More Shiny Things

Even after an ice storm, 
shiny things exist.

This fall, as Bill and I departed for a trip, an ice storm was being predicted. I knew it would most likely kill my annuals and finish off tender perennials for the season. But I also believed even as that cold snap removed a lot of greenery from my yard, it would trigger the resplendent colors of fall. By the time we returned, our trees would be bedecked in their autumn regalia. 

Of course, this being 2020, that cold snap morphed into full-fledged ice-mageddon. Bill and I rode out the storm in a condo in Virginia (talk about good timing!), while a helpful neighbor kept us abreast of developments at home: ice-laden limbs crashing onto lawns and roofs; decades-old tree trunks splitting as if cleaved by an icy maul; ice coatings on power lines depriving many of electricity. And if all that weren’t tragic enough, the hateful ice rendered two-year-old Emma’s tree swing inoperable. 

Returning at night from our trip, we saw in the car’s headlights great bundles of branches my industrious neighbors had already gathered and piled along the curbs. My heart sank as I determined there would be no foliage fantasy to
enjoy this autumn. It wouldn’t be the first fall that Oklahoma trees went straight from green to brown to bare, but it’s always disappointing when that happens.

On our first morning home, I woke early (to vote) and expected to see nothing but dead leaves littering the ground and jagged limbs hanging from stripped trees. To my great relief, I discovered the storm had done some damage but it hadn’t turned my entire community into an apocalyptic wasteland. While the trees in our own yard suffered heavy blows, elsewhere determined leaves clung bravely to undamaged branches. In the sun, the leaves glowed in brilliant tones of gold, orange, and red. The fact they’d survived the storm made them all the more beautiful and appreciated. Shiny things indeed.

While the flowering plum in our
yard didn't fare very well ...

... in other areas trees put on spectacular shows.

And in Hafer Park, the storm hadn't
damaged my favorite tree!

On a walk, I attempted to capture the fall splendor surrounding me. I stood in different spots and angled my camera this way and that for the best exposure. In the process of doing that, a thought occurred to me: In order for things to be shiny, they need light. 

As we approach the end of a year that has cast more than its rightful share of shadows, let’s try to cast sparks of light--a smile, a compliment, a word of encouragement--that will illuminate shiny things for others.

PS Thinking I'd completed this post, I took another morning walk in the park with no intention of snapping more pictures. But . . . I came upon this "shiny thing" and couldn't resist. I know she'll make you smile!

Say hello to Sadie, an
adorable poodle/English sheep-
dog mix. 

New Tricks

 

Photo credit: MarlyneArt on Pixabay

“Make a trailer for your book,” she said. “It will be easy. It will be fun.” 

 And then, with a few clicks on her computer, the presenter shared an impressive collection of videos she’d created and posted to YouTube. Granted, they weren’t the stuff of Spielberg, but they were good. And they created interest in her books, which, after all, is the ultimate goal of a trailer. 

I was hooked. I didn’t know her exact age but figured it was in the vicinity of mine. Also, my friend Shel Harrington—who admittedly is younger than I—is fearless in using social media. While I was contemplating a trailer, she’d already created her wildly popular Fat-Bottom-Fifties Get Fierce Facebook Page and a podcast. She also had a Facebook Live post in the works. And so, inspired by the can-do spirit of these two ladies, I took the plunge. 

Before I even started, I told myself to be patient. I had a few Keynote presentations under my belt but not with all the bells and whistles I wanted to add to this project. I knew it would be a learning experience, but it couldn’t be that hard, right? 

Well . . . 

Without going into a lot of detail, let me report that after endless hours of writing a blurb, locating photos (free ones, as this was a low-budget production), and listening to myriad clips of theme music and tinkling wind chimes, I was ready to assemble the presentation. 

That might’ve been a lot easier if I hadn’t had to watch fifty YouTube tutorials, install two computer updates, figure out Dropbox, and learn to fix a glitch on the YouTube upload—all the while with those *&%# wind chimes tinkling maddeningly in the background. 

But all’s well that ends well. I didn’t pull out a lot of hair (which I can ill afford to spare) or lose too much sleep in the process, and I learned lessons that should make my next presentation or trailer much easier. I’m pleased with my end result. It’s not perfect, but it’s not bad for a first try. You can judge for yourself in the link below. 

Old dogs might require a bit more time and patience to learn new tricks, but the good news is that they have more time and patience. And there is another advantage old dogs enjoy: Perfection isn’t nearly as important as it used to be. 

Whether you’re an old dog or a lively pup, what new tricks are you learning?

Check out my trailer here. 

