“A sad soul can kill you quicker, far quicker, than a germ” – from Travels With Charley by John Steinbeck, 1961
I wonder what Steinbeck would think today about all the sad souls hidden away in their homes, locked away from others in nursing homes, out of work because their job just wasn’t deemed as important as Hollywood. Sad souls living in fear.
If I say, ‘I will forget my complaint, I will put off my sad face and wear a smile,’ – Job 9:27
The Night
Lights out, room darkening curtains drawn
Nature sounds play low in the background
Blankets spread just so
The whirr of the CPAP machine is more white noise
But sometimes the machine isn’t on
And the low snoring begins
The night has a life all its own
The low snoring may build in crescendo
But sometimes it just falls away
That’s when I hear it
The dog’s snoring
Not loud, just a pleasant little snuffling
In between these two beloveds
I snuggle down
I drift into sleep
The night has a life all its own
Sleep may last hours or not
A creak, a door closing
And I’m awake
Sometimes for minutes
Sometimes till dawn
Until light creeps around the edges
The night has a life all its own
I wrote this poem earlier in the year – before all that was familiar began to spin away. Is it possible to actually miss the sound of a CPAP machine? I think it is. I can no longer “snuggle down between these two beloved”, but the dog does her best to keep me company. The part that still rings true?
“…I’m awake
Sometimes for minutes
Sometimes till dawn
Until light creeps around the edges”
Bring Your Love to Me -The Avett Brothers
Like I said in my last post, God’s Word, poetry, sunshine, and fresh air get me through these uncertain days. Today’s prompt from NaPoWrimo was to write a poem based on a “walking archive”. Those of you who follow me here or on Instagram know I post a lot of pictures of things I find on my walks and hikes, so this one was a natural prompt for me.
I Walk
I walk for sunshine
I walk for sanity
I walk to remind myself
Of Pippa’s song
God’s in His heaven
All’s right with the world
Even when it feels all wrong
I find a dandelion
And think of Ray Bradbury
And The Avett Brothers
And blow my wishes
to scatter the seeds
I observe moss on the rocks
And dream of the fairies who visit at night
Knowing it’s all pretend
Think of how we used to pretend
Give each other different names
Like Twenty-One Pilots
And I hum the song
Wish we could turn back time
I catch the sun
Filtering through the trees
Making shadows on my arm
While the birds sing
A song I do not know
I see beauty in the wildflowers
Beauty in the ruins
And I walk on
Ruby by my side
Man’s best friend
And mine, too.
photo By Tomwsulcer
My husband recently used one of my favorite songs- Tell the Truth to Yourself– against me. We were discussing our diets and he claimed I put a LOT of cream in my coffee, to which I argued that I did NOT. He grinned at me and said, “Tell the truth to yourself.”
I must confess I kinda did the same thing months ago with the line “I lied to the doctor”, teasing him because he tries to be so good with his eating the week before he goes in for lab work.
All joking aside, it’s not easy to tell the truth to yourself. To face the music. Lately I’ve had to admit to myself that I am no spring chicken, whatever that is. I can still hike, but some days I go pretty slow. I have to be careful when I’m playing chase with Ruby. And when I dance in the kitchen.
There is a Bible verse that says “And you shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.” (John 8:32). I don’t mean to just take this out of context, but I think the words can be applied here somewhat. Knowing the truth and telling the truth to ourselves seems quite similar. I think that when we are honest with ourselves and with each other, there is a peace and freedom that comes with that truth.
I’m not talking about sins that pets commit. Pets can be bad and do things that are mighty inconvenient, but they can’t sin as they have no soul. Sorry, Virginia, but all dogs don’t go to heaven.
I’m also not talking about those sins that are our favorite little secrets. That’s for another day.
I’m talking about the ones that are the favorite ones to bring up in church. The ones we can mention over and over because we don’t think we’ll be stepping on any toes in the process. We can talk about how horrible abortion is, because surely there isn’t anyone in our fellowship that has ever had an abortion, right?
Homosexuality is another favorite, for surely there are no homosexuals sitting in our congregations. So, lets just make examples of those two horrendous sins so we can all nod our heads in agreement while patting ourselves on the back. Of course, we can occasionally mention gossiping and envy because we all agree we are a little bit guilty, you know, like, everybody does it. And it’s okay sometimes to bring up drunkenness because drunks are just plain funny, you know?
Just don’t go talking about divorce or gluttony because you might just offend too many people.
.
Yesterday I got off work early and was able to hike around at Moss Rock Preserve with Ruby before the sun set. At 4:51 pm. Blasted Daylight Savings Time. The fall colors were absolutely magnificent. The weather was perfect. The company was amicable.
