A Spring Isolation Walk by Joylene M Bailey

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Photo by Bonnie Kittle on Unsplash

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I step out my front door and marvel at the matted brown grass on my lawn. Just a few days ago, there was two feet of snow here. It’s a puzzle. But it’s not a puzzle I need to figure out. I’m just glad spring has truly and definitely arrived in my neighbourhood.

The back alleys around here have been paved since last spring and, while I do love the natural look of two tracks through the grass and gravel, it’s a joy to travel this path without slogging through mud and dirty puddles. 

The breeze is just enough to lift my isolation-length hair off my collar, but not enough to hug my sweater around me. And the air is refreshing. Wait, is that eau de fresh-baked bread wafting by?

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The joyful heart sees and reads the world 

with a sense of freedom 

and graciousness.

Despite all the difficult turns on the road, 

it never loses sight 

of the world 

as a gift.

John O'Donohue

~~~~~ 

There’s no traffic down these back alleys and, most surprising of all, it’s a great place to meet neighbours I’ve never met before. One man is out puttering near his garage. We exchange information on the state of our families. Everyone is healthy in my house. How about yours? Yes, yes, we are all well.

Farther on, a woman stands on her back step calling to her neighbour across the fence, “Hey Ward! How you doing? Ward! Hey, Ward!” Ward doesn’t hear her, he’s too busy hosing down his driveway. 

When she spies me, she says, “Isn’t it amazing? I can’t hear the traffic on the Henday. I don’t remember it being this quiet in the neighbourhood since we moved in.” 

I guess there are pleasant points to a pandemic. 

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Add Image by Jill Wellington from Pixabay

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There are at least five dog-walkers out on the main streets that cross the maze of back alleys I’m taking. They wave or nod or say a short hello. But they don’t stop to chat. I find myself wondering if that’s because of the current self-isolation in effect, or if it’s because I’m not walking a dog.

A couple of children whiz by on their bikes, single file. They give me a furtive glance. Obviously, they’ve been warned about the six-foot rule. I hear other children behind a fence, bantering back and forth in the high-pitched voices I usually hear drifting from the school playground. Two doors down, on a raised deck, an almost-grown girl giggles into her cell phone. 

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Image by Lori Clouse from Pixabay

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On the home stretch I stop behind our house. I soak up the sun-warmed surface of the fence as I peer over it into our sunroom, where hubby has set up his self-isolation home office. I wave wildly, trying to get his attention, but he is absorbed in a web-ex meeting with other grocery company executives, collectively finding their way through a corona-made obstacle course.

Not all the heroes are on the front line. 

Our windchimes bing-dong as though to say see you soon and I head towards the end of the alley. At the corner, a wren high in a towering poplar sings its tuneful song in reply to a similar song nearby. I try to find him in the tangle of limbs and branches, but I can’t. 

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Look at the birds of the air;

 they do not sow or reap or store away in barns,

and yet your heavenly Father feeds them.

Are you not much more valuable than they?

Matthew 6:26 NIV

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Half a block later I’m back at my front door. My home welcomes me like an old friend. We have been very close these last several weeks. She has sheltered me and provided me with all kinds of things to do, places to sit and work and be. Being is what we are still doing, despite isolation and six-foot rules. Being neighbourly, being active, being reflective. Carrying on. Life is different right now, but the world is still beautiful. God is still there. Still here.

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Image by S. Hermann & F. Richter from Pixabay 

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Joy enjoys her back-alley walks in Edmonton, Alberta, where she is self-isolating with The Cowboy and Babe. Most of her writing projects have been put on hold during this season as she creates community in isolation with her Tea-Time blog posts at Scraps of Joy.

Awakenings of a Deroche Spring Morning by Alan Anderson

“From the rising of the sun unto the going down of the same the LORD'S name is to be praised (Psalm 113:3).”

My wife, Terry, and I live in gorgeous British Columbia in an area known as the Fraser Valley. We live in a small community called, Deroche. We love living here. Farmland, mountains, and the mighty Fraser River surround Deroche. There are evergreen and deciduous trees as far as the eye can see

