We’re all home again because case counts are too high at the high school and in the state. Mark has ordered a new game. Tim works on his Fiat in the garage. I read, continue to rearrange these shelves for a change of scenery, and make people paint peg dolls with me. Richard’s employer is demanding a lot of overtime, so we don’t see much of him, but he is here at the house, too.
Only children take seriously the first October snow. Grownups know that early snow is a bit of a tease. Look, it’s nothing, it melts as it hits the asphalt. Today, this November snow is no tease. It seems like an iron door, swinging shut against the light of fall. Gold is out, silver is in. White crayons on black construction paper couldn’t be farther from the truth of a late afternoon winter snow. The clouds seem to be a blank, universal color, but which one? Purple? Steel gray? They are not white, but their feathers are.
So much shedding from something so still as a cloud.
I sorted my house last week, accompanied by stillness and my own thoughts. I shed many things, mainly childhood supplies we no longer need, which the self-assured young mothers in my life do not want. My heart is a nebulous gray as I shed the trappings of young motherhood, feathery memories floating in the air all around me as I fill bags and boxes. The act, like a silent winter storm, is terrible and beautiful. Objects of every color and memories of every shade, so many that it only feels blank and cold when the sorting is over and the shelves are bare. White.
i get this way as i approach my birthday. It’s the most dependable melancholy of the year. i take time to own the mistakes and regrets of the year, the missed opportunities, the losses, and gains.
i lost nearly a tenth of myself in weight since my last birthday. Worry started it, then surgery. Being skinny is not all they say it is.
i didn’t write my book, but wrote statements of faith, i think more than a hundred pages of them.
i disappoint myself regularly.
i have loved being home, and enjoyed so much family time.
i have been more proud than ever of our children during the past 12 months, just unimaginably proud.
i learned to do less.
i know God’s promises to me by heart.
i have been lonely, and learned to bear it.
i have looked for wisdom from my angel grandmothers and aunts. Their memory reminds me to make family time the best it can be.
Yesterday on the way to the grocery store, we saw this hot air balloon hovering just above the trees. I scrambled for my phone to take a photo. It was good news, it was colorful, it was different. It made me smile. It made me think of the United States of America. It hovered above the worries within the houses beneath.
How do we rise amid the concerns of this time?
It will take the courage of a hot air balloon pilot, the whimsy of an artist, the creativity of an engineer, the steadiness of an accountant, the discipline of a student, the observation of a writer, the resilience of youth, the wisdom of experience, and the faith of Saints.
As we elevate our perspective beyond our current worries, we can inspire others to do the same.
Look up! Look outside yourself! Be cheerful and full of hope!
This is the lesson of the hot air balloon.
This is what was on our kitchen table this morning:
I am having a couple of rough days with my health, so I just picked up a few things to put away today. The table is large and can hold all the magnificent evidence of our lives. It’s unlike me to glory in the mess, but I kind of like this one. It shows that we are moving forward.
This was the week Richard went on a scuba diving trip, the boys played their piano concertos to an audience of two, and our tree erupted into every autumn color. Paige and Michael helped harvest the last apples before the frost. Mark took up baking again, and I started playing Christmas songs on my violin in earnest.
Favorite memory? The concerto performances.
I’m a fan of this show. It’s not perfect, but it has really touched my heart. You can watch all episodes by downloading the free app.
My favorite portrayals are Matthew, Nicodemus, and Jesus. If you watch, let me know who you like in the show.
Richard had an idea to visit his parents and cook them a Dutch oven dinner in Pine Valley, so he and Mark went down for a visit. Paige and Michael joined the fun, too. Looking at pictures of the event, I see the original plan evolved quite a bit. 😀
You may remember my goal this week to call, safely visit, or write to someone each day at 11:30. What you may not know is how hard it is for me to initiate a call. It’s one of the hardest things I ever do. Once we’re talking, I am fine, it’s just getting courage to interrupt someone’s day that’s hard.
Monday, I didn’t think, I just called, and that helped. My conversation with sweet Pat was long overdue and we talked as long as we wanted.
On Tuesday, my 11:30 communication was via email to someone and it needed to be full of details (not my favorite), but it’s what this friend asked me to do. I had missed my window of opportunity to make a phonecall, and moved on. Just before dinner, Anne called unexpectedly, and we ended up talking for a long time about deep things, not business. It’s like my morning laden with details was canceled.
Later, after a borrowed appliance kind of blew up in front of me, I sat at my window and watched the sunset and tried to calm down. Charlene chose this moment to stop by with her mask and a big bag of homemade cookies. We talked in the yard for a long time as the light faded from color to gray. The timing of this visit was angelic.
Today, at the allotted time, before I could pick up the phone, Gisela called me, and we talked for an hour about facing difficulties, the Supreme Court, misadventures in doctors’ offices, and some other things.
I have had more true conversations with friends in three days than I have in a long time. I have only had to dial the phone one time, and Heavenly Father delivered an army.
I have a plan for who I will call tomorrow. She’s a dear. They all are.
…I don’t know their preferences on politics and television shows.
…I stay away from social media.
…I speak to them in person.
…I cease to label them.
…I don’t replay hurtful situations in my mind.
…I use the phrase from Pahoran to Captain Moroni, “It mattereth not,” when somebody speaks in ignorance about me or mine.
…I work on becoming closer to God, and pray for the gift of charity.
…I do something nice for them.
There have been times in my life when I have loved more than I love now, and the key was to be with people, listen to their stories, and do all I could to help them. I have made a commitment at 11:30 each day to reach out to someone, to have a real voice conversation, or to be helpful. I am still struggling to regain my health six months past surgery, but sick or well, I can make a phonecall or write a letter.