Motherhood and Muffin Tops

Wednesday, January 13, 2021

This One’s for the Ladies

6:44 PM

As sort of a public service reminder, I thought we’d talk about something that might not be our favorite topic, but is still very important. I went for my yearly woman appointment yesterday. You, ladies, know the one. That appointment where they say “everything off” and then hand you a sheet in exchange for everything you walked in with except your watch. I have to say that the pandemic has, at least, given us some added mercy- now it’s “everything off but the mask”- for whatever that’s worth.

Well, you get it all off and folded neatly and jump up on the crinkly paper with your sheet- where you wait. You always have plenty of time to get the sheet distributed to the right places and even enough time to rethink the distribution and then redistribute. Sometimes, you may have to standby for as long as it takes a baby to be delivered or for a complicated hysterectomy to wrap up. In some cases, you can have a long time to think about life while you wait for the doctor. Yesterday, I started passing the time by reading the posters. There was one of a very pregnant woman holding her bare belly so lovingly. I thought it was nice and remembered that special feeling, but felt a bit of indignation that there wasn’t a poster of a menopausal woman tenderly caressing her bare muffin top. Sure, it’s not quite as miraculous as pregnancy but we, more mature girls, deserve a place on the wall. I mean, there’s something strangely beautiful about skin that never went back like it was and a pouch of invincible fat that always hangs over the waistline of your pants the way ice cream hangs over its cone. Besides, those younger girls ought to get a glimpse into the harsh realities of the aging woman so it won’t be such a jolt later on.

After getting over my feelings of hormonal discrimination, my gaze moved over to the color diagram of the ovaries. On one side, the ovary was pictured pink and plump and full of life and, on the other side, the ovary was kind of like a raisin - shriveled looking and lacking healthy color. I thought- well, at least, we, mature girls, are represented on the ovary diagram as I imagined that’s how mine looked- like a couple of prunes hanging on withered branches and not good for much of anything at this point. From there, I was running out of entertainment as I waited. I shifted to get more comfortable on the crinkly paper and made sure my sheet was still in the places it was needed most. When an appointment is running way behind, you may find yourself counting ceiling tiles or trying to decide, once and for all, if those are tanning bed bulbs in that light at the foot of the table. Convinced that they must be, you grab the light by its gooseneck and see that it’s wattage is equivalent to that of a laser beam- just as you suspected.

Invariably, if your doctor delivers babies, you might be left on the crinkly paper so long that you start having to go to the little girls’ room even though you were very careful to go just before you got there. Knowing that one cannot go to the restroom often induces sudden and urgent feelings of needing to go to the restroom. I’m certain this is quite common at the yearly checkup and should likely have its own syndrome name in the psychology books. This dilemma brings up the process of weighing the pros and cons of telling the nurse you have to go. Will she come back in here? Is it worth getting dressed? Do I really have to go that bad? What is the worst thing that could happen if I don’t go? Could I just dart across the hall in my sheet?

If it’s a Caesarean birth you’re waiting on, you might lie on the crinkly paper and wish you had your phone to help pass the time. There you are on the tall table with your sheet situated just right and there is your phone- in your purse- on the chair- across the room. Should you get up and make a run for it and risk the door opening halfway through your mission? You start to question your speed. Can I leap off this table, get to my purse, dig out my phone, hoist myself back up onto this elevated surface- all while keeping the crinkly paper between my tush and the certainly germy table below and have my sheet passing the three-point inspection before he gets in here? Sometimes, you feel quick and agile and you go for it and, some days, you decide you better just play it safe and start over with your tile counting.

If the doctor is actually in the building while you wait, another way to pass the time is by trying to guess how many exam rooms away the doctor is by gauging the volume of his/her voice. The louder it gets and the more words you can make out brings hope that he is getting closer. By the time he/she makes it to the room next to yours, you should be able to hear most of what ails that lady and what can be done about it. This is your sign that it’s almost your turn and there’s no time left to run for the purse or the restroom.

If the holidays taught us, women, anything at all, it’s that our families need us. Boy, do they need us. Visions of Davis handling Christmas with a bucket of chicken and the distribution of bank envelopes with names scribbled across them, well, it makes me want to take care of myself. Sure, there are things we’d rather do with that time and many, many places we’d rather go, but it’s just a little smidgen of time out of each year to get ourselves checked, so we can stick around as long as possible. It’s really not that bad. Like most things in life, the waiting is the hardest part.

