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I know it’s cheesy, the rhymes and all.

She does beckon me every morning.

The thoughts do count.

For this I am grateful.      

Sitting here percolating…..discerning my answers to ministry asks. Also to travel possibility, perhaps jumping half an ocean. Sometimes the answer is a resounding Yes and I can hardly stop my enthusiastic self from screaming the response (same thing for an obvious No). Usually there is some waiting and hoping involved when I am curious or eager or reticent, acknowledging need for patience and more prayer.  Clarity herself will come.      

It’s a lie if I implied pod plumbing is easy. For instance, when we arrived at the cabin, we discovered the kitchen faucet seal had failed. F-bomb! My confession though is about my frustration due to FODMAP, the non-inflammatory diet we are testing. Given the long list of irritating ingredients, the potential in 21 weekly meals at home fizzles. Apart from the petty inconveniences, the worst four-letter word surfaces: Fear. I am afraid. Is Rob’s a chronic ailment that could curtail our adventures forever? Worse, will he be uncomfortable and suffer? And, sadly, will I lack compassion?    

All my life I have been loud. This is a time when I can be quiet, even silent. And listen. I am hesitant to jump back in with both feet. Surprise, surprise—maybe the gradualness of post-COVIDtide re-entry will allow me to continue experimenting with this newer manner.  

Briefly, a focus for our pod during the pandemic has been course corrections in terms of digestion. Don’t worry, I’ll spare you the details. When one’s husband has his intestines cut to remove his bladder, you can imagine the healing involved. I have been home to witness and participate fully. Ah, the experimenting: acupuncture, scans, blood tests, diets, medicines. Even a tiny camera in a pill. Thank God, Rob is a scientist at heart. Nothing in this regard is short of miraculous. This is Wellness at 70.