When the dog larns you good

I went on a walk with the dogs the other day and I was struck by how focused my dog can be on the ball and how distracted he can be when it’s not around. For better or worse he’s a chaser. A ball, frisbee, people, birds, cars, tractors, rabbits, lizards, doesn’t matter what it is, if it moves he’s after it. Here’s the thing, except for the toys, I don’t think he’d know what to do if he ever actually caught anything. Case in point, a couple days ago a bird was on the ground and he found it and just stared at it puzzled, not sure what to do next. Now my parents’ dog, she knew exactly what to do with a bird that can’t escape because she is a hunter. Patiently she’ll wait near gopher hole holes, wind rippling her fur muscles tense just waiting for a chance to pounce.  

Here’s the question, how often am I like my dog, losing focus on what I’m entrusted to do and instead constantly running from one fleeting thought or conversation to the next? And on the other hand, how often am I like my parents’ dog, biding my time just waiting to pounce? Do I only listen when there’s a treat or is the Voice and the commands so ingrained I respond to their prompting even if it’s spoken in a whisper? 

Taking this class, having discussions in the midst of some rather bizarre circumstances has shown me how easy it can be to lose focus, like my dog. It’s also taught me how easy it can be to focus on the wrong thing, like my parents’ dog. (Figuratively the wrong thing. I’m sure she’d tell you fresh food is not the wrong focus for a dog.)

Dirt Therapy

I think it's high time we had a garden update.

Awhile back I mentioned that the pots with the young greens had been placed on the porch only to be eaten a few days later. My hope at the time was that some of them would survive but unfortunately that was not to be. The only plant is still alive from that stint is one of the spinach plants, the rest had to be replanted. Unfortunately I mixed the cabbage and lettuce seeds at one point, and was going to have to swap pots, but then we found another large one, so all is well again. The real question is going to be how they they handle multiple hot days in a row. (Minus a couple of hot days, it's been a relatively cool summer so far.)

Meanwhile, the garden itself is growing like mad. Or at least half of it is. The half we planted in spring is becoming full and some of the produce is even ready for harvest. The newer half of the garden is still scraggly and will remain that way until the seeded plants get a bit bigger. In my infinite wisdom I put seeds into the ground and then failed to mark where or what. So now we play the "is that a weed or a seed?" as they slowly grow bigger. My hope is in two more weeks things will have grown in and I'll have a better idea of what might need a third round of planting. 

(I did previously mention the garden got extended right? If I didn't I apologize, Dad basically doubled the length of the drip line and there is now have twice the space to work with!)

To enthusiasts, I'm sorry if my lackadaisical method drives you nuts. While I know there's a science to germinating and planting seeds, in this case I much prefer the learn by doing method. And the good news is, we have a LOT of seeds I can practice with.  

01110111 01100001 01101100 01101100 01110011

In one of my classes we had to read a book called Walls: Travels Along the Barricades by Marcello Di Cintio. After reading we were asked in class what kind of walls do we have in our society and in the church. (Don't worry, the U.S./Mexican border wall made the book.) 

I kept thinking about this question and things that that I may not have associated in the past as thus. The stories in the book from the walls in Belfast kept coming to mind. It took a bit but eventually I realized why; although not physical social media can create digital walls similar to ones found in the Ireland. As a medium there is a physical divide between the people on either side. A screen that despite connecting us can also make the people on the other side faceless. This isn't a new concept, many studies and comedians have explored the idea that having that bit of anonymity allows for people to say things they would be less likely to say face to face. In addition he plethora of "facts" and "experts" online allow for an individual to craft almost any narrative they desire with "evidence" to support it.

But what stood out to me is that instead of rocks or bottles, we sling words across. We give ultimatums and occasionally insulate ourselves from those hateful others by de-friending or debunking their thoughts with a vehemence. I suspect, much as the act of fighting back makes those along the walls feel better, so too do our angry posts serve to soothe the tension and frustration we feel. 

