Home too long, Thanks Covid!

 It is nine AM. I sit at my computer, thinking about what I  should write. In the background, I can hear an advertisement for a charity called Tunnels to Towers.  This commercial is followed by the news. I listen to reporters as they report on the politics of the day. 
I am saddened by the condition of the world today. I realize that I am old, and I am rapidly heading to my final days. But before I go, I pray that I will see the world and its people return to values such as respect for each other, kindness for those who are less fortunate, generosity towards others, and respect for different cultures, customs, and races. I dream of a world where we see the beauty in others regardless of their skin color.  

On the sill outside my window, I spot I see a blue-tailed lizard resting. As I look out again, I can see a red cardinal enjoying sunflower seeds at the birdfeeder. A green hummingbird flies from feeder to flower lapping up nectar. Purple finches watch from the trees. I am witness to the beauty in the diversity in nature. I can not help to wonder why people have difficulty seeing this same beauty in the diversity of the human race.
I stop writing long enough to listen to a friend being interviewed on a podcast. My friend is talking about the epidemic of loneliness in the world today. He contends that our technology and now the COVID virus has contributed to this epidemic. I can not disagree with him, and as I Sit alone in my office, I feel pervasive loneliness invading my space. I turn back to my computer.  By this time, I am feeling completely frustrated with the words that I have written. I press on. I was determined that I would write a well-crafted post. 
My original thought was that I would write about Tunnels to Towers and how the organization helps first responders with disabilities received in the line of duty. The organization supplies adaptive equipment and even smart homes for some if needed. The help provided makes the delicate adjustment of to a life of disability easier. I understand these difficulties well because of my own personal struggles with disabilities over the past eleven years. I find that today I can not write about this. The subject hits close to home. So I move on.
My next idea for a post was About the time Tom, my husband, was sent out to pick up beverages for break time at work. Again this feels like another story for another day.  Now it is almost 5 PM. I have typed on this computer all day and have not written anything that makes sense. I suppose that is because the world doesn't make sense to me right now. 
I see a card on my desk. It reads, "Ask, and it shall be given to you. Seek, and ye shall find, Knock and it shall be opened unto you."(Matthew 7:7 On the back, the card read, "Just for you"  It is time to cook dinner, but before I do I pause and pray. Thanks, card for the reminder. No matter how bad things might appear God is in control. 

Living Sohern Sweet tea hummingbirds and ummer sun

As I sat eating my breakfast on the deck early in the morning, I could feel the warmth of the sun on my shoulders. I knew by the increasing heat on my skin that it was going to be a scorcher of a summer day.  Because I am partially blind, I couldn't see them but I could hear the hum of hummingbird wings as they flew past my head.  The hummingbirds were at work slurping up their breakfast of sweet nectar from the flowers and the mix of sugar water that I kept in their feeders.  

Hummers are fascinating creatures. I read in a paper by Stephanie Bitner, a biologist at Arizona State University School of Life sciences, that hummingbirds lick nectar up from a flower, like a dog lapping at a bowl of water. Bitner goes on to state that a hummingbird's tongue can lick sixteen times per second, and they will consume one half of their body weight in sugar each day and that they eat an average once every ten minutes."Hummingbirds Foraging May 2014." Hummingbirds love the sweet sugar found in nectar and sugar water. Did you ever suck the nectar out of a honeysuckle flower? As a child, I found its sweetness delicious.

Sugar water and nectar bring to mind sweet tea in the South. My North Carolina neighbors have a unique blend of iced tea that they call sweet tea. This is not just iced tea with sugar in it like I drank growing up in New Jersey. Sweet tea is much more than that. Sweet tea is a heavenly drink that will rival the nectar from the most generous of flowers.

 But before I tell you about sweet tea, let's talk about tea itself for a moment. Although initially served hot, 85 percent of all tea consumed in the United States today is enjoyed cold. Whether you like your drink with a splash of liquor, poured into punches, or served simply on the rocks, you're taking part in a 200-year-old tradition. Hot tea has been served in America since Colonial times. But our tea-drinking habits really started to shift around the turn of the 20th century. At the 1904 World's Fair in St. Louis, the hot summer weather caused fairgoers to skip hot beverages in favor of cold ones — including iced tea. The fair's 20 million visitors cooled themselves with iced tea and brought the new style of tea back to their homes throughout the United States and the world. 

 Later, when home refrigerators with freezers started to appear in homes during the 1920s and '30s, people didn't even have to leave the house to grab a couple of ice cubes year-round. This development made iced tea convenient, and drinking iced tea was less expensive than other options that were available at the time. (adapted from Taken from "The History of iced tea April 30,2018")

North Carolina, sweet tea is made by adding a five-pound bag of sugar to one cup of boiling water. This mixture is then added to a pitcher of freshly brewed tea. You finish it off by throwing in a ten-pound bag of ice, Do this, and you have an ice-cold sweet drink that is a refreshing treat on a blazing hot Carolina summer day. Add to your enjoyment and pull a chair or a rocker under a shady oak tree. Grab a good book and a really big glass of that sweet tea. Relax and forget your troubles for a time. 