Take care of yourselves, ladies.

We’ll talk next week.

Joni

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Thursday, January 7, 2021

Overstuffed

6:04 PM

Well, I hope y’all had a wonderful holiday season with your people or, at least, your people who weren’t quarantined like one of my brothers and his crew. An unfortunate hunting camp trip ended up spreading Covid to him and six of his family members just in time for Christmas- striking them off of our guest list. Nothing will get you uninvited to a party faster than that. We didn’t have our larger family gatherings, but enjoyed several more intimate ones. It was a different kind of Christmas for sure, but it was wonderful in its own way.

If I had to choose a word to encapsulate our holiday celebrations, it would be cheese. Yes, besides the obvious word, Jesus, I’d have to go with cheese. We have consumed all manner of cheeses in obscene amounts prepared in various ways. I’m pretty sure I stayed in the kitchen from December 23- January 1 and, on Christmas Day, for a brief moment, I did contemplate smothering Davis with his pillow as he napped without care. The stresses of the holidays can do that to a woman, you know.

My biggest cooking event was on Christmas night. We hosted my Mama along with our kids. I cooked a tenderloin for the first time in an iron skillet and it was perfection. Remember when we were little, we thought all those goodies and yummy foods just appeared when, in reality, while our tails were stretched out on the couch watching Charlie’s Angels, our mamas were up making candies and cookies and chopping all that stuff that goes in the dressing and grating pounds of cheese for the macaroni and then she got one subpar gift that we’d all chipped in to get her. Well, at some point, we need to start paying our mothers back for that dark period. She needs to sit on her tail while we do all the work. Mine won’t live enough years for me to fully repay her for all her Christmas labors of love, but I can make some installments.

And can you believe we adopted Ruby from the shelter two years ago? She celebrated her second anniversary here with us over the holidays. When I say celebrated, I mean she found a wrapper from a neighbor’s Christmas ham, which contained all the discarded trimmings and fat and apparently ate so much of it that she was unable to walk home. It was getting dark, so Davis and Carson went looking for her in the truck. She was so full of ham that she couldn’t move and was just sitting with her distended belly in the neighbor’s driveway- hoping someone would come along and give her a ride home. When Davis picked her up to put her in the truck, she let out a big groan of misery. For the next 24 hours, she lay around looking pregnant- moaning, listless, and dazed until finally the contents of the ham wrapper were expelled out onto our floor. And that is how we celebrated two years of Ruby belonging to us.

I think that’s how most of us have felt since the holidays. Not just full of cheese, but dazed, stuffed, and miserable from all the news and information we’ve consumed over the last several months in our country. I know I’m just left feeling like Ruby. All that I’ve consumed is like those ham trimmings. It won’t go up or down. It’s just sitting there in my gut- weighing on me. It’s just been too much to digest at once. I think we all especially enjoyed Christmas, this year, because we could forget about everything going on around us and we hoped that the new year would, somehow, shed a better light on things but here we are on day 7- still consuming the depressing news. It’s ok to acknowledge that we have some tough stuff going on and we can find ourselves feeling discombobulated.

I’m not sure of much, these days. I’m not sure how things will play out. I’m not sure the direction we’re headed. I’m not sure of what the future will bring. I’m not sure common ground can be found. But, I am most certain that when I am overstuffed with the worries of the world, there is One who will always come looking for me and carry me back to a place of comfort and peace. He will always help me to lift my chin- no matter how weighed down it may feel.

I’m literally feeling lighter today after my long-awaited hair appointment. I think Katie removed about 10 pounds of hair and covered my gray, so things are looking up for the second week of the new year. Remember, sometimes, things look their very worst right before they look much, much better. Exhibit A.

Blair and John Samuel now have COVID, but are doing good. It’s awfully germy out there, people. It’s just best to distance yourself from John Q. Public right now, but it’s going to get better!

Happy 2021!

Chins up!

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Tuesday, December 15, 2020

Entitled

9:54 PM

It’s been a year. A real doozy. It started out pretty good but, after a couple of months, it derailed and, as we get ready to close it out, it looks like its going to finish strong with a full head of steam and upheaval. Dumpster fires everywhere you look. It’s enough to to make the most calm, positive, joyful person feel more like Ebenezer Scrooge, the Grinch, the Abominable Snow Monster, Scut Farkus, the Wet Bandits, Mr. Potter, Prunella, the Angry Elf, and Professor Hinkle- all the notorious Christmas antagonists. This year has just done a number on us all. Mentally, emotionally, physically.