I have a temper, I've always been a bit quick to fly off the handle, but I usually cool off pretty quickly. Over time my fuse has slowly been getting longer and I've come to realize that as good and therapeutic I find yelling, it can sometimes cause discomfort to those around me. In the last 10 years I've started watching others with tempers or who are yelling and I've noticed two things: 1) when you're a boss being prone to loud expressions of dislike can make people shut down and not want to talk with you. 2) Whether a cop or protestor, yelling at people rarely changes their mind about anything. (Note, this is an observation formed before recent events.) 

No one really likes to be yelled at. It's often frowned upon in polite society and yet when it comes to social media unconstrained behavior becomes the norm. Angry words, thrown across a barrier of 1 and 0's.

Title translated using: https://www.convertbinary.com/text-to-binary/

Overwhelmed

Summer classes have started, which means this blog will probably go down to one post a week. I would love to keep up with the unspoken twice a week postings, but reality is I have finite resources of time and energy. So, once a week will be the new goal.

The title of the post doesn't refer to the blog itself being overwhelming, but the little things in life that add up and sometimes leave us staring at a long list of to dos wondering where to start first. California is stating to open up, which means the tasks that have been put off amidst the pandemic are suddenly become a pressing need. On the other hand, not everything is opening, life is requiring a new set of copings skills that can balance risk assessment with law abiding. Be it "to dos" or "I don't knows", life can be overwhelming.

Failing, failing, so much to do. So little time.

Flailing, flailing, how do I get it all done? How do I stay afloat?

Falling, falling, getting more behind. Is there an end in sight?

Filling, filling, all my life with problems.

Failing, failing, what is life but flailing?

Dismal, but most people I know feel like this at some point. I don't have any brilliant answers to this feeling, but it seems to me that pausing can help. Not that it will make all the stressors go away, but it at least allows the panic a place to scream its head off. It also give space for the reminder that we don't have to do it all to regain footing. Because Christians don't have to be perfect it allows for a Miss Frizzle mindset. Failing, falling, and flailing are all ok. All perfection does is fill life with more problems and I think we can all agree, it's got enough its own without me cultivating more.

Life is more than flailing, but somedays it just takes a little longer to reach the side of the pool. Don't worry though, most of us have enough body fat we can float there, we just need to take a moment and relax.

Seasons

Recently I have started creating space to re-examine aspects of my life. This reflection is partly the result of a restless nature and partly due to poor health. It’s funny how forced recouperation forces one to trace back steps that got them to the breaking point.

I can’t say I’m very far into this contemplative mind set, but one thing that has immediately been brought back to the surface is a desire for seasons. Some people can grind through putting in long days doing the same thing day after day. The ultra marathoners of life. But even they need an off season. Others are sprinters going all out for a short period before needing a rest. I suspect I’m more of a middle distanter, not blazing fast from the start but also lacking the endurance to rack up the miles. Our American culture seems to like to combine the endurance of a marathon with the speed of a sprint and any runner would tell you that is completely ludicrous and not at all sustainable.

So where does that leave us? Seasons. Every sport has its season, a time of competition, a time of rest (or less intense training), and a time of ferocious training to get to peak condition. To ignore the rest is to get injured. To ignore preparation and getting in shape is to risk injury as well.

Along with smallpox, guns, and plethora of laws, the Europeans brought with them a concept known as the Protestant Work Ethic. (Note the usage of Protestant not just the generic title of Christian.) Many people associate this work ethic with a verse found in the Bible encouraging Christians to "do everything wholeheartedly as unto the Lord" Col 3:23. This belief, coupled with the martial law "those who don't work, don't eat" that was enforced so the colonists wouldn't starve, form the roots of the American dream. A dream that is a driving factor to how we measure success.

While the Protestant Work Ethic may provide a base to build on, there are multiple factors contributing to valuing hard work in the States. A more recent contributor to our breakneck pace has been technology. Much like the cotton gin revolutionized slavery, technology has allowed us to be even more productive in a day. Instead of savoring the time saved by modern invention, we have instead filled the space with more goals and expectations, creating a towering mass of unhealthy and unsustainable reality. It may be that someday technology will do the heavy lifting and people will have more time to relax and enjoy life. But we aren't quite there yet. Instead we live in a time where memes document how success only brings more work. A time where expectations are becoming impossible to maintain. And then, in the midst of all of this comes COVID.

