END-OF-YEAR THOUGHTS
Year's end is neither an end nor a beginning but a going on, with all the wisdom that experience can instill in us. Hal Borland
FOUR GIFTS
If I could give each of you a gift, I’d wrap up four nice boxes and in each one there would be a word you could treasure the rest of your life.
In the third box I’d put Joy. A few days ago I read in a small devotional book this thought: “Joy feels deeper than momentary pride, satisfaction, or relief. . . . A sense of joy brings deep contentment and is often expressed by gratitude for what we’ve been given.” (Lelanda Lee, author)
ADJUSTING TO THE
UNEXPECTED
I've always thought I did pretty well at going with the flow--not following every trend and fad that popped up, but when things didn't go my way, I could adjust--refigure my path--try a new way, so I could keep on an even keel. (Forgive my mixed metaphors.)
This year just ending, 2020, which many are calling the COVID Year, seemed to evolve in new ways every whipstitch--one week it was all right to meet in small groups, a few days later, forget about meeting in face-to-face groups, turn on your Zoom. And so on. You remember.
After adjusting the adjustments, time and again, I've come to see that it can all be summarized this way: KEEP IT SIMPLE.
Not a new thought, right? We've had that bit of advice around for several years.
Here's how it's playing out right now:
Christmas Preparation
Online shopping, get things mailed to me (or to the recipient). The Post Office will pick up as well as deliver, so I don't have to schlep big packages downtown.
Or, forget shopping. Write checks. Withdraw cash to put in cards. Buy gift cards to various stores and mail them to recipients.
Decorating--I've never put up outdoor stuff. My neighbors do enough to make a good display in our one-block-long neighborhood. Instead, I let Mother Nature decorate for me with new-fallen snow (yesterday morning was a good starter), bushes with red berries on them, evergreens (no adornments needed). Minimalist is more my style.
Indoor decorating--not much room for a tree to fill the front window, so my daughter and I decorate two small pencil trees (each about 30 inches tall) and place them on either side of the fireplace. Since the fireplace is not in operation, they're perfectly safe. They're prelighted, and we add a handful of colorful balls, bells, and ribbons. Quilt batting around the bases does the faux snow thing.
Cooking & Treats--a vexed subject. I used to make large veggie trays to take to folks who have helped me throughout the year. Made my own Skinny Dip. Delivered the goods early in December, preferably before the 10th. Everyone who received a tray loved the idea of fewer calories, though I suspect they really were thankful they didn't have to clean all those veggies.
This year? Prepping veggies would have involved my wearing a mask and vinyl gloves while working with the food. Since I make six or more big trays, I'd be working under a handicap for a long period of time. (Try doing quick work with your hands in gloves and your glasses fogged over from breathing under a mask. Uh-huh, no fun, right?)
My adjustment? Redo the menu. A bag of mandarin oranges, a package of string cheese (each string is individually wrapped), and a box of fancy crackers divided into several snack bags. (One box of crackers divided while wearing mask and gloves isn't onerous.)
Tuesday I delivered three treats, and yesterday I delivered one more. Just a couple to go.
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Like many people I know, there's no big holiday dinner this year. My daughter and I will probably have a roast chicken and veg meal in the evening, then watch a holiday movie. (I've never seen the Grinch, can you believe that?) Won't be surprised to hear from my other kids for a phone visit.
A year ago I wouldn't have suspected this year would be different . . . but it's turned out to involve a radical departure from Christmas preparation in the past.
Will this become the new norm? Many people hope not! They want to go back to what they've always done, maybe do even more that in the past.
I won't mind if the simplicity of Christmas hangs on
. Fewer expectations, fewer responsibilities, more time to reflect on the season. . . those would be gifts indeed.
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Have a wonderful week! May your Christmas holiday bring you peace and joy.
CONFESSION TIME
Sorry, it's not working this year.
