As October turns to November,
Delilah and I roam where the quiet
rests with ease
and the glorious pencil-legged heron
moves at tai chi speed.
We smell the summer wildflowers
(some that still fiercely bloom and some already gone to seed)
so that our senses can hold tight to
light and warmth in the dark days to come.

What we cannot change, we cannot change.
Our hearts are heavy with awarenesses
of the the inhumanities of humans and the toll
life’s harsh edges can take on a soul.

So, we walk to calm down, to let go,
to unteather ourselves from the
unhelpful side of struggle, sorrow, and pain
so we might find ouselves strong enough
and tender enough
to return to the work of kindness.

We walk.  We pray.  We laugh.  We sing.
We look, 
and in looking,
we are renewed by the lessons
and beauty all around us.

When we return home,
we gather a bouquet of marigolds still
dazzling in their orange and gold attire.
We fill the bird feeders.
We light candles, and
we give thanks...
that God provides,
that God is present in all and through all
as we watch the autumn leaves turn and tumble
and the morning sunlight fill the sky.

​

Soul sick from way too much late night RNC, this morning I fixed a cup of tea and headed to my art room.  Before entering, I just said, "God, please meet me here."  Eager to lose and find myself in my morning meditations, I sat down to clear my art table for what Spirit might have to offer.  As usual, there were birds at the feeder outside of the windowl... about three when I first sat down.  Two flew away and one lingered.  She sat on the edge of the feeder perfectly still, and she continued to sit there without feeding.  It was a bit odd, so I watched her.  It was then that I realized she was sleeping.  Perfectly at ease, she slept on the edge of that feeder for about five minutes.  No other birds came to feed.  She had no disruptions and she slept in utter peace.
​

I took her photo and continued to marvel at her peace.  The tender part of me worried that she was ill, but in time, her little friends returned and she woke to join them in their morning breakfast.  Before I knew it, she took flight refreshed and full of dew kissed seeds. 
Since that sweet encounter, I've been humming, "His Eye is on the Sparrow."  I am on an edge these days.  My heart is tight, and my soul is weary.  I don't have assurances that all will be well, but this morning, God has assured me that we are not alone, that when we seek God (and even when we don't seek) God waits for us with the purest of love.  I stand amazed and thankful that God's care is present and true.
"Why should I feel discouraged, why should the shadows come,
Why should my heart be lonely, and long for heaven and home,
When Jesus is my portion? My constant Friend is He:
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me;
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me."

My art room has been a space of solace during these pandemic days.  As I live alone and now work from home, I sometimes get too much in my head.  There’s so much to think about and pray about these days.  There’a a laundry list of things I worry about.  So, when I need to come out from under the weight of thinking, I go to my art room.  I’m often there first thing in the morning and at the very end of the day.  Sometimes, I just walk into this space to look, to grow calm, or to become more steady.  It is a haven in these times..

I’ve positioned my art table so that I can look outside as I create.  I have a good view of the mountains and sky and neighborhood trees that always seem to be reaching towards both.  I love seeing kids on their bikes and new moms strolling their babies in the fresh air and dogs walking their people.  I put a bird feeder right outside of the window, and that has it’s own share of delight.  Sparrows.  Doves.  Cardinals.  Wren.  The feeder is their local  diner where they swap stories, learn to share, and receive sustenance.

On my windowsill, I have a collection of treasures that also catch my eye and soothe my spirit.  Seashells, feathers, a Native American rattle, and a little angel from my brother.  Back in the fall, I was shopping with friends in a thrift store, when I found this ceramic figurine of the Virgin Mary.  I brought her home with me, and added her to the windowsill.   She watches over me as I invite God’s spirit to be with me as I stir the creative waters and seek the peace that passes all understanding.

An unexpected joy has also come to this window during the pandemic.  There are two volunteer sunflowers cheerfully blooming in the flower bed outside of the art room window.   I like to think that the warmth that rises from all the love in my art room spilled out on the seeds and encouraged these sweet friends to rise up.  They stand there each day as reminders that possibilities abound and goodness keeps on flowing even on the hardest of days.

Today, I noticed how sweetly the sunflowers seemed to cup Mary.  They encircled her with their warm glow… so much so that I had to grab my camera and kneel down to take the photo.  So, there I was in this dear sacred space kneeling with Mary and the sunflowers, when low and behold, a goldfinch arrived.  He perched on the stalk of the sunflower and nodded to all that was holy in that moment… and there was so much that was holy.  The distance between heaven and earth eased, and I could feel God’s assurance embracing me with love and care.

I am reminded today that while this pandemic is awful, rending our minds and bodies and spirits, it is also creating spaces that invite us to lean our heads on God’s heart and rest easy in that love.  So much is beyond our control and so much is within our reach.  Let the veils be lifted.  Let the downhearted, sing.