I'm not going to pretend that COVID is a good thing, or that nations being on lockdown is healthy. That would be dishonoring the fears and frustrations of pretty much everyone I know. But COVID has forced us into a slower paced season, one where expectations have been (mostly) lowered as people simply try to survive the day.

Work is good. Work is gives people a purpose, a sense of satisfaction, and allows them to support themselves while contributing to society. But as a wise man once said:

There is a time for everything,

    and a season for every activity under the heavens (Eccl 3:1)

Milk and Cookies

The best thing about being homeschooled was snack time. In public school when 10:00 am hit, there were no fresh cookies coming out of the oven to munch on. As a kid there was nothing at school that could top that; other than being let out for the summer....

Unless you have children, or are a hobbit, most people don't observe snack time as an adult. I, on the other hand, mark the hours in a day by food. The day is broken up into segments between the following times: breakfast 7-8 am, morning snack 10-10:30 am, lunch 12-1 pm, afternoon snack 3-3:30 pm, dinner 5:30-7 pm, and depending on what time dinner is an evening snack. I didn't realize this was unusual until about 10 years ago when I noticed I was the only camp intern that brought a backpack full of snacks on our field trips... (I've learned the hard way, always pack water and snacks no matter how short the trip is supposed to be.)

My eating habits aside, in the midst of all the uncertainty I thought I would share a positive revelation I've had about the whole lockdown situation. The one good thing, possibly the best thing, about working from home is I HAVE WARM COOKIES FOR SNACK TIME AGAIN! And they are delicious.

Life Moments

                                                                                                         Some moments are complicated, like scheduling doctors appointments or dealing with car insurance. While others are as simple as following your younger sister around, picking flowers for a bouquet. 

Relish the simple interactions, they are the ones you won't want to forget.

Unseen Expectations

Usually I hate Mothers Day. More specifically I hate any holiday that celebrates my Mother. Not because I don't love Mom or want to express that love, but because of unseen expectations. While some expectations may come from the individual being celebrated, not all of them do. In fact a decent amount of them come from me, myself, and I, with a second helping coming from being part of a large family. Having a lot of siblings can be great, but when holidays come around it's like trying to herd cats into a pond.

"Look at the lilies of the field" Matt 6:25-34

For some reason, even though we're mostly adults we still do group gifts for the parentals. Maybe it's because they are so hard to shop for, maybe it's to keep us from competing with one another, or maybe it's because we have a larger budget. I'm honestly not sure why we still do, just that we do. And if I thought it was hard finding consensus on a movie as a child, little did I know what was in store for the holidays. Everyone has an opinion, even if you were previously ambivalent, as soon as someone opens their mouth, you have an opinion. That's not to say they're all wrong opinions, or that I'm any different, just that everyone's input once requested has to be heard. And this is where I often get into trouble because the reality is, finding the perfect gift or plan that pleases everyone is pretty much impossible. And so we come to a life lesson that I struggle with, it's ok to not be perfect. I know, with dyslexia and how clumsy I am you'd think I had learn that already. What can I say, I'm a slow learner.

This Mothers Day highlighted that imperfection is ok. With Covid many of our usual shopping haunts were closed and the stores that are open, don't have the usual plethora of goods. Despite this, my sister bravely ventured out and created a simple but thoughtful gift. "We tried" became the theme for the day and Mom graciously went with it. The fancy breakfast we planned had to change due to a missing ingredient, our main celebration ended by 8:30 am because my sister had to catch a plane. Lunch was scrounged up leftovers thrown together to create some form of substance; while the Mother's Day card was forgotten and not presented until dessert at 8pm. (It was forgotten when we gave gifts, once we realized we did plan when to give it.)

