Nothing like a worldwide pandemic to motivate me to get back to my daily practice of writing.
My time in the garden today didn't hurt either.
Moving the leaves back and finding life bursting forth is good for the soul.
Plus, this is unique time and I want to remember what this time was like for me. So it is time to write.
Today the Kellogg School District shut down all the schools and Paul will be doing online help with his students through email.
Zoe arrived today because the Meridian School District where she works also shut down. She was planning on coming home for her spring break, which was scheduled for next week. She just came a little early.
Molly's school district also shut down, and her husband Travis continues to work at a local restaurant in Moscow that is now only offering take out.
Cosette continues at this time working at the University Inn in Moscow, and keeps us updated on current news of reported cases in the state.
Last night Paul and I hosted our last family dinner for a while, as Christy, Everett and Bill gathered to celebrate St. Patrick's Day. We had a wonderful time together, but all decided to remain in our homes and not have much contact with other people, other than the people in our houses.
The afternoon was beautiful and it felt good to get outside and uncover dirt and discover tulips coming up in a new bed we created last year. What a great reminder that after a cold winter, life has laid dormant and is ready to burst forth with the promise of spring. Paul, Zoe and I uncovered flower beds, raked leaves and bagged them up. Later we took at walk around town while the weather was still nice
We walked along the river to see if it had started rising yet, and it seemed pretty shallow still. As I walked along and viewed this peaceful sight, I started humming an old hymn...."I've got peace like a river, I've got peace like a river, I've got peace like a river, in my soul." And I do have peace.
I hope during this time to be wise and loving and see how my actions can best help others. Right now, a lot of that is staying home and limiting my contact with others. I am learning from the families of my students in China, who have been in lockdown since the end of January. I am learning from my best friend April who lives in Italy and has been in lockdown for nine days as of today.
I listen to people who are smarter than me, and who say that limiting contact with others will slow the spread of the virus. To me, that make sense. I can live with these restrictions.
So as our lives change today as we go forward, I am going try to make the best of this time, spending time to help others as I can, do some self-improvement, and celebrate the coming of spring by celebrating the life bursting forth around me.
I have recently returned to the writings of my favorite author, Madeleine L'Engle. Her writings have brought me through many hard times in my life. I decided to start reading her words again. I checked out a few of her books from the library. One of them was a book of her poems titled "The Ordering of Love". It is a collection of her poems written at different times in her life.
This poem I want to share was written in 1969, another tumultuous time in our country's history. I can relate to her thoughts in this poem as she reflects on loving people. My prayer is I take this time to learn to love....especially the most unlovable.
Lines Scribbled on an Envelope While Riding the 104 Broadway Bus:
There is too much pain.
I cannot understand.
I cannot pray.
I cannot pray for all the little ones with bellies bloated by starvation in India;
for all the angry Africans striving to be separate in a world struggling for wholeness;
for all the young Chinese men and women taught that hatred and killing are good and compassion is evil;
or even all the frightened people in my own city looking for truth in pot and acid.
Here I am
and the ugly man with beery breath beside me reminds me that it is not my prayers that waken you concern, my Lord;
my prayers, my intercessions are not to ask for your love
for all your lost and lonely ones,
your sick and sinning souls,
but mine, my love, my acceptance of your love,.
Your love for the woman sticking her umbrella and her expensive parcels into my ribs and snarling, "Why don't you watch where you're going?"
Your love for the long-hared, gum-chewing boy who shoves the old lady aside to grab a seat,
Your love for me, too, too tired to look with love,
too tired to look at Love, at you, in every person on the bus.
Expand my love, Lord, so I can help to bear the pain,
help you love move my love into the tired prostitute with false eyelashes and bunioned feet,
the corrupt policeman with his hand open for graft,
the addict, the derelict, the woman in the mink coat and discontented mouth,
the high school girl with heavy books and frightened eyes.
Help me understand these scandalous particulars
to understand
your love.
Help me to pray.
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As I go from day to day Lord, help me understand the scandalous particulars to understand your love, and help me pray.
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