I’m sure you’re like me- you’re busy making your Christmas preparations- wanting to end the year on a high note with a happy family Christmas. I’ve had the COVID discussions with our families- both sides- on what adjustments we should make. We’ve assembled the delicate puzzle of family gathering scheduling with all the in-law pieces that are added each year. I’ve talked to family about who will bring what and what time we should start. I’ve asked who wants what in what size and have gone out and tracked down those gifts- except for that one person who is just impossible. I’ve used 3 or 4 rolls of Scotch tape and untold yards of ribbon to get the gifts all beautified. I’ve got stuffers for the stockings. I’ve nailed down who will be here for what meals and have planned accordingly. I’ve made my ingredient list and have gotten all the groceries that could be bought ahead of time. I’ve bought a nice tenderloin and have it tucked away in the freezer. It’s just what we, women, do around the holidays. We want to make Christmas nice for everyone and we wouldn’t have it any other way.

I was thinking about all of our high expectations at Christmas. We buy each other things we don’t need. Sometimes, we have so much that it’s hard to think of anything to get for each other. I’ve spent an obscene amount at the grocery store already and pray the power doesn’t go out and thaw my overpriced slab of meat in the freezer. We just set our sights a little higher at Christmas time. We want to enjoy those things we don’t get everyday. Gifts we wouldn’t buy for ourselves. Foods we don’t enjoy often. People we only see at the holidays. We want everything to be special from start to finish. It’s just what we expect at Christmas. Even the Christmas of 2020.

If I was being totally honest, I’d probably say I have an ample supply of expectations almost every other day of the year, too. Maybe even tipping toward feeling a little entitled. Nobody wants to admit that. Entitled is not a flattering adjective, but I’d say if I was being completely truthful, I do feel that way about a lot of things. There are just certain comforts that I expect to have. I don’t want anyone else to provide them for me, but I want them to be available to me on a consistent basis. Not anything too exorbitant, but I expect to have a certain level of comfort. I want the heat to come on when I’m cold and the ever-important AC to keep the Mississippi summers bearable. I expect a dry house to shelter me from the rain and a comfortable bed to sleep on at the end of a long day. I want light to remove the darkness when I flip a switch. I’d have to say I should have a phone to keep in contact with my family and friends and for general communication use. I feel like I should have the food I need to live and some that I just want to enjoy when I’m not even hungry. I expect to have clothes and shoes and the coats I need. I even believe I should have a car to get from place to place. It’s not a necessity, but I feel like it’s one of the comforts that falls on my list of basic needs. I expect that I should be able to see a doctor when I’m sick and that the medicine I need will be available to me. If I was to be completely honest, I could probably go further with my list of the expectations to which I feel entitled but these would be the ones that I’d consider the must-haves. Geez. Sounds pretty disgusting when you write it out like that.

I’m probably not the only one who is guilty of feelings of entitlement. Our society is eaten up with the spirit of entitlement. We’re so blessed that we’re not really accustomed to going without much and especially not voluntarily giving up those things which give us the most comfort and contentment. But, isn’t that the very thing Jesus did on that first Christmas night? He left his heavenly home of perfect peace and love to come to this place of hatred and chaos. He left things too glorious for our mortal minds to imagine to come to a stable and begin a life of experiencing hunger, pain, ridicule, sadness, rejection, loneliness, disappointment, and then death. I, the created, feel like I’m entitled to have a certain level of comforts and the Lord Jesus, the Creator, left everything good and perfect to come here to do without and suffer so He could save this entitled creation of His. That really sounds horrible but that’s about the size of it. Jesus said, “Foxes have dens and the birds in the sky have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head.” (Luke 9:58) Yikes. I believe that was one of the requirements on my list.