Here we are, just two weeks before Christmas--carols have been blasting out into the ether ever since November 1--we've had Black Friday sales every other day--my neighbors have put up their lights, inflatables, yard ornaments--
Nope, not working. I have no--and I do mean NO--Christmas spirit. Watched White Christmas a couple of times already, and The Christmas Card (love that Ed Asner). Did a quick shopping trip for a woman who lives in a health care facility. Even updated my Christmas card list (more on that in a moment).
In this "year that never was," or whatever we're calling it this week, I discovered that, yes, time does pass, whether we pay attention or not. People are finding creative ways to celebrate within good-health guidelines. (And some people don't bother to try.)
I have no gifts to wrap--everybody in my family is getting cash this year, including the littlest kids.
I have no music to practice--no church service where I can play the organ. (I officially retired from the bench last spring.)
My annual veggie trays for local businesses and professional offices have had to be scuttled. Even if I wore gloves and a mask, I'm still handling food. The alternate route is a bag of mandarin oranges and a package of string cheese. I know, I know--it's the thought that counts. But still--.
I'm not usually depressed about having nothing to do. It's the other way around--too much to do in the time left, too many commitments (what was I thinking?) . . . .
This year, though, it feels different. Not just because we're at the mercy of a pandemic. That's only part of it. I'm just not sure what else is going on. Life seems to be changing in ways I hadn't expected. Did someone swing the pendulum the other way? Was a reorganization of Life As We Knew It put into effect? I seem to have missed the memo.
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Each year I update the addresses, because folks are still moving in and out of their homes, leaving the state to live with relatives, or coming to Indiana to be near someone who needs care. Young folks sell one house and buy or build another. Older folks sell their homes to a child and go to Assisted Living.
This year I had a couple of changed addresses. Those don't bother me.
But I also had to remove three folks who passed during 2020. That was a sad thing, even though I knew those folks had died.
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In my church, we're in the middle of Advent--watching and waiting in expectation of the birth of Christ. It isn't a hoop-la time in the church calendar; but it's an important season. We prepare for a life-changing event.
Maybe my current subdued state is more in keeping with authentic Advent.
As the year has unfolded, I've come to recognize, and accept, that life as I've known it, and lived it, may never return to what it was. In a sense, that's true every year, but at a slower pace. Now the changes are more drastic, more vivid, more in-your-face.
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Lack of Christmas Spirit? Hmm, maybe that's nothing to be concerned about or ashamed of. There's a whole lot more to Christmas than the bells and whistles, the lights and rich foods. I almost hate to think it, but maybe COVID has given us a positive gift--we had to be creative to come up with safe ways to celebrate.
But deeper down, on a level most of us may forget to visit, there's something else going on. Like, what really is Christmas Spirit? There's no easy or quick answer--it may take us years to work that out. And, I'm certain the answer at my current age is much different from what it was ten years ago, or twenty, or more. Age may not bring wisdom, but it does bring more time to ponder deep questions.
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This year is different, we've all come to terms with that. As for Christmas Spirit--
I'm still watching and waiting. How about you?
A LATE AUTUMN DAY
Yesterday was shopping day--just one store, and if I go early enough, there won't be crowds.
My cart wasn't even half full, for which I gave thanks, but some of the items were heavy enough that I knew I'd be getting my daily quota of weight lifting. Liquid laundry detergent, a box of 20 Mule Team Borax (great for softening our local hard water), non-dairy creamer, quart-size cartons of plain yogurt--it all adds up. I put it in the cart--took it out to place on the conveyor belt--picked it up again to scan it and place it in a bag--shifted the bag to the cart--then out to the vehicle where I put the bags in the back--then went home to lift it all out again. As I say--my daily weight-lifting exercise.
That's what I did on a cold, windy, but sunny day. I got home, hit the BREW button on the coffeemaker before hauling my shopping inside the house, and by the time everything was put away, the coffee was fragrantly steaming and I was able to sit down and rest my feet, enjoy my coffee, and remember that not everybody has the ability--physical, financial, perhaps even mental--to do their own shopping.