This morning (April 10, 2020) I climb out of bed with a specific purpose in mind. Around six-thirty I dress, grab my camera, and head for the dike. The dike is a five-minute walk from where my wife and I live. My purpose for rising early is to snap a few shots of sunrise. The dike follows the meander of the Dewdney Slough, our nearby local water body.

This is a gorgeous time of the year on the dike. In fact, there is no time of the year on the dike that isn’t gorgeous. Spring has its own unique splendour and beauty in this part of the Fraser Valley. I never tire of living in this area. I walk the dike for a few minutes until I pause. Sights that remind me this is a time of awakenings favour my eyes.

Deciduous trees awaken from slumber, shake off the cold of winter, and bud. The grass now stands upright after months of lying low on the ground. I see ducks and Canada geese floating in the slough without a care in the world (well, perhaps except for eagles in the area). The surrounding mountains stand unmoved as the protectors of the Valley. Their usual evergreen attire is always in fashion.

 

I walk a few metres more then it happens. The sun arises and greets the morning. I am aware of the songs of many types of birds. I see my buddies the robins. Not too far away a few pesky starlings let their presence known. Black-capped Chickadees join in the chorus to welcome the sun. The sun is in fact, the star of the morning.

I hold my camera steady and wait for the right moment. The sun is an expert tease. The glow becomes brighter as I wait. As if all of a sudden God’s morning star pulls out all the stops to nature’s chorus of glee. My brief glare into the sun’s brightness draws a view of molten gold to my mind. I am awakened from awe to an overwhelmed desire to put my camera into action.

I am terrified for a moment I may have missed a magnificent shot. I click my camera, and it captures a moment of glory. Creation sings to God in the morning and now my eyes, mind, heart, and camera hold His praises close.

I walk home at a slow pace as if I never want the moment to end. I open my porch door and enter my house. The oven clock tells me it is just a few minutes after seven o'clock. Wow, all that excitement, glory, and praise in less than an hour. The awakenings of a Deroche spring morning are an experience to behold. Perhaps one day you will join me!

https://scarredjoy.ca/

Grateful Despite Spring's Tease - Tracy Krauss

Spring has been taking it's sweet time around these parts! While it's sunny out today, we got snow just the last week! While flowers are blooming elsewhere, that ain't happenin' here in northern BC!

However, spring can still bloom in our hearts. I am so thankful for the warmth and care of family and friends. I have two more grandbabies on the way (we'll be up to seven by the end of 2020!) and I am blessed to have all four of my children live within a short driving distance. (Not that that is doing me much good these days, with physical distancing!) 

I am grateful for a job. With so many out of work, I am basically carrying on as usual since I already worked from home as an online teacher consultant. As well, my husband has been working non-stop these past several weeks. He normally is away for two weeks at a time and lives in a camp, but he will be gone for a record nine weeks by the time he returns home in May. His employer made the decision to keep its employees in one place for an extended period rather than have them coming and going. Although living as a single person is not my favourite thing, we are grateful that he has been able to work and that we can talk or video call each other every night. 

I am grateful for health and relative freedom from pain. As many of you know, I was hospitalized in January for two weeks with recurring heart issues. I was pretty much home bound afterwards even before Covid 19 hit, but I have learned to listen to my body and have been able to get out walking and carrying on in a fairly normal fashion thanks to modern pharmaceuticals and a bit of stubbornness. I'm grateful that I was able to get all of that sorted out before restrictions on medications came into effect. 

I am also grateful for all this wonderful time I have on my hands to pursue my varied interests. Writing, sewing, painting, playing the piano... and I've even started learning a second language through Rosetta Stone! I decided it was time to quit procrastinating or using my age as an excuse. As my 87 year old friend Jacqueline used to say, "Age is irrelevant!" She climbed mountains, travelled, and tried new things - all while looking very stylish I might add - never frumpy - right up until the day she died. 

Yes, there is much to be thankful for, even if spring is teasing us here. I thank the Lord everyday for another day to worship Him!

Tracy Krauss is currently serving as InScribe's president and writes from her home in Northern BC. https://tracykrauss.com  -fiction on the edge without crossing the line-