“You must have the same attitude that Christ Jesus had. Though he was God, he did not think of equality with God as something to cling to. Instead, he gave up his divine privileges; he took the humble position of a slave and was born as a human being. When he appeared in human form, he humbled himself in obedience to God and died a criminal’s death on a cross.” Philippians 2:5-8

The Christmas story usually picks up in Bethlehem with the star and shepherds and the manger. We don’t really think much about what Jesus gave up that night. We can’t just look at the gift of the baby without considering what was forfeited to become that gift. But, He knew we’d have dark days. He knew about 2020 and all the other years that would make history with their hardship and sadness. He knew we’d have feelings of hopelessness and moments of defeat. He knew we’d become frustrated with injustice and fearful of the future. He knew we’d go through times of loneliness and sickness and anxiety. He knew we’d have our share of disappointment and feelings of helplessness. He knew we’d have worry that would cast long shadows over our minds. He knew we’d experience losses that would knock the wind out of us. And that there would be days that would almost break us. Days we wouldn’t be sure we could survive. He knew. And He knew how badly we’d need Him, so He left perfection so we could have hope in all of those days and times and moments when the world seems so cold and life when this one comes to its end.

The greatest Christmas gift is available to everyone.

“For God loved the world so much that He gave His one and only Son, so that everyone who believes in Him will not perish but have eternal life.” John 3:16

I won’t be around here until 2021. I plan to enjoy my family and friends and the spirit of the season to the fullest like I hope you’re doing. I hope you all have one of the best Christmases ever and that it will be what we remember most about 2020. And don’t work yourselves to death tending to everything and everybody. Make those other people get up and help with the dishes.

You’ll never know how much I appreciate all of you. I love reading your comments and emails and seeing your names on social media. You are a blessing in my life and I really mean that. May God bless you and yours, this Christmas season! Praying for better days ahead. Either way, we’ll go it together.

Merry Christmas!!

JONI

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Tuesday, December 8, 2020

Habit Forming

11:50 PM

I’m not one to cook breakfast. You can ask anyone who’s ever lived here. Y’all know morning just isn’t my time. I cook breakfast on Christmas morning and that’s it. All the other mornings of the year, I don’t feel it’s wise to operate equipment with fire starting capabilities in those earliest hours of the day. I am, however, more than happy to cook the other two meals for you, which occur at more reasonable hours.

Because of this shortcoming of mine, we’re a cereal/breakfast bar/frozen biscuit kind of people. I, myself, eat a Kind bar every morning for breakfast. The peanut butter kind with the dark chocolate chunks. I have it with a glass of milk and then follow it with some cranberry juice. Every morning. For years. I’ve always kept them in a cabinet away from where we keep our snacks and other breakfast foods. I guess my reasoning was that Carson is allergic to peanuts and I didn’t want him grabbing my flavor by accident. Well, when he went off to college, I decided it was time to move my breakfast bars over to the snack drawer where they would no longer be isolated from their fellow goodies and so I did.

The next morning after the relocation, I went into the kitchen, poured my milk, and walked over to the cabinet where I’d kept my breakfast for so long. As soon as I opened the door, I remembered they had a new home, so I walked over to the big snack drawer and retrieved my breakfast. I’d like to tell you that from that morning forward I headed straight for the big snack drawer, but I’d be lying. Even a couple of weeks later, I’d find myself opening the cabinet or, at least, headed for the cabinet before I’d stop myself. It takes some longer than others to break a habit. And for some us, it takes a whole lot longer.

After I had my hysterectomy, I found myself getting into bed early and reading or watching something on my iPad for three or four hours before actually going to sleep. I’d never done that before, but I was wiped out by that time of day and it felt good to stretch out and relax with some Prime Video or a book. Even after I was completely recovered, I still found myself headed to bed at the same time for my nightly Bible reading, TV episodes, blogging, magazine flipping, or whatever. It had become something I looked forward to doing at the end of each day. Well, it’s a little over two years later and I’m still lying in bed by 8 with my pillows and books and iPad. I suppose my wheels have settled in this rut and are going to follow it for a while.

They say it takes around 21 days to form a new habit and about 66 days for the behavior to become automatic- like automatically walking to the wrong cabinet for longer than I’d care to admit. Well, we’ve been at this social distancing thing for about 9 months now and knowing how quickly we fall into a routine habit and how hard they die once they’re in place, I’m a little worried about us, frankly.