Doing the errands isn't all bad. Just, sometimes, tiring.
While I ate my PBJ, I read some more of Jacqueline Winspear's To Die But Once, a later book in the Maisie Dobbs mystery series (set in the years between the wars, 1929-1941). This one is 1940, and England is preparing for the invasion everyone says is coming. If you haven't tried this series, it's worth a read--historically accurate, well-researched, and the story lines are interesting. And so is Maisie, herself.
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Did you have a cold, windy, sunny day? The main ingredient for me is the sunshine. I can put on enough clothes to keep warm, but the sun--not only does it somewhat warm me, it puts a smile on my face. I actually enjoyed being out of the house--getting in the car, getting out, walking around a big store for an hour, checking myself out, loading the car, coming home.
Many, many things in our lives have changed. But some things seem to remain the same. Shopping has to be done. Meals have to be prepared--or ordered--or at least thought about. Laundry will pile up whether we're sick or well or working or unemployed.
Some of us turn to our hobbies, like woodworking, quilt making, painting/drawing, letter writing, binge watching shows on one of the numerous channels available nowadays--just to maintain a sense of Life As We Knew It. To make us smile.
If I could have one wish for everyone who is home bound or otherwise restricted, it would be to look for something that makes you smile. It could be as simple as a sunshiny day. Or a book that you've read dozens of times, just because. Or a phone call, even if you're not a phone kind of person--hearing a beloved voice can do wonders for morale.
And if the day is cloudy? Gloomy? Stormy? Smile anyway! Can't hurt, and might just change your day into something bearable.
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Until next time, stay warm. Stay safe.
HAPPY THANKSGIVING!
I've heard various comments on this year's events--"The Year of No Graduation" or "The Year of No 4th of July" or "No Birthday Party" or . . . .
Certainly, we're operating under a handicap here--but take it from me, there are plenty of things to be thankful for. So let's get to it!
First--let's have a few reminders; they're not ground rules, just some thoughts that might've escaped through the net when you weren't looking. For example:
--giving thanks can occur any time--any place--in any circumstance
--you don't need a reminder--giving thanks can be, if you let it, a natural expression of your life
--by its nature, giving thanks is a positive thing
--and my personal favorite: giving thanks for one thing always (and I do mean always) summons up something else to be thankful for
Next--some examples from my own life:
--I'm thankful for abundant food--from grocery stores, farmers' markets, canned goods from my family's gardens; and pumpkin pie (with whipped cream, of course), veggies to roast, chickens and turkeys in great number at the store
--I'm thankful for a year of having to make-do, or reconfigure the old ways. We had concerts by professional musicians who performed from their homes--and many of them played or sang "as a group," all done digitally. I read about folks who used imaginative ways to help their children celebrate holidays when the old tried-and-true didn't work--stuffed animals displayed in windows for all to see and enjoy on a neighborhood walk; trick-or-treat managed without handling the treats or getting closer than social distancing allowed.
--I'm thankful education continued--yes, it was difficult, and still is; but we are convinced that schooling is important and should continue, one way or another.
--I'm thankful for modern technology. (Never thought I'd come out so firmly on the plus side of all the tech stuff.) Getting in touch with family, friends, and business associates is easy, even for seasoned folks like me. I can have a concert any time I turn on YouTube. And I could read books online, but that's one I'm happy to leave to others; holding a book or magazine in my hands, now that's happiness.
Your Turn--Are you thankful for something special? Anything at all?
Start your list with three things. Go on, a piece of scrap paper and a pencil won't bite you. Three things. Now lay that aside and go do something else. Give yourself a while to let your thoughts incubate. Think of something else? Put it on the paper with the other three things.
Just so you know--this isn't a contest. There isn't a prize at the end. But you will be a winner, I guarantee it, because you will have given voice to your own thanksgivings.
Until next time, blessings!
