I Am Strong But. . .

I am strong

But not so much today

I grieve and I cry

For my pain and others’

There is no control

But love still exists

God is in our tears

It’s the Small Things

My parents’ lives have become quite limited.  My 92-year-old dad can no longer stand or walk.  He gets around the house in a wheelchair, but he is unable to transfer into a car.  To go anywhere he must have a van driver take him.  So, for the past year he has mostly been at home.  My dad enjoys looking out the window and watching the deer and turkeys in their yard.  My mom will be 90 in a few days.  She cares for him with the help of several aides and other medical people who come to the house.  She doesn’t get out much either.

Recently, she described their early morning ritual.  My dad sleeps in a hospital bed in the guest room and my mom sleeps in their bedroom at the other end of the house.  I bought them an intercom so they could communicate more easily.  My mom told me that she gets up around 7:30 a.m. and carries the intercom into the bathroom with her.  Before long she hears my dad’s voice over the intercom. “Honey, it’s 8:00 o’clock.”  She tells him she’s coming soon.  Sometimes they joke.  She laughs when she tells me this; she enjoys these conversations.  It will be sad, she says, when one of them is gone.

Now that I too am stuck at home, I am beginning to notice the little things in my life that make me smile.

We are not in a hurry in the morning so I have time to snuggle with my husband in bed.  After nearly 40 years of marriage, I realize that I tend to take some things for granted.

Our cats are endlessly entertaining.  Our Siamese mix is very affectionate but she doesn’t like me to pick her up; she wants to be in control.  She will sit and just stare at me with her bright blue eyes, watching my every move.  Our black cat is an explorer who thoroughly investigates the yard and our indoor cupboards.  When she wants attention, she stands in front of my computer monitor, blocking my view, and then flops down on the desk, expecting me to pet her.

We have been taking lots of walks along the river with our dog.  She gets so excited, especially when she sees other dogs; sometimes she actually gets to sniff them.  When she spots a squirrel she goes on high alert, eager to chase it.  As she walks along she periodically turns around to look at us with a big dog smile.

The arrival of spring has brought new delights.  The trees are just beginning to bud out.  The early spring flowers brighten an otherwise dead landscape.  The sunshine is welcome as it warms my stiff body and shines off the water and through the tree blossoms.  This morning as I was finishing my breakfast, I heard the calls of chickadees.  I looked out our sliding glass door and spotted a chickadee on our birdhouse.  He looked inside and then just sat there for a while.  I could hear another chickadee calling.  A while after he left, another one landed on the house.  I think they are house hunting!  I hope they settle in soon.

Often it is the small things in our lives that keep us going.  We just need to take the time to appreciate them. 

Darkness

                                       

                                          An icy wind blows

                                          The sun shines yet it is dark

                                          Learn to live with it

                                          I want to find joy

                                          But must sit in the darkness

                                          My God dwells there too

Sitting in the Stillness

I am not accustomed to staying at home; people describe me as busy.  Now there is nowhere to go.  Aside from a daily walk, weather permitting, we are mostly at home.

We turn on the radio when we wake up in the morning and listen to the news.  It is all about the coronavirus.  While this important, after a while it is too much and we turn it off.  It is quiet.

I am learning to appreciate the stillness of the morning.  I look out the window onto our street and there is no activity except for an occasional walker.  My husband is in another room.  I am alone with my thoughts.

Slowly I am beginning to adjust to this lack of activity, this stillness.  What can I learn from it?  I see an opportunity for growth.  Nothing is pulling me out of my seat, urging me to get going.  I can just sit without guilt—thinking, contemplating, praying.

During my devotional time I read and I pray.  I pour out my concerns and then move to silence, listening.  In that space I try to be open to God.  I don’t believe that God will magically fix everything for us.  I look for connection—for comfort, wisdom, and courage.  I am aware of my oneness with people all over the world.  We struggle together in this pandemic.  Today I think about all of the people packed together in refugee camps and the tears come.

As I look out my window, the sun peeks out through the clouds.  I will sit in stillness a bit longer, and then perhaps I’ll put on some music, another gift.

One Step at a Time

Just ten days ago my life was normal.  My calendar was full of activities.  We were aware of the advance of the coronavirus but it had not affected us here in Idaho.  And then our first case of the virus was confirmed.  After a few days, events and activities started canceling.  Some facilities, such as gyms, shuttered their doors.  My calendar is covered with Wite-Out; it is essentially blank.  Every day something else is closed and there are new warnings.

My husband and I are both retired but I am an active person, not used to staying home.  But that is what we are doing.  We are considered to be in the high risk category because of our ages and my health concerns.  We haven’t gone to the store for a few days; we are contemplating ordering groceries online and doing takeout.  Each day we have gone out for walks but we keep our distance from other people.  It is a strange reality.

I know we are privileged people in the midst of this pandemic.  We have an income and a home with a yard.  We are not lacking for any material thing.  Our daughters and spouses can work from home and are comfortable.  I am aware that many others throughout the world are not so lucky.

It is disconcerting to have our world turned upside down in such a short period of time.  We are uncertain about what each day will bring.  The news is all about the coronavirus.  We can’t escape it.  How long will this last?  We can’t make plans.

Perhaps the hardest part is the physical separation from other people.  We have rapidly gone from social distancing to near total isolation from other people.  Today is Sunday and many of us are missing our church services.  Some of them have gone online but it isn’t the same.  We miss the human contact.

How do we live in these difficult times?  I have close family members facing medical issues, anxiety, and other problems.  Life is overwhelming.  Our circumstances can change from day to day.  I tell them to take one step at a time.  It’s all we can do.  We can’t plan ahead.

I am trying to take my own advice.  As always I make a daily list but now I focus on self-care, home projects, connecting with community online, and calling people who need attention.  What can I do to be helpful from home?  It’s a learning process.  This is our new reality.

One step at a time.