 

Jayber Crow and Contemplations on Community

Jayber Crow by Wendell Berry was published in 2000, but it has just recently appeared on my reading radar, thanks to my daughter first and then a couple of friends. Fellow reader Cheryl, who shares with me a love for books with a “strong sense of community,” says Jayber Crow offers  much observation and wisdom on the subject. Since community is my focus word for 2020, I determined to give the book a read.

Jayber Crow, the eponymous barber of Port William, Kentucky, does indeed express a deep love and affection for his tiny community—the one that called to him as a lonely young man. Upon first arriving in Port William, he “… felt at home. There is more to this than I can explain. I just felt at home.” Years later, the time he has spent investing in the people, institutions, and well-being of the community have enabled him to verbalize his belongingness. “What I saw now was the community imperfect and irresolute but held together by the frayed and always fraying, incomplete and yet ever-holding bonds of the various sorts of affection…. It was a community always disappointed in itself, disappointing its members, always trying to contain its divisions and gentle its meanness, always failing and yet always preserving a sort of will toward goodwill. I knew that, in the midst of all the ignorance and error, this was a membership…”  

Amid both the accepting and unreceptive residents of Port William, Jayber is able to find grace in and express gratitude for both the tragic and joyful events of his life. He has lived through the Great Depression as a foster child, an institutionalized orphan, and then a young man forced way too young to be on his own. While he could’ve very well allowed those hardships to define him, he draws on the strength and blessings of community to build a contented—though not fairy tale—existence for himself. With the help of generous friends, he fashions a life mindful of the grace that God through Christ has extended toward him. In return, he strives to extend generosity and grace toward others. “As for Troy Chatham, whose enemy I was for so many years … I have forgiven him too, even him…”

I read books for a variety of reasons: information, inspiration, insights, instruction. I also read for entertainment and escape.  Jayber Crow provided all of these. It taught me history—in particular about the years from 1917 through the 1970s in rural Kentucky and about life during the depression and world wars. I garnered insights on land conservation, human nature, and religion. I developed a greater appreciation for the natural world and, of course, community. Jayber’s yarns about the happenings of Port William and the hijinks of its inhabitants entertained me and elicited many LOL moments.

Mostly, though, this book inspired me. In this current time, when angst and uncertainty abound, Jayber Crow reminded me I have much to be thankful for, not the least of which are the communities of which I’m a part. I don’t live in a sleepy, closely connected hamlet like Port William, but I’m a part of several communities that offer me opportunities for learning, sharing, laughing, worshiping, growing. Communities that accept me and allow me to feel at home. Like Port William, they have their shortcomings, but that’s okay. I do, too. I wouldn’t feel at home amid perfection.

If you’re looking for encouragement during these difficult times (and don’t mind if a story meanders a bit), I highly recommend Jayber Crow. 

Keep Looking for the Shiny Things

A few months ago, my niece shared a podcast with me in which Leif Enger, one of my favorite authors, discusses the value of story. This entertaining and inspiring podcast is geared mainly toward writers and writing, but the advice he gives also applies to the way we should approach life in general. I urge you to listen to the podcast (link below) to get the full message and benefit. All of his suggestions are excellent, but “look for the shiny things” especially resonated with me. 

I’m a longtime lover of shiny things. I like sparkly jewelry, twinkling Christmas lights, fireworks . . . anything with glitter. I also like the figurative shiny things that don’t necessarily glow on their own but spark embers of joy within me. Practicing social distancing has enabled me to see shiny things abound in my life.  Please allow me to share some recent ones with you.

So many of my shiny things come to me while I'm walking I don't know why I don't do more of it. On an early spring walk through a local park, I saw these water park canopies peeking above greening treetops. As yellow tape barricaded silent playgrounds, the colorful canopies reminded me that at some point parks would be full of life again and kids could shout and play and splash in the summer sun. 

 On another walk, I came upon this lilac bush. I wish I could add a scratch-n-sniff feature to this picture, as the scent was as lush as the blooms.

Another day, I ventured from my regular haunts with a friend, and discovered not only beautiful landscapes but also wildlife.

A graceful crane taking flight and  . . . 

                                                            goslings! Can there be anything cuter except maybe . . .

                                                           

a toddler practicing her running 

                                      

                                    or her trike riding?

My little neighbor works hard

to keep up with her older brother.

And don't you love her 

shiny silver helmet?!

Shiny things can be in your own front yard. I have a theory that God knew we'd be a little stressed this spring, so He made it especially glorious. I've had this peony bush for several years, and this spring it has twice as many buds as ever before. Every day--every hour--I check it to see if new blossoms have appeared.

