A Prayer for Western NC

 

Oh God,

Western North Carolina is broken.

The layers of trauma and hurt are as complex and deep

As the mud and waters that lay stagnant

In homes and communities shattered

By the power of Nature’s force.

 

For all who have lost physical possessions and are trying to put the pieces back together,

Lord, have mercy.

 

For all who have lost loved ones to certain death,

Lord, have mercy.

 

For all living in the uncertainty of a loved one’s whereabouts,

Lord, have mercy.

 

For all who are stranded with no power, food, or water,

Lord, have mercy.

 

For linemen, rescue workers, and all who are on the ground to provide disaster relief,

Lord, have mercy.

 

For all who will try to take advantage of those whose lives have already been devastated,

Lord, have mercy.

 

For all who feel helpless but can only offer prayers and financial support,

Lord, have mercy.

 

The aftermath of Helene is going to linger long and hard.

Help us as we recover and rebuild.

Help us to be community in action and

To be the answer to our own prayers.

Help us to go and do,

To be hands and feet and ears and hearts.

Always.

 

Amen.

No Day But Today

My first year teaching, we were hit with a major winter storm. Cities were shut down. School was closed for a week. And I was full of angst at the reality that we would have to make up the days later in the year.

I don’t remember when my attitude changed. It may have been as I was walking Miss Dog in the snow or as I was reading The Left Behind Series, but at some point during that week, I realized that I should let go of my angst and embrace the beauty of the time off and the peaceful snow.

From that point forward, for fifteen years of teaching, I have not begrudged an unexpected weather day off; rather, I have tried to make the most of the days either by doing absolutely nothing or doing absolutely everything I’ve needed to do but haven’t had the chance or energy to do recently.

Today was one of the latter.

Instead of sleeping in, I got up to get a pedicure. Along the way, I stopped at the bank, got some quarters, washed my car, then filled up the car with gas; stopped at the drug store and picked up some medicine; met a friend for lunch; and went to two grocery stores to get a rotisserie chicken for my dad (we already had milk and bread). Once home, I cleaned out the car, cleaned out the fridge, took out the trash, unloaded the dishwasher, and washed all of the cups that had stockpiled in the dirty car and all of the Tupper Wear that had contained forsaken leftovers. Later tonight, I plan to puzzle. Yesterday, Mom found out about a puzzle competition that we might be able to enter. I must practice! I need to be a more well-rounded puzzler if I’m going to actually be in a competition!

It’s been a good day. A productive day. A day that I do not begrudge. As my favorite song from Rent says, there really is “no day but today.”

What has your day looked like? Have you done nothing or everything or something somewhere between? Whatever it’s been, I hope you’ve been able to embrace it and celebrate the day for what it’s been.

“There’s only us, there’s only this. Forget regret, or life is yours to miss. No other road, no other way. No day but today…”

Land of Plenty

We live in a land of plenty. If one ever doubts this fact, then all she has to do is turn on HGTV and watch its programming for a couple of hours. Granted, our plenty is not equally distributed and too many of us take for granted the backs on which our plenty stands, but that is a note for another night.

A few weeks ago, during my Saturday Sabbath, my mom and I stumbled onto a Tiny House Marathon. Ever since that day, I’ve been turning on HGTV to try to find another Tiny House Marathon. In the process, I’ve found myself watching a plethora of different shows—and talking to the TV quite a bit, almost always making the wrong decision when given a choice between house 1, 2, or 3.

Last night during a few of the rare moments that I’ve been awake this Memorial Day Weekend—I’ve been trying to beat a chest cold that settled in at the end of last week—I found myself watching a beachfront property show where the couple was looking for a new home for their family. The husband and wife were both lawyers and their budget was between two and three million dollars. Yes, million. When talking about their children, the couple said that the kids were, “energetic, especially the boy.” When interacting with the kids, the couple was very awkward. And when talking about how happy they were with their new home, the couple was playing tennis, marveling about how much less stress they feel with their new life, and how happy they are to have made the move—and their children were nowhere to be seen.

Evidently, this show bothered me so much that I dreamed about it. In my dream, I met the nanny who quite clearly was the person raising the children and said, “I knew it. I knew that they had a nanny. I knew that they were hands-off parents and that those segments were staged.” In my dream, too, the boy was identified autistic, which I would wager money that he, in real life, should be but that he will not be because his parents will not want the diagnosis.

I know. I’m sounding very judgmental and investing a lot of emotional energy into something far beyond my reality. But I can’t seem to get it off my mind. Maybe I’m jealous of the money and properties and wishing that I could have three million dollars to invest in a tropical island home. But I don’t think that’s it. I think I’m bothered by how expendable the children seemed in that segment—and in other segments as well. Today, for instance, a couple opted to spend their “nanny budget” on a beachfront property and to push back their efficiency date of having a child exactly one year and nine months.