I pray we don’t find this solitude to be habit-forming. I want us to keep the hunger for warm hugs and firm handshakes. I want our longing for large parties, big crowds and huge celebrations to be too gnawing to ignore. I want to find us back at the place where we feel unrestrained in how we love and grieve and support and celebrate and minister to each other. I don’t ever want the fear of holding hands or blowing out birthday candles or kissing grandma to become a permanent mindset. I don’t want us to get used to these masks making friendly conversation more of a frustration than a joy. I pray we don’t get all settled into our homes and start to believe it is our only place of protection. I hope we don’t shop from the safety of solitude to the detriment of our stores. I hope we aren’t learning to abandon the practice of smiling while it seems futile behind these cloth barriers. I don’t want six feet to become the permanent measure by which we assess our comfort around others. I hope we don’t grow comfortable with the presence of barriers between us. I pray we don’t ever find ourselves believing that watching church is a satisfactory substitute for gathering with other Christians to worship and be loved.

Probably like you, I’m ready to get back into life. I don’t want this “new normal” to ever seem normal to us. I want to stand in a crowded elevator, sit in a a sold out theater, and yell for my team in a packed stadium with spit flying everywhere like the good old days. I’m ready to pay a call to some elderly friends and sit close to them while we talk. There are people I just want to grab around the neck and plant big kisses on their cheeks. There are babies I want to hold. Songs I want to sing with a choir. Homes I want to visit. Trips I want to take. This is not the place where I want to get comfortable.

I pray we don’t let all these barriers condition us to believe we don’t need others or that we’re not needed by others. We can’t let our wheels get stuck in the rut of isolation. We have to fight any inclination to settle into this way of living for the long term. This is not the cabinet we want to keep going back to over and over. Until we can return to that place where we all long to be, it’s the perfect time of year to reach out to people we love and remind them that they are not forgotten by us. People need to hear that they’re treasured and we need to stretch our social muscles, so it’s a great match.

Take a load off, but don’t get too comfy here. We’re not staying long. We still have a lot of work to do and a lot of love to give. In the meantime, let’s do what we can from where we are.

Night-

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Monday, November 23, 2020

Giving Thanks in 2020

10:12 PM

Well, here we are. Thanksgiving 2020. Some might say that’s an oxymoron. This year has taken quite the ribbing from all of us. The lockdowns, toilet paper situations, a hurricane season that required two alphabets, and the most insane election season on record. The murder hornets never came, but 2020 is the gift that just keeps on giving, isn’t it? With every thing that has gone wrong, we’ve just learned to expect no less from this hellacious calendar year.

Carson will be home tomorrow night for Thanksgiving. Actually, he’ll be home until January. Yes, the boy, who wants to know what we’re having for all three meals as soon as his feet hit the floor, is coming home for 6 weeks. This means I have to step up my cooking game. Or start it up might be the more appropriate wording as I haven’t cooked much since Covid struck. This should be an extended time of fun for me.

I’ve put up our Christmas tree, which is something I never do before Thanksgiving. I’ve got pumpkins, cones, pilgrims, gourds, acorns, turkeys, squirrels, and berries adorning the whole house and there sits the Christmas tree in the midst of it all. I’m almost embarrassed- like I want to throw a sheet over it until next week. I only put it up because we’re going to the mountains on Friday and I have so much going on when we get home. I was trying to get a head start, but it just doesn’t feel right. It’s 2020, so I guess anything that doesn’t feel right is fitting.

Probably like you, our annual Thanksgiving plans have been altered this year. Davis’ family is very small, so that celebration won’t require any tweaking, but my extended family is a different story. We decided that having 50 people come together from different cities, colleges, schools, and workplaces- probably wouldn’t be such a good idea, this time around. Like most families, we have some among us who we want to especially protect, so the four branches of the family tree will celebrate separately- making this Thanksgiving look a lot different than all the others. I’m sure there’s been one, at some point, but I don’t remember a Thanksgiving that I didn’t spend with my aunts, uncles, and a house full of cousins. I will certainly miss that.

