dress or craft project it was purchased to become.

A few weeks ago I took a trip down memory lane as I dug into the depths of my craft closet in search of pieces of fabric and usable notions to make face masks to send to my soon to be daughter-in-law, Ariel, who is an OB/GYN in Oregon. Unlike the pale green masks usually seen on medical personnel, my masks are bright and colorful, cause that’s what I’ve got on hand.

I followed the directions I found on a YouTube video via Facebook courtesy of Deaconess Hospital (Click Here for video). The directions are pretty simple and straightforward and soon I had the knack of it. But, after the first dozen or so I ran out of 1/4″ elastic. After a fruitless trip to Walmart in search of more elastic, I tried Amazon and quickly discovered I wasn’t the only one making masks. There was none to be had. So, I mailed out what I had, keeping two behind for Dave and myself and thought I was through making masks.

A couple of days later, I decided to dig through my stuff again to see if maybe there was more elastic somewhere in my stash. I knew I had elastic, but it was wider than the recommended 1/4″ width. I decided to see what would happen if I cut the elastic widthwise. After cutting it, I gave it a few tugs to check for fraying and to my delight, it did not. Who knew?

With elastic replenished a bit, I started sewing again and was able to produce another dozen or so masks. I sent a few more out to my parents, my kids and began offering them to friends. Again, with my elastic gone, I thought I was done.

Yesterday, after seeing pictures of masks online, I opened the closet door again and pulled out the scraps of bias tape I’ve saved throughout the years and began sewing it into ties for masks. With these ties I was able to make another dozen masks to share.

I’m not going suppose that I am done making masks. In the past few weeks I’ve rediscovered something that I guess I’d forgotten; that with a little ingenuity, a little bit can go a long way. In my stash I still have bits I can make into ties. Even as my scraps of memories are used up and distributed, it’s a good feeling to know they are being put to good use.

I don’t know how many times I’ve said, “If I ever have the time, I’ll (insert item here)” and the time never seems to arrive. In fact, just prefacing anything with that statement meant that it was a pretty sure thing that whatever it was, it wouldn’t get done. It was more of an acknowledgement that it would be nice to do whatever it was in theory, when in actuality, there was always something else that was either more appealing or that needed to be done. The “ever ifs” simply got shoved to the side. Now, because of the peculiarities of our times with lots of time and no competing calendar events, I find that I’m not as much of a slug as I thought I was!

Most of what keeps me busy involves tidying up and organizing. You wouldn’t guess it by my office, but I really do enjoy a clean, well ordered workspace. Dust and clutter are a distraction that I am able to avoid for a long while until I reach a tipping point and I can’t take it anymore. Then I spring into action – when I have the time.

After three weeks in captivity, my office and most of my closets have been cleaned and reorganized. Same thing goes for my garden beds. In theory, I’d like them to be as neat and well kept as an English garden. But in normal times, theory and practice tend to be at odds when competing with commitments, errands, the gym and naturally the weather.

This spring, the weather has been absolutely gorgeous and I have no where to go. My once a week escape to get groceries doesn’t really interfere with anything. So, I’ve got the time to not only ponder important questions like, “Can mums be split?”, I actually search the web, find the answer and then execute my plan. I followed that question up with “Can a silver mound be split?” and was happy to discover it could be. As a result, my front flower bed has been tidied and is looking pretty good.

None of us knows how much longer we’ll have this gift of time to ourselves. Whether you’re binging on Netflix, reading through that pile of books you’ve either piled by your bed or downloaded to your Kindle, cleaning, baking (if you can spare the flour and sugar) or just spending quiet moments outside listening to the birds try to embrace the time to just be. Frankly, I can’t remember having a whole lot of time to just be since I was a very small child.

I know my experience of alone time is not unique, nor is it like everyone else’s. I’m not burdened with the demands of children or confined in an apartment with no access to the outdoors. But one fact that rings true for all of us during this very special time in history is that we are probably all making the time to assess who and what we value. They say that “absence makes the heart grow fonder,” and that can be true but they also say, “out of sight, out of mind,” which can be equally true. As I’m cleaning my closets and weeding my garden beds, I’m also considering who I am cherishing and what I can live without.

Sometimes I wonder what it’ll be like when we all finally emerge from our homes and are able to resume our lives. How much will all this down time change us? I can’t imagine we will be the same. The question is, will we be transformed into something beautiful like butterflies breaking out from a chrysalis or will we just pick up where we left off and plod on? Probably there will be a little of both. One thing I do know is that if we are stuck here until June, we will be very shaggy butterflies indeed!