"...even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed
 like one of these" Matt 6:25-34

In some ways, yesterday was a throw back to the old days when we'd sharpen sticks and glue on smooth pieces of glass as "jewels" to create something to show our parents we cared. Although Mom didn't have to scrape a jar's worth of jam off her toast to eat it... Which gets us to the root, Mom was extremely flexible with our failed plans and misguided attempts to express our appreciation as children. She loved us even when we caramelized the oatmeal or made frosting that came out like cement. This Mothers Day I was able to let go and bask in this relationship. As a result I experienced one of the most relaxing holidays I've had in years. To put it another way, instead of being Martha I was able to be Mary (Luke 10:38-42).

And who knows, if I continue not this path, maybe I'll even get to the point where I don't feel like strangling at least one family member every holiday!

Green Thumb Update

Last Thursday I wrote about the garden saying we'll see if anything else gets planted. Well, without having read my witty writing, after work my sister walks up to me and says "what do you want planted in the garden?" Apparently it was an assignment for her plant science class, but I must say the timing was impeccable. That evening we planted watermelon which, when I last checked were still alive. 

Inspired that two more seedlings found I home, over the weekend I planted all the leafy greens in pots and placed them on the porch. It made sense at the time, the porch has sun in the morning and shade during the hottest part of the day, unlike the garden which is full sun all day. There is also a hose and other plants that get watered regularly, so they wouldn't die from dehydration, a fate all too common with potted plants in my care. I was even an over achiever and carefully labeled each green, so we'd know what was what. Imagine my shock a day or two later when I went to water the plants and found all except the spinach had been eaten! 

The chance of an animal nibbling on our produce is rather high. Living in the country we are surrounded by birds, gophers, rabbits, coyotes, squirrels, skunks, possums, the occasional raccoon, and snakes. So, plants or fruits being devoured by a non human creature isn't unheard of but these were on the house porch. What is the point of having dogs if they can't keep rabbits off the porch!?! So now the pots are back on the picnic table, right next to the dogs nightly haunt, and we wait to see if the plants can recover or if the seeds will need to be planted all over again.

Challenge Accepted! Sort of...

I have set up a 5k challenge in June with some family/friends. The only problem, I cannot currently run. I have been exercising regularly the last couple weeks, but my workouts have all been static rather than dynamic. (Apparently, it's a thing.) In other words, I am limiting my cardio to occasional walks and it seems to be working. I have gotten out of breath and utterly exhausted far less often. I am hoping I'll be able to pick it up in the next month, but right now whether or not I'll be able to run any of the 5k
remains to be seen. But that is tomorrow's worry. For the moment I am going to try live in the moment and ENJOY that I have found a maintainable, consistent, exercise routine. 

Not So Secret Garden

Bathroom greenhouse

Today's post is about "'leadership'". Just kidding, it's actually about one of our family group projects, gardening. Our gardening exploits so far this spring have come in a variety of phases, from Dad creating herb planters out old cement pipes; to my sister planting the garden with plants Mom got from the hardware store, to my other sister helping me plant some seeds. So far everyone has found some time to play in the dirt.

Cement her planter

The initial surge in gardening was partly boredom, partly because one of my sisters is taking plant science, and partly irritation that grocery stores were running out of food. In other words we were skirting the border that leads too crazy prepper territory. You needn't fear though, since I spearheaded half the effort after the initial surge, the momentum has died down.

Proof the seedlings were once happy

The seeds which started out strong growing in our bathroom (it was cold outside, ok), have started to droop and look pathetic as they hold out hope they will be planted soon. However all is not lost, the corn did get put in the ground recently, as did the beans. The reason the rest of the baby plants haven't made it to the garden is that we do not enough space on the current drip line. Hopefully we'll remedy this soon and plant the tender shoots before they kick the bucket. While I hate seeing work go to waste, (yes, I know it's the reoccurring state of my garden) we have tons of seeds we can replant with. Apparently I have this habit of buying more seeds before using the ones I already had.

I have a problem...

