Enough is As Good As a [ _____ ]

When Claudia visited in 2016, her first trip to the states in a few decades, we were acutely aware of how rare and precious our time together was. You know how it is – time flies with dear friends. You want to do everything you’ve been talking about for so long: Let’s make that no-knead bread and the homemade mozzarella cheese and a salad so you can dress it the way I love, oh and let me show you how we make our pizza now. Let’s watch Downton Abbey and Witness and The Lives of Others – and have you seen The IT Crowd? (Both stupid and hilarious, for when we just want to laugh!) Monticello is nearby, and Yoder’s, and the downtown pedestrian mall that’s so much like Burlington’s, and don’t forget Barboursville Vineyards with its cool stone ruins of Governor Barbour’s mansion. Let’s take walks in the morning when it’s brisk and in the daytime when the sun is warm and in the evening when the sun glows in the western sky – oh, yes, and Humpback Rocks is a great hike, best in the evening (not like Tirol, okay, but for Virginia, a great hike!).

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We had only nine days. And when I had asked her ahead of time what she wanted to do when she came, she replied with one word: “Rest.”

So let’s, instead, be real. Life comes down to choices, right? As I lamented, she comforted: Zu viel nimmt weg von genug, which I wrote down on a post-it, duly translated and left stuck on the side of my fridge.

Too much takes away from enough.

You could play with the translation and say Too much is worse than enough or Too much negates enough. The idea made sense – if we try to do too much, the time will not be restful, we’ll make ourselves crazy, we’ll miss the balance. And the German had a nice cadence to it. But the verbatim translation didn’t quite work for me. It stuck in my mouth somehow. And it never occurred to me to flip it around and put “enough” at the beginning.

This past week I got help from Mary Poppins. As I watched my five-year-old great niece giggling her way through this classic, I stumbled on a translation of Zu viel nimmt weg von genug that I’d missed the last, oh, say, five times I watched this movie. After the bit of nursery magic when all the toys and clothes dance and bounce and jump around, finding their way into drawers and cabinets and closets, converting the room from messy to tidy in a few delightful minutes, Jane and Michael wanted to do it again. More magic! More fun! How can that be bad? Mary Poppins drew the line in her practically-perfect, matter-of-fact way: “Enough is as good as a feast.” Click on the link to watch her say it.

Well, look at that! In 1910, the setting for this film, they too were struggling with When is enough? Where is the line? Clearly this is not a new problem. Well before that, people in biblical times were likewise advised about moderation. Have you found honey? Eat only what you need…. (Proverbs 25:16)

The idea of potential excess, should-I-or-shouldn’t-I-cross-that-line, comes up all the time.

What fills a day (or nine days)? Activity, yes, but how much is enough to be fun and satisfying yet avoid utter exhaustion?

What fills a house? Stuff, but how much is enough to fend off clutter and inundation?

What fills our bellies? Food and drink, but how much is enough for good health? How much crosses the line?

Decisions. Every day I have to make hard decisions – not every day as in on a daily basis, no, I mean continually    throughout    every    day – what to say yes to, what to spend money on, what to put in my mouth. Abundance has a downside, some would say a curse.

Funny, we don’t have trouble deciding how long to stand there rubbing our hands together with the soap before we decide they are clean enough. We know when’s enough. We’re pretty good about knowing how fast to drive (we value our lives), how much physical space should exist between us and the person standing next to us (how close would be too close), how many toppings we want to put on our pizza (how many would be too many), when we’ve been sitting too long (need to move!), when enough time has passed since we last heard from an old friend (time to send a message). How come that same mostly-good judgment can’t apply so nonchalantly and easily to (pick a temptation, any temptation) shall we say ice cream?!

While standing in line to get ice cream recently, the person next to me ordered a small but said out loud while staring at the price list that looked something like this,

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“I want the super-size.”

Aren’t people the same no matter what year it is!?

A friend who was watching her weight once told me that a small scoop of ice cream didn’t taste better than a large bowlful, and that when she had less, she savored it more – or at least she was trying to train herself to think this way!

Maybe training is the answer. We can train ourselves (or be trained) to do new tasks at work. We adapt to new surroundings or circumstances with a bit of self-talk. It’s an idea.

Hmmm, but I like a feast as well as anyone. (We have only nine days! … That bread is fresh now! … I really like that bowl/table/shirt/game/book/gadget!)

How about mental gymnastics? Maybe I could reconfigure the feast, spread it out over time a bit or have one a little less often?