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LITTLE THINGS MEAN A LOT
Some of us will remember Kitty Allen singing the lyrics to "Little Things Mean a Lot," back in 1954. The words themselves are simple; they refer to small acts that offer more comfort and love than just reading them can convey. And yet . . . put them all together and you have a sweet song that could be the theme for most of our lives. [For a trip down memory lane, check out Kitty Allen on YouTube.]
Look around you--what makes you smile? Yesterday I went to a store that sells running shoes (not because I'm going to become a runner, thank you very much, but because I needed some different support for my, ahem, maturing legs and feet). In the fitting area, there was a toy (not real) dog, something like a small labradoodle, standing about 16 inches high; sandy-haired, bright black beady eyes. His two front feet turned in a little--and I smiled to find that a shoe store had a pigeon-toed toy dog. Such a small, small thing, and it made me smile.
What have you seen recently that makes you remember who you were at a younger age? An old photo will do it, or a home movie somebody made at Grandpa's birthday party when he celebrated the big 9-0. Maybe it's seeing a grandchild who is the spittin' image of you--or your spouse--or a cousin; and you wonder, did we ever really look like that? Probably did. Missing teeth and all.
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So, what's the point of looking at old stuff? I can think of a couple of good reasons.
One is, you'll never forget who you were--how you felt when you were young(er)--what your place was in the Big Scheme of Things. At one time, take it from me, you (and I) were the center of the universe. Nobody else thought so, but we were convinced.
And another reason is, remembering is one way to understand who you are--where you fit into life as we now live it--and you'll see how much you've learned, how far you've traveled, how much bigger--and smaller--you are than all those years ago.
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Little Things--old letters, old photos, a pink elephant won at the county fair, that first set of real tools for fixing your car, that certificate you won when you finished a mechanic's course . . . they may seem like little things now (we've moved on, after al), but at the time, they held significance in our lives.
Celebrate the Little Things, because they mean a lot; not least of all, they add up to the person you and I are today. Make yourself a little list (you know how I love lists)--reread it and see if there's some Little Thing you can share with someone else--some Little Thing you can do to make a difference in the life of someone who needs it. Probably won't cost you a penny to do that. And you'll know how much Little Things mean, because you've been there.
Have a blessed week!
SOMETIMES . . .
[My life is no worse than that of anyone else I know, and in some ways, it's 'way better. Yet as daylight hours grow fewer, there's a part of me that wants to explore the darkness. This post appeared a couple of years ago, and I find it's still on target.]
One Year Ago:
BLESSINGS - INCOMING
[On November 7, 2019, Thursday's Child shared an essay about blessings. Now, one year later--and in my opinion, more than ever, we need to count our blessings. Everybody has blessings, trust me on this. And--here's a radical thought: maybe all those things we consider thorns in our sides, or disappointments that blindsided us, or disasters of a truly Biblical nature--maybe, just maybe, they are blessings, after all. Think about it. And while you do that, walk down memory lane with me from one year ago, November 2019.]
Remember Bing Crosby's song in White Christmas?
DID WE LOOK LIKE THAT . . . ?
If you ever want a whirlwind tour of your personal past, I recommend starting with the Stuff stored in your attic, cellar, boxroom, or garage. Or maybe it's in that new shed you put in the back corner of the yard.
My recent safari into that jungle--garage, in my case--led to some interesting encounters. Nothing man-eating, so far. Nothing poisonous. Nothing contagious. (I think. I hope.) But what I found certainly tickled my fancy, made me shake my head, and laugh out loud. Not bad for a morning's foray into the depths.
Here's the scenario:
--My youngest daughter came
to live with me in mid-June; she brought some furniture, household goods (pots/pans, towels, et al.), paper (business files, mainly), and essentials like books, videos, CDs, clothing, and interesting items acquired in her travels. And a car.
--I've lived in this house 35+ years, with miscellaneous furniture, household goods (some of which could be used more often), paper (letters received, receipts, tax returns), and my own collection of the above essentials. And a vehicle.