I came across two brothers who were rock climbing while their mom took pictures and video. I watched a minute from the top of a boulder opposite the activity. The older boy was hoisting the younger one up with a rope and pulley system of some sort. My path crossed theirs a little later and they were still having fun.
As I approached the waterfall area I came across a man, younger than me I think, helping an elderly couple in their seventies to get down the rocky path along the waterfall. Which could hardly be called a waterfall, more a water trickle But, I digress. I could tell from the snatches of conversation I heard these people didn’t know each other. Just one person giving a helping hand.
Moss Rock – sun hasn’t set yet but moon is up
After I wandered around above the “falls” and crossed over, I sat a few minutes to just enjoy the scenery and let Ruby lap up some water. She started a little low growling as a man approached from behind, taking pictures. When he came into my sightline I saw he was wearing a Georgia Bulldogs shirt. I told Ruby he was not the enemy and then I told him I liked his shirt. That opened the door for a little conversation. He graduated from the University of Georgia ten years ago. We talked about different places to hike in the area and then I went on my way.
I came up on the elderly couple again and slowed my pace to stay behind them. Which was pretty slow since my pace is already slow. The man turned to me and began a conversation. His name is Bo, hers is Joan. He asked me where I go to church, then proceeded to tell me all about his.
Ruby and I then tried to get ahead of them by taking a different path but ended up right behind them again. No matter, we were almost back to the entrance.
Usually when I hike it’s pretty quiet. I hardly ever engage in a lot of conversation. But you never know. I’d much rather run into someone who wants to talk than to run into another copperhead snake.
I can not recall ever seeing this word before today. Websters has this to say: habitual disposition or mode of behavior or procedure.
To me it’s like a portmanteau. Like a Spork. Like Forky. But, I digress.
My husband is a man with definite habitudes. I see it more every day. The tomato juice every morning. The laying out of clothes in the evening. Those unsavory (to me) two – just lasagna or chili – Atkins meals for lunch.
But it’s funny how I am wondering what my own habitudes are. I like to mix things up. Try new items on the menu. Rotate my perfume. But and yet, I have a few habitudes. Like the way I vacuum the house on a rotating basis. And carry my iced coffee in my favorite insulated cup to work. And take photos of little plastic toys when I hike.
But I think I’ve overlooked the first part of the definition – the habitual disposition. Oh boy, that’s a hard one to talk about. That’s where I know I need a “Habitude Adjustment”. But for now I’ll leave you with a gallery of my little plastic guys. Maybe one day you’ll find one on the trail somewhere.
I have been so burdened down this past week with all the negativity on social media about abortion. I know I could just not read it all. But something in me is screaming out for the other side. Groups I am a part of on facebook have surprised me with the level of opposition displayed toward Christians. The picture below from Nick Anderson depicts what I hear so many people saying.
I would like to show a different side. There is a group here in Birmingham that truly embodies the expression “Abide No Hatred”. It’s called Sav-A-Life. I know there are other similar organizations out there. I want to tell you a little about this one.
Yes, they are pro-life. They are this and so much more. They offer free pregnancy testing, ultrasound, prenatal assessment, STI/STD testing for men and women, childbirth education classes, parenting classes, and fatherhood programs. They provide counseling not only for the woman who wants to keep her baby or put it up for adoption, but for the one who chose abortion and needs help dealing with that decision, also. They have mentors and offer support groups. They furnish assistance through the Stork’s Nest, providing clothes for mother and child, baby furniture, diapers and more. They have ongoing classes from basics such as diapering to finances and budgeting. Sav-A-Life also refers clients for community resources such as housing and Medicaid.
Watch this video to get a look at some of what Sav-A-Life does.
Photo by Daniel Frese
“The worst thing that can happen to you is to cut yourself lose from people. And the best thing is to sort of vaccinate yourself right into the streams and blood of the people. To feel like you know the best and the worst of folks that you see everywhere and never to feel weak, or lost, or even lonesome anywhere.” – Woody Guthrie
I was in the library a few weeks ago. This happened…
Sisters
Two sisters twirl on the twirly chairs
as Mom sits nearby on her phone
at the back of the library
One ashy blonde. one curly brunette
perhaps ten and eight
in library quietness they don’t disturb
Gently gliding on the tabletop
and plopping on the comfy couch
entertaining each other in silence
The elderly man in brown slacks
and a pale yellow button-down shirt
sits reading a large-print western novel
When he stands to leave he wobbles
trying to get his cane and legs in sync
without dropping his book
The blonde rushes over to assist him
though he is steady by then, but she hovers
just in case
Mom never notices
and I want to tell her
you’ve got lovely daughters, kind daughters
but as they leave her phone is at her ear
Not In This Soup Alone 