I hear once again my wise professor’s words. The topic at the time was bacon: Should I eat it? Shouldn’t I? How much? He calmly said three words: Balance. Variety, Moderation. Is it really that simple? Maybe.

The Truth Window

What if we all had a window that people could look into? I don’t mean a window in our house, I mean in ourselves. What if that window revealed the truth about what’s really inside, the parts we generally don’t want anyone to see – our hearts, our motivations, our secrets, our fears, our housekeeping, our habits. Would we frame that window, call attention to it, put it front and center where everyone could see?

Lincoln’s truth window got me thinking about this. He is building a house with walls of straw – straw bales to be exact…

Lincoln's house July 6 2019 (2)

…which is very cool.* Only of course you don’t leave it like this. Once you’ve stuffed every last chink as best as you can, you apply a kind of pasty goo that hardens and forms into what you might call plaster on the inside, stucco on the outside. Over that you apply whatever weather-proofing or decorative sealant you want – some kind of paint – and ta-da (!) you have a solid wall filled with straw and no one is the wiser unless you tell them.

Or unless you are Lincoln and you add a truth window.

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For all the world to see, no lie, no cap, even once he’s smoothed it out, cleaned up the errant splotches, added the sills and moldings and painted on whatever color they choose – it’s plain as day there’s straw behind those walls.

Lincoln’s window isn’t “the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth” because there’s wood inside those walls too, and standard fiberglass insulation in parts of the house where straw bales didn’t make sense. But it’s a window into the truth. I’ve wondered if sometimes, maybe a lot of times, that’s enough.

I had to write a lengthy report recently. In it, twice, I decided to include bits of information that I could have easily left out, that some might have suggested were irrelevant or best left out. One bit possibly cast some light on a person’s motivation and the other balanced out an otherwise damaging image. I decided it was not up to me whether those bits were relevant or not, but I would leave it to the reader to weigh and discern.

I included those two little windows of truth because to me, without them, the picture is not quite as accurate. Nonetheless, they are just two bits, two little bits in a sea of other bits, any of which may or may not also be relevant. Can I know what matters? Can I know what helps? Sometimes yes, but often not.

Everyone knows there are fuzzy distinctions among the alternately appropriate practices of

Same as I decide what food to put in my mouth, what clothes to wear, what dog I like, I decide what to say, what to do, how to say it, how to do it and what to keep quiet about. I can’t know what the interpretation or the reaction will be, but I reveal the straw in my wall with all those things I do or say or don’t. I reveal my worries, my flaws, my junk, my fluff.

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Look at Lincoln’s truth window again. It’s not pretty. The straw they use to make those bales is a waste product, the leftover stalks after they’ve harvested the edible grain, staks that are sometimes a pain for farmers to get rid of. But here it is – real and useful and strong.

Just as I hope I am – at least sometimes.

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*For anyone who’s wondering, properly constructed walls made from straw bales have an insulating value of R-30 to R-35 and are more flame-retardant than wood construction – this is because the bales are dense and tens to smolder when the ignition source is removed.

Roadside Delicacy

Sorry to say, this post is not about a new little bakery located conveniently along the side of the road, making delectable eclairs or macaroons, luring me in, tempting me. It’s about flowers. And Avengers. And coffee and bourbon. Hey, does anyone have any chocolate?

You know how dialog works. Two or more people on the same topic. All pretty focused. All engaged, curious, polite. The subject can be interesting even – maybe about the Avengers, or someone’s great uncle who left an inheritance no one saw coming, or what about this new pasta you don’t have to drain, or the accident that caused a four-mile back-up on the highway this morning.

Then suddenly something catches your eye and you get distracted. Anyone forgives you for interrupting a conversation to call attention to a burning building in the distance, or a collision about to happen, or a large insect entering your zone, or anything in your field of vision resembling a superhero or (oh, dear) Thanos. Have I been watching too many Marvel movies lately?

Something as ordinary and unimportant as roadside wildflowers should definitely not qualify as conversation-stoppers. I confess! I did it! Look at the face I got for asking him to hold both leashes so I could take a photo…roadside3.jpg

…of flowers! Yes, look – those sweet yellow flowers to the left. No one asks them to grow there. No one plants them, tends them, nurtures them. They just come. They just brighten the roadside with their sunny color and delicate form. They brighten our world unasked (oh, that we would take their example!).

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Those of you who are looking beyond Samuel’s mildly annoyed expression may notice that he is not wearing shoes. Please know that this is not because he doesn’t own shoes. He does. He just chooses to walk barefoot on the gravel of our road because… because… “Samuel, why do you still walk barefoot sometimes?”

