A Few Things I’ve Learned in 2020

 On this the last day of the year 2020, a year everyone says has been the worst in living memory, I want to look at what I’ve learned.  We’ve spent nearly 10 months strictly sheltering in place.  Our bubble of contacts is very small mostly because we are among the vulnerable ones to Covid-19.  In our isolation, I greatly miss seeing my family and friends in person.  I especially miss having experiences with our grandchildren.  A year is such a long time in a young life and my time is increasingly limited.  Zoom is nice but not the same as being together and getting a hug.  I greatly miss live music performances that so nurtured my spirit and enlivened my life.  I greatly miss our travels that gave voice to new experiences and stimulated my curiosity.  Below a few things I’ve learned during this terrible time:

1.  I learned I’m much happier if I take one day at a time.  There is so much now that is totally beyond my control.  I try to be reasonable and let the rest go.  It is a daily challenge to do this.

2.  I try to focus on what I love.  A wise man once said you can tell a person by what they love.   I love my dear husband, my family and the friends I have from living a lifetime.  I love the natural world.  I love music and good books, gardens and chocolate.  I love the way the creative process consumes me and I can zone out in the timeless river of the endless now.  

3.  I learned time and distance are not what they seem.  I actually felt I was with my family on Christmas morning on Zoom and Facetime.  Distance didn’t matter.  Time stretches out in front of me like an expansive ocean beckoning me into it.  I love the days where I have nothing planned and a walk can take as long as it needs with no constraints but my energy.  I lose track of what day it is and that is ok.  Some days  I feel I am living in the movie “Ground Hog Day” where every day is an exact repeat of the day before as I do all the same things in the same order.  I found connecting with distant friends more often has brought us much closer.  

4.  I learned not to give power to others for my own happiness.  I spent more time than I like distressed by trump and his trashing of our democracy and values I hold dear. I’m not sure my anxiety and frustration accomplished very much. 

5. I learned when I feel overwhelmed by sadness or anxiety exercise can ease the pain.  I’ve learned that the waves of grief usually pass in time.  There is great comfort is a brisk walk. 

6.  I learned I have a need for nurturing my spiritual life.  While I miss the in-person church, I find comfort in Bob and I sitting down on the sofa on Sunday morning and watching the U-Tube of our church’s worship service.  I find keeping my eye out for things of beauty and photographing them while on walks feeds my spirit very much. 

7.  I learned that while my creative spirit has dimmed over the months, but it comes out in the  pleasure I find in reading good books and having honest authentic conversations with friends and family and with Bob.  I’ve enjoyed creatively writing this blog and writing sermons I’ve been invited to give this year.

8.   I learned simple and slow are good and patience is important.

Even though, I haven’t mastered all these learnings, I aspire to make them a part of my life in the new year.  As we all say to each other, 2021 has got to be better.  I sincerely hope so.  

Zoom Christmas

 In our separation, we came together on Christmas morning on Zoom and Facetime.  We shared the opening of presents and mostly it went one at a time.  The usual Christmas chaos grew over the time on the calls.  Nevertheless, I felt like I was there with our families in Palo Alto and E. Lansing and that was very very good.  Watching from the sidelines, I felt incredibly reassured that family traditions were being carried forth. I realized I do not have to shoulder all the burden of that anymore.  Surprisingly, I was fatigued after the present opening and it wasn’t even in person.  We are getting old.  I missed snuggling up to a grandchild, just being in the presence of the family, hearing live music, eating cinnamon rolls.  While I missed the incredible hustle and bustle of Christmas Day when we were altogether, I found the quiet had some pluses too.  It was a very good Christmas and I’m so grateful we could be together, sort of.  Grateful for those I love.  

Christmas Eve

 Christmas Eve has always been one of my favorite days of the year.  Maybe it’s because I spend the month of December preparing for it, shopping, writing cards, planning the menus.   A friend in recent years gives me an Advent calendar that I put on the frig door and each day so carefully open the little number window to see what is behind it.  More than anything though, today a child part of me comes fully alive and I relish what is to come and the quiet mystery of the day.  In recent years with our whole family squeezed into our house, it’s been a day of activity.  The grandkids decorate gingerbread houses, play innumerable games and go for long walks with willing adults.  We would all go to the early Christmas Eve service at church which is very child friendly (Christmas Lite I call it).  Then come back, light the fire and wait for a delicious dinner where we’d all crowd around the table and talk and laugh and tell stories.  Then after music making, the kids go to bed early and Bob and I would sneak out to go to the Late church service soaking in the holy mystery of the day.

