A Cemetery Kind of Day

thank you Waldemar Brandt for the photo

It was sunny but cold, a neat trick of life on the coast, when the blanket layer of clouds pulled back and allowed the sun to cross the sky unobstructed. It was a nice afternoon, the whimsical combination of errands and treats dictating the route.  I found myself staring at the blue sky when I realized where I was and made an unscheduled stop.  Pulling into the parking lot behind the church, I immediately turned off the stereo and peered through the trees.  The graveyard lay in an Oak grove and as my feet touched the ground, my shoes crunched on the acorns and leaves the winter left behind.  Gingerly walking across the grass, dodging clusters of grape hyacinth sown generously by nature, I made my way to the headstone.  It was beginning to look like spring but it felt like winter, I shivered and pulled my coat tighter.

I have never woken up and thought, “Today is a cemetery kind of day.”  So I was a bit surprised that my errands had landed on this side of town.  The cemetery itself is one of the oldest in the area and less fashionable than the perfectly manicured cemetery grounds less than a mile away.  The ground is uneven and undulating, caused by a century of root growth from surrounding trees.  The overall effect is one of cozy, timeless neglect. 

There was broken glass around the grave, which immediately kicked off an internal dialogue of criticism.  “Drinking in a graveyard? Classy. I hope your ancestors haunt your dreams to remind you to stay out of here. Clearly you need your great, great grandma to show up and set your lame-self straight.”  I listened to myself for a while, marveling at the boldness of those who don’t yet have the life experience to view such ground as holy.  

Picking up the glass, my thoughts turned to remembrance.  He would have disapproved of broken glass that could have inured deer or other graveyard creatures.  He loved nature, sometimes more than people.  And dear friend, if you have lost someone, you might understand when I say that I spent some time with thoughts that were as sharp as the shards of glass I was holding.  Loving people isn’t always easy, losing them can be equally as difficult. 

It was a tiny stab to my finger that brought the sting of tears to my eyes but the lacerations to the heart caused them to fall.  I spent a while intentionally thinking about the lovely things, until the tears stopped.  Sometimes I miss the past, when life seemed simpler, less complicated.  It is hard to take the good with the bad, the remedied with the unresolved or the finished with the incomplete. 

As this pandemic continues, with all of its impact and force, I have been thinking about those who have been left feeling incomplete by the things they have lost.  Those who didn’t get to say goodbye: funerals that didn’t happen, business that closed, friendships that ended, the graduations suspended.  The list goes on and on and on.   Perhaps you are experiencing the frustration of being deeply impacted by loss yet entirely powerless to bring about a remedy.  Friend, I hope that you are being patient with yourself.  Recovery takes so much longer than anyone wants.  Grief is a time consuming process and avoidance isn’t a short cut.  Spend too much time stuffing your grief and you might end up being snippy with the Costco employee who tells you can’t look at your daughters face without her mask for 2 seconds when buying new glasses frames even though you are more than 10 feet away from everyone and the woman is behind Plexiglas on the other side of the store. 

Strictly hypothetical, of course.

So I am praying and cheering you on this week if you are feeling inadequate, and like you want to stay in bed.  Get up and do the next thing.  Accept the good with the bad.  Try not to lose it and put yourself in time-out if you need too. 

I'm in the time-out corner, come visit, I'm here for a while.

xoxKaren

    

 

It's Enough to Make Your Liver Shiver...

Gummy Lions and Tigers and Bears oh my!

It was a rough morning.  So rough, I suggested a trip to Bulk Barn to push back the gloomy cloud that had settled on our home.  When Bulk Barn is your idea of a good time, you are definitely having a bad day.  But Bulk Barn was all I could think of, so my middle and I (middle child, not middle chubbiness), used it as an excuse to get out of the house.  To clarify, my chubbiness came along for the ride, but I’m not so far gone as to personify my weight gain.  That being said, stay tuned, you never know.

I have observed that some peoples’ lives seem unaffected by Covid; they are working and getting out daily much like before the pandemic started.  For those who have lost employment or family members to this awful virus, life is far from normal.  In our community, most everything has slowed to a crawl and there isn’t a lot happening to keep oneself entertained.  Unless you are a rules-be-darned 60 or 70 year old pickle ball player; that group is pretty much impossible to stop in any season.  They go to the courts each morning, breathe and sweat, then head for the nearest coffee shop, social distancing be damned. 

Alas my girls and I are made from more compliant material, so donning double masks, we got into the car and headed for the shops.  If you live in the States, imagine the bulk section of Winco expanded into a store.  Then make it as clean as you could possibly imagine, without a stray gummy worm or pistachio to be found anywhere.  The store here is ridiculously clean and we are eternally grateful. We sanitized our hands at the door, checked the customer count and walked inside.