I’m going to need more – Denise M. Ford

“I’m going to need some more,” my granddaughter, Violet said, as she barely chewed through the first chocolate covered peanut butter egg. One little taste and she could barely contain her enjoyment. She couldn’t wait to have more inside of her! Her eyes lit up; her tongue rolled over her lips as she blurted out her desire.

I hadn’t planned to make the traditional homemade Easter candy this year. Everything about celebrating Easter this year seemed in upheaval, in chaos. One less task to do amid this Covid virus crisis gave me a welcome sigh of relief.

And then my one son casually texted, “we’ve been dreaming of your Easter candy!” Dreaming? I suppose we all have our moments these days in which we conjure up ideas of how to escape the anxiety, fear, pent-up frustrations and general lack of control over this viral disease. A holiday amidst a pandemic brings an overwhelming desire to still have something around us that seems normal, calming, traditional. We cannot gather to worship together or for an extended family meal but surely, mom, surely you will make the Easter candy?

I’m not sure what it says about me that my pantry just happened to have all the necessary ingredients. Actually, I do know. I am a make-it-from-scratch cook who likes to have items that will fall easily into recipes. Coconut, chocolate chips, icing sugar, peanut butter—when I use up the last of these, I quickly restock so they can be ready for use the next time.

The one outstanding item, crème cheese, had yet to be found. I scoured my fridge hunting in the far corners. No not there, but happily I discovered and found some in the freezer, probably bought when it was on sale. I now had everything I needed. So, I made chocolate covered peanut butter and coconut crème eggs.

During this time, we often Facetime or send selfie videos to the grandkids, but since we had to deliver the candy, we decided that we could attempt a porch visit with little Finn and Violet. Fortunately, I managed to scrounge up an old truck book and some construction toy vehicles from my sons’ old things. I had a craft kit in my Nana’s stash for Violet. We drove over to their house on a sunny afternoon. Little Finn tried over and over to back up into our laps so we could read the truck book with him. But he had to settle for a somewhat distanced page-through that soon failed to entertain him.

To keep them occupied while the adults visited, the kiddies drew coloured chalk pictures on the sidewalk. We had to cut the time short, so we didn’t unknowingly pass any viral germs between us. Air hugs and kisses sufficed for the time being, but we all achingly knew we wanted more. A taste of a Nana and Pop-Pop visit didn’t seem to be enough. We all wanted more.

I find that is at the heart of this pandemic. We all want more. We want more hope, more patience, more comfort, more normalcy. More scientific facts, more reassurance, more ability to do the right thing for each other. More control.

“I’m going to need some more,” our hearts boldly cry out.

My niece a doctor on the front lines in the emergency room with Covid patients in a crowded Pennsylvania hospital---she needs more protective gear so at the end of her shift she can go home to her 3-year old daughter and 2-year old foster child.

My 89-year old mother needs more purpose and more confidence that she can still protect her loved ones, as she sews medical masks for every member of her family and all her elderly friends.

My sister needs more time as she heads back to New Jersey as a nurse in a Veteran’s Home, following a visit to help her other daughter who just gave birth to her second son.

My son a teacher, requires more patience with his students and their parents as he navigates the virtual classroom from his home.

His wife desperately needs a Nana visit so that she can be refreshed in her role as a new mother.

My other son and wife need more assurance that their children will remain healthy while continuing in care at a small day home, so they can maintain work-at-home schedules to continue to pay the mortgage.

My dear friends in places where the Covid outbreak has been overwhelming and frightening need more faith and confidence in the loving heart of God.

I need more capacity to be calm as I struggle with a new diagnosis that means I am immune compromised and more vulnerable to this deadly virus.

The world needs more help, for the unemployed, the ones already sick, the ones who have died. For the essential workers on the frontlines…

We all need more; we need to hold on tighter and more firmly to the promises that God remains steadfast and true despite this horrific pandemic. In our moments of ultimate meltdowns, we all need more, we need to be rescued.

