Its one of those mornings where the sun is bright but there are still grey clouds. Its rained and while it seem sunny, it likely won’t be.
The porch this morning is already filled with kids and my thoughts already scattered.
I once had this story idea a few years ago about what a world would be like if peril was a constant in the universe. So whenever a safety measures were used by individuals danger increased but it wasn’t likely noticed. When safety practices were implemented large scale (at the time I was thinking carseats and helmets) catastrophies would happen in the world to balance it. In this world when scientists discovered what they believed to be The Peril Constant the governments took control of all safety measures for the good of the people. Anyone taking unaproved individal safety measures could be subject to at minimum fines and threats of danger. And were accused of as being selfish mostly by rich and privileged experts and politicians from their personal and luscious bunkers. People could apply for safety permits and pay large danger taxes to implement them, the very powerful were able to create and use loopholes in the Saftey-Danger Tax code. Of course as soon as the government tried to control The Peril Constant they screwed up the balance and the world was plunged into chaos.
Little flower sprouts greeted me this morning. I was beginning to think they wouldn’t grow. The birds voices are quite background music to my thoughts. The morning air is perfect and sweetly scented. A bird near by has a very loud clipped call that sounds more like my Dad’s whistle that could call me from across our yard or through the wood lot next to the house when I was a girl.
My thoughts today are on motivation and focus, as creating that vision in my kids is part of my job that no pandemic can cancel. The family is in a rut where chores seem to have little meaning and stretch on till infinity. I can’t convince them that some chores really are only 15 minutes time but time is relative. Their minds are on their audio book, a game, a podcast, the fairness between siblings, or mischief, its not here, not now, its been here to long. Their minds are wondering with out purpose, disconnected from ther body or work and so they are lost with no map. They see no outside consequences good or bad because the safe at home bubble numbs one from natural consequences and removes all incentives. The repetitive nothing has set in. They looked forward school to being over but summer is canceled.
Through His work, God created us to work. Work is important part of our humanity and giving a sense of purpose and meaning. Life is not meaningless for the non-essential worker. Aim at the intangible truths and high at the objective goods and plot a course. Staying in does not mean there is no journey, but no reason to work may mean we are lost.
Its a busy morning getting ready to leave together for the first time in 65 days. First time back to church on over 2 months. And it will not be the same.
I’m looking forward to it and wondering how sad it will be. I probably will come back and edit this post to say what it was like, but for now I need to leave in 15 minutes. 💗
EDIT: ⛪⛪⛪⛪⛪
Getting everyone out the door was strangely similar: Waking kids up who stay in bed to long. The milk being left out. Younger children claiming they don’t have clothes, even though they were layed out for them. There was still the constant urging to children to get up, get dressed, eat breakfast. All par for the course, yet there was something different because while old habits die, hard it seems, there was still a sense if awareness about the morning, an alertness to the moment that is not usually present.
We all picked a mask to wear before we left. Except our youngest who basically woke up in a bad mood, which for him is a difiant mood. So at first his reaction to the mask was the tail end of his mood to say no to anything and everything. I explained in a few sentences why we were going to wear masks (a brief summary of what I have explained in previous posts). I think he had his siblings understood.
When we got to church the parking lot was very empty. We could park anywhere we wanted. Everyone put on their masks to go in but the six yr old who was still not in a good mood. I was trying to calm him enough to get him to listen to me say, “I want you to just try. Can you try to wear inside and to your seat?” But before I could really get him to look at me he broke from defiance to a more anxious plea. Looking at the mask, “I can’t put that on my face!” And then he was able to listen to me. And when I asked him if he could just try and wear it to his seat, he willing took the mask, wore it to his seat, and took it off.
When we got inside we found a row near the front just as they were starting service. A few friends were greating us who clearly would have liked to shake hands or hug but instead waved cheerfully. There were very few people there, I think about 35, when the service started maybe a little less than half were pastors, worship leaders, sound tech, staff, and elders. I think maybe 10 more people came it later. Still the church was no where near 50% capacity limit
It was very weird to sing with a mask. I think everyone wore a mask in the audience (well except my six yr old, but I’m pretty sure he was the youngest person in the congregation.) The boys behaved better this morning than they ever have in church there whole lives. I was encouraged and challenged by the sermon. After the service was very quiet and I think people were trying to walk outside so the church could be re-set for the 2nd service. A few of us had social distance conversations outside. Its very hard to communicate with a mask on. So much of commitment is through expressions.
I felt mostly happy this morning. I was greatful we could go. I appreciate being able to worship and hear God’s word with at least a few of my church family. While the church building isn’t the Church, every family needs a home and it was nice to go home even for short while. I was a little sad that we couldn’t have even normal greetings, much less normal fellowship, but it was more than anything we have had for 9 weeks.
I made outside for the sunrise. I’m sitting on my brick steps, the stone steps below me, the blue sky above me. The still morning air around me. And the sun is peaking over the trees and through the leaves before me. I smell honey suckle from somewhere but I don’t know where its growing. I’m not sure there is sweeter scent.
I posted something about people being more likely to homeschool next year and as I probably should have been prepared for, that blew up the comments. This topic has sparked memories of my own public/homeschool/private school childhood. I’m wondering would that story have a meaningful impact on others’ view of education besides myself.