--In order to get my daughter's Main Stuff into the house, we stored much of it in the garage--nicely arranged, more-or-less organized (my daughter excels at Organization on a Grand Scale), allowing for ease of movement when bringing in groceries or looking for a Certain Something that is probably in that box over there.
--Time passes. My daughter gets a couple of paying jobs. This cuts down on the hours she can spend going through the Stuff in the garage.
--I work best at sorting/discarding/donating when I have encouragement--such as a Sorting Buddy who will give me feedback. "Will we ever use this?" I ask. "Um, maybe. Let's keep it." Or, she says, "Doubt it." I say, "We'll donate it." And it goes into the Donations box. Or, if not donate-able, into the trash bag or recycling box.
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Last Sunday we spent too much time (aching muscles reminded us later) in the garage, but the results were worth it, I think.
My trek through the Jungle of the Past was quite entertaining.
--photos: Did we really wear glasses like that? And those clothes! Oh, it was the 70s, after all.
--old issues of magazines that I was sure, back then, I'd want to keep. Clothing styles not much better in the 80s and 90s. Hair styles, ditto.
--Envelopes! Greeting cards! Letters! It was like getting a mailbox stuffed full! I looked at the return addresses--family members from Iowa, Illinois; friends from Indiana who went to Ohio or Florida. Throw those away? Never! Well, not right now, anyway. Letters are kept. Greeting cards read again and possibly kept; we'll see.
--Boxes marked "Quilt Stuff" brought surprises. I found brand-new quilt patterns (small projects are often sold as single patterns in a plastic envelope); some I'll probably keep and try. Others I'll share with a friend who likes to make Small Stuff. And a couple of them I've actually used to make wall-hangings for friends or family.
--Besides commercial patterns and magazines, I found patterns for quilts I'd designed myself. Some included colored pencil suggestions for the design. And some of those had also been used--labeled "Donna's quilt," or "Kathy's healing quilt."
--fabrics: a mixed bag--some were scraps from long, long ago projects--not usable in a current quilt and probably not salvageable after being stored in a garage for 35 years. But the other side of that coin was a bag of still usable fabrics in larger yardages. I vividly recall the garments I was going to make with them; I won't make those things now, but I can use the fabrics for other projects, possibly as cushion covers, or sofa throws.
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Sometimes we need a chance to see our former selves and greet them like friends. Because, after all, they're part of who we are today.
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There's a darker side to that memory walk--we all encounter
reminders that some of the folks we loved most have left us; they moved away or died, going on to a better life, we trust, and we remain here with the ailments of life in 2020. We might even think we'd be better off out of here. But that's hindsight--and that one is always "20-20". We never know what's ahead--could be better than we've ever seen. So our job is to keep on keeping on.
Right now, I'm enchanted by the ways people manage to celebrate life--holidays, special events, former types of entertainment--when they're unable to get together. The Internet and all the social media venues have given us some good gifts.
Till next time, keep on celebrating life.
TAKING IT FOR GRANTED
But we haven't been here--on the subject of taking things for granted--since COVID-19 entered our collective lives. Now, we're finding, all the old rules and assumptions and things we counted on may--or may not--be valid. So let's look at some areas in our lives.
We take it for granted that:
#1 - tomorrow's a new day--another day in which to get things done, make plans, work toward a goal.
Really? For some people--those facing life-changing illnesses and possibly death, there is only a "perhaps" about tomorrow. Never mind doing stuff, making plans, working to meet a goal.
#2 - the sun will rise and set, never mind clouds or rain or thunderstorms or whatever meteorological phenomena come our way.
Nope. For some folks, the sun will neither rise nor set. Weather has practically nothing to do with it. Health has just about everything to do with it.
#3 - God will provide.
Yes, indeed. But keep in mind--God may not provide what I want or what you want. Our prayers and petitions and wailings don't guarantee the result we seek. The point is, keep praying, keep seeking.