The joy of window shopping with anyone is the conversation to be had during the process.  My girl and I chat easily, and we had a host of comments and quips to make regarding pasta noodle shapes, nut butters and spices.  Frankly we had been cooped up all week and were enjoying the sights of so many products on display.  My middle and I, (middle chubbiness, not middle child) sped through the chocolate section so as to resist temptation and ended up in the candy isle.

Jelly candies to be more specific. There are a heck ton of jelly candies in Bulk Barn friend, makes the mind boggle.  Jelly sharks, worms, bears, bugs, rings, or babies: if you want a edible gelatin, this is the place.  I must have been looking around with some amazement because a 60 something man in a mask said, “That is quite the load of colourful candies isn’t it?”  And this, Beloved, is where something in my brain short circuited. 

To start, I hadn’t talked to anyone outside my family for about 5 days: which is coincidentally, about as long as my family can exist without needing something from the store.  Secondly, I am ridiculously lonely.  This pandemic started about half a year after I moved countries.  I have no friends and this guy was actually starting a conversation with me.  Clearly we weren’t best friends yet, but maybe he would invite my husband to play tennis or perhaps his wife would want to go for a walk with me one day.  I beamed. I thought. I replied.  “Yeah, colourful candies…..”  What was I saying?  Where am I going with this? “to make…” Jesus help me I have forgotten how to talk! “your liver..”  Liver? What the actual hell? Pull out a rhyme woman, there is no saving this now; it is your only hope at redemption. “shiver.”  I smiled weakly under my mask and began to feel mildly nauseas as he laughed politely.  “Ha, yes.” He replied confused and kept walking.  “Colourful candies to make your liver shiver.”  My one conversation in 3 months and that is what I come up with?  I scurried over to my middle, (child not the chubbiness),

“Oh my word, I just rhymed at someone,” I hissed through clenched teeth.

“Rhymed? At a stranger? Why on earth did you do that?”

“Because he said the candies were colourful and I didn’t’ know what to say, then I got worried and the best thing I could think of was a rhyme!”

“Wait. What? What did he say? What did you say back?”

I told her and she shrieked with laughter.

“Good grief mum, you sound like a demented character that escaped from a Candyland game.  What were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t!” I groaned and began to giggle.  “The sad part is, today I learned there is a part of my brain that thinks rhyming is  a good idea!  Think about the therapy needed to undo that one!”

“Wow. Just wow.  This is what years of homeschooling get you.”

“I homeschooled you so you would be a kind person! Clearly it didn’t work!” I shouted and we collapsed again, in a fit of giggles.  It was the kind of laughing you can only do when you have spent the morning crying, begging God for a ray of hope on a dark day.  I laughed till I couldn’t breathe. We toured the rest of the store, bought dog treats, and gasped for air when we replayed the scene in our minds.  It was entirely ridiculous.

Of course, middles will rat you out given the opportunity, (the children and the chubbiness.) and soon we were home with my daughter recounting the meeting.  “Dad, she was just like a demented wizard!” She did a demented wizard walk across the room and offered colourful candies to her sister.  I could only laugh helplessly, “I didn’t mean to sound that strange,” I replied weakly. The teasing and laughing went until my girls shut themselves in their rooms for a few hours.  After dinner I found my girl showing her Dad her afternoon’s artwork. "Honey you have been captured in cartoon!” He shouted across the room.

“Well isn’t that perfect!  I do make a good wizard!” I quipped, looking at the picture.  “And I love my cape!”  

  Behold, my cape!

thank you @anunnymoose_arts

I have reflected on this goofy encounter a few times this week and how glad I was that I shared the moment with someone who loved me.  It is easy during stressful times to say the wrong thing.  Social situations have become high pressure lately, with restrictions, imposed upon a frustrated and tired population.  I can’t tell you how many times I have been scolded by a member of the working public for standing in the wrong place at the wrong time.  “Please move forward.  Mam please move over here.  You can’t stand there!”  All this and I follow those arrows on the floor at every opportunity.  Except the time I was searching for marmite at the end of the baking isle and instead of going an extra loop around the neighboring isle I walked backwards so it looked like I was pointed in the right direction.  I’m not afraid to admit it was a rebellious moment.   

Embarrassment and shame tends to melt in the presence of caring hearts.  So I am praying my friend, as we weather the last of this dark season together, that there will be moments of joy mixed in the difficulties and grief we face.  I hope that I will be kind to those who find themselves overcome and at a loss for words, outclassed by their situation and feeling foolish and inadequate.  Praying that the words I post or speak will bring peace to those around me because what we say does matter.   

But I tell you that everyone will have to give account on the day of judgment for every empty word they have spoken. Matt 12:36

That one really makes my liver shiver……

Thinking of you this week,

xoxKaren

Thank you Amit Lahav for the photo on unsplash!