Well, I was so sad about Queen Elizabeth. God bless her. I don’t know what it is that fascinates us about the royal family. What makes us set our alarms for awful hours to watch them get married and crowned and such? Could be that their way of life is only found in children’s stories and scarcely used history books on this side of the pond. Handsome princes, kings and queens, fairytale weddings, horse drawn carriages, firmly held traditions. Seems a little fancier than, say, most things we’ve got going on over here and so we like to look in on them from time to time. 

Since her death, I’ve become curious about what a typical day of the Queen may have looked like and how she was able to keep up in her 90’s, so I starting reading about that. There were many slightly varying accounts, but I compiled some of the consistencies. 

She would get up around 7:30 each morning. The maid would bring in her morning tray of tea and biscuits, open the curtains, and turn on the radio. Her assistant would draw her bath using a thermometer to ensure it was the right temperature and exactly seven inches deep. After her bath, she dressed in her first outfit of the day which was selected by her assistant. She’d enjoy her Earl Gray tea and cold milk while dressing and then her hairdressers would fix her hair in her usual style. Her dogs were brought to her after their morning walk. 

When she was all ready, she’d go to the dining room for a light breakfast at 8:30 or, sometimes, take breakfast alone after Prince Philip died. When she ate in her room, she kept her cereal in Tupperware to keep it fresh. She preferred cornflakes and fruit or toast and orange marmalade. She would give most of the bites to her little dogs. When Prince Philip was living, he would join her in the dining room from his separate bedroom for breakfast. The healthy spread was served by a footman in tails. Then, she and the prince would spend a few minutes reading the morning paper together. 

 At 9:00, a kilted piper would play the bagpipes beneath her room for 15 minutes each weekday morning -rain or shine- of which she was a big fan.

By 9:30, the Queen was doing paperwork, reading official state papers and signing documents at her desk in her sitting room. She would then select a few pieces of fan mail to personally respond to each day and a lady-in-waiting would answer the rest.

Around 11:00, she started meetings with officials and dignitaries. She dedicated 20 minutes for each one-on-one meeting with guests such as ambassadors, members of the armed forces, and High Commissioners. 

Lunch was served at 1:00 and was usually some kind of fish over wilted spinach with zucchini and she usually ate alone. On occasion, a lady-in-waiting was invited to join her. The Queen avoided carbohydrates- God bless her. After lunch, she’d stroll around the palace gardens with her dogs to get a little exercise. After walking, she’d relax for thirty minutes while reading the Racing Post as she was a big horse racing fan. 

Around 2:30, she’d go on outings for appearances, speeches, and royal engagements. Visits to schools, military bases, hospitals, or charity headquarters were common. Engagements ended by 4:30 and high tea started at 5:00 in the queen’s suite. Earl gray tea, scones, and those little sandwiches with the crust removed. Her favorite were the jam sandwiches called jam pennies because of their size. 

She’d take time out of her schedule to enjoy her four dogs, two Corgis, Sandy and Muick, a Cocker Spaniel, Lissy, and a Dorgi, Candy, a cross between a Corgi and Dachshund. She worried about what would happen to her pets after she was gone as she realized no one in the family cared for them as much as she did. Prince Andrew is set to get custody of them. 

Family visits had to be arranged in advance as there was no dropping by the palace to see grandma without booking it first. She’d take a little drink in the evening before dinner, but was advised by her doctor to give that up at the age of 95. At 7:30, she would read through reports of the daily parliamentary happenings. When she wasn’t entertaining or at official events, she’d have dinner in her room on a silver tray. Usually beef, venison, pheasant, or salmon with no starch being her rule- God bless her. No rice or potato or pasta was ever on her menu. Dessert was something like a Windsor-grown white peach or similar. The Queen relaxed in the evening by reading, watching television, or doing jigsaw puzzles. She always wrote a page in the diary she’d kept since the beginning of her reign and was in bed by 11:00. 

Of course, there were always visiting dignitaries, receptions, luncheons, award ceremonies, and travels by helicopter, plane, or royal train on top of her usual routine. Prince Charles had taken over most of the traveling recently. 

So, I decided I’d go back and read through what I’d learned about the queen and highlight the similarities I could find in my day and the queen’s day. Ok, so nothing looked remotely familiar until I got to the part about Tupperware. I, too, have some Tupperware. Then, I stop at the line about feeding the dog under the table at breakfast. Yes, I am with the Queen on that. Ok, I love bagpipes, too, but I usually only get to hear them on the news when they’re playing for her. Then I scan further and I did have one-on-one lunch meetings, twice this week, with people who, if you use the term very loosely, could be considered dignitaries. I was also feeling her about loving the fish. I did run to the grocery store today and got a fried catfish plate lunch from the deli as they were out of pheasant. I brought it home to eat alone just like her, but then she lost me again when I got the two starchy sides and ate it right out of the styrofoam container. Ok, so I picked up with her again down at the part- wait a minute- walking the dog. Yes, I recognized that. I do that. I have more of a mongrel street mix than a royal bred pooch but, still, it counts. Ok, then I go back to relating with the Queen when she worried about what will happen to her dogs if something happened to her. I mean, Davis loves Ruby but would he stir the “gravy” around on her dry food so that it coats all the pieces and cover her up with her blanket at bedtime? I wonder. I’m feeling the Queen’s apprehension on that. I go on and see the part about her reading and watching television before bed. Yes, I am also a reader of books and viewer of television at night. Amazing the similarities, really. 