Our branch is celebrating here at our house. My mother, brothers, and sisters-in law are coming and also any of the children who aren’t going to be with their in-laws. This is a first for me to host Thanksgiving. That’s a whole different level of hosting, you know. I tried to manage expectations by calling it our Charlie Brown Thanksgiving. Coming into it, if the guests have images of ping pong tables, mismatched beach chairs, toast, and popcorn then surely those are expectations that even I can exceed. That was my strategy. To set the bar low. And I’m confessing right here on the World Wide Web that I’m not following CDC guidelines and asking the guests to bring their own food, plates, and utensils. When I saw that, I had to cackle out loud. I mean, we’re going to have a laid back affair, but not so laid back that you’re going to need to box up your dishes and bag your own turkey to join us. If the weather agrees, I’m hoping to set the tables outside. My sugar maple tree should be at peak color to help with the centerpieces. My mother is bringing her caramel cake, which has forever ruined everyone else’s caramel cake for me. Heaven on a plate. And I’m sure a football will be flying through the air before the day is done.

The menu won’t be exactly the same. The food table won’t be as sprawling. The crowd won’t be as large. The location will be different. The time of day will be different. Everything will be different. Nothing will be the same. Just like the rest of the year has been. But, there is good in all of this. Maybe we’re just being shown our blessings from a different angle. In all this absence, we’re learning to appreciate the gift of presence. Maybe in the sickness, we’ve placed more value on health. In these unsettled times, we might have become more grateful for the ordinary day. Maybe when we aren’t as prosperous, we can learn what’s really valuable. In our loss of control, we may just find peace in knowing He has it. And maybe it’s only when this life seems fragile or is hanging by a thread that we fully appreciate the gift of eternal life in our heavenly home.

Nothing is the same, this year. But maybe that’s the point. To see our blessings from another vantage point. Always looking at things from the same old place can dull their splendor.

“Always be joyful. Never stop praying. Be thankful in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you who belong to Christ Jesus.” 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

I am thankful for you! Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours!

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Wednesday, November 11, 2020

Courage and Conviction

7:10 PM

I wanted to talk about something that’s been sitting on my chest for a while. It’s not a political post, but certainly could apply to politics as well as every other aspect of our lives. The words are conviction and courage.

I’m seeing a lot that disturbs me. I’m sure you are, too. Oddly, I don’t want to talk about what you might expect. What has really stuck in my mind are the messages our young girls are getting from us, women. Under the pressures of political correctness, we have all lost our minds. All of us. Whether we want to admit it or not. Not demeaning anyone in these organizations, because I know it was a decision made by only a handful, but, as a woman, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the Girl Scouts and Kappa Delta sorority removing, rescinding, and apologizing for their congratulatory acknowledgement of the newly confirmed Supreme Court Justice. Completely set aside who nominated her- only 4 other women have achieved what she has and neither female organization had the courage to stand behind a simple congratulations. She is a widely acclaimed brilliant legal mind and has an admirable family life, but was not found worthy of any kind of acknowledgment because of her beliefs. So, for the young girls and young women in those organizations and even those who aren’t, what does that say to them? Well, it sounds something like this- Stand up for what you believe is decent and good and admirable- until you receive negative feedback for what you believe and then you should take it back and apologize for feeling that way. And only women who fit into a certain belief mold are worthy of public praise or admiration, so stick to the mainstream set of beliefs if you want to be successful and accepted. And don’t forget, girls, public opinion and keeping others pacified are always more important than truth, character, or conviction. Is that really the legacy we want to leave for them? What kind of example are we being to our girls? How can we expect them to embrace inclusiveness, have the courage to take a stand, or feel secure in their beliefs when we can’t do any of those things?

We have come to the place in America where we can’t grant any measure of acceptance, approval, or positive acknowledgement of anyone who doesn’t hold our same beliefs, political views, or values. Because of that, we are fractured. We’ve become like bitter enemies who only want a win for our side. Each time we apologize and cave to social pressures, we become weaker- our word, our credibility, our strength, our integrity, our resolve. I’m not sure that we can continue to put our words and actions in reverse whenever public opinion demands it and continue to be respected by anyone- the people who think differently from us or the young people we’re trying to influence. There is such a lack of courageous conviction in our country. We all have caved to the fears of the cancel culture. There is no appetite for expressing opinions that might cause backlash or loss of business or loss of followers or even worse in our current climate. We want to go along to get along because no one likes to experience criticism or ridicule. We just keep our opinions to ourselves and keep our heads down and, because of so little push back from us, social media and news channels are deciding what we hear and see and say. Articles require “special explanations” before we read them, comments are removed, commenters are placed in Facebook and Twitter jail, and news channels suddenly lose their satellite connections when dissenting opinions are speaking.