One warning l feel I should add.  If you are planning to wear a bikini, tankini, one-piece, or two-piece bathing suit to the beach, although tempting in the summer heat, don't be a hummingbird and drink one half your body weight in sweet tea and do not eat every ten minutes. True story. This is the sweet secret of sweet tea in North Carolina and perhaps beyond. 

During this season of COVID 19, election politics and shutdowns, Summer sun, hummingbirds, and sweet tea reminds me of this one thing. 

I know that God is in control and God has got us! So sit back and relax.

Matthew 6:27 Can anyone of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?

About Coleslaw.

When I moved to North Carolina in 1989, I quickly discovered that I had a lot to learn about living in the south. Take coleslaw, for example. Originally created by the dutch. The term "coleslaw" arose in the 18th century as an anglicization of the Dutch name "koolsla" ("kool" in Dutch sounds like "cole"), meaning "cabbage salad." The "cole" part of the word comes from the Latin colis, meaning "cabbage."

In the article, "The Origins of Coleslaw: Going Dutch"

Deb Perelman writes

"The Dutch, who founded the state of New York, grew cabbage around the Hudson River. Although the combination of shredded cabbage and other common coleslaw ingredients can be traced back to Roman times, it wasn't until the mid 18th century that mayonnaise was invented, so coleslaw as we know it is about 250 years old." Kitchen Window (2007 NPR)

New Jersey, where I was raised, has two kinds of coleslaw. Chopped or shredded.  When I moved to North Carolina, my knowledge of this savory dish was significantly expanded.

 In the south," Slaaaw is all you need to say. Coleslaw is so prevalent in North Carolina, the cole part is not required. When you ask for slaaaw, everyone will immediately know you are asking for this delightful southern staple. Slaw in the south is as essential as sweet in your tea. I will say more about that in another post. 

The south has 6,500 variations of slaw. The southern slaw can be red slaw, white slaw, chopped, shredded, and vinegar slaw. It would not surprise me to discover that the south has even created a red, white, and blue slaw. 

King of slaw in North Carolina is the always popular slaw that is made to be placed on the top of a barbecue sandwich.  Barbecue slaw is made from someone's granny's special recipe with secret ingredients. This recipe can only be shared with New Jersey natives if they are willing to take a blood oath. The oath must be taken while Pinky swearing and turning to the right three times on one foot. 

  New Jersey cooks make one slaw. The simple Jersey recipe includes cabbage, carrots, a small amount of onion, mayo, and celery seed.  

My first introduction to slaw in North Carolina occurred when I was invited to eat lunch with Dr. Artley from Elon University at Kimber's restaurant in Gibsonville. Kimbers was Dr. Artley's favorite restaurant. I know this because he ate lunch there every day for many years. 

That fateful day in Kimber's restaurant I ordered a sandwich. To my surprise, the waitress asked me, "do you want slaw on it?" Wait, what! In New Jersey, coleslaw is put in a small souffle cup next to your sandwich along with a pickle to keep it company. I had never thought of putting slaw on a sandwich. I replied, a very tentative, yes to the waitress. Minutes later, my lunch arrived in its slaw topped glory. After that first bite, I thought, "The next time, I will go all out and try slaw on my burger. I would like a dill pickle, please.

Face masks and angels

I was at the podiatrist's office, and like everyone else, I was wearing a facemask. Nothing felt normal. It was depressing to see so many people in masks today.   The ride to the doctor's office seemed unreal. Yes, there were cars on the road, but parking lots that should have been full of vehicles were empty. I was struggling to understand the reality of the world today. Nothing seemed right.

Monday will be my sixty-seventh birthday. It was on my birthday seventeen years ago that I received a phone call from my brother who told me my mother was on a ventilator.  Since then, I always struggle with feelings of sadness on my birthday. I guess that is because my birthday is a yearly reminder of my mother's death. Unfortunately, she had chosen me to be her child that could say for her, "turn off the machines."

As I said, turn them off, that the room filled with stillness. With those words, I had fulfilled the promise made to my mother. 

Now seventeen years later, I still vividly remember that morning in the hospital room filled with machines that should not have been there.

I try to think about my fifth birthday when my mother hired a man with a pure white pony to give my friends and I pony rides on a sweltering summer day in August. I try to remember the other children and their mothers at my party. I wish I could remember the sound of the laughter or the taste of the sweet birthday cake.  Instead, on my birthday, I remember my voice as I told the doctors to turn off the machines that had to breathe for my mother.