“Why would I not?”

Need a person know more?

“I hadn’t been doing it so much recently because it was winter,” he added.

Okay.

Exploring this further, he says walking on the stones is a lot like drinking black coffee or strong bourbon, or exercising regularly and vigorously, or eating very spicy foods. All of these things are inherently unpleasant – the strong flavor or pushing yourself physically is a kind of barrier to get over or through.

The beauty and the enjoyment are in the complexity of the flavor or the exercise (or even the stones, sharp and uncomfortable as they are). Give a child a choice between sugar and black coffee, he suggests, and the child will choose sugar hands-down every time. But as you mature and can learn to appreciate the nuances, the layers, the waves of an experience like drinking black coffee or a new bourbon (which he says is really good — can’t touch the stuff myself).…

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… you partake of something much more interesting. As for myself, I choose shoes when walking on gravel roads and am happy-happy with a good piece of chocolate, which does not require any flavor, strength or conditioning barriers. You just eat it and soar.

Speaking of complex and interesting, we are heading to see the Avengers End Game tonight as part of Samuel’s birthday celebration, having just seen Captain Marvel at the Violet Crown last week. We’ve been working up to this since Christmastime, when our trip to the movies to see The Return of Mary Poppins sparked a trip to see Aquaman, which got the whole superhero thing going. We chose the Marvel series and have wrapped up all of the necessary pre-reqs for End Game and hope it is as good as people are saying. A lady in my CASA training course the other day said a big guy in a seat in front of her at the movie was blubbering at one point – blubbering as in something being tearjerkingly sad. We shall see if it is also complex and interesting…

…Oh! Look at these lovely lavender blooms, again there along the roadside with no planning or effort on anyone’s part.

Hey, can you hold this leash while I take a photo?

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I did it again. Right in the middle of Avengers talk, I had to take a picture. I don’t think I do this often (oh, no! maybe I do!), but I am quite sure it happened when it did because just the very day before, Samuel and Mom and I were talking about the verbal and nonverbal habits we all have, how we interject a certain word or phrase far more than is necessary as a kind of filler or finish people’s sentences for them or play with our hair (I don’t know anyone who does that!). Another habit is interrupting the flow of conversation with a random, non-following comment such as: you are talking about how you made your pizza and the other person looks out the window and says, “Oh, I need to remember to get Q-tips.”

Point being, I was totally guilty of the same thing that I have repeatedly observed in others and even annoys me! Am I modeling their behavior, monkey-see-monkey-do, or simply prone to the same? I catch myself, chide myself, apologize and again try to focus – but you know this world is just so complex and so interesting!! Take the lavender flowers for instance… 😊

A Twist on NIMBY

I don’t always stay right on top of catch-phrases. Somehow I missed NIMBY until not long ago, though it was first used in 1980 (!). It encapsulates the concept of opposing development, even development of worthwhile projects, unless it is happening somewhere else, thus Not In My Back Yard. Examples abound. Everything from nursing homes to bike paths to power plants to sports stadiums to cell phone masts – all of which are indispensable and/or desirable in today’s world – are certainly best located in somebody else’s back yard.

The property I can see from my own happens to be surrounded by land that is under conservation easement. When I look in any direction, all I see is woods and mountains. I didn’t have anything to do with this but am the grateful beneficiary of someone else’s efforts to protect the natural area within my view. This morning as I stand on my back deck, this is what I see. It wouldn’t be everyone’s idea of a peaceful and lovely February morning, but it fits mine.

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What is it about us humans, though, that can be on the one hand so very content with what we have and on the other intensely desire what we don’t? I’m talking about what could be called YIMBY (YES! In My Back Yard). Here’s the thing: As much as I (on the one hand) love, love, love where I live, and as exceedingly grateful as I (on the other hand) am to have the time and resources to travel and visit my beloved Rise, Eppie, Ellie, Nelson, Piper and Zoe in their homes now and then, I wish they were, yes, in my back yard, more often. I wish they didn’t live SDFA (So Damn Far Away). I wish getting to them and my own grown children didn’t involve SLAROP (Security Lines And Rides On Planes) or ELTIC (Exceedingly Long Trips In Cars). I wish they were CETHOFAT (Close Enough To Have Over For Afternoon Tea).

I wish for a lot, I know. We do what we can and I try (really I do!) to see the upsides of being APRA (A Plane Ride Away).  Last week in Boise we made a snowman…

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… and enjoyed outstanding croissants from JanJou Patisserie (those on the left have chocolate chips in them!)…

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…and in Seattle watched colorful fish at the aquarium…

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…and saw a painted lady in the street.