This year because we’re celebrating with just us, I’ve been remembering the first Christmas Bob and I were without our family.  It was 1967 and we were living in Copenhagen Denmark.  It gets dark really early there, as I recall around 2 pm.  The Danes decorate and celebrate Christmas with gusto.  On Christmas Eve, we invited some American friends over to have a traditional  Danish Christmas dinner with us.  In my little primitive kitchen (the oven was a black metal box on which  I adjusted the temperature by raising or lowering the height of the flame) I roasted a duck for the first time in my life.  I cooked “rod kol” —sweet and sour red cabbage and tiny boiled potatoes.  We sat down at a very decorated table and ceremoniously I brought out the duck on a platter.  Bob raised his knife and with flourish cut off the first slice of the breast.  The joke was there was only one slice to be had on each side.  We laughed and laughed at how small the duck was.  Then the next day I had decided because we were alone and so were all the foreign guests at the Niels Bohr Institute, I’d have an open house for everyone without family to visit on Christmas.  It was a big crowd.  There were people from Italy, Switzerland, Checheslovia, Poland, Argentina, New Zealand, China and 7 Russians (6 nuclear physicists and one KGB minder)  The Russians all came to the door in a group and totally overwhelmed me with their presence.  I remember what a fun party it was.  This year, no Russians, we are quieter. It will be just us and for this year, that is ok.  Next year we will appreciate every little thing so much more.  Next year will be better.  

Looking for the Light

 Last week, I was looking for the light in many different places.  On the shortest day of the year, the winter solstice, I noticed the sunset was at 4:53 pm here.  That day we had nearly 14 hours of darkness.  On our mid afternoon walk, I noticed the long shadows on the streets midday.  It was hard to find sunshine to walk in.  The old poinsettia from two years ago is putting out tiny red bracts (it’s a short day plant that only does this when the night is longer than the day).  All signs.  Photos from E. Lansing from that evening show Erik and Sonja putting out luminarias in front of our house and theirs.  Erika told me the whole street was lined with them.  She said people put out more Christmas decorations than ever there and more people put out luminarias.  It must have been really beautiful.  I think everyone wanted to brighten up the world.  

Coming back from our walk on the solstice, a neighbor’s daughter went by in her old red pickup and stopped to chat, telling us she’s come up to the hills to see the Convergence of the planets.  So when we got home, Bob took out his spotting scope and his longest telephoto lens and we starting looking in the western sky for the convergence of Jupiter and Saturn.  They were visible to the naked eye as a very bright spot above San Francisco.  That night the clouds blocked our view, but the next night was clear and we saw them well.  With the spotting scope I could see 4 moons of the bigger brighter Jupiter and Saturn as elliptical so I could imagine the rings.  It was exciting because this convergence only happens every 800 years.  We were out there looking for the light!  The photo is one from NASA that Bob said stacked lots of photo images together to give such a clear image.  

The sermon I’d been writing for the worship service at the San Rafael church on Dec. 27 is called “Looking for the Light.”  The premise was that it is nice we celebrate baby Jesus, the light of the world, being born 2000 years ago, but it only matter if that light is born in our hearts.  So I rattled on about ways we find the light or love or Christ, whatever you call it, in each other.  This year, it is so quiet around our house that with the sermon I’ve had time to think about the real meaning of Christmas.  I think it is more important than ever to keep my eyes on the prize, to keep looking for the light!!!!  

300,000 Dead from Covid in US

 We’re nearing the beginning of our 10th month of Covid.  We’ve been very careful with a very small bubble and I’m tired of it.  The numbers of cases and deaths are worse than ever.  Yesterday the Chronicle reported more than 233,000 new cases (a record) and more than 3300 deaths in the US.  It’s hard to grasp such big numbers.  I have kept on my nightstand a now yellowed copy of NYTimes from May 24, 2020.  On the front page and three additional other pages is a list of 1000 of 100,000 that had died by that day.  People from all ethnicities, all walks of life, all ages.  Each person was described in a sentence or two—-mostly by what they did or what they loved and their age.  Now we have three times as many dead and it’s going to get a lot worse.  Because the virus is spreading so fast, we’re in lockdown once again.  I am numb, worn down, finding it hard to really grasp the horror of the situation and very very sad.  More people are now dying each day than died in the 9/11 attacks.  More people have died now from the virus than died fighting in World War II.  300,000 deaths from this terrible disease is a huge number for our country.  A person if they were in the hospital probably died alone, surely without any family with them.  This pandemic just goes on and on with no end in sight.  Even though vaccines are being approved, I have no confidence I will get a shot any time soon.  We have been staying locked up in our house trying to keep up our spirits, putting one foot in front of the other with one day being pretty much like the last.  Half the country thinks Covid is a hoax or if it exists, it is not so bad, following trump’s lead.  Half the country thinks to wear a mask is interfering with their freedom following trump’s lead.  Our country feels meaner and more fearful than ever before.  Times are growing darker.  I seek hope and want hopeful days.  