Today is the kind of day that comes to mind when I think about spring. Sunny, with the temperature around 65 degrees and a slight chill to the breeze, the air is so clean it just feels good to breathe it in deeply. The grass is freshly cut and green, the redbud is in full bloom and you can see the first green leaves of the season on the lilac bush behind it.

I’ve found it a challenge this spring to enjoy each emerging sprout. In past years, I would take my coffee out and make a round of the yard, surveying all the beds in search of the new signs of life. Lately, I’ve allowed the grim reality of what is going on in other parts of the world and our own country dominate my thoughts, keeping me inside and too distracted to go out and look around.

The realization has begun to sink in that our current situation will not be resolved in the next week or so, or probably even by the end of next month. With that, being the adaptable creature I am, I am finding ways to seek out the joy that is truly ever present in my life, even in the tough times.

On a bright, sunny day like today, with so many dormant plants springing to life, it’s not as difficult to see that there will be an end to the sickness and death. Life will go on and all will be well.

I did get one reminder from the garden today.

I discovered this solitary red tulip coming up in front of St. Francis. It was mistakenly left behind when we moved what we thought were all of our tulips to another location by the birdbath. But, despite our best efforts, this little guy managed to avoid capture and is currently blooming his little head off. When I saw him this morning he reminded me that I really need to be more thorough in my cleaning and hand washing. Just because I think I’ve gotten all of the germs washed off, I might not have. Wouldn’t want any of the virus germs “blooming” in me.

A few minutes later, the door opened again and I was handed a bag containing my new glasses. That was it. No adjustment. Just the glasses in their case with a cloth and small bottle of lens cleaner. I put on the new glasses and confirmed I could see. The gal smiled and said if I had any problems I could come back after April 6th. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not complaining about the customer service I received. Frankly, I was impressed I got the new glasses at all. This is simply our new temporary reality.

Adjusting to a new pair of glasses is always a challenge for me. Even the slightest change in prescription finds me continuously moving the glasses around my face in an attempt to find the “sweet spot” where the world comes into clear focus. By the end of the day, my eyes ache and it takes every bit of self control I have to keep me from flinging them from my face and replacing them with my old pair. But, the thing is, two years ago, I fought the same battle with the ones I yearn for. Experience has taught me that eventually, my eyes will adjust to the new lenses and all will be well. It’s just a matter of time and some discomfort.

Then there are the aesthetics of the new frames to get used to. Several years ago I determined that the best person to take with me in picking out new frames was my husband, Dave. He has an excellent eye for color and since I am unable to see what the different frames look like without the benefit of corrective lenses, I find seeing them through his eyes works best. We also use cell phone photos for the final determination, but generally I rely on Dave to narrow down the field.

Even with this history, I doesn’t change the fact that every time I walk into the bathroom and catch sight of myself in the mirror I look totally different from what I’ve come to expect. If you’ve never worn glasses, imagine what it would be like if you looked in a mirror and discovered you’d grown a mustache overnight or your hair has changed color. It just takes getting used to.

These past few weeks, we’ve all been challenged by a new temporary reality. Life is definitely not the same and there is a lot to get used to. The good news is that this stuff is just temporary. It will probably continue longer than we’d like, especially as the seasons change and we want to do the outdoor things we enjoy – outside the boundaries of our own yards (if we are fortunate enough to have our own outdoor space.)

Looking at life through new lenses may be challenging in the beginning, and becomes more frustrating the more we fight it. But I have faith in all of us and am confident that eventually, we will find that sweet spot and be able to focus again.

I’ve been keeping myself busy this past week by doing those kinds of household chores that are easily put to the side when something more fun comes up. You know the kind of stuff I mean; cleaning closets, wiping down woodwork and window blinds; the once a year or so stuff. I find that it provides me the same kind of mental restoration that weeding does. The simple mindless, repetitive motions that take little mental power.

I tend to do my cleaning in the morning, when my energy level is highest. Afternoons generally find me with my feet up in my recliner working on my current knitting project and getting caught up on my Netflix or Britbox shows. I don’t usually opt for a movie because I tell myself I don’t have the time, when in reality, I do. I just don’t want to make the commitment and seem like a total slug.

These days I have plenty of time and no one to care whether I’m behaving in a slug like manner or not so I’ve begun to check into the movies I have available to me. This is how I happened upon “The Zookeeper’s Wife” on HBO.

If you haven’t seen it, I highly recommend it. Without giving too much away, it is about a young woman living in Warsaw, Poland in 1939 who is married to the keeper of the Warsaw Zoo. The movie follows the historical events of the Nazi invasion including the rounding up of the Jewish population and eventual transport of the Jews to the camps. The zoo keeper and his wife were not Jews, but had many friends who are. They devised a very clever and successful plan to hide and ultimately rescue many of them right under the noses of the occupying Nazi army. You’ll have to watch the movie for the details.