Shiny things come via the internet. Since my grandsons are in another state, they sent me a picture of their new pet, a bearded dragon named Ron. Never thought a lizard would qualify as a shiny thing in my life, but he has such a great smile I can't help but like him. As the saying goes: "Never say never."

Other shiny things that came to me this past week: homemade apple bread from a friend, an unexpected thank you letter with a gift card, an email from a writer friend telling me she still thinks of my book from time to time and it helped her "recognize the humanity of people" in prison. Things just don't get any shinier than that!

Now that social distancing restrictions are easing, at least for the summer, friends on social media are asking how we’ll continue to apply the knowledge we’ve acquired when things get back to normal—whatever that may be. It occurs to me that the best practices for surviving social distancing are also the best practices for surviving life at any time. Personally, I’ll keep looking for the shiny things. I hope you do, too.

Here is the link to the podcast. Give it a listen. I promise it will be a shiny thing in your day. And I would love to learn about the shiny things in your life. Please share them in the comments below or on Facebook.

Community in the Time of Covid-19 (Part II)

I was working at my kitchen table recently when a spring storm blew in with an impressive display of rain and wind. For all its bravado, the storm was short lived, and in its wake came stillness—the proverbial calm after the storm. I looked out my patio doors, and the almost eerie serenity brought to mind the above Bible verse. 

I often call on this verse to calm me—to still me—during life’s metaphorical storms. But on that morning of social distancing, an irony occurred to me: What happens when stillness creates the storm?   

How do we respond when we’re cut off—stilled—from our day-to-day routines and activities? From our physical interactions with friends and co-workers? When these disconnects occur, maybe the challenge becomes one of coping successfully with the stillness forced upon us.

Below are some lessons I’ve learned or suggestions I’ve gleaned from others during this time of enforced stillness:

• Embrace it. Don’t rush to fill the downtime with alternate activities. After a week with the grandsons, I can fully appreciate the havoc closing schools has wreaked upon households with school-aged children. Of all the advice I’ve read concerning coping with this disruption, I think the wisest has been to chill. No, you don’t want your kiddos’ brains turning to rice pudding, but neither should you feel pressured to provide a never-ending supply of fun, stimulating, mind-enhancing activities. Maybe this is a good time to let kids be
  
  kids—to let them play outside, come up with creative ways to entertain themselves (without killing each other), learn to be alone for a while. Trust me, there’ll be plenty of time and opportunities for them to catch up academically when school resumes. This advice goes for adults as well. No sooner had we gone into social distancing mode than I received numerous notices about online meetings. I’m grateful for the technology that has allowed us to remain connected and have taken advantage of it in many instances. But when I began stressing about arranging times and figuring ways to “attend” these meetings, I came to a decision: Don’t. I decided to use this time to refresh, read, write, learn, catch up on things I’ve been putting off. When the Covid-19 threat has been contained, the world will still go on and no one will care if I missed a ZOOM meeting.
• Girl, in addition to your hands, wash your face…your hair….
  
  .
  Change your clothes. Yes, I laugh at those memes about changing from day pajamas into night pajamas, and I’m not opposed to an occasional day off from grooming routines.But the operative word here is ocassional. There’s a limit to how often dishevelment should occur and how long it should last. Personally, when I’m reasonably groomed, I feel better and I don’t feel trapped in my house (even if I am). I’m not talking about movie-star make-up or fashion magazine attire. Just be clean and presentable enough to maintain your self-respect and the respect of others when you go out in public (like to the mailbox or the trash cart). 
• Keep in contact with friends and family. Social media is fine for casual/virtual friends, but that doesn’t replace personal phone calls and messaging to those who are closest to us.
• And speaking of social media, don’t overdo it. I happen to think it’s a great social outlet for times like this, but keep the time spent with that community in moderation.
• Keep moving. This might appear contradictory to embracing
  stillness, but I’m a big believer in balance, so make time for exercise. There are online exercise classes for almost any age
  or any stage of health. Check out my yoga instructor Kara's Youtube classes at Champagne and Yoga. Go for a walk. Now is a wonderful time to practice mindful walking--the perfect opportunity to move your feet and still your mind at the same time.  
• Last and most importantly, in the turmoil of the enforced stillness, carve out time to establish genuine, inner stillness. And during that time don’t forget to reflect on the second part of the Psalm—“… know that I am God.” The ultimate goal of being still is to be in community with God and to know—yes, know—He exists and He is in control. 

If you have suggestions for coping with the present "stillness," I'd love to hear them. Please share in the comments below or on Facebook.