#4 - life will resume as it was before we had a virus, and restrictions; before businesses closed and jobs were lost; the assumption is: one day we'll wake up and it'll be sometime in 2019.
Lotsa luck with that one. If we haven't figured out this many months into COVID-driven life that some of these changes are permanent, we better wake up and smell the coffee. Take the temperature of life. Examine the signs of change that have come about in our lives.
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I'd love to think the changes aren't drastic, that much of our previous lives will be preserved, that we'll "come out on the other side" of the pandemic in better shape than when we "went in."
I desperately, some days, want to take it for granted that life is good . . . that yes, we're all suffering to one extent or another, but it's all for a good cause . . . that all I have to do is pray harder, help others, follow the restrictions set up by people who know more than I do about how to keep from spreading the virus . . . promise to be a better person . . . .
But I have no special access to the future, no sense that what I'm doing is "the answer," no better vision of what's going to happen, or even might happen. About the best I can offer--what any of us can expect--is that the virus will one day be at an end. How? I don't know--wear itself out, find a new place to invade (Mars, maybe?), be conquered by our health workers. (That's a prayer that has a good chance of being answered as we want it to be. So keep on praying, keep on seeking.)
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With COVID-19, we're finding it hard to celebrate anything large. Virtual presentations help, but after a while, some of us find they don't. So I offer some of the tiny things in my life that hardly anyone else might see:
--a neighbor followed around by his two very small grandsons; they "work" together in the yard
--a friend who has been through a double mastectomy, had treatments, and is now again working in her home-based business, keeping her family together, and enjoying life
--church members keeping in touch with each other; the elderlies mostly by phone or email
--library services! Being able to actually pick up and leaf through a book--ordering a set of DVDs from the Evergreen service--having auto-renewal for the items we don't return to the library on time (only works if no one has it on hold)
--services willing to do phone conferences (haven't worked out how to get my teeth cleaned by phone or my hair cut--still working on those)
--playing the organ for my own enjoyment (I still make as many mistakes, but they don't bother me now)
These are small things I can take for granted. Maybe for only a short time, but I accept them and give thanks for them for as long as they last.
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Make a list for yourself. See how many ways you can celebrate during a dark time. Or maybe you don't see it as a dark time--celebrate that. Write somebody a note--email counts--telling them you appreciate them. Or call up, if you're a phone-body. Give a hug--real or virtual, depending on who it is on the other end of the hug--just because you're happy someone is in your life.
See? Celebration is still possible! Just don't take it for granted that we've lost so much--we may have gained as much (or more), if we look for it.
Have a blessed week! (And while you're at it, take a look at the colorful trees!)
BACK IN THE DAY . . .
(getting information)
I didn't know the career choice was called journalist--I just wanted to write for newspapers. Did it in high school, worked a little with the college newspaper staff (but not as a writer), and loved to read newspapers.
One of my regular reads was the Chicago Daily News (and later its sister paper, The Sun-Times) because it was a daily paper in the household of my boyfriend's family, where I usually stopped for breakfast before heading off for college classes. (My dad didn't see the sense of having a daily newspaper.)
Like most newspaper readers, I had my preferences--comics, of course (everybody needed a dose of fun first thing, as good as a shot of espresso in later years), and then the Syd Harris column, Strictly Personal.
Sydney J. Harris had been born in England but his parents came to the U.S. when he was quite young, and he grew up in Chicago where he began working for newspapers in his late teens. His columns dealt with many issues--both of that day and what would turn out to be latter days. He was considered a liberal, and that explained to me why he was read by the Palmer family.
One of my favorite recurring columns was called something like "Things I Learned While Looking Up Something Else." (I couldn't find a good reference on that, so take my word for it--the title may not be correct but the paraphrase gives you the idea.)