Moving on from my charming quirks, my "plan" is to plant what we have and then see where and what else we might be able to grow. The coming weeks will show how the transplanting went an if any more of our baby plants made it to the garden before giving up the ghost.

Light Yoke, Easy Burden

Restless yet at peace. Not sure how it works, but it seems to be one of the themes of 2020. The trick is to find ways to expend energy without overdoing it. Can’t say I’m there yet, but some moments I’m closer.

Reverting to Childhood

Since the extended down time, we've picked up a variety of projects at the old Home Stead. My personal projects have included updating this blog and starting some seeds to plant in the garden. I've even been creating simple videos to encourage a friend to exercise every day! (These quality films basically consist of my voice rattling off exercises with an image of something like the dogs, or my little sister smiling.)

But not all the projects have been individually driven. The seeds have become more of a group project and we've played several board games over the past weeks.  One of my sisters even dug out a 3D Cinderella puzzle I bought for her years ago. Turns out, I'm really, really, extra bad at 3D puzzles. I spent an hour staring at the pieces and put about two together. My sister meanwhile put together the foundation to build the castle on. A couple days after we broke the puzzle out of its hibernation, sister number two sits down and starts putting pieces together during a study break. In those 10 minutes she connected  a bunch of the pieces I had stared at for over an hour!

Suffice to say, between work/school, reading ('cause who doesn't love books), photosynthesizing, and other random activities we've stayed pretty occupied. However, you can never have too much to do when you're sitting at home with time on your hands. Or so my family seems to think, which is why on Wednesday night I came in from a walk to discover that one of my brothers had brought over a giant, awesome, Lego pirate ship. After dinner the box was opened and building commenced. It is interesting, some things have remained the same while other aspects have changed from the Lego pirates of my childhood. The faces, shirts and even the Jolly Roger are different, while the muskets, cutlasses, and rowboat have remained the same. Oddly enough the most disturbing change so far (other than the pastel base) is the palm-tree trunks. I don't know why, I love the fronds, but the trunks are so foreign to what I remember it weirds me out.

I must add, Lego has gotten very kind in recent years and numbers the bags to make finding pieces for each section easier. Perhaps this isn't a new development and I just ignored such fantastic organization as a child; but I absolutely love it as an adult. However, I have a sneaking suspicion that if I had children I might be the devil parent who mixes all the pieces up in a bowl and makes the kids go fishing to find what they need...

Now that you know how we're maintaining shreds of sanity, what toys or games did you enjoy playing with as a kid? Do you have any fun projects in the works? If not I challenge you consider digging through the attic and revisiting some of those old joys. While we can't fully go back to our childhood (to the relief of some) there's nothing wrong with occasionally embracing childlike joy and innocence.

Speaking of children, this blog post (#grownup-homework?) is done which means, I get to go play in the Legos!!!

Communal Paradox

Somedays life throws you for a loop, totally disrupting your grand plans. Case in point, I had planned on doing at least one blog post over the weekend, and then family. It's a funny concept family, you love them and can have some great moments with them, and then there are the days when you need to be there for them, often at the most inconvenient times. And I'm not just talking biological family, but all of those friends who have breached the outer circle of casual acquaintance. In short, I am talking about community.

My second year as an intern at Mount Hermon we (my fellow interns and I living in the same house) had some differences we had to process through before we could become a semi healthy one. For some this processing brought nothing but pain, for others frustration, while still others were started on a road too healing. Once the upheaval and dust settled, normal routines were established and life settled down into the occasional scuffles and humdrum that accompany the everyday. For me, it was a uniquely intense glimpse of the stages communities go through. The biggest thing I learned was that community can be hell. It's dirty, and messy, and while it brings great joy and comradery and can also inflict deep pain. Community is not an idealistic picture of sunshine and rainbows where everyone gets along all the time. As pleasant as that would be, it's not true to human nature. Community requires hard decisions, but in order for a community, or a relationship to survive, there has to be resolution at some point. Complete conflict will destroy a community as easily as constant compromise.