Community in the Time of Covid-19 (Part I)

Back in January when I chose community as my focus word for 2020, little did I suspect what significance it would have two months later. As I wrote that post and considered the nature of community, one of the questions that came to me was does it require physical proximity. 

Like many of you, in the last couple of weeks I’ve found myself physically cut off from  communities I hold dear. Church services have gone online and activities cancelled; my gym has temporarily closed; gatherings with writing groups have been cancelled as well as doctor, dentist, and *gasp* beauty appointments. A trip to visit family has been postponed. But one community I haven’t been separated from is that of social media. 

I began forming my personal social media community in 2009 when I joined Facebook. I ventured into the unfamiliar world of social media with much trepidation, having no inkling that eleven years later (that long?!) my Facebook connection would prove invaluable. 

Over those years, my attitude toward Facebook has been mercurial—sometimes being immensely grateful for the friendships both virtual and real I’ve made there; other times—like during election years—becoming irritated to the point of withdrawing from it entirely. (Which beat the alternative of throwing my phone across the room.) But what I’ve come to realize about Facebook and other forms of social media is that, like many things, it is a tool. It can be used for building or destroying, depending on the intention of the person wielding it. Through careful gathering, culling, and scrolling, I’ve managed to create and maintain an encouraging community over the years. 

Although it will never replace my need for physical connection, I’ve enjoyed my social media community and never more than in the past few days. It has kept me informed, inspired, and entertained. (What can be more entertaining than a few thousand toilet paper or home-schooling memes?) It has also helped me maintain  connection with those communities I can’t be in physical contact with, such as my faith and writing communities.

From the ridiculous ...

to the sublime, FB memes can
entertain and/or encourage.
For beautiful and inspiring memes and
 messages, check out my friend Annette's
Facebook page, Squigglyword.

If you’re part of a social media community, I encourage you to use it in a positive and responsible way during this time ... well, all the time for that matter. If you’re not on Facebook or some other platform, now might be a good time to experiment. It might not be a good fit for you, but for many people, it provides much needed connection. And when close encounters aren't available, it provides community.

Fitness Community

In January I chose community as my focus word  in 2020, and in a blog post I promised to share some of the communities that have enhanced the meaning, joy, and quality of my life. I’m not writing about them in any particular order but am presenting them as situations arise. Since the situation of my seventieth birthday arose recently, I’ve been reflecting on and giving thanks for my fitness community.

In 2008, after nearly forty years of working, I retired. Almost immediately, I developed a case of sciatica to accompany my already aching knees. At that point, I determined I hadn’t worked most of my adult life only to spend my “golden” years hobbling about and tossing and turning in my sleep to get comfortable. So I joined a gym and began a pilates class. Gradually, I began to notice an improvement in my fitness level and realized that certain body parts didn’t hurt as much as they used to. 

When a new fitness center opened closer to my house, I joined it. It is a beautiful facility with state of the art equipment and a wide variety of programs. I’ve attended barre and yoga classes there for several years. 

But it isn’t the facility or even the fact that I can now move in ways I wouldn’t have dreamed possible twelve years ago that keeps me regularly attending the classes. Rather, it is the supportive community of women and instructors that spur me to keep on keeping on. 

Yoga seems to be all the rage right now, but you'll be
hard pressed to find a yoga instructor more informed and
more fun than Kara. She keeps us laughing even while
we're attempting torturous moves like the one above.
(You can see for yourself how amazing she is at
Champagne and Yoga on Youtube.)

Carol is our barre class instructor, and her extensive ballet
background is evident. Don't be intimidated, though.
No one else in the class can get this low on the barre, but with
her encouragement and with persistence, many of us have
seen great improvement in our flexibility.

Getting started has never been particularly difficult for me. I’m great at starting things. What I’m not so great at is sticking with routines or habits that are challenging or not a lot of fun (such as diets). But I’ve found if I’m surrounded by a community of positive, like-minded people, I’m much more diligent about pursuing my goals.

That is what my current fitness community does for me. I look forward to visiting with these ladies several times a week as we moan, laugh, and make progress together toward living healthy, active lives. 

I'm not going to divulge any ages here, but Carol and Peggy
 offer proof that exercise keeps you fit and flexible.

My classmates and instructors inspire me and hold me accountable, but more than that they are good friends. And is there anything more beneficial to our health than having good friends? If you have trouble sticking to an exercise routine, I highly recommend finding or starting your own fitness community.   

We don't just exercise together, we socialize.
With the exception of one, I didn't know any of these women
before joining my current classes. Now we go to lunch
on a regular basis and enjoy getting to know more
about each other. Maybe their friendships
have been the greatest benefit I've gained from
exercising!