Coronavirus Boredom

I’m bored. I’m sure I’m not the only one.

This pandemic has us stuck at home, when many of us are used to being out and about. Whether it was Bible Study or errands, I could usually find a way to be out of the house most days. In fact, I treasured the days when I didn’t have to go anywhere, and could stay in my pjs until noon!

But I’m tired of it. I want to leave my house. The daily walk to the mailbox (3 blocks away) isn’t what I mean. I want to be where people are.

I’m trying to keep busy here at home, but find myself playing games on my phone to pass the time. I should be reading, or working on my book. I was knitting until I ran out of yarn for my blanket project; it will help, I’m sure, when my order arrives.

I’m hoping that this seclusion doesn’t spark a depressive episode. So far, I’m okay. I’m not terribly anxious, but occasionally sad. But I’m concerned about all of this time on my hands. And where do my thoughts go? I don’t want to spiral into negative thinking – that’s the gateway to depression for me. I keep checking my WRAP to make sure I’m staying mentally well. So far, so good.

I’ve used Zoom and FaceTime on a few occasions. The connection was bad on the day I chatted with my kids, so we ended up with just audio. And the point was to see their faces, so that was disappointing. We’ll try it again – maybe tonight – to play a game. That worked several weeks ago, and was lots of fun. That would boost my spirits, I’m sure.

I cried yesterday when I realized that my son lives 20 minutes away, and I didn’t get to see him for my birthday, nor will I for Easter. I had – unbeknownst to me – gotten my hopes up that he and his girlfriend would come over this weekend. We could social distance around the kitchen table. But he didn’t think it was wise – I’m sure he’s right – and so I cried. And I cried again today.

And crying is okay. In fact, everything I’m feeling is okay. This is uncharted territory for almost all of us, and change brings strong emotions. So I’ll let myself cry when I need to. And I’ll keep trying FaceTime to see my family “in person.”

Dish/The Red Plate

Today’s Discover Prompt is “Dish.” But instead of thinking about food, I thought of my favorite plate. The Red Plate.

I don’t know long we’ve had The Red Plate. It’s been since the kids were little, because we started using it for their birthday meals. Then we got it out for special recognitions – a good grade on a test or project. Or a 1 at Solo & Ensemble. Or just because.

At some point, we added a gold-rimmed plate to The Red Plate, so that both kids could enjoy recognition at the same meal. At the time, gold was my son’s favorite color, so it became his version of The Red Plate.

I recall one very special time. We went out to dinner for my birthday. We all ordered, and while waiting for our food, talked about the puppy we wanted to get, trying to convince hubby of the need for one. When the meals came out, mine was on The Red Plate! I was so surprised! My husband had snuck it to the hostess, who passed it on to the chef. What a delight!

Now The Red Plate sits in the buffet, under the chips-and-salsa dish. It doesn’t get used as much, with the kids grown and out of the house. But maybe I’ll get it out for my husband’s birthday this month. Why not? He deserves The Red Plate, too!

Missing My Aunt

When I got the news that Aunt Peggy was in hospice care, I immediately cried in advance of her death (3 days later). Then I prayed. Then I reminisced.

I cried because I’m going to miss her consistent encouragement and prayers for me and my family. I cried for her husband and children, grand- and great-grand children, for the sorrow they feel over missing her daily presence. I cried for my mom, the only one left in her immediate family, for losing her beloved sister.

I prayed intercession for my uncle and my cousins and Mom, for comfort for them as they miss talking to her. I prayed thanksgiving for my aunt, for the celebrating she was doing with Jesus as He welcomed her home. That she was no longer in discomfort or pain.

After I was done crying and praying, I began reminiscing. I couldn’t sleep for all the memories.

I remember being five years old and telling Aunt Peggy how I loved that she was named after me; the world revolves around a child!

I remember visiting our cousins, and my uncle and aunt taking us all out for ice cream – in our pajamas!

I recall getting in trouble with Aunt Peggy, when she caught me wearing the Barbie Head makeup. (I especially remember the blue eyeshadow!) I told her my mom didn’t mind – and she busted me for lying.

I remember swimming in their kidney-shaped pool. And putting on dance shows for the grownups. And learning to play billiards. And her little schnauzers.

I regularly dream about my aunt and uncle and cousins, and all the special times we shared. Is that weird? I think I dream of them so often because I love them so much.

Aunt Peggy was an amazing encourager. She always read my blog posts, and often told me to keep writing, told me I had a story to share to help others. She regularly prayed for me and my family – I knew we were being lifted in prayer. She gave me the example to pray consistently for my own nieces and nephews.

I know she is with her Lord and Savior, and she has no more pain nor sorrow. And for those of us left behind, we only grieve for ourselves and missing her, for we know just a glimpse of the joy she has from being in heaven. And we know we’ll see her again, when we all join her in eternity with God.

A High School Friend

I had a very best friend in high school named Sue.  We actually became fast friends in 8th grade, after she came over to ask me about a book I was reading – Are You There, God? It’s Me, Margaret by Judy Blume.  From that interaction forward, our friendship grew and we became virtually inseparable for several years.

My family had moved to the area at the start of 8th grade, and up until Sue, I didn’t have any close friends.  My home was a little bit chaotic – a big rambling house with my folks and my sister, our two dogs, lots of boxes in the basement, and eventually my 87 year old grandfather.  He’d been a bachelor for many years, and it was quite an adjustment for all of us as he moved into a family with busy teenagers. My dad went back to college and became a business student, my mom worked part time, and our social activity and closest friends were from church, none of whom were my age.  Looking back, I see that I was a typical teenager, wanting to escape my house, and Sue’s home became the respite. She lived in a wealthier part of town, and her home seemed calm and put together, where mine felt discombobulated somehow, as our family was in transition for several of those years living in Michigan.