This isn’t my normal type of post. Y’all know me. I like to keep it light around here. But, I’ve felt convicted of my lack of courage, lately. And, no, I’m not a conspiracist. I’m not talking about politics here. I don’t do that because that always alienates half of the people you’re trying to reach and sharing God’s love is more important than sharing my political opinions. No, I’m talking about the conservative Christian beliefs and values of a large group of people that are being dismissed, muffled, ridiculed, and phased out and we are, for the most part, sitting by and letting it happen. We’ve adapted to the new rules. There is no courage behind our conviction. We have been bullied into playing along in silence. Even among Christians, I think there is a trend encouraging us to always be positive, stay above the fray, and not speak of such things for fear of sounding anything but exceedingly joyful at all times. But, sometimes, we are called to speak of such things. And take a stand. Otherwise, we are weak and obsolete.

Our nation has always celebrated free thinking and unique ideas. We are free to speak and worship and believe any way we choose. If you’re not seeing us trending away from that in a seismic way, then maybe I’m the one who’s nuts. I don’t think that God wants us to go along to get along or to measure our words to please the crowd. He certainly never did that. I believe we’re expected to give praise to those things which are good and right and have the courage to stand up and call out those things that are not right or just- using God’s word to determine which is which. Above all, may we set ourselves apart from the rest by doing it all with a spirit of warmth and love- but with an unwavering courage. If we don’t speak up when it’s needed, we are letting down our God, our country, and our children.

God, give us courage.

“For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind.”

2 Timothy 1:17

A more typical post will return next week- hopefully, bringing my taste and smell along with it.

Y’all have a good Thursday!!

JONI

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Wednesday, November 4, 2020

Positive

9:07 PM

Well, it’s been an eventful time since we last talked. I was diagnosed with Covid a week ago and I’m on the downhill slide of that now. Thankfully, no one that I was around before getting sick has gotten it and Davis has managed to stay well even though he’s been in the same house- keeping a far distance. He has O positive blood, which they say may help keep Covid away, but are we really sure about anything when it comes to this crazy virus? For the lack of anything else to write about -considering I’ve not been anywhere or seen anyone for 9 days- I thought I’d tell you about my week.

Late last Monday night, I got a little dry, tickly cough. Fall in the South is prime time for allergies and sinuses to get stirred up so I just assumed it was more of the same stuff that I’d dealt with since September. By the time I went to bed around midnight, my throat was scratchy, which followed my normal allergy pattern, so I took some allergy meds and went to sleep. I slept restlessly and kept waking up enough to realize I was aching all over. I woke up the next day feeling really achy and my throat was hurting. I thought I certainly had a fever, but the thermometer numbers didn’t match all the aching I was having- just a smidge of temperature. I had an appointment to meet a friend at her house, that morning, to help her with some Christmas projects, but I decided I’d better play it safe and cancel until I knew if I had anything contagious. Dr. Fauci would’ve been so proud.

I got up and got a shower and put on my makeup. I was going to be productive during my day at home and I was. I felt good enough to do a lot of things that I wanted to get done. I got up again on Tuesday and felt the exact same way. Body aches, back aches, sore throat, low temp, and a stuffy head. Not too good, but certainly not too awful, so I stayed at home again to be safe and got so many other things accomplished with the help of Tylenol. I was supposed to meet some friends for dinner that night and some girls from church on Thursday night, but I let them know I’d have to cancel. I was sure it was all sinus related, but I wanted to be cautious about it. Again, proud moment for Fauci.

I woke up again on Wednesday and felt like I was starring in Groundhog Day. Same stuff- different day. I decided I’d give it one more day and, when I woke up Thursday feeling no better, I called my doctor and went for a test. They came out to my car- it was all very convenient. I never realized that a stick could go that far back into your sinuses. I’m not sure a brain biopsy could have been any more invasive. They called within a couple of hours telling me I was positive. The nurse explained the quarantine rules and gave me advice on what to do and what to take and when to call for help.

They informed me that anyone I’d been around within the last 48 hours would need to quarantine, too. Thankfully, our outdoor family gathering was just outside that 48 hour frame and I’d kept myself at home since I’d started feeling bad, so I held my breath that I’d not given it to anyone. We’d not gone to church that Sunday because we’d had company so late, the night before, and I was just exhausted. That is one church absence that I believe God’s nudge may have inspired. I did let my family know in case something came up with any of them. That’s a group text you don’t want to have to send. “So, about that great party we had. Um, I just tested positive for Covid. Y’all feeling good?” At times, it may take a while to hear back from texts that you send out about different things, but that one will get you some expeditious responses. Ding. Ding. Ding.