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All of this, and many more special and wonderful moments happened last week: Nelson (16 months) danced in front of the TV as Dick van Dyke danced with the penguins in Mary Poppins and tried to add Cheerios to the meatloaf mixture. Piper (2 1/2 years) killed us all during a round of her new Memory game and sat angelically through her first stage play. Ellie (3 1/2 years) made chocolate chip cookies with me, enjoyed her first reading of One Morning In Maine (thank you, Robert McCloskey) and made us all play dead! Zoe (5 months) studied and taste-tested her first crust of bread before throwing it to Zadie, happily waiting below (how do dogs know that when there are little children in the picture, food will fall from the table?).  All of this builds the gigantic and fabulous memory bank that is unique to me. I like being In Their Back Yard, I do. I just also like Mine. Theirs and Mine are just so far apart, and the occasions so infrequent. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt so conflicted about something, and day to day I’m working out how to manage it all – the feelings, the logistics, the upsides, the downsides. This seems to be the best we can do in most any situation – try to figure it out day to day, try to make each day the best it can be.

Tomorrow will be a lovely day! Rise and Eppie are here for a visit (first time in six months, super exciting for me) and we are going to enjoy the sun in my back yard, visit the silly chickens, play with Coco, read about Edward Tulane and see what’s coming up in the garden. Maybe we’ll bake cupcakes, or do puzzles, or play games, or make something pretty, or… it really doesn’t matter, does it? Spending precious days together is what matters. Life is short. We are so blessed. Never forget that.

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The Light of 2019

Last year during the week between Christmas and New Year, it was very, very cold here in Virginia, inordinately cold, exceptionally cold. We seldom get to single digits, let alone for a week straight. We took Katja, a visitor from Germany, to Washington, D.C. and walked from one end of the National Mall to the other. It was 4 degrees F (-15C) that day.

Just before Christmas we were in Vermont. I did not pay as much attention to the temperature because we were busy insulating Lincoln’s house and hauling household items up the snowy hill, but I do remember hearing it was 11F. That’s not as cold as 4F but it’s still mighty cold. Coco doesn’t like it. Poor baby. There’s not a lot of fur on her belly, and it’s very tough on her. She would much rather be tucked in.

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When we got home it was much warmer. It makes me smile to see her finding her spot outside on the front porch (that’s no closer to being finished than six weeks ago)…

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…or inside where the sun comes through my south-facing bedroom window.

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She finds and occupies the only bit of rug that also has sun in that room and has her trusty fox toy behind her. Now we’re talking! New Year’s Day in my neck of the woods is predicted to be sunny and 64F (17C). Ah, glorious sun!

If a patch of sun can make Coco so happy, imagine what it can do for you, what it does do for you without you hardly noticing it most of the time. Think about how you feel on a drab day vs. a sunny day. If you live in a place that’s sunny all the time, you may not be as aware of the effect that cloudy days have on your emotional well being. But winter is harder in places that get snow not only because it’s colder but also because there is less sun.

Imagine if we arranged our built spaces to take advantage of the sun whenever possible. One of my favorite books about the design of living spaces is A Pattern Language by Christopher Alexander. In it he suggests some examples to encourage indoor sunlight: “(1) a porch that gets the evening sun late in the day; (2) a breakfast nook that looks directly into a garden which is sunny in the morning; (3) a bathing room arranged to get full morning sun; (4) a workshop that gets full southern exposure during the middle of the day; (5) an edge of a living room where the sun falls on an outside wall and warms a flowering plant.”

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In Lincoln’s pentagonal house, he has chosen to put an oculus (which will become a cupola with functioning windows) in the center of the second-floor ceiling. Light will stream into almost every room of the house through this amazing component of his design.

This (in my woobly red line) is the oculus I’m talking about. Only some of that flooring will remain.

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Most of us are stuck with the house we have, the orientation it came with, the sun we get. But on this first day of 2019, I am thinking about what the sun does for us and how we can and should take advantage of it. Find a sunny spot to sit in if you can, even for a little while. Let the sun do its work on you. See what happens.

Beyond that, I think about what we can do for others by being “sunny” in our interactions. The expressions that come to mind and go hand in hand with this concept include:

You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar – a favorite of mine because it’s true not only figuratively, it’s true literally. The image of a flypaper hanging from a ceiling in a cabin somehow resides in my mind. If the strip of paper were coated with honey, no way could a fly’s wings detach once they landed on it. What (very dumb) fly would land on a paper coated with vinegar? I translate as: You accomplish more by using grace and kindness than by being sour/vindictive/mean/angry/etc.

