Pen-demic

  Angel heralding my joy for Christmas: Trumpeting for all to gather To celebrate Christ’s birth— Elegantly swaying in the breeze Waltzing in the wind. Found one morning in a heap. The wind knocked out of her. Pieces scattered. Rainy and cold, I try to help. . . . The wind is too strong, too biting. Brought into the garage, a refuge from the wind, To re-assemble, To warm my hands, to gather my thoughts. With pliers, zip ties, stakes, She stands again, but. . . . She’s changed.  She has her battle scars, but She also has changed her attitude. She is sassy, challenging. Blown over by the winds, She leans a little— her dance has changed ,  her wings outstretched—jazz wings. Still playing her trumpet, but more Louis Armstrong  And less Gabriel. Stand back. Keep your distance. Dancing by myself. Challenging the world, But, dancing. Celebrating Christ's birth Alone, But, dancing.

Several months ago, our daughter asked me to read a book to her children using YouTube.    Since I haven’t spent much time with them this past year, nor can I visit them in their new home, I agreed to give it a try. First, I needed to buy a tripod for my phone with a halo light—plenty available on Amazon at a reasonable cost.    We also agreed on a book— Number the Stars by Lois Lowry—not terribly long, and it was one I had previously read.     I felt like this was a good fit for me since I had also been a secondary reading teacher. Because my “audience” was grandchildren ages 13-5, I had to explain vocabulary from time to time.    Then, I got the idea to teach them “think-alouds”.    That’s reading a story out loud but also saying the thoughts that run through a person’s head while reading:    making comparisons, asking questions, predicting,    commenting.    Every now and then, I inserted family stories...

    Sun snuggling closer to earth, Nights blanketing the day. Another season passes Leaves tumbling from the trees, Hummingbirds    have packed their bags. Another season passes Wearing sweaters in the morning, Needing another blanket at night. Another season passes Still isolating from the plague, Missing family celebrations. This season never passes. Wanting to hug church friends, Missing smiles on faces. This season never passes. Trips are cancelled, Lunch with friends on Zoom. This season never passes. Leaders not leading, Hospitals filling up again. This season. . . . .please pass. Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall A year passes JaclynMorgan

  Usually, I choose a puzzle with a photo that makes me happy—maybe a memory, maybe a pretty place or maybe photos of something that gives me pleasure like books, or buttons or sea shells.   Finding the pieces to recreate that happiness is just one of the goals.   First, it’s more fun doing a puzzle with a helper—it teaches families to work together on a common goal. An unfinished puzzle on a table invites others to find that elusive piece. Today, my cleaning lady paused in her dusting and found a piece or two. I love the challenge. I have done puzzles bought at garage sales with no guarantee that all of the pieces are there.  I’ve done puzzles upside down with just the blank side.  I’ve done puzzles with out a box and no picture to guide me.  I’ve also done double sided puzzles.  They’re each a challenge to be conquered. While puzzles require a lot of concentration, it’s a great activity when you have just a few minutes—waiting for someone to get...

Like a knight going to battle, Each piece to protect me from the enemy, Each piece to equip me for the fight. Teeth in. Hearing aids in. Glasses on. Bandage on knee. Mask on. I am ready for my day. I am ready for life. Photo by  Artur Tumasjan  on  Unsplash

To worry about the future, "How long can we stay in our 2 -story house?" lessens satisfaction and joy today. To worry about the future, "what will happen if I get sick?" paralyzes me from living life today. To worry about the future, "what if we have to isolate for a year?"  challenges my faith that God knows the way. We have had many challenges—brain injury, heart infection, cancer, pain. When the challenges tried to bury me, I knew what to do. Standing eye to eye, I have confronted life’s obstacles; I have made compromises. “You can slow me down, you can block my way,   I must live my life . . ..with God’s grace and guidance. . ..  One day at a time.”

Watching the children next door      chasing their new puppy around the yard every day. Memes on facebook:      “ . . .here I am laying on the couch, being a hero”. A wave from the Rich and Charlie's delivery man       as I pick up dinner on the door step. Leisurely reading a library book         with no due date in sight. Loved ones thinking of us        with unexpected notes and treats in the mail. Saying “YES” to a chocolate chip cookie        on my Panera delivery order. A snake, guitar strumming, snapchat faces:       Zooming with teen-age grandchildren. Video collage of of church members       waving anything green on Palm Sunday Processional. Calling the shut-ins and hearing Martin’s excitement      that his grandson would play football with Tampa Bay. Rachel’s banner  on the front ...

Last night at Writer's Life, a group at our church, John shared a story about a special tree in his yard which had me thinking about some of my trees---especially the redbud and dogwood trees.  I have spent good money buying redbud and dogwood trees even though they are native to Missouri.  I have been lured by the the red leaves and pink blossoms of the cultivated trees, but those trees died. I, now have a yard full of dogwoods and redbuds which I never planted---they are "God-planted" trees.  One of the dogwoods, in my front is about 36" from where I planted one of my store-bought trees.  Another dogwood is right outside our sunroom and is  framed by Dave's window.  It forms a beautiful screen between us and our neighbor.  My last dogwood, I call "bonsai"---it is way too close to our house and drive-way, but I love seeing it there, so I keep cutting it back. We have always had a redbud on our backyard berm---our current one was so ov...