Perhaps it is the influence of a coworker but I am becoming increasingly convinced that compromise, while one possible outcome of resolution, isn't always the answer. And that is what makes community such a mire. The only way it works is through a mix of standing up for your well being and beliefs while also surrendering your will and well being to serve those around you.

Paradox noun a seemingly absurd or self-contradictory statement or proposition that when investigate or explained may prove to be well founded and true. 

For those who have gotten to experience healthy community you know what a gift it is. Cherish it while you have it. For those who feel it is missing, (which may be higher than normal with everyone being kept home) keep searching, It may be work, but it is also a jewel of great price.

Simple Joys

I HAVE MY OWN WORKSPACE!!!! I didn’t realize how excited this would make me. In the last several weeks I have worked at the kitchen table, my Mom’s writing desk, Dad’s desk, my sister’s art desk, bed, the landing of the staircase an on the floor. (The floor and staircase are a throwback to homeschool days. It’s comfy and you can stretch out....)

My parents must have had enough of my gypsy travels from one room to the next, because today, out of the blue they moved the keyboard and put a folding table for me to work at. This simple act brought me insane amounts of joy. I expressed enthusiasm so exuberantly my high school sister told me, “you sound like Mia from Princess Diaries”. Must admit I wasn’t sure what to do with that, normally that comparison is only made when I’m having a bad, frizzy hair day. But apparently my exuberance matched that of Genoveva’s princess discovering her room at the castle and the walk-in closet mall. To those casting concerned looks my way due to my uncharacteristically cheerful exultation I say, “It’s the little things people!” 

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work and a desk to get back to.

Respiratory Attrition

Anyone who has gotten injured or sick will tell you the road to recovery can be exasperating. After catching bronchitis multiple times this last year I finally find myself inching along toward the much-coveted goal of healthy. The breaking point that launched my yearlong battle with the bronchial tubes probably started with the decision to do a Spartan Sprint sick last June (2019). Note to everyone, if you have a fever and feel like death, stay home. No matter how much you hate heights and don’t want to be left out.

As the summer progressed the coughing waxed and waned depending on chill factor and activity. An overnight camping trip in Capitola, horrendous coughing. Backpacking in Catalina, not too bad until day 3. Training for a tri sprint in the summer in the Central Valley, unhappy lungs. Doing the tri sprint with a used-up inhaler, bad news bears. By September an ultimatum was given to me by my boss, two weeks to make a doctor’s appointment or else she was taking me to a doctor herself. (Apparently even before Covid-19 people coughing in the office all day was annoying.) 

Since that initial doctor visit it’s been an up and down journey of lungs looking and sounding better, only to get unhappy again. Looking better, unhappy, better, unhappy. And then January hit. I don’t know what I had, maybe the flu, maybe something else. About four prescriptions later I was less miserable but down for the 10 count for all practical purposes. Which is when I was temporarily moved into my parents. Months later, I am still here partly due to the lockdown that has swept through California and I find myself champing at the bit, wanting to start working out again. 

 

The weather is lovely, the sun is out, and I don’t want to be cooped up. The problem, whenever I push too much my body protests and I find myself back in bed. So, I’m trying to take it slowly, five sit-ups here, ten squats there, an occasional ¼ - ½ mile walk. Patience is not my virtue and there will definitely be future vents posts about workouts/exercise. Today’s purpose, however, is to set the stage so when these posts come around y’all aren’t all puzzled at the slow nature of my progress. 

For everyone who hasn’t been working out recently and wants to start it up again, good news, you can join me on the less intimidating, snail paced progress train! For those who miss their gyms and normal routines, I feel you bro. Having an active life cut off at the knee’s sucks. It takes some adjustment, but I’m holding out hope that no matter where you’re starting from, progress can still be made. Otherwise, I might as well just go back to bed now.

Church on Thursday

Yesterday was Maunday Thursday, or the day of the Last Supper. Tradition states that Jesus was celebrating Passover with his disciples the night of his arrest (Luke 22:7-15). During this meal Jesus changed the focus of the covenant to point to Himself as longed for Messiah and the sacrificial lamb. It is from this shift that Christians get the concept for communion (Luke 22:17-20).