Lockdown, Again

The city of Berkeley and Alameda County where Berkeley is located plus 5 other Bay Area counties announced lockdowns —stay at home orders—-starting Sunday morning at midnight.  It is the strictest possible restriction for us.  We are to stay home only going out to buy groceries or get exercise only with someone from our own household.  Grocery stores will be allowed to be open but only at 20% capacity.  It’s scheduled to last at least until January 4.  All this in the weeks before Christmas.  What will it do for the struggling businesses?  I wonder if the Botanical Garden will be able to stay open, zoos and museums are to be closed and they seem pretty similar.  Last Friday the propagation area seemed almost to be like the old times.  All the propagators were there.  There was lot of chatter and someone even brought in cookies to share.  In my area, we worked really hard and were very productive.  We were even able to go into the Garden to gather some cuttings to propagate.  Now I wonder if we’ll be shut down for the month.  

As I sit here this morning, I’m trying to pay attention to how I feel about all this.  I’m not happy.   Someone asked me how I was on Friday and I told her I’m up and down.  My state feels like grieving.  I clearly remember the panic buying in Safeway, the day before the first lockdown started last March.  Everyone with their shopping carts totally overflowing, crushed into the unbelievably long checkout lines.  I don’t want to be a part of that so I’m resisting the urge of going to the market to “stock up.”  Good thing I’ve got a big stock of toilet paper laid in.  The virus is really moving closer.  While nobody I know has gotten the disease, everyone I know has stories of knowing someone who has been exposed or gotten the disease.  There was someone on Arne’s floor at BART that came in with a positive test sending everyone home the next day.  I’m sad and a little bit mad because it means things are about as dire as they can get.  Has all of our care and restriction over the last nine months been for naught?   To be sure, it appears that vaccines will become available later in the month  and that is good news.  But I’m already seeing signs of people vying to get an earlier slot in the lineup to get the vaccine.  Should elementary school teachers be up there with ICU nurses?  Should prisoners be ahead of the elderly?  Is risk or importance to society the more important factor to decide?  

I’m trying to decide how I want to spend my time now.  Now it seem there will be much empty unscheduled time for me in the weeks ahead.  No more masked walks with friends.  No more masked and social distancing propagating at the Garden.  No more socially distant outside little mosaic parties.  No more socially distant music events.  No more haircuts.   No more visits from Arne or the kids, even for Christmas.  In the loud silence of the future imagined, memories will be especially sustaining.  How can I keep the edge of sadness off them?  Most of all, I want to appreciate the blessings in my life.  

Looking for beauty on walks inspires me.  Listening to music always buoys me up.  Talking to friends and family will become more important.  Maybe now is the time, I will organize the family papers and finally start writing my family history.  There’s always the spinning wheel.  It feels like I’m at the edge of an ocean and a big wave is coming. What interesting and historic times we are living in!

Decorating the Christmas Tree

 Today I decorated our Christmas tree.  Bob and I got a beautiful 6’ tall Noble fir on Monday and he put it up in the stand yesterday. It is always my job to put on the lights and decorate the tree.  It took me time to overcome my gloom this morning from all the bad news about the pandemic and even warnings about more fire danger in our area this weekend.  That seemed like too much to bear for me.  But after a long zoom conversation with a dear friend, I felt buoyed up.  It is always a trip down memory lane when I unpack the ornaments.  I have come to a pattern of how I put them on.  First go the stars—-first there must be light in these dark times.  Advent is a dark time, a time of waiting for the light to come.  So the stars go on the tree, stars from Sweden, stars from Denmark,  Then the angels go on—-angels bringing the good news of a coming light, of Jesus’ birth.  Angels from all the places we’ve lived.  Macrame angels I made from the 70’s in Oak Ridge, straw angels from Denmark (they’re big on straw ornaments), silver angels from who knows where and little wooden angels from Norway.  Then the toy ornaments, sleds from Norway, a small nutcracker from Germany, and lots of hearts because hearts represent love.  Christmas is all about God’s love coming to us and us sharing our love with others.  Then I put on the birds, because I love birds—-red birds clustering at the top of the tree, owls flying and perched, carved wooden birds, even a Fairy Wren from a trip to Australia.  Then I fill in the depths and empty places with red ornaments.  The tree is finally finished.  Then I decorated the living room, filling every space with special Crèches and singing angels and funny little tumtegumpas from Sweden and Denmark.  In the windows, there are paper cutout Santa Claus from Denmark in l967, a knitted snowman my mother made and a wooden painted Christmas tree my sister made.  The room is finally ready but this year there nobody to see it.  Talking with our oldest son this evening, showing him all the decorations, I said, this is the first Christmas we won’t be with our grandchildren and he said, “This is the first Christmas I won’t be together with you.”  Yes, we will all miss being together, big time.  I’m glad I’ve decorated.  It’s hopeful.  It’s joyful.  I makes me smile and think about all the Christmas joy we’ve had over the years.  This year, more than ever, it’s important to focus on hope and light and love.  

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