In honor of Mary Poppins, all the rage with Mary Poppins Returns being in theaters right now: A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down. In the Julie Andrews original, she applies this literally, though why the children need medicine when they are not sick is beyond me. Nevertheless, my translation: The world can be a tough place; anything we do to make it better makes it better! Add an element of good to something that is unpleasant or difficult and you will find everything easier.

Lastly: This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine! I was thinking today about how limited we are, how our sphere of influence is small, how many people there are in the world and how few of them we can in any way affect. So what? We don’t have to save the world (this has already been done), but we sure can make our own corners — and the corners of those we love and care about — less dark by our chosen actions.

Several years ago, I found the essay We Were Made For These Times by Clarissa Pinkola Estes (American poet, post-trauma specialist and Jungian psychoanalyst, author of Women Who Run With the Wolves). It made me think about why I do what I do, what I think is important, what the future might hold. Maybe it speaks to you and helps you make 2019 a wonderful year in new and important ways.

My friends, do not lose heart. We were made for these times. I have heard from so many recently who are deeply and properly bewildered. They are concerned about the state of affairs in our world now. Ours is a time of almost daily astonishment and often righteous rage over the latest degradations of what matters most to civilized, visionary people.

You are right in your assessments. The lustre and hubris some have aspired to while endorsing acts so heinous against children, elders, everyday people, the poor, the unguarded, the helpless, is breathtaking. Yet, I urge you, ask you, gentle you, to please not spend your spirit dry by bewailing these difficult times. Especially do not lose hope. Most particularly because, the fact is that we were made for these times. Yes. For years, we have been learning, practicing, been in training for and just waiting to meet on this exact plain of engagement.

I grew up on the Great Lakes and recognize a seaworthy vessel when I see one. Regarding awakened souls, there have never been more able vessels in the waters than there are right now across the world. And they are fully provisioned and able to signal one another as never before in the history of humankind.

Look out over the prow; there are millions of boats of righteous souls on the waters with you. Even though your veneers may shiver from every wave in this stormy roil, I assure you that the long timbers composing your prow and rudder come from a greater forest. That long-grained lumber is known to withstand storms, to hold together, to hold its own, and to advance, regardless.

In any dark time, there is a tendency to veer toward fainting over how much is wrong or unmended in the world. Do not focus on that. There is a tendency, too, to fall into being weakened by dwelling on what is outside your reach, by what cannot yet be. Do not focus there. That is spending the wind without raising the sails.

We are needed, that is all we can know. And though we meet resistance, we more so will meet great souls who will hail us, love us and guide us, and we will know them when they appear. Didn’t you say you were a believer? Didn’t you say you pledged to listen to a voice greater? Didn’t you ask for grace? Don’t you remember that to be in grace means to submit to the voice greater?

Ours is not the task of fixing the entire world all at once, but of stretching out to mend the part of the world that is within our reach. Any small, calm thing that one soul can do to help another soul, to assist some portion of this poor suffering world, will help immensely. It is not given to us to know which acts or by whom, will cause the critical mass to tip toward an enduring good.

What is needed for dramatic change is an accumulation of acts, adding, adding to, adding more, continuing. We know that it does not take everyone on Earth to bring justice and peace, but only a small, determined group who will not give up during the first, second, or hundredth gale.

One of the most calming and powerful actions you can do to intervene in a stormy world is to stand up and show your soul. Soul on deck shines like gold in dark times. The light of the soul throws sparks, can send up flares, builds signal fires, causes proper matters to catch fire. To display the lantern of soul in shadowy times like these – to be fierce and to show mercy toward others; both are acts of immense bravery and greatest necessity.

Struggling souls catch light from other souls who are fully lit and willing to show it. If you would help to calm the tumult, this is one of the strongest things you can do.

There will always be times when you feel discouraged. I too have felt despair many times in my life, but I do not keep a chair for it. I will not entertain it. It is not allowed to eat from my plate.

The reason is this: In my uttermost bones I know something, as do you. It is that there can be no despair when you remember why you came to Earth, who you serve, and who sent you here. The good words we say and the good deeds we do are not ours. They are the words and deeds of the One who brought us here. In that spirit, I hope you will write this on your wall: When a great ship is in harbor and moored, it is safe, there can be no doubt. But that is not what great ships are built for.