Many churches hold a special communion service on the Thursday before Easter Sunday, some even go a step further and hold a Seder Supper to give Gentiles an idea of what Jesus and his disciples were celebrating and how much Jesus deviated from the traditional formula. Of course with social distancing dipping bread into a shared cup for communion is a no-no. So we decided as a family to do a nod toward Passover and make a Seder plate. (Apologies on any incorrect terminology that is used.)

May I just say the internet has an overwhelming amount of information on celebrating Passover. In the end I gave up and settled on the simplest explanations and recipes I could find. The next challenge, once the brain melt down subsided, was that we didn't have all the ingredients. Since we couldn't go to the store we had to get, uh creative... Petty sure some of our creativity would have made anyone who is actually Jewish cry, but we tried and had fun attempting...

Imagine it, three sisters cooking in a small space, swerving around one another as they try to make new dishes so the family could have a memorable meal. Music blasts from the table as the parents are busy with phone calls and chores in adjoining rooms. Eventually the oldest sister tired from work goes and rests until the food is finished. In other words a snapshot of community.

The meal itself wasn't quite what I had anticipated. As a kid the few times we attended a Seder supper at Church I remember an "expert" walking us through the entire meal, and while it was a fun experience there was also a seriousness to it. Last night however, serious scholarship or observation was not part of the tone at all.

In all fairness, I did give up on trying to understand the plethora of steps to Passover and settled for sentence long explanations for each item on the plate. After the symbolic explanations we ate and read excerpts from Exodus 13. Throughout the meal there was the usual joking and noise that comes with one of our family dinners. By the time that was done, my youngest sister (who is special needs and eats separately since she can't feed herself) had enough sitting and decided it was time to get down. Of course it is at this point, as I'm finishing my food, that I realized we hadn't gotten to the New Testament portion of the evening. So in the midst of dishes and people coming in and out of the room the familiar words of 1 Cor 11:23-26 were finally read.

Picture perfect food, somber learning in the midst of stillness are wonderful ideals. But reality tends to be a little more noisy and messy. Good food, good conversation, a bit of Scripture, last night on Maunday Thursday, in the midst of all the chaos, there was Church.

When it Rains it Pours

Puddles, clouds, and hope.

Since everyone is housebound and bored, I figured I should dust the old blog off. After a coughing attack by the layer of dust, and repeated reassurances that “I don’t have Corona Virus!” to my family, I sit before you excited and eager to see how many posts I will actually create in the upcoming weeks. (Smart money would be on not a lot.)

The original purpose of this blog was to share my trip to Europe with my family and friends stateside. Almost 10 years later the focus has shifted to everyday life events and random musings that pop into my head. Although the content has changed, the concept that it’s for friends who don’t live near me has remained. As most of us are stuck at home, looking for things to do and human connection, I figured it was time to throw my pennies in the fountain and see what emerges.

Which brings us to todays topic, one we have pondered for a couple weeks now in CA, what the heck is happening? I’m not just talking about being at home on lockdown, I’m talking about the weather. It’s April and it’s raining! Not just a single day of rain, but days and days with thunderstorms and occasional hail. Enough rain to create puddles in the yard! 

Wild poppies are having a great year!

But with the rain comes green. The rye, the flowers, the grass and the weeds. Growing up a farmer’s daughter late rains were always appreciated and dreaded. Rain does not discriminate which plants get life, so while the sweet potatoes benefited from the moisture, so too did my mortal enemies, mustered, pigweed, nightshade, puncture vines, nut grass, crab grass, that stupid succulent, and sting weed. 

Rain sustains life, and right now it makes it easier for everyone to stay home. As the days get warmer, I suspect staying in is going to become harder and harder but that is a worry for tomorrow. (Or Saturday if the weather doesn’t change again.) And who knows, maybe like the rain this lockdown holds some kind of bizarre, hidden, silver lining. As the dog demonstrates daily, one can always hope.