My husband and I have been on many adventures in life, starting when we met in college. Each date was an adventure, some more memorable than others. Then marriage, then houses, and of course, having kids. Four kids. That is its own adventure. Now three of those kids are in college and that is another whole adventure. Dropping them off and picking them up each time is an adventure. Through the years we have taken them on many other adventures. We went to Maine, where they (not me) hiked the infamous
Beehive Trail up a steep face of a mountain. We drove to California in a mini-van before we had smartphones. That was an adventure - camping, cabining, and glamping along the way, and finally staying at a 'real house' in Santa Cruz, California. On that trip, we had an encounter with a bear in Lake Tahoe, rode horseback to a cowboy dinner in Montana, got caught in a thunderstorm hiking in the Grand Tetons, and crossed a rather dangerous stream in Yellowstone. We didn't realize as we were crossing the stream just how dangerous it was until we got back to the right side and watched the waters quickly begin to churn and rush. We have been lots of places on lots of adventures, but none quite like this adventure of staying home, sheltering in place, and hiding from a lethal virus.
I feel like I'm crossing that stream again, not quite sure if we should be doing any number of things, asking myself "Is this okay?" and wondering if this one act is the thing I'm going to look back upon and say, "What was I thinking?" We try to skip our grocery store trips, but we are helping at the food pantry. We don't go out to eat, but we do order delivery. We haven't been hanging out with family, but the kids do see their friends. Every day is a guessing game, an adventure.
The real adventure is the mental game I play with myself of who is okay and who is not okay. I worry about my son who hangs out in his room as if it were his first bachelor pad. He comes down for meals and that's about it. I keep asking myself, "Is this okay?" When he comes down to play a board game (
Catan is a great game for our bunch) I suddenly feel like the sun has risen and all is well with the world. I worry about my daughter whose friend group is shrinking as they return to school early. I worry about my son who is working on a farm and while he may be socially distancing, he is covered in poison ivy. 'Is this okay?' I worry about number 3 who rode his longboard alone for about 25 miles, accidentally getting lost. Each moment is an adventure. I just don't think I've learned anything about how to enjoy this adventure, even though we have had quite a few over the years.
So I ask myself what to do. I thought I would pick up painting this summer, or actually write a book, or completely renovate the basement, or have an award-winning garden. I thought I would be cooking lavish gourmet meals to pass the days and that I would write about them in a new blog. I'm not doing any of those things. I did manage to paint a few
Kindness Rocks and I am collecting images on Pinterest that I might like to paint one day. I haven't written anything since school let out, except for notes on teaching in the fall. The basement is clean and that's enough. My tomato plants never made it above about 3 inches tall and I have to go buy new plants today. I have resorted to cooking hot dogs for dinner, which I like to consider a lunch. I have been walking. I have used the erg a few times. I have played tennis a few times. And that's about it. So, is this okay? Am I okay? Are we okay? I don't know.
What I do know is this: If you are reading this, you are okay. If you got out of bed this morning, you are okay. If you sat outside for a little, you are okay. If you ate some food, you are okay. If you talked to someone and smiled, or even better, laughed, you are okay. If you are drinking your water and breathing deeply, you are okay. It's okay if you haven't' showered or done your hair or shaved your legs. If you are okay, you are great. You are doing better on this adventure than expected.
Many people are not okay. Many are suffering the injustices of racism that are even more heightened and exaggerated during this COVID crisis. Many people are sick. Many people are not getting food or water. I read this morning that 34% of people missed their last mortgage payment. Many essential people are scared to go to work, including teachers. Many are not okay.
So right now I am praying. I am praying for those whose jobs are essential, and those whose jobs were deemed non-essential. I am praying for the politicians, God help us. I am praying for the nurses and the doctors and the research scientists. I am praying for those who either
by podcast, (I have to thank
Jen Hatmaker and her podcast For The Love for 'saving my life right now') or
writing books, or writing blogs, or talking on the phone with me are keeping me and a lot of others going right now. I am praying for those who are barely hanging on. I am praying for those who are protesting and finding courage to fight each day. I believe praying helps. What do I pray? I pray that you will be okay. I pray that we will be okay. I pray that all of this will be okay.
During each of our family's 'adventures', I wasn't always sure it would be okay. But it was. An adventure always changes you, in big ways and in small. And my father always said that wherever you go, you change that place too. Hopefully, on this adventure, we will all change for the better, and we will change the world for the better too.
Hydrangeas are one of my favorite things. I don't claim to be a good gardener, but when they are in full bloom, I'm so happy. We have three huge bushes of limelight, or maybe they are Annabelle, hydrangeas that have grown so well over the last nine years here. I bought them home from church one Easter, so maybe they are blessed, too? They bloom so nicely all summer and I can see them from the living room too, so it's nice indoors and out. I'm giving them away, there are so many! And the royal blue of neighbors' hydrangeas fills me with envy! (and I've seen a lot on my everyday walks!) I don't know what it is that reminds me of my childhood - that cool color of the sky in a flower - and that freshwater smell, although they don't smell as strong as they did when I was little. So this summer I decided to move two blue hydrangeas from the backyard to the front yard. I tested the soil and dug big holes and tried to make sure I had the right mix of compost and peat moss and aeration before I transplanted them. And for a while, they were doing okay - blooming in a paler blue and not as big and puffy and strong as they were last year, but doing okay. I prayed as I watered them each night. And then, they just died. I think they were literally scorched by the full sun they have now and the temperatures that are far above normal for this zone. So I sadly hung my head in defeat and went out to remove all the dark and drooping dead-heads to see if there could possibly be some way to bring them back to life. Any life left. And there was! The more I trimmed the dried brown crusty edged flowers, the more little bits of new green life I found! It was just beneath the surface. It gives me great hope that if these dead hydrangea, burned and done, have a little life in them, we have hope too.