Another thing I’ve been quietly reflecting on is the fact that no one—on any of the shows that I’ve seen—ever—has spoken about finding a home—huge or tiny—permanent or vacation—that is close to any kind of place of worship. Space for entertaining, amazing views, making the most of life, de-stressing, being within walking distance of shops and bars, granite countertops and open floor plans, living environmentally friends—I’ve heard a lot about those. But having somewhere to do yoga is the closest I’ve come to hearing anything about faith—and this may have had less to do with faith and spirituality and more to do with flexibility and good health. Maybe it’s a network editing rule. I don’t know. But faith and faith communities seem a non-priority on these shows. And this, too, bothers me.

We live in a land of plenty. We have so very, very much. Even our tiny houses are bigger and nicer than many homes around the world. Yet when our plenty causes us to lose site of our children and to live life to our present fullest with little to no thought of leaving the world a better place, is our plenty worth it?

Dear God, we come to you tonight aware of the many good things that life has given—and the many people who have died to make these good things possible. Help us to turn our plenty into so much more than we can imagine and to devote our lives—our time, devotion, talents, and resources—not just to living our lives to the fullest but to helping others live their lives to the fullest as well. Children, teenagers, adults. Body, soul, mind, spirit, and strength.--Amen.

Love. Genuine Love.

Amelia and Griffin joined me at church yesterday. After the service was over, as Dana and Amelia returned from the “very nice bathroom” at the church (quote from Amelia), Amelia was flooded by greetings from people she didn’t know but who knew her through my writing and posts. She was told by more than one person just how much her aunt loved her…which caused her to grin from ear to ear…though she hid shyly behind her mom’s leg.

Amelia loves “The Wizard of Oz.” She was Dorothy two years ago for Halloween—complete with Toto—and she forced me to dress in character as well (I was a yellow brick from the yellow brick road). Naturally, I decided to give her a ticket to see the “Wizard of Oz” at the DPAC. She dressed as Dorothy to attend the show—complete with ruby red slippers—and she sat proudly in her seat for the whole show—mesmerized.

Before the show, I noticed Amelia looking through her playbill with focused intensity. If you’ve ever seen a playbill, then you know that it’s not the most kindergarten-friendly piece of literature. So I bought her a souvenir program. If you’ve ever paid for a souvenir program, then you know that it is a kindergarten-friendly piece of literature. Instead of lots of tiny black-and-white words about people, it’s full of colored-photo scenes from the show and simple phrases from the songs.

As soon as I handed Amelia her fancy program, she put down her playbill and began turning the new, shiny pages. We “read” the program together until the lights dimmed and the show started, then we “read” to the point where intermission left us, then she read the rest of the program in the backseat of the car before falling fast asleep. Quite simply, those were some of the best $15 dollars I’ve ever spent.

After the show, some of the actors were in the lobby taking up money for charity. While Dana and I excitedly pointed out each character, Amelia was star-struck and mute. Remember: She was dressed as Dorothy, so she, herself, was drawing a lot of attention. She was very kind and said “thank you” when people told her she looked beautiful, yet she didn’t want to meet any of the characters for the perfect photo-op. Thankfully, however, the tin woodsman wanted to meet her, so before we knew it, Amelia and I were posing for a photo with the human form of the character she had declared her favorite: The Tin Man.

When asked why The Tin Man was her favorite character, Amelia said, “I like the Tin Man because nothing bad happened to him. He was just missing his heart.”

I have absolutely no idea what that answer means, but it makes perfect sense to Amelia’s six-year-old brain—and so that answer stands.

The next day, I wrote my sister: “Good morning. How’s our little Dorothy?”
She said, “ Perky and ready for a bike ride. How about you?”
“I’m good,” I said. “Has she mentioned the show?”
“Yes,” responded Dana. “She talked about the DPAC. She says she’s been thinking about the cowardly lion, too.”
“She’s thinking about him?!”
“That’s what she said :-).”
“Hmm. I wonder what she’s thinking. I’m curious to hear :-)”.

But I’ve never heard.

When I saw her yesterday, Amelia didn’t say anything about the Cowardly Lion, or the Tin Man, or the DPAC, or the souvenir program.

Yet she grinned when people told her I loved her and she lay her head against my stomach in a sweet gesture of love during the blessing and she held on tight as I carried her to the car to say good night.

So I’m pretty sure she understands the point of it all: Love. Genuine Love. Home. Heart. Helping. Soul. Giving. Mind. Brain. Cross. Strength. Courage. Journey. The Yellow Brick Road. Oz.

Love. Genuine Love.

Amen.

Hard To Stay

I had a major work event on Saturday. The event went well. I couldn’t have asked for anything better, actually. I left the day exhausted yet full of adrenalized energy. I knew that I needed to go to my apartment and rest because I have another event on Thursday, but I wanted nothing more than to drive to North Carolina to see my family...because the boys were staying with mom and dad...and I wanted to go play.

But I stayed. I made myself do the logical, rational thing, and I stayed. I went to the apartment on Saturday and cooked and cleaned and I rested on Sunday and cooked and cleaned some more. I ran errands and watched movies and didn’t put 400 extra miles on my car. I called the boys and talked with them on the phone and chuckled as they abruptly handed the phone to another brother when they were finished talking. I did what made physically and monetarily made sense. But it was hard. It was so hard to stay.