Sue had lots of friends, was very popular, an athlete and accomplished musician. I was shocked and delighted that she wanted to be friends with me, a gawky geeky girl.

We’d get home from school and check in with our moms, and then call each other to arrange getting together. We’d leave our houses at the same time, and meet half-way between our homes, walking the rest of the way around the neighborhood and end up at her house.  She’d often play the piano and I would sing along – she helped me to learn to read music, which aided my efforts at piano lessons. Or she’d play her dulcimer or banjo. She was very musical, and we had lots of fun, singing at the top of our lungs and entertaining her mom with our latest renditions.

There were times when Sue came to my house. My folks would often drive us to the mall to walk around. Of course, my folks walked around, too. I remember Sue commenting how cool it was that my folks still held hands, a fact I took for granted. She came with me to some church activities and retreats, and we had many spiritual discussions.

We wrote letters to each other almost every week. Just silly things, like which boy we thought was cute or all about that English assignment, or the latest gossip on one of our teachers. She always signed her notes with smiley eyes and hair.

(I came across those letters a few months ago, as I was cleaning out to get ready to move to Colorado. I didn’t remember that I had kept them, and I read several of them before deciding it was time to part with them. Maybe that’s why she’s on my mind – I’ve been subconsciously thinking of her since I disposed of the letters.)

She taught me to make chocolate chip cookies – we did that a lot. Her dad would come in after work, a very tall distinguished looking man – and he’d give her a huge hug, all the while dipping four fingers into the cookie dough behind her back and coming away with a handful to eat. Her mom, of much smaller stature – would just laugh and remind him what was cooking for dinner. Her mom had a wonderful laugh – kind of like a tinkling bell.  They both welcomed me into their home every time I came over. Her brothers were typical brothers – one a couple of years older, the other younger.  I remember one time when Sue and I were watching a scary movie by ourselves in the family room, with all the lights off and we were huddled under a blanket, and the older brother snuck into the room and jumped out at just the right moment to scare us like crazy!

Sue taught me the joy of lying under the Christmas tree. We’d turn out all the lights in the room except the tree, and we’d lie under the branches and look up. The soft glow of the lights reflecting off the ornaments was so peaceful. We’d recline there and listen to Christmas music and talk about our holiday break and family traditions.

At some point, in our Junior year I think, we became less exclusive, and our friendship circle expanded to include two other close girlfriends.  I found another friend to hang out with sometimes, and Sue’s and my friendship shifted. We were still close, but had lots of room for others.

My folks moved away during my Freshman year in college, so I never had the experience of “going home” to reconnect with old high school friends. My relationships shifted again, and I lost touch with most of the girls and guys we had hung out with.

Sue and I went to different colleges, and I remember visiting during her nursing undergrad program with my boyfriend (now husband) and another close friend. That was one of the last times we saw each other.

We exchanged Christmas cards for a few years, and then we got busy with our families.  I lost track of her as we moved across the country. At one point,  I found one of her daughters on Facebook and asked her to get a message to Sue, but nothing happened for a couple of years, until I found Sue on Facebook and we communicated briefly.

In the past year, I’ve reconnected with another high school friend, Chris, and it’s been so fun to catch up with short phone calls filled with stories of our families, and laughter at reminiscing. It turns out that she is practically neighbors with Sue, and they see each other for social activities together. I’m glad – Sue makes a great friend.

Scary thoughts

“For God has not given us a spirit of fear and timidity, but of power, love, and self-discipline.” ‭‭2 Timothy‬ ‭1:7‬ ‭NLT‬‬

I’ve been having flashes of fear. Sudden bursts in my mind of catastrophic situations. It’s been going on for a month now.

Several weeks ago, I was in town with my daughter; we were in her car running errands, and I had a flash of being broadsided by a black truck. The glass was shattered and flying, the car was crumpled and spinning. Like slow motion from a movie scene. I was shocked by how vivid the picture was – like a daytime dream.

And like a dream, I came back to reason and shook my head. I then quoted the above verse to myself.

Today, I needed to run to a doctor’s appointment, and my husband was on the phone, working from home. It flashed across my mind, as I walked into the garage, that I hadn’t kissed him goodbye, and what a shame that would be if I died while I was out. Again, I shook my head and quoted part of that verse: “we have not been given a spirit of fear…”

Those are the two examples that stand out the most starkly in my mind, but I know there have been more, because I’ve quoted this verse to myself nearly a dozen times in the past month.

I’ve had nightmares lately, too. The kind where I wake up in a cold clammy sweat, afraid to get out of bed, in case the monsters are real, and afraid to close my eyes again, lest I fall back into the scary dream. I reach over to be sure my hubby is there, and I try to focus on his breathing, inhale and exhale. I wake enough to realize I’m safe, then pray my way back to sleep.

What is this? Why the sudden fear?

It started in a joyous time – celebrating family and friends at a wedding. Am I dreading the future of what might befall my loved ones?

I’m in the process of moving across the country. Am I fearing the isolation of being alone?

My mom was very sick this Spring. Am I afraid of the past repeating itself?

The last time I had major catastrophic thoughts, I was badly depressed. I’ve determined that I’m not headed there again!

Actually, it probably doesn’t matter what it is. Or even why it is. Because God’s truth is still truth:

“For God has not given us a spirit of fear and timidity, but of power, love, and self-discipline.” ‭‭2 Timothy‬ ‭1:7‬ ‭NLT‬‬

I need not fear nor be timid. I have the power of the risen Christ in me (Ephesians 1:19-20), I am surrounded by God’s love (Romans 8:39), and I can be self-disciplined to take every thought captive to Christ (2 Corinthians 10:5), even the scary ones.