CERTAINTIES

[Life being what it is, I sometimes get caught up in a tangle of  appointments and obligations that siphon off my energy or steal my time. So, herewith a rerun of "Certainties," a form of self-care that I need right now. Still timely. Sad to say. But maybe that's also a good thing. Hope it helps you, too.]

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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For some folks, God is a Certainty. Some people say "Supreme Being" or "Higher Power"--but I'm comfortable talking about God. For me, God is a Certainty. Never mind unanswered prayers, or injuries to my ego; or the times I walked away from God. Nothing, and no one, can convince me that God abandoned me, or punished me, or deliberately injured me or allowed something dire to happen in my life. God is love. For me, that's certain. Call it faith, if you prefer. For me--it's a Certainty.

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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!

LET'S HEAR IT FOR FOOD!

One of the downsides of illness--and there are many--is, or can be, loss of appetite.

I've always tended to retain excess poundage--we always called it our family heritage. Along the way, I heard it's not the tendency to gain weight that we inherit--it's the cookbook! I could relate to that!

In all my decades on this planet, I've seen diets and eating programs come and go. We've had expensive programs, free programs, doctor-sanctioned programs; we've had the diet-of-the-moment explained to us on every TV talk show; we now have dozens, scores (maybe hundreds?) of "diet" items available at every venue from the dollar store to the high-end food provider. Can't get out to shop? No problem! Just order it up and have it delivered. Or, if it's locally sold, drive by and have it loaded into your cargo area.

So, after all the above palaver about food and diets, here I am talking about loss of appetite.

I still had the sense of smell and sense of taste that I've relied on for my whole life. What I didn't have was the little voice in my head that said, "You know, that new can of soup you bought looks really delicious. Why not open it up and try a serving?"

I didn't bother. My daughter continued to roast chickens and root vegetables--when I thought I might be having hunger pangs (hard to tell when the appetite packs up and leaves town), I'd heat up a small bowl full of those offerings. They always tasted good, but a few bites were all I could manage.

Okay, enough about my eating problem.

We'll fast forward to this week. Food looks good, smells good, tastes good again. I've started eating the way I used to. Energy started to return (well, duh) with enough fuel on board.

Not everything is on my menu, but I've found several possible solutions to the great Loss of Appetite Dilemma. Such as:

--PBJ on toast. Not a new discovery by any means, but peanut butter on toast with a topping of some great jam/jelly/preserves has become a standard lunchtime treat for me. Not low cal, but satisfying. If I think I need more, I had some fresh fruit.

--Chicken salad on toast. We had a small amount of shredded white meat of chicken left from the most recent roasted bird. You want to make the World's Easiest Chicken Salad? Add a small spoonful of pickle relish and a little more than a spoonful of mayo; stir into the shredded or cut-up chicken. If you can manage to wait, let the flavors blend. If not, whip up the toast and pile on the salad.

--Soup--canned, when I don't have the energy to make my own. For those who need it, there are gluten-free varieties.

--Cheese and crackers--great snack. Protein, carbs, a little salt if you need it.

--Cheese and fruit--for those who are trying to avoid salt.

--Fruit in yogurt--I've been a fan of single-serving fruit cups for some time; no waste, no leftovers to store. A little more expensive than canned fruit, but for the live-alone crowd, worth it. And a fruit cup mixed with plain yogurt is cheaper than any combo I can buy at the store.

--My current favorite treat is a panini. I've never had one in a restaurant, but I remember making my own grilled cheese decades ago--this is the same thing with the addition of a slice or two of chicken (or your choice). And I can make it gluten-free. It's also filling, making it a perfect meal-in-one.

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Probably my greatest thrill was enjoying the taste of coffee again. I make my own--since I don't get out in the world much, I can't depend on the local coffee shops to provide my daily brew. And I like it a little less bold that the baristas pour.

All this discussion of food has me salivating. And it's nearly lunch time, so I'll sign off and see what's new in the refrigerator. A panini sounds wonderful. Or maybe a PBJ on toast. 

Ahh! Lovely to have an appetite again . . . all those choices!

 HOME IS WHERE THE HEART IS

[Changes in our lives during a time of pandemic have nudged me to think about home. Many people who formerly left home to go to work no longer have to do so. Those of us who are retired spend, I suspect, a large amount of time in the place where we live. So--what makes a home? Where is home? Here are my thoughts from a few years back.]

