Cleaning the House

One of the hazards of cleaning for me is that it leaves me with lots of time to think. It's not like vacuuming or dusting or mopping the kitchen floor requires a significant percentage of my brain's capacity. So, my brain gets busy on other topics.

I have a really big old Victorian house with 11 rooms and four full bathrooms. Since my husband and I now rattle around in here with some rooms rarely being used, I don't clean every room every week. But, yesterday and today, I did clean everything on the first and second floors. The third floor is a guest area, and gets cleaned when guests are coming.

If I manage to discipline my mind, I can use cleaning time productively to think about and plan out new projects. I can spend the time praying for family and friends. I can make a mental "to-do" list and hope I don't forget the items on it before I get a chance to write them down. All of that does require the input of positive mental effort...otherwise, I ruminate.

I struggle against this tendency, because it isn't productive to worry about things I can't change, to try to figure out the unexplainable, to puzzle over what seems to me to be a foolish decision by someone I know, or to wallow in self-pity over someones past offenses against me. All of these scenarios are really a reason for me to pray. The trick is in disciplining my mind to focus on my concerns in a positive way rather than a negative way.

And (she sighed) this is a lesson I have to keep relearning.

Changing the Bed

This week when I changed the bed, I put a different blanket on it. The next morning as I made the bed, I asked my husband if he had noticed that there was a different blanket on the bed.

No....he hadn't noticed.

I suspected as much, because he hadn't made a comment about it.

I expressed surprise that he hadn't noticed, but then again, men do tend to be oblivious.

I was sort of shaking my head thinking that there's no way on earth I wouldn't notice that the blanket was different than the one I had slept under for years, when he dead-panned, "Well, I suppose I would notice, if there was a different woman in the bed."

The River on a November Afternoon

I don't think that I have ever been out on the St. Lawrence River in November...until today. An unseasonably mild afternoon precipitated a decision by my husband to take our boat to Alexandria Bay to be winterized and to take a quick spin on the river first.

The sky was an icy blue with wisps of white clouds when we launched at Keewaydin State Park. The campground is closed for the season, so no one else was in sight, except for a porcupine feeding on something along the side of the entry road. At first the motor did not turn over and it sounded like the battery might not have enough power to accomplish the task, but after a few tries, it roared to life.

During the summer as we leave the marina, numerous boats can be seen both up and down river, and sometimes the water churns as their wakes bounce off each other. Today, although the wind created some choppiness, we entered the main channel without a boat in sight. The lack of leaves on the trees increased visibility. We could clearly see the American span of the Thousand Islands Bridge up river and Boldt Castle down river.

Heading down river first we passed many grand summer homes, boarded, shuttered and otherwise closed for the season. The resorts along the river, which bustle with activity in summer months, were quiet and parking lots empty. No crowds stood in downtown A-Bay waiting for the next tour boat.

In summer months, Boldt Castle and the island it occupies are swarming with visitors, but today it stood surrounded by barren trees, looking lonely and desolate. Passing by, we headed for Mary Island, a state park just off the down river end of Wellesley Island. We have a favorite picnicking spot on Mary Island, but this was a quick trip not allowing time for a leisurely picnic.

We swung around and headed up river in the main shipping channel toward the TI Bridge. There was only one large ship in sight, and ironically we passed it in the very narrowest part of the shipping channel. The Emerald Star out of Halifax glided by us carrying something somewhere. We turned around right under the TI Bridge and headed back to the marina.

Except for a couple of fishermen tucked back in bays off the river, and the Emerald Star, we had this section of the river to ourselves for those 45 minutes. And what a wonderful 45 minutes. The air was cool enough to need a sweatshirt, but warm enough to feel comfortable standing up to let the wind blow through my hair, and figuratively through my head, chasing away concerns and stresses.

What is more, I have just relived it by writing about it, allowing the cares of life to blow off. I plan to fall asleep tonight with the images and sensations created this afternoon still fresh in my mind.

A lonely Golden Delicious apple clings to a bare tree under a cold November sky.

At the Table

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies." Psalm 23:5a

Every day I sit down at the banquet table of life,

Spread before me an array of sumptuous blessings,

Spread around me an array of terrifying enemies.

