It's Good to Have Today
A response to grief
The morning sun teases open the skyline and I’m into minute two of my Tabata sit ups when there is a tiny knock at the door. My six year old son races in with his bedhead and Spiderman pajamas, and tears down his face, sobbing.
He’s had a sad dream. He tells me between sobs that I have died, frozen in fact. I am holding him and telling him that I am still here, I am still here.
My mind can’t help but fly to my dead friend; her own children are living that nightmare, and no mother is on the other side of the bedroom door anymore.
Grief upon grief, lately. A friend’s husband passes away in the passenger seat, before she can even start the car. One of my beloved pastors rallies from pnuemonia and looks to be soon released, but suddenly and unexpectedly declines and dies within the day. Soon afterwards (a week? four days? the calendar crumples), I kiss one of my best friends goodbye as she dies leaving her husband and children behind. And then! A small child in our congregation gets hit by a bus (thank God, he survived and is healing!). Those aren’t all of the griefs I’ve had in the past month, but those alone were enough to make me nauseated by the roller coaster of emotions without even considering the other ongoing trials, of which there are plenty.
And I know I’m not alone in my heartbreak for the devastation that recent disasters has brought upon our nation. I have not forgotten the railroad disaster in Ohio, the fires in Maui, the massive hurricane storms that we are still riding. Whether folding my clothes (thank you, Jesus, for water, for laundry soap, for electricity, for clothing, for my own bed to fold them upon…) or walking on my treadmill (thank you, Jesus, for my healthy legs, and that my largest concern at this moment is to simply “get my steps in”), my eyes have been glued to YouTube videos of my American neighbors, their experiences, and to the rescue efforts that have been currently underway. I fold laundry and pray, I walk and pray, and I cheer and pray for all of the local volunteers—the folks who know the region well—who don’t wait for permission, who simply make their way in to give real help. I pray for the mothers who, in the midst of losing everything, are still alive and can tend to their children with tender love and care. I pray, if ever in a similar situation, I might somehow be of good use to not only my family, but to my fellow American, to be like the good Samaritan and have a donkey, wraps, and cash on hand (or in my case: supplies, skills, cash and Bitcoin).
I spend most of the day yesterday trying to put a dent into my friend’s craft room. She was a Crafter, the kind of woman who had every variation of paint color, paper, stamps, pens, and tools at her disposal. The first time I walked into her craft room, I was in awe. I tend to be more of a minimalist, and she…well, wasn’t. Last week, I met and had coffee with one of her crafter friends, and between all the laughing and crying, I could see how much her friend’s eyes lit up when we talked about card making, craft shows, and monthly autoships of seasonal kits. How much I miss seeing my own friend’s eyes light up.
I am glued to one particular woman’s account of Hurricane Helene. She writes every day, marking day one of no power and no water, then day 5, day 8, day 12… I think about all of the self care things we do, from taking walks to playing music to journaling to crafting, and how all of that gets blown away (literally, sometimes) when even a simple shower or a glass of clean water to drink becomes difficult. As Sara succumbed to her condition, she often lamented the loss of her crafting abilities. Her craft room world shrunk to a small box by the dining room table. When death is at the door, everything shrinks, until it is just you and God.
I remind my son of this. “If I were to really die, where would God be?……….and where would Mommy be?……….and Who is really in charge?……..and isn’t it marvelous that because of Jesus we never truly die but only say ‘see you later, alligator’……..”
It’s ok to be sad, but we do not grieve as without hope.
Other than physically helping where I can, sending my prayers to the Lord, and donating funds as I am able, I feel rather helpless. Which I suppose, being not God, I actually am. I think about what I would do in similar circumstances as this hurricane writer, and run through the preparations I’ve done in my head (water filter, check…freeze dried foods, check…), but I also know that many people did likewise prior to their travail and still had to watch their own homes, their livestock, and their livelihoods crumble and disappear before their eyes. Sometimes, there is nothing on earth that can prepare you ahead of time for this kind of calamity.
In our area, our concerns range from tsunamis on the coast, to earthquakes, to landslides, to river banks overflowing in times of deluge. Most of the earthquakes I’ve experienced have been relatively mild with minor damage, at least in the home(s) I was in when it happened. These recent disasters have me thinking about what I could in reality offer to my neighbors should a catastrophic earthquake in our area actually happen, and I still had means to help. After all, I live on a peninsula, and unless you have a boat (and we don’t), there is only one road in and one road out. We see how that fact alone is playing out in the mountain regions.
Power outages are also normal here during times of winter storms. We seem prepared for that only if the outage is less than a week long (day 8….day 12….). We live in the woods, so firewood is at least abundant, and our winters are relatively temperate. I take note, horrifyingly so, of how communication completely disappeared from parts of western North Carolina. How could anyone even cry out an SOS if no one was able to hear from them?
This I can do, I think, as I resume my workout.
I got my HAM license many years ago, and as a tech I am able to communicate with my local network. If I were to upgrade to a general license, I would be far more valuable in my ability to broadcast over longer distances. Currently, I enjoy listening to the local net, but my hand radio isn’t very powerful, and the antennae I have on the house is really in the wrong place for me to connect to and transmit with. I rarely sit in that corner of the house to simply sit and chat (maybe I should!).
I make the decision to do something about this, and put plans in action. One, to attend the monthly local HAM club meetings. Two, to move the antennae this weekend. Three, to get a radio into my truck. Four, to study for the general license. I may not be able to physically move large fallen trees, but I can bolster the skills I already DO have.
As we know, decisions mean nothing except head games if steps and immediate action aren’t taken. I don’t want to be someone who says something akin to, “I once decided to (fill in the blank) but (circumstances, laziness, doom scrolling, whatever) got in the way”. I don’t know if I have tomorrow. I don’t even know that if I do have tomorrow, I will have the same opportunity and capacity as I do right now.
I make my son’s favorite breakfast: sourdough pancakes with maple syrup and sausage. Later, I will gather up my small drawer of paints and work in my art journal: in honor of my late friend, I tell myself, so as not to be distracted by the dishes in the sink. I make a sticky note by the computer to refresh the HAM study app, and to make a coffee date with a friend I haven’t seen in a while. I take a moment to step out into the fresh morning air for a deep breath before the household gets running.
It’s good to have Today.
73,
KJ7GWS
Sending love. Prayers for you.
Sending hugs