"Home is where the heart is."

Know who said that?

Pliny the Elder, Roman author, naturalist, and natural philosopher. Born 1st Century AD.

I don't know the occasion of his pronouncement, but it's become a cliché in our time. Like most clichés, it's true.

Consider the following:

• In my first 20 years on Earth, I moved from one abode to another 17 times.
• During those moves, I lived in houses, apartments, and one time a remodeled gas station.
• Our moves took us from small town to country, to larger town, to city, to country again, and back to small town.
• I lived in five different states of the Union, all of them in the Midwest

For a number of years, during these moves, my home was where my mother was. When I was 15, my mother died--so that anchor was gone from my life.

After that my sense of home--not as a place but as an attachment--underwent several incarnations. I married, had children, and began making a home for them. (In those days, wives/moms were able to stay home and be with the children, being homemakers in the literal sense of the word.) Like many new parents, I tried to give my children what I didn't have as a kid--a house they could call home, freedom to explore, and permission to keep every blessed thing they wanted to. It helped that the first house we bought was a four-bedroom, two-story square frame house, with large rooms, a basement, and an airing porch on the back. Plus a big yard, fenced in, and room for a dog and a cat (or two--they don't seem to come in singles for this family), plus a neighborhood full of friends to play with, go to school with, and get in trouble with.

When the children were in school and I had free time during the day, I went back to college to finish my degree. I made friends there who have lasted through the years into retirement. They've become part of my family--and though we aren't close geographically, we are close in the best way of all--we're at home with each other whenever we meet.

I love grocery shopping when I'm home. That's what makes me feel totally normal. I love both the idea of home as in being with my family and friends, and also the idea of exploration. I think those two are probably my great interests.
Yo-Yo Ma

I can't show you pictures of my homes--there were too many down through the years. The one I live in now is a three-bedroom ranch, like the houses my father built most of his life. My town's population is around 12,000, and it's the county seat.

For a number of years my oldest daughter and I went back to our hometown to visit my aunt and several first cousins. One year we attended a family reunion, on the 100th anniversary of my maternal grandparents' wedding. After a life of nearly perpetual moving around, I felt quite grounded in the park that day--I was related to all these people, and so was my daughter. We belonged.

Where we love is home - home that our feet may leave, but not our hearts.

Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr.

The most important thing is this: I've been in this house, in my small city, over 30 years. I've found a physical place to call home. But if I had to leave, I could. Home is a concept--and I carry its picture in my heart.

   MIDWINTER . . .

As I write this on Wednesday morning, the calendar reminds me that it's Groundhog Day! Given what the weather people are offering, Phil the Groundhog better keep his nose buried in his burrow until the current events pass on by.

Here in Northeast Indiana, we're prepared for 1-2 feet (yes, that's 12-24 inches) of snow in the next day and a half. Shoppers who waited this long to pick up "a few items" will likely be disappointed--shelves are pretty much down to the metal.

My last experience of being thoroughly snowed in was the Blizzard of '77-'78. Another memorable event--businesses, schools, and government offices closed. We lived in the country at the time, and I recall drifts over five feet high. Getting out our long lane to the road was extreme challenge--then once you got to the road, that was the end of the line. No county trucks or plows could get through. My husband made a mile and a half trip to the nearest grocery store on snowshoes, taking a back pack and bringing milk and bread to the neighbors and our family. 

I don't remember how long that storm lasted--up to a week, I think, but I bow to longer memories than mine. What I do remember are two things: I had hurt my back and had to lie flat for what seemed an eternity, and I started writing my first novel. The characters, setting, and most of the elements of the mystery were already rattling around in my head--all I had to do was start writing about them. With pen and tablet, I started out. That's my memory of the Blizzard of '77-'78.

(The novel eventually got finished--took me seven years, but I did it. My back recovered long before that.)

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I anticipate no special events this time around. The coronavirus has managed to find me, so I've been lying low--sleeping a lot, trying to eat enough to keep muscle strength alive, watching DVDs and YouTube to keep my brain awake (I think I'm getting better--everything I watch is beginning to bore me).

Today while I contemplate Punxsutawney Phil and watch the woods fill up with snow (thank you, Robert Frost, for that felicitous phrase), I'll try to give thanks for snow; must be something great about it, there's so much.

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You're on your own for entertainment. But if you find anything especially great, share it!

Until next time,

Blessings