As I watched the film, I was struck by the fact that in order to keep safe, the people in hiding had to remain totally quiet and still during the daylight hours and only allowed to move freely around the house well into the late night hours. Their security laid in not only their remaining put inside that house, but also in their complete silence. Obviously, this was not news to me. I was born just ten years after the second world war ended and grew up with the stories of Jews who were hidden away, like “The Diary of Anne Frank.” But, the affect any story has on a person depends on what their circumstances are. As a child, I would picture myself as Anne, locked away in an attic. Nowadays, I would probably relate more to her mother.

The other day, it was difficult to not make the comparison to our current condition, to remain shut in our homes to remain safe but with some major exceptions and I am definitely not comparing social distancing to the horrors of the Holocaust. But, when I compare what I am being asked to do; to stay in my own home with full access to all of my stuff, with running water, electricity and the internet to allow me the privilege of watching films in the afternoon, my situation pales in comparison to what others have had to endure in the past to survive. It is a humbling thought.

I believe that to get through whatever is asked from us in the upcoming weeks and months, humility is key. None of us is more important that the sum of us all. If that means we have to suspend and sacrifice the routines of our former lives, that’s what we’ll have to do. Some of us will even step out from our comfort zones and like the zookeeper’s wife reach out to those who are vulnerable. But if all we’re asked to do is to stay home and away from others until the danger has passed, it’s the least any of us can do.

Like weather forecasters tracking a storm, the news media make attempts to keep us informed on where the virus is popping up from day to day. But instead of a clearly defined path, plotting this pandemic is much more like chaos theory. Cases of CV-19 seem to pop up randomly among us and then spread out. Our best defense is to avoid other people and wash our hands throughly and frequently.

The CV-19 virus is probably the greatest health challenge my generation has faced and for that, we’re pretty lucky. My parents told us stories about the polio scare in the 1950’s when public gatherings were limited, swimming pools were closed and some of their friends passed. Fortunately when I was born, polio was on the way out and a vaccine was available by the time I hit grade school. And during my lifetime, vaccines for the measles, chicken pox, shingles, pneumonia and even the season flu have been developed. Before I was born, horrible diseases like whooping cough, diphtheria, tetanus and small pox were already well under control. Because of this, I think we’ve forgotten just how susceptible humans are to the spread of viruses and just how devastating they can be.

During the later part of the last century, when AIDS was discovered, many people thought that the disease was a punishment for risky or immoral behavior. It could be easily avoided by specific precautions that for most of us didn’t really impact our lives. The same held true for ebola – just don’t go to Africa. But CV19 is a totally different animal and can be contracted by seemingly the most minimal of human interaction. It’s scary stuff for sure.

I’ve seen a variety of reactions to the virus in my sphere of human contact ranging from indifference to denial to extreme anxiety. Many people feel like they have to do something. I guess that’s why they are buying so much toilet paper and searching for recipes for homemade hand sanitizer online. Personally, I put in a store of Campbell’s Chicken Noodle Soup, because that’s what I want to eat when I don’t feel good.

At this point, just how long this virus will affect us and the way we live our lives is uncertain. As for me, I will continue to wash my hands after coming into contact with public items, try my best to stop touching my face – that is my biggest challenge, pray and hope for the best. Like everybody else, I am waiting for it to come, do what it’s going to do and be over. It’s not easy and it’s for the foreseeable future, will remain a challenge.

History shows that the human race always rises above these challenges. It’s just a matter of time and a time for faith. My mother always used to say, “Let go and let God.” And, let’s face it, faith is a much better source of strength and comfort than a pile of Charmin.

Last week the Prayer Shawl Group I knit with surprised one of our members with a celebration of her 90th birthday.  The theme was an afternoon tea, complete with fine china and finger sandwiches.  My contribution was a plate of chicken salad sandwiches carefully placed on my Grandma Farner’s crystal cake plate.

It’s a pretty plate of molded glass.  I have no idea how old it is but I do know that usually, when there was a cake at Grandma’s house, it sat on that plate.  That is where its value lies for me.

Since I chose the plate from among Grandma’s kitchen stuff following her death, it has become my “go to” plate for cakes, cookies and any number of things I take to pot lucks, funerals, anniversaries and meetings.  Each time I take it out of the cupboard, I wonder just how many birthday cakes has it held? How many times has it made public appearances? How many different church halls has it seen?  It has been an ecumenical plate, that’s for certain!

