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.