Confusion

Anxiety

Fear

Uncertainty

How can I possibly choke down the delicious meal,

In the presence of these dangers?

My host sitting at the head of the table,

Is the Master of the universe, the Ruler of all creation.

He has invited me to this feast.

He blesses the meal.

He blesses me.

I eat my fill,

Undisturbed,

By the presence of enemies,

For I am the guest of the Lord of the Feast.

Thank you for this food....Amen.

Impeccable Timing

Today on my way home from work, I took the "low road" along the river, rather than my usual route over the hills on the "high road." The reason for this was the need to place some posters about an up-coming screening clinic which I am holding for men in the community. A number of small population centers on the "low road" have post offices or convenience stores with community bulletin boards.

One of my stops was at a small town post office. After tacking the poster on the bulletin board, I got in my car and started to drive away. The "still small voice" inside my head said that as long as I was in that little town, I should stop and see a couple from my church who live right next to the post office. I ignored "the voice" and kept driving. I turned out onto the main highway, but the urging to visit this couple kept replaying. I hadn't gone far before "the voice" was saying, "Well, you can keep driving, but eventually you will turn around. The farther you go, the farther you will have to backtrack, so why don't you just give in and turn around now."

With a sigh, I whipped into a driveway, and back out on the highway retracing my route.

I visited with my friends for a few minutes. They were doing fine, and I couldn't see any reason why I had had this strong urge to stop and see them.

So as I continued on my way home again, I was saying, "OK...so they didn't seem to be in any need. What was that all about? Hmmmm....maybe the purpose was to time something in my life. Maybe a bridge is falling down up ahead, but now I'm going to miss being on it when it falls."

I arrived at my next location....a convenience store. I grabbed my poster and headed in. I opened the door and stepped into the store at the PRECISE moment when a woman at the checkout immediately inside the door was saying in a loud and angry voice, "**** Hospital is nothing more than a bandaid station!"

She turned around, and there I stood with my poster for a free screening clinic sponsored by **** Hospital.

Ah...life"s interesting moments.

A conversation began. She expressed a great deal of frustration about a family member who was in **** Hospital. She wasn't dissatisfied with the care, but with what seemed to be confusing mixed messages from doctors and different staff members. I listened, expressed understanding, and suggested with whom she could address her concerns. When the very congenial conversation ended, she seemed more calm.

I hung my poster and returned to the car still wondering if there was a bridge out ahead.

No, the bridges were intact. I encountered no downed power lines, no trees across the road, and I'm not really sure why I had an "appointment" with that upset lady, but I certainly was "on time" for it.

Two Viewpoints

I would like to label this post "oh-duh," but my husband has a different take on the story.

Yesterday afternoon a boy about 10 years old came to the door. He asked if I would like to buy some candy and handed me a brochure with Gertrude Hawk products.

What's not to like about chocolate? I cheerfully took the brochure, and as I began looking through it, I asked, "Who are you raising money for?"

His reply...."Gertrude Hawk."

"No, no," I said. This is a fund raiser, and I would like to know who is going to get the money."

"Gertrude Hawk," he said.

"No, all of the money isn't going to Gertrude Hawk. Some of it must be going to some group you belong to. Are you a cub scout?"

"No..."

At this point, I took the order blank from his hand, thinking that it would have the name of the organization on it. I had inquired initially, because knowing who the funds were for might influence the size of my order. But by that point, I was just plain curious. Who sent this kid out without an adequate explanation? I couldn't find the name of the organization anywhere on the order form.

"You're not supposed to look at that," he complained.

I tried again.

"If you are not raising money for some group, there is no reason for me to buy these chocolates from you. There is a Gertrude Hawk store in the mall, and I can just drive up there and buy the chocolates. Why should I buy them from you?"

"Well," he said, "You give me an order, and pay me. I take the money back to school. I pick the chocolates up at school and bring them to you next week."

Ah...finally we were making progress.

"What school do you go to?"
He named the local middle school, and when it came time to write my check, he was very clear on the check being made out to the school.

I told my husband this story with commentary that this is one really dumb kid.

My husband, who is innately more charitable than I am, responded, "Well, there is something to be said for doing what you are told to do, even if you don't understand it."

Indeed.