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Years later, when my children were old enough to read and ask questions, especially about how to spell/punctuate/express an idea, my standard response was: "Look it up." (As an aside--they remember that response well, and they have told me how helpful it was to have to look things up because they still know how. Just saying.)
Thus, looking things up was totally ingrained in my family--a family trait, you might say--and I wasn't surprised to discover as the children grew older that we all had the same affliction: looking up one word in the dictionary led to at least a half-hour's stroll through other words.
I tell you this to give some background to yesterday's activities. My day started out pretty normally--journaling with coffee, then breakfast, then starting a load of laundry. So far, so good. Then--song lyrics that had been driving me crazy for several days couldn't be ignored any longer. I had to look them up!
The song was "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square"--a WW II song, performed by a number of bands and vocalists, including Glenn Miller. So after I read the lyrics of Nightingale, I segued to the biographical writings on Glenn Miller--he was only 40 when his small plane disappeared while taking him from England to Paris in 1944. The article on Miller was really long--and I was caught up in the kind of music he played, how it was different from other big bands of that era, how it continues to be a musical presence in the 21st Century . . . . If the clothes dryer hadn't buzzed at that moment, I'd probably still be chasing down references--names of musicians I either grew up with or remember from listening to my mother's 78s. Names like Benny Goodman, Tommy Dorsey, Gene Krupa; vocalists Frank Sinatra, Jo Stafford, Rosemary Clooney . . . .
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Or I finally give in to the urge to track down song lyrics that have eluded me for most of my life. Or I get to read the first pages--or selected pages--of a book I'm considering buying. Or, instead of the book, I search for the author, find the home page, read the bio, make a list of books I'd like to read (library is another favorite place) . . . .
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You see how this goes--there's no good stopping place. You have to exercise the will to stop looking things up. Or you have to remember that you have an appointment you can't possibly miss. Or there's a quiche (or something) in the oven, and when the timer goes off, you better be out there to rescue tonight's dinner.
I wish you well, during our time of uncertainty. My hope is to inspire you to pass the time in a way that entertains you, or educates you, or merely satisfies your quest for information.
And if you have a question . . . look it up!
CERTAINTIES
Unless you've been out of touch with the world for the past seven months, you know that practically every other article/broadcast/podcast mentions our current time as one of Uncertainty.
All right, I've heard it, you've heard it, probably we've even said it. So why am I writing today about Certainty? Well, why not? It's much more positive than Un-certainty.
And yet--speaking or writing about Certainties always contains the opposite, or, if not opposite, then at least some of the "dark side." For example, one of our certainties is that change is upon us, and in us, and around us; the un-certain part is not knowing what our world, our individual lives, will look like when we get out on the "other side."
Do we ever know the outcome? Did we ever know--for certain--that choices/decisions we made would turn out as they have?
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Let's look at some Certainties:
--seasons changing--with their temperature changes--amount of daylight waxing/waning
--time passing--people aging, kids growing up--buildings being demolished, new homes being built
--societal definitions shifting--what is a family, for example
Can you do anything about any of those? Can I?
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Here are some other Certainties:
--loyalty
--friendship
--compassion
--love
--honor
--integrity
What changes is perspective--how each of us interprets these qualities, based on our upbringing, our experiences in later life.
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We live in "uncertain times"--ask anybody. We're surrounded by disappointment and sadness, by lack of supplies and by disturbing news; we work at jobs we'd never consider if life was "normal" and we take wages we know will barely cover what we owe. We watch people die because they're old, or young, or vulnerable, or because they're compassionate and work in the very midst of a medical calamity.
The only way to cope, it seems to me, is to find some Certainty in our lives--then hold onto that as our life raft while we're tossed in the strong current of Un-certainty. Then we can give thanks that there is one thing we can cling to, one thing we can count on.
For some people that one thing is music--or art--or poetry--or woodworking, sewing, knitting, cooking--reading to a beloved child or a blind person who loves to hear a story.
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When you find your Certainty, share it with someone else. You never know who needs a good word.
Blessings!