I am sad today because people are wearing face masks to visit the foot doctor. There has been looting and rioting in the streets of Chicago, a city that I visited several times years ago on church trips.  Those trips to Chicago were filled with good friends and happy times. Now those memories are soiled by the current destruction in that city. Black lives matter, Your life matters, my mother's life mattered all lives matter.  There is no longer Jew or Gentile, slave or free, male and female. For you are all one in Christ Jesus. (Galatians 3:28) 

The world feels out of order and it feels like it is spinning so rapidly that I can't hold on tight enough. I feel like I am losing my place in this world. 

As I am writing this, I look out my window into the darkness, and I see my angel that glows in the dark.  My husband has placed it on the deck railing where it can be seen because he knows that on a night like tonight, I need to be reminded that there is something good in the world. Just as the angels came to tell the shepherds that Jesus was born. My little glow in the dark rechargeable sun charged angel reminds me that I have a savior who knows me and  He will heal my broken heart.

Never , Never Give Up Persistance Pays Off

I will be candid with you. Life as a disabled person is hard on a good day. On a bad day, life feels way past impossible. There have been days that I have almost fallen off of my toilet. Some of you may not think this is not such a big deal, but let me remind you that my commode is what they call a comfort model. This means it is about three inches higher than a standard toilet. Three inches doesn't seem like much, but when you are heading towards the floor at a speed that rivals the velocity of a pole vaulter who has just cleared the eighteen-foot height and is headed back to earth, those three inches matter.

 In the past eleven years, I have fallen three times. The first time I fell, I broke my nose. I fell from my side steps onto a brick patio. I had just learned to navigate the steps using my cane. I needed more practice because I missed the step, and down I landed right on my nose. The second time I fell, I added laundry into the washer and fell when I leaned over to pick items out of the hamper. With that fall, I broke my arm in three places. In my third fall, I landed butt first in a mud puddle in front of a church full of people. Fortunately, with that fall, only my pride was injured. As I was falling each time, I remembered my son's advice.

He said."mom, when you think you are going to fall, just tuck and roll." Well, I tried that, but I discovered that it is just not as easy as it seems to "tuck and roll." Every time I fell, I wondered what part of "tuck and roll" I had gotten wrong, the tuck or the roll? It has been tough to get up and overcome my fears after those falls.  It has taken a lot of hard work to rebuild my confidence, get back on my feet, and start again.  Each time I did, It felt great!  I could even complete one and a half miles of a JDRF fundraiser. I finished the route, but it was long after the rest of the participants had gone home.  I imagined they were at home and eating dinner when I finally finished. But the point is that even though things get complicated, we can still persevere. Because of perseverance and help from some friends, I completed the fundraiser, and a donation was made to the JDRF organization. Who knows how many good things that gift is doing.

I have ridden horses and ridden a motorcycle with my husband. I  led a pretty full life, despite my disabilities.

As I have gotten older, it has become more challenging to walk with my cane, and I will often use my wheelchair instead.  But then again, who wants another broken nose? The point is just because things get complicated, we should still persevere. 

You might have to fall off a step or even fall off of a comfort height toilet a few times. In the end, the reward earned by persistence will be worth the bumps and bruises. Winston Churchhill said to his British troops during the war, "Never, never, never give up." Perseverance has its rewards. It could pay to keep trying.

Summer mornings in June

My husband and I stood side-by-side on our deck enjoying the peacefulness of a summer morning. After a  few quiet minutes, I remarked to my husband, "it is peaceful listening to the birds.” 

Our yard is surrounded by many trees and because of that, we have a large amount of wildlife that visits our yard regularly. We have seen wild turkeys, deer, woodchucks, hawks, foxes, and coyote. and an assortment of songbirds birds. Oh, and don’t forget the many squirrels that come to eat the birdseed that I leave out for the birds. (grrr) On this morning the songbirds were singing their choruses in a multitude of joyous voices.

My husband responded saying, “ it is nice to have some peace amid all the chaos that's going on in the world right now.”  His comment caused me to stop and think. He was right!

There is an extraordinary amount of chaos in the world today. There are political arguments that have been erupting on the different news media.  The COVID pandemic has stirred heated discussions, over questions about the possible transmission of the virus. We debate with our friends, coworkers, and others. Should I wear a mask, or is it ok not to wear a mask? How far away is enough social distance? Should the governor open the state or not?  In addition, there are questions of racism, should statues that have stood for a century be removed or even destroyed? To many the are symbols of racism but to others, the statues represent timeless works of art to others, and yes too many the statues are symbols of a terrible time in history.