On Good Friday my husband and I called my mother in Pennsylvania. We invited her to “attend our church service” at Westlife Church in Calgary via her laptop. She uses it as a way of staying in touch with our family in Canada having Facetime calls receiving texted photographs of her great grandchildren. But going to church on-line presented a new challenge for her. Thankfully we managed to patiently guide her through the steps to participate with us using her laptop. After the service, we looked toward Easter, we felt that we had received more of Christ when we needed Him most.

One of the scriptures from Good Friday echoes over and over to me. Jesus wept. Jesus wept and grieved not for himself, but for us. He needs us.

Christ needs more. He needs more of us. More of our hearts responding to him. He still seeks us; He still sits with us and watches as we try to fill our hearts with what we believe we need. He hears us as we cry, “I think I’m going to need some more.”

We don’t realize he already knows what we need. He knows our “more.” He knows what to offer. His pantry remains fully stocked and ready to respond to any request. He doesn’t need a list to remind himself that he needs to provide more sustenance, more comfort. He knows how to respond.

I’ve been praying through the Psalms crying out in need. Praying for continual protection for every family member, every friend, every essential worker who sacrifices safety and sanity on behalf of another’s needs.

I grieve in advance, as Mary grieved. She knew Jesus lived on the edge of provocation every day. He either provoked anger amongst the Jewish leaders or provided hope for His worshipping followers. She knew what it meant to submit to God’s will, and she grieved for her son who had to sacrifice everything to fulfill it. She knew and although she marvelled at His healing works, His miracles which led people to trust and believe in Him, she also grieved for the heartache that surely would come. Waking up daily and not knowing if her son would be arrested or celebrated. Following His arrest, she woke up, picturing Him being tortured and mocked. She didn’t know what would happen next, so she grieved even as she prayed with hopeful yearning to the God who had provided and cared for her. She needed more.

She wanted more. She wanted a miracle, but she didn’t know what to expect. She stayed with Jesus and grieved. She stayed with him and asked for more from her God. Let’s not miss the fact that Jesus stayed too, as long as he could; praying, weeping, and asking more from God for us.

During our Good Friday service, we shared Communion by partaking at home with bread and juice. As we heard the words from scripture spoken by Jesus at the supper He shared with his disciples, we heard what we each needed. We heard His promise that He would provide more.

More comfort. More healing. More hope.

To receive it, we need to give Christ more.

More trust, more faith, more love.

My one niece brought her 2-year-old over to my mother’s back yard on Easter so he could have an egg hunt. She carried her one-month old baby over to the picture window so my mother could wave and make silly faces at him. Mother watched as older brother Connor scampered about discovering eggs here and there. Earlier, we and mother had attended church together once again on-line and over the phone. Praising together, praying together, holding onto the promises together despite distance or the lurking virus.

I told mother about little Violet tasting the Easter candy and how she knew immediately that she wanted more. We laughed and then cried together. Seems like it’s a back and forth emotional whirlwind every day.

To end our Easter phone call on a positive note, I described for her a picture that I bring to mind daily, every time I need more.

“I am on my knees in prayer and in a weeping mess. I am distraught and overwhelmed by all the needs of everyone throughout this pandemic. And then I am lifted up, embraced and held in strong arms. I breathe deeply, I am quieted by a gentleness and peacefulness that flows over and around me. I begin to have a resurgence of clarity, a sense that I am held lovingly and tenderly. And in those arms, in that amazing embrace I know Jesus gives me the some more I need.”

Easter has come. Jesus is here. He embraces us. Jesus gives us more of what we need even though we often don’t know what to ask for until the time arrives. He knows. He offers. He is here.

Go to His embrace. Trust. Feel His strength. Hope. Breathe deeply His peace. Be Forever Loved.

Do we need more? Amen and amen. Over and over again. Thank goodness He is stocked and ready. Thank goodness He provides.

Praise the Lord, my soul, all my inmost being praise his holy name.

Praise the Lord, my soul and forget not all his benefits---who forgives all your sins and heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from the pit and crowns you with love and compassion who satisfies your desires with good things so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s.

Psalm 103:1-5 NIV

What do you need more of during this time? 

What did you need more of before this pandemic? 

How has your concept of more changed?