Once my brain starts with an idea its hard to turn the idea off and think about the moment. Observing the morning and tap typing them out slowly on my phone often helps slow that part of my brain that wants to run away. This morning though, the thoughts aren’t tamed. But I need them to be, to take care of the very real tasks and people around me. Sometimes the responsible thing is doing is something not on the To Do List that contributes to the productive, the bottom line, the way it ought to be. When to do the list and when to not do the list is the ever-present tug and pull.
To write? To clean? To paint? To organize? To read? To instruct? To sing? To be present? I won’t get any of that right.
I suppose thats one reason we need God’s Mercy renewed every morning.
I see yellow wildflowers in the pasture nearby and here the neighbor’s chickens are loudly clucking. Today I sit on the porch steps. It has the right scope for imaginations this morning. The clouds cover the sky but it’s not dark oppressive. Its a happy little overcast day.
Its the last official day of school for the teens furloughed from classroom school. My homeschooled elementary boys are another story. One is halfway through next years books while the other two are lagging in distractions– understandably. We will likely be doing school at least through June at this rate. I’ve got to give them incentives, but my tired impatient brain hasn’t generated anything worthy yet, though the gears a twirling.
My brain also just can’t stop borrowing the trouble from fall if schools remain distant learning. Ugh, I suspect if that’s the case; a lot more people will homeschool. You get to pick the curriculum, the lessons, the busy work, and you get to have teachers manual. If school opens you can transfer them. They will get a transcript from wherever you enroll them. I don’t know, I guess its something I am wondering about but don’t want to, because I don’t need to do anything about it right now.
For now, I need to force my brain to think on today, and today’s problems.
I couldn’t get my camera to focus on the close up leaves. Maybe I’ll try again tomorrow.
This morning I was most stuck by the sweet spring aroma. Sometimes nostalgic smells are heavy, but not this one. Its light and airy. Its the hope of summer, the relief of the end of finals, the daydream of childhood imagination.
Not all of my kids are ready for summer break. I’m struggling to motivate them to cross the finish line. A good finish isn’t enough reward when you are nine and their is a garden to hpelp with and fish to catch and games to play in the dirt.
I’m ready for Summer break. But I’m not ready for them to say school will be closed this fall. I suppose that’s borrowing trouble from the future.
Its incredibly still this morning. There is even a small lull in the birds’ songs. Its cool, and no breeze. Its like the morning is holding its breath.
Its like we all are holding our breath. As each state opens up the doors we all are looking around at what will happen. What will happen with the virus, the economy, the government, our inalienable rights? But we can’t hold our breath for ever our we stop living.
We don’t really know tomorrow. Everyone wants to know. Everyone thinks they know. Or at least everyone thinks you think you know but you don’t because you haven’t read enough or researched enough. But here’s the thing, anything we read or watch, any scientific study done only is reporting on what has happened, not what will happen. We can’t know what will happen.
How much of our human condition is aimed at trying to guess the future? How much does the unknown constantly tug on our minds and souls? Does it produce anxiety? The need for control? How much of our aim is devoted to making ourselves believe we can figure out the future? That we can predict it and be prepared? Are we so convinced of this idea that we believe we judge the past for not being prepared? How much of today is lost to yesterday’s “What-should-haves” and tomorrow’s “What-if’s.” Maybe this is why we have Matthew 6? Maybe thats the reason for the hymn “Because He lives.”
I don’t want to fall into some sort of hedonistic trap. I’m more thinking of, “Each day has enough trouble of its own.” But I’m not only thinking of the trouble. Whatever good I have now will not be the same good 5 and 10 yrs from now. This, right now, is when I get to live this day. I can’t live it again in the future when I get around to it. I don’t want to hold my breath today because of what may happen tomorrow.
Its a pretty morning with overcast skies and gentle breezes. I walked around a bit this morning and took more pictures than usual. I usually just snap one and done; good or bad; embrace what is, acknowledge it and move on.
Yesterday was a day to move on from. There may have been some children who were filled with utter nonsense the entire day. There may have been some children who took several hours to make their beds in the morning and that was merely the beginning of their nonsense. It is likely these children did no school lessons because of their complete nonsense. There may have been children who had to go to bed early to sleep off the nonsense. Its entirely possible that they were still in bed 13 hours later and that their mother told the, “Tomorrow will be a new day and a new start.”
Its also possible that thier mother thought she would loose her mind and that had as much to do with early bedtime than any sorta if wisdom or thoughtful guidance.
Its a cool, bright morning. I hear the leaves swishing, chickens clucking, and cars diving in the distance. My 2nd up of coffe is nestled in my lap snd helps keep me warm (along with dinosaur blanket wrapped around my shoulders).
I’d say I’m a pansy with cold except that pansies like cold weather and wilt in the summer. Whats a summer flower? Daisy? Queen Ann’s Lace? Periwinkle? I don’t know. I don’t like being cold and most rational people wouldn’t think its cold outside right now. So either I’m not most people, I’m not rational, or I’m neither. Its the only logical conclusion.
Yesterday, I think every song we sung for church had some element in it that refered to God’s mercy renewing every morning. I think our worship leader sent a play list of the songs. I need to save that list as the theme seems to be recurring in my own thoughts.
Writing each morning, outside on my porch swing, these 59 days has solidified a sense or feeling I think I’ve always had about the sunrise. I can see why some cultures might worship the sun. I don’t, but the sun can be a symbol that reminds of the God, I do worship. Just like the Cross is a symbol that represents what we can’t see; the sunrise has become a symbol of growth and of a hope that encourages perseverance.
Rough Draft ¶aragraphs 