Will Uncle Ben, aunt Jamima, and Gone with the wind, blown away and forgotten? Will they be archived in a dusty vault never to be seen again?

last night I read about a realtor in another state that is choosing to no longer use the term “master bedroom” This is because the word is related to the slave industry.   As a realtor for many years, I wonder then what will the room where the adults of the home sleep? 

Life feels troublesome, confusing, and downright heartbreaking to many people, We are all struggling with these same issues. Are marchers in the streets peaceful protests, or rioters?  Who matters more? Do Black Lives Matter, Blue Lives Matter, All lives matter.are not we all created equal in the eyes of God? What if we were to follow God's teachings as the rule of law? I believe Many things could change.

Each question is a new fence that is being erected between people. Friends become enemies as we are being asked to declare what side of the fence we will live on.

With all of this happening it is understandable that anxiety and stress in people are increasing. depression is up and suicide rates are rising spousal abuse is on the rise.  People are becoming more argumentative, judgemental, opinionated, and angry towards each other.

As I sat lingering this morning with my now very cold cup of coffee unfinished in my hand. I asked myself, what are the lessons was I taught? How can I use my faith as I look for answers?

Lesson one,

Do not be a clanging cymbal! Always speak the truth with love.

 Is that the clanging of cymbals that I hear? if I speak in the tongues of men and of angels but have not love, I am only a ringing gong or a clanging cymbal. 1 Corinthians 13:1 NIV

The controversies are causing us, yes even Jesus loving God-loving Christians to lose ourselves amid the clatter and noise.  We are drowning in the loud voices all claiming that they are speaking the truth. I am not claiming I have the answers.  I might find out that I am wrong about everything except this one thing. God will guide me with his word, his son Jesus and if I am willing to listen to His Holy Spirit.

Lesson two,

God is the source of our peace.

The world did not give me the peace of this morning. Only God in his wondrous creation could orchestrate the combination of sound, sunlight, and a summer morning breeze that would calm a heart that was anxious and concerned with the state of the world in which we. The trees and all the birds that live in them were. given to us by God our creator. God gives us these things so that we may experience the beauty of His world.

Lesson three,  remember

God is in control!

 Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid. John 14:27 NIV 

Lesson four

I should keep my thoughts, mind, and heart pointed in the right direction.

Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable— if anything is excellent or praiseworthy— think on these things. Philippians 4:8 NIV translation

Yes, I had to look each verse up to recall exactly what they were. But that is not the point of why I am telling you this. 

Be Blessed my friends. With God, all things are possible.

Take all things to God in prayer!

Canadian geese, Baby oil and Sunburn

They arrive every summer like the geese that fly in from places to the north. What am I talking about you might ask?  I am talking about the Canadian geese and the summer vacationers that would visit the quaint shores of the New Jersey beachfront.  

Let me take just a moment to tell you about the Jersey shore that I knew. It was not like the sensationalized stories you see on the reality TV show by that same name. 

This is my Jersey shore.

 Scattered along the coast of New Jersey, you will find many delightful small towns. The shoreline, with its broad beaches, has always been a favorite location for the vacationers who invade its quiet shores and villages each summer. At the same time but a bit further inland, flocks of geese arrive each year from Canada to settle on their favorite lake or pond and cornfield.

Like the geese, the beach vacationers arrive faithfully every summer. They return each year to their favorite beach houses, cabins, or hotels.   They drive in from places to the north such as Newark, Iselin, Woodbridge, and New York City.  Their cars are overflowing with umbrellas, beach chairs, beach blankets, and other necessities that they felt they would need to survive their days on the white sand. 

 The northern visitors refer to the local residents as Clam Diggers. A term originated from the area's history of harvesting clams along the muddy shores of the Shark and Manasquan rivers. 

 

In late spring and early summer, the beaches quickly become littered with bikini-clad young women who smelled of baby oil and iodine—a magical mixture designed to quicken the tanning process.  The belief among these sun worshipers was that this mixture would turn pasty white winter skin a deep golden summer tan.   

Sadly users of this mix spend their evenings trying to cool the burning heat of a fiery and angry sunburn with a cooling ointment of either aloe or noxzema skin cream. The victims of the sun's heat, pretend not to be bothered by the pain.  Should the soothing lotions did not temper their heated skin, the summer visitors try to numb their pain with a frosted margarita or some other frozen concoction with a tropical name. 

   Handsome young men with muscular and toned bodies would play volleyball or football in the sand.   The men secretly hoping to attract the attention of one of the pretty young bikini-clad women.  This migration of geese and vacationers happened each summer, and upon their arrival, the yearly rituals would begin. 

Just like the geese, the summer visitors arrived faithfully every year. except for this year of the pandemic, The crowded beaches are not as full as the vacationers try to keep a social distance.  Will the geese will be made to social distance, wear masks, or will they just not show up to the waterways of the New Jersey shore?