Over the next couple of days, my symptoms continued to be pretty mild. Aching was the main thing and a fast heart rate. I was aching like I had a high fever, but I didn’t. People would call to check on me and I’d describe it as a mild, mild, mild flu. I couldn’t insert enough milds. I bragged about having a light case and how I was still up and doing things. All the advice I’d heard since March on what could help, I started doing them. I walked slowly on the treadmill, each day. I sat outside in the sunshine. I took high doses of vitamin C, and supplements of D and zinc on top of my usual krill oil, Goli apple cider vinegar, and beet powder. It looks like a GNC over here, right now. On Friday night, I ate supper and was so thankful I’d not lost my taste or smell. A couple of hours later, I went to get a snack and realized I couldn’t taste my Oreos or smell them either. It had all left that fast.

On Halloween, day 5, I woke up feeling awfully witchy. My head was pounding horrifically. My sinuses were throbbing. My ears hurt. I was in pain from head to toe. My fever was higher and pretty much constant. All the bragging I’d done about my mild symptoms had backfired. So much for real clothes and makeup. I was looking the part for Halloween. The only thing that would give me relief from the pain was standing in a really hot shower, so I did that a few times a day. All of that energy that kept me busy, the first couple of days, had disappeared and I did very little except when I’d make myself walk laps inside the house. I had that weak feeling that comes when you’ve been sick a while. I tried to stay up and out of bed as much as I could. And food brings so little joy when there is no taste, but I still wanted to eat. And I craved certain things even though I couldn’t taste them. It’s never affected my appetite- I really think I’ve been even more hungry than usual, which has been odd.

Day 6 and 7 were repeats. I was feeling bad with so much sinus pain and my shoulders hurt. Naps were a must to get through the day. I’ve lost some weight even though I was eating. My aches were better, but my stomach was feeling nauseous and my sleep was just awful at night. The mornings have been the worst time of the day as far as feeling bad.

Day 8 brought sweet relief. I finally woke up with no fever and felt some better. It was Election Day and I’d been worried about how I could vote. I was told they’d allow you to vote curbside if you were sick with Covid, so the two poll workers came out geared up- looking like they were headed to defuse a dirty biological bomb and I don’t blame them. I pressed my driver’s license against the window so they could check it and they slid the ballot through a tiny crack in my window. Hats off to the poll workers for that extra mile. Anyway, I stayed fever free until night time and even then, it was low. For the first time, I slept so good that night.

Today, day 9, I’ve felt pretty good except a slump this afternoon, but a nap got me back on track. Those are still a must to get through the day. It’s so strange that it waxes and wanes like it does, but I’m really improved over all. I walked around the yard in this beautiful weather we’re having. And I felt good enough to cook for the first time and I made soup. I have no idea if it was good or not, but I ate it. While it was simmering, I thought I could barely catch a brief whiff of its smell, so I’m hoping my taste buds will come back alive soon. Taste buds play quite the important role in my life. I can be freed from this solitary confinement prison on Friday if I stay fever free until then.

After watching the news and hearing other people’s stories, it’s weird to experience the thing that’s dominated so much of our 2020. It’s such a strange and random disease that, sometimes, kills people you wouldn’t suspect and barely brushes up against those you’d think wouldn’t do well. I talked to friends who’d had it and we’d compare notes, but I’ve learned that it doesn’t do any two people the same way. I had a couple of times when I’d have an episode of feeling like I couldn’t get a deep breath but they never lasted very long- well, except for Day 9, but that was more of an Election Day shortness of breath than Covid.

I have no idea where I got it. I get out and shop and eat out and go places that I’ve always gone. I’m careful and wear a mask and wash my hands, but I’ve basically gone on about my business, so I’ll never know- like most people. I’m most thankful that I didn’t pass it to anyone- that I know of, at least. I just want Covid, the election, hurricane season, and, frankly, 2020 to find a good end soon. They’ve all been doozies.

Until then, let the Golden Rule be our guide.

With our words and our germs, be kind.

Y’all have a good day!

Joni

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