I guess by keeping my grandma’s plate in active service, I keep a part of her alive in me.  And I hope that at some point, after I’ve passed on, that someone else, in my family or not, will continue to employ this pretty cake plate.

 

 

This morning as I lay awake in the dark sometime around 6:00 am, wondering why I wasn’t still asleep, I began to think about how many times in my life I’ve been able to just go to bed when I was tired and get up when I wanted to.  With the exception of vacations and the occasional free Saturday, there haven’t been too many times in my adult life where that has been the case.

Looking back, I’ve often thought that the most natural sleep – wake cycle of my life was when my children were little babies.  No, there weren’t always long periods of sleep; sometimes only a few hours at a time.  But those days did have a rhythm that was dictated by genuine human needs; for food, comfort, or a clean diaper.

I wasn’t working then, so it really didn’t matter when I slept or showered or any of the things most adults find as requirements of daily life.  With Dave at sea so much of the time, there were no alarm clocks clanging and I was often solely responsible for tending to my little ones. Yet, we found our routine, generally rising, having meals and going to bed at the same general time every day.

Years later, when I led Baptism prep classes for parents in our parish, I showed them a video by Kathleen Chesto.  I can’t recall the name of the video but it was a great resource for teaching the history, tradition and theology of Baptism.  One of the points Ms. Chesto made in her presentation  was how the hours of the day when babies generally want to eat; 10, 2 and 6, corresponded to the Liturgy of the Hours; the times of the day when Catholic religious folk stop to pray.

Looking at my own early days of motherhood with this in mind helped me see that that those days were not merely special, they were sacred.  If you’d asked me at the time if I was praying as I fed my infant at 2:00 am, I’d say that I wasn’t.  But, if sacrificing your own comfort for the needs of someone else isn’t prayer, I don’t know what is.

Now that Dave’s not working, we don’t have to get up so early but something in my internal clock hasn’t reset yet and I still find myself awake somewhere around 6:00 am, trying to decide if I should get up or roll over.  I don’t really mind.  I’ve always enjoyed having a slow, quiet start to my day and I do like having the time to ponder and unpack the times in my life that seem to have sped by too quickly, to remember and savor them.  Sometimes I wish I could do my pondering after the sun comes up!

 

 

 

For the past couple of months Dave and I have been looking forward to his retirement this coming Friday – in two days!  After years of careful planning and the blessing of our financial planner, Russell, we were ready to toss the alarm clock and begin a new life as retirees.  In fact, I was going to rededicate my blog to our new life and had every intention of beginning on the first of the year.  But, life doesn’t always follow the course we think it will, does it?

Don’t panic, nothing really bad has happened to us – it’s all good.  I was delayed in getting back to pounding the keys due to a really nasty cold bug I came down with between Christmas and New Years.  Between the sneezing, coughing and nose blowing, I didn’t really have much to say and my head was too clogged to contemplate any pithy thoughts so the blog got pushed to the side until now.

Somewhere in the middle of my cold, about two weeks ago, Dave received an email from a former work acquaintance letting him know about a position opening up in another company he might be interested in.  Short story version, he checked into it, met with them and just yesterday signed the offer to begin a part time position on a business development team for another Beltway Bandit in a couple of weeks.  So, instead of fully retiring, he’s just dipping one toe into it.  It could be just for a couple of months or years; time will tell.

I know some people spend years dreaming of retirement; the trips they’ll take, new places they’ll live and in essence, totally reinvent themselves.  We’ve never really done any of that stuff.

Oh sure, we’ve thought about not working.  I highly recommend that unless you’re doing something you really love.  If you’re not, it’s a good time for a change.  But, throughout Dave’s Naval career, and even with our last move, we’ve had to reinvent ourselves so many times, we’d like to just stay put and see what where we are has to offer.  So moving is not a thing for us right now.

We definitely want to travel.  I’ve been diligently studying German on my Duolingo App for almost five years now and would like to put it to use along with the French I studied in school.  I wouldn’t say I’m fluent in either language but I think I can read enough to get around and could probably understand someone if they spoke very slowly.  Most of my “people” are from Germany and I’d really like to go to see the place for myself.

Our next big trip will be to Lakeside Chatauqua in Ohio for our son Andy’s wedding this coming June.  I just made the reservations for the rehearsal dinner yesterday so the excitement is beginning to build. I will try to cling to that excitement as I begin the task of finding the perfect “mother of the groom” dress.

So 2020 has started off a little differently than we’d expected, but has offered us opportunities we hadn’t even considered.  I hope our life stays like this.  Good surprises will always be welcomed and embraced and will always provide me with something to write about.