Que Sera Sera

Last week after I finished reading to Evelyn – she just turned 101 and we are almost through a biography about Queen Victoria – I walked the hallway to get to the exit and passed what is a common area for the residents of this retirement community. I heard someone playing the piano and looked to my left. This is what I saw.

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The lady playing the piano was quite good. The tune was lively. The song was Que Sera Sera. If you are unfamiliar with it, check out Doris Day’s 1964 rendition. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=azxoVRTwlNg

The message of the song is summed up in the translation of the title: Whatever will be, will be. When you listen to the whole thing, you don’t get the idea of determination or active movement toward a particular goal. Quite the contrary. As to whether the future is bright or not – whether you will be rich and good looking and successful – it is seemingly out of your hands, which one might say is rather a passive approach. But is it?

Specifically in the lyrics a little girl asks her mother “What will I be? Will I be rich? Will I be pretty?” And her mother replies “Que Sera Sera. Whatever will be, will be. The future’s not ours to see.” Later in life she asked her sweetheart: “What lies ahead? Will we have rainbows day after day?” He replies as the mother did. Later her own sons ask her: “What will I be? Will I be handsome? Will I be rich?” She then replies as her mother did.

“Que Sera Sera. Whatever will be, will be. The future’s not ours to see.” To this I say Amen, therefore, precisely because we don’t know what lies ahead…

…let us do what we can to make today and tomorrow better than it might otherwise be. I suspect this lady playing the piano would very much prefer to sit up straight. Yet she is not sitting there grumbling. She is playing a lively song for the entertainment of herself and others. I suspect Evelyn would rather not be blind. Nonetheless she can learn through books on tape and others reading to her. This week we learned together about the widowed Queen Victoria’s protector and friend (whatever else he may have been), John Brown. Fascinating stuff. Did you know that all documentation relating to this relationship was summarily burned? Hmmm…

Start with yourself. Start with the people who are in your circle today or every day. The other day I described two children who were here as Airbnb guests (for the blink of an eye it seemed) doing me a kind service without knowing it. How apropos to have just found this quote hanging on the wall in a public bathroom:

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Amen, therefore, precisely because we don’t know what lies ahead…let us give thanks for what we do have. Do I have a high-paying job? No, but I have everything I need, and I am exceedingly grateful for good food to eat, a home to live in and the abiding love and care of incredible friends and family. Am I as physically strong as I used to be or as mechanically inclined as I wish I was? No, but I manage, and where I need help, there is help, and I am exceedingly grateful that when there have been serious issues like pipes freezing or bursting, I have not been here by myself. Can I be with my children and grandchildren and dearest friends as often as I want? No, but I cherish the moments with them and greatly look forward to next time.

Needs are different than wants. Do we have everything we need? Most of the time, yes. Do we have everything we want? If we did, what would there be to look forward to? What would there be to look back on and be grateful we had for a time? How would we get outside ourselves and be glad that someone else could enjoy that experience or that thing?

Amen, therefore, precisely because we don’t know what lies ahead… let us carefully and lovingly walk alongside others who are having a hard time. It’s true that some things are out of our control. In the past three weeks, tragedy has hit three families in my circle. Two young deaths and one very serious illness. The grief of these families is beyond words. Yet as each of them works through their pain and comes to grip with what they did not in their wildest nightmares anticipate, they are surrounded by, embraced by, uplifted and upheld by many who love them. The loving, caring people who come alongside during a tragic time are like the spoonful of sugar that helps the medicine go down, as Mary Poppins so beautifully sang. They are the reminder – even if it cannot be fully appreciated at the time because of shock or stress – that they are not alone through their grief. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U8VHc49ZdP4

Amen, therefore, precisely because we don’t know what lies ahead…let us recognize the beauty of whatever world is around us. That beauty might be in the artistry of your favorite barista who makes you smile as he hands you a cappuccino.

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That beauty might be in the face of a child encountering a fuzzy chicken.

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It might be a precious moment with a dear friend you don’t see often.

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It might be a fabulous vista you get to see in real life rather than in a picture (with a dear friend you don’t see often).

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It might be a joyful moment of reunion between man and dog.

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Do I know what lies ahead? Sort of. The future’s not mine to see, but I am confident that no matter how many years or months or days I have left, it will continue to include amazing people who enrich my world as well as an amazing world in which to spend whatever time I can with these amazing people. It will include great measures of love, joy, forgiveness, hope, service to others and making a difference in whatever ways we all can. Could I ask for more? No.