I really do admire the Queen’s long and faithful devotion to her inherited duty of service. I adored her brightly colored dresses and hats and the way she always held her purse close to her. I loved hearing stories of when her sense of humor and personality would shine through her dignified exterior. I respected the fact that she spoke of her faith outwardly and often with no apologies to anyone. I thought the addresses she delivered to her people were beautifully worded messages and composed with much thought and care. She was very much an admirable woman. 

“For me, the teachings of Christ and my own personal accountability before God provide a framework in which I try to lead my life.” Queen Elizabeth ll 

May God rest her soul. She will be missed. 

JONI 

Last week, I got word that an elderly friend had died. It seems strange to use the word, elderly, to describe her. By almost anyone’s standards, a nearly 91 year old is indeed elderly, but it just never seemed to fit Mrs. Helen. In the South, if an older person is just an acquaintance, we call them Mrs. (Last Name), but if someone is particularly close or endearing to us, we use the Mrs. (First Name) option. It signals an extra level of fondness and attachment and she was definitely Mrs. Helen to a lot of people. She and I just talked a couple of weeks ago and arranged a visit for this week, but it was never to happen. Sometimes, we realize we have put things off just a little too long and that made the news a little harder to swallow. 

I carried on with my day with memories of Mrs. Helen on my mind. After lunch, I got a call that my across-the-street neighbors’ house was on fire after a nasty lightning storm had come through the area. No one was home, thankfully, so I told the person who was calling from the scene where my neighbor worked and to tell the firemen they had a little Yorkie in their house. I jumped in my car and headed this way with a knot in my stomach. By the time I got here, our street was packed with emergency vehicles. I parked at the end of the road and walked toward my house. They’d opened all the doors in the burning home, but there had been no sign of their pet. There was thick black smoke billowing out and all I could think about was Bentley, the Yorkie, being inside and this sweet family losing all of their things. It’s one thing to see footage of a house fire or to watch a house fire in a movie or to hear about a house fire, but when you see the home of people you care about burning before your eyes, I learned really quickly that it’s a very emotional experience. 

We live in the county with the volunteer fire department system and I’m not sure how many fire departments responded to the call, but there were a lot of boots on the ground. In the chaos, I have no concept of how much time passed but those volunteers fought that fire for hours. It would get under control and then start up again. There were firemen everywhere - some sank into the grass with exhaustion- all of them red-faced from the heat and the prolonged exertion. The family arrived and, when it was finally safe for the firemen to enter, they went in to search for Bentley. We were all teary- not giving much hope for what appeared like a futile effort. We’d all seen the black smoke and angry flames. We’d all felt the heat from across the road. But, after what seemed like an eternity, one of the volunteer firemen came out holding the most unexpected sight- a soaking wet, wiggling Bentley who was covered in roof shingle debris. The entire neighborhood was ecstatic. God knew the family needed that victory. At the end of such a traumatic day, if you’ve got all the lives you started with, you can cope with just about anything. 

With the fire out and all the family and living creatures accounted for, another mood settled over the neighbors gathered. Relief. Joy. And a motivation to get to work. I’ve never seen so many people working together to get this family what they needed for getting through the next few days. Shopping, free storage space, moving trailers, money, hot food, gift cards, child care, donations, strong backs, and sweat equity. Tears turned to joy turned to helping hands. 

All day and night long, I received so many texts from people wanting to know if it was our house they’d seen on the news. I assured them it wasn’t but that our neighbors had lost almost everything. Without missing a beat, many wanted to know where they could donate money for them- people they didn’t even know. The next couple of days, the neighborhood was still busy seeing that it had done all it could do to help the family through the initial shock and need. In the background at the same time as all of this were daily updates on a more personal matter that seemed to be up and down and up and down- taking me with it. Good news and then bad news which eventually landed back on good news. It felt like we were on a week-long roller coaster ride and I was ready to get off. 

I walked into the church for the visitation for Mrs. Helen at the end of the week. I was exhausted in every way a person could be exhausted. I felt like I could burst into tears with little provocation or fall asleep standing up and I wasn’t sure which one would happen first. Inside the church walls, I saw the faces of old friends. People I’d known since childhood who’d moved away. Women who were my second mothers growing up. Ladies I call Mrs. (First Name). Men I call Mr. (Last Name). Girlfriends I’ve loved for most of my life. It was like a healing warmth that covered my tired soul with each hug. I’d been stuffing my grief down all week to attend the crises, but when I saw Mrs. Helen- her beautiful signature eye shadow, her lovely jewels, her pretty blue dress- it finally came bubbling up from all the places it had been shoved. Not in a dramatic kind of way, but in soft fallen tears- the kind that recount the love and life of a friend who’s gone. 

I don’t want any comments of sympathy for my week. None of it happened directly to me. The significant losses weren’t suffered in our family. That’s not the point of this rambling post. I was just reminded over and over again that life can be so unpredictable. Everyday is routine until it’s not. One day is up and the next is down. But, when bad things happen around us, God always blends in His goodness in such obvious ways that we can’t help but see Him providing in the fires and storms and valleys. He never allows the dark shades of loss to blot out His beautiful use of the rich colors of goodness. Goodness found in a group of volunteers who would leave their jobs and families to fight fire at someone else’s house. Goodness shown in the mercy of a safe family and a saved pet. Goodness in the eager generosity of a community. Goodness seen in the kindness of strangers. Goodness He gives through the love of friends. Goodness in the healing we feel in each other’s presence. Goodness in His kept promises. Goodness contributed to us through a life well-lived. Goodness that surrounds and supports a grieving family. Goodness given in the hope of eternal life. These are the victories of goodness that stand tall in the losses. 

Thanks to God for His goodness.