​

Before you put your weary
soul to bed each night,
open the window.
Let the hush of the day
blanket your rest.
Let the night light of stars
and moon
rest easy on your
day-lit thoughts.
Now is the time for rest,
for abandon,
for the cool balm of quiet
to mend you.
And come morning,
come the blue of dawn rising up
out of the dark of night,
let the bird songs anoint you,
moist and hopeful.
Let their innocent joy
seep into your waking
so that as you rise,
you rise 
in wonder,
in peace,
and in gratitude.
Open the window,
and welcome this anointing
so fresh
from the arms of God.

​

Years ago, as a counseling intern, I worked in a local retirement community under the supervision of their nurturing chaplain.  She had devoted much of her life’s career to the service of older adults and by such, she had gained much wisdom.  Among the many valuable things I learned from her was this remarkable insight.  The illness that is most fatal among older adults is living with a lack of purpose.

We can all understand the need to feel we are contributing in some way.  We want to be valued and to recognize the value in others.  We want to feel like our lives have meaning and that by being here, we evoke something positive for those around us.  We also are aware that as folks age, changes can occur in housing arrangements, mobility needs, and health vulnerabilities that can deter social engagement.  In fact, we recognize at this time in our nation’s history, we must isolate our older adults in order to best shield them from the pandemic taking place.  So how might we also work to keep their emotional lives healthy?  How might we bear in mind the deep need for connection, purpose, and intergenerational engagement?

Valley Program for Aging Services (VPAS) and James Madison University’s Institute for Innovation in Health and Human Services (IIHHS) supports the Caregivers Community Network.  This is a one credit class that enables students to be trained to offer respite to caregivers of those 60 years old and older.  Students make weekly visits throughout the semester and engage older adults who are frail or living with dementia in evidence-based activities that stimulate the mind and lift the spirit.  Caregivers use these visits as respite to invite more balance and self-care into their own lives, which will then better equip them to care for those they love.

There are many benefits to this model, but the intergenerational component is worthy of praise.  There is a vitality that flows between these very different generations, and students find purpose in service learning, while those they visit find purpose in sharing their life stories and wisdom with the students.  We see time and again the merits of intergenerational interactions and how this positively contributes to the greater good of our society at large.

In light of the pandemic, students are currently no longer able to make these visits, and families are feeling this loss.  Out of this circumstance, students are being encouraged to think ‘outside of the box’ and find new ways to remain in contact with these families who are now even more confined.  Perhaps all of us can be reminded of the importance in staying socially engaged with those who are older and more vulnerable to social isolation.  Here is a list of ways to be socially supportive in healthy ways at this time.

1.  Snail mail!  Make a card yourself or engage children who are home from school in making cards.  Include newspaper cartoons, jokes and riddles, funny stories from your life!  Toss in some photos!  Toss in a stick of gum or a tea bag!  Tape the envelope closed rather than licking it shut!

2.  Phone calls! There is nothing like hearing the voice of one we care about!  Set up specific times to call not just to check in, but to share stories.  At the end of conversations, name a topic to talk about next time you chat! Read each other favorite poems! This will invite engagement in planning as well as the pleasure of having something to look forward to!

3.  Visit by phone but also while you are outside of a window!  Let your eyes and smiles meet!  What joy to see each other, if even through glass!

4.  There are some older adults who are not tech-savvy.  By phone, help them order meals that can be delivered to their door. Read them menus, order online, discuss how to make payments.  Similarly, groceries can be ordered online.  Perhaps you could help with pick up and again wave to these dear ones through the door upon delivery!

5.  For those who are tech-savvy, plan some times to face time, or play online games together.  Send them links of things you could both watch and discuss later!

6.  Mail them something they can work on and then mail back to you!  Have your children write a list of questions or make up a ‘mad libs’ they can fill in parts and you fill in parts!  Give them a story prompt like:  What was the funniest thing that ever happened to you in elementary school?  Be sure to enclose a stamped envelope for them to use to return!
​
7.  Leave some springtime flowers on their front porch or by their apartment door!  

8.  Extend comfort.  Listen deeply and with patience.  Acknowledge the difficulty of this time, but also highlight the good efforts all around us.  Listen to concerns and ask if they need additional support for specific matters.  Ask if they need help in accessing the additional support.  Things that may need consideration:  getting medications, having good phone access, food and water needs, financial guidance, navigating medical appointments, and transportation.

9.  Offer to speak with caregivers when their loved ones are resting or out of the room.  Give them the time to process aloud what it is like to care for a loved one round the clock in the midst of a pandemic.  Engage in some mindful practices with them via phone.

10. Wash your hand.  Paint it with a cheerful colored paint and press it onto a heart cut out of paper.  Let it dry.  Send it to one who needs a reminder that they are always in your heart.  Encourage them to put the heart to their heart and press their hand to your hand-print.  In mind, heart, and spirit… we are together in care.