Hi friends!

It’s been an odd Easter day for many of us.  If you’re used to a big meal with family, or going to church, you probably missed those events today.  I attended “virtual church” this morning (which is nice, but not the same), and made myself waffles for my solo brunch.  But these lonely times are also times for reflection.

Scripture tells us that at the moment Jesus gave up his spirit, the temple veil was torn open.  What does this mean?  Up until that point, the ordinary person could not enter the “holy of holies” area, only the priests could.  The common man had to seek absolution from the priests.  When the veil was torn open, the barrier between us and God was torn open.  Jesus taught his disciples to pray to “our Father” – i.e., the father of us all.  We are siblings.  We are challenged to treat one another as such.

Where is God in the pandemic?  Where he’s always been – in the hearts and hands of his people.  Look and you’ll find him.

People in positions of power – presidents, governors, mayors, hospital administrators … nobody asked for this, but it’s happening now.  It’s happening in their time of leadership.  So it goes for every human.  We don’t always get to choose what happens to us, only how we react to it.  May all of us react in ways that lift one another up.

I live in an apartment, and I got a call the other day from the office, saying that someone in my building has COVID.  Suddenly this pandemic isn’t so abstract.  We’ve been told that an exterminating company will spray everything down with disinfectant, but in the meantime, we should stay inside for at least a few days.  I’m going to have to go out mid-week to refill a prescription, but I will “suit up” accordingly and not touch anything.

While we are afraid for ourselves, we mustn’t forget to pray and feel empathy for those who are going through this.  My neighbor (whichever one it is, of course they wouldn’t tell me) is undoubtedly sick and frightened, and doesn’t deserve this disease (nor does anyone).  Let’s not allow our fear to make us cruel.

Wishing you all a blessed Easter.  Take some time today to reflect – on the empty tomb, on the resolution of uncertainty, and on the fact that the risen Lord first appeared to women.

Blessings,

Annette

Hi friends!

Sorry for the radio silence the past few days.  I’ve been busy!

Got my car back yesterday – finally.  You may recall that I hit a deer on March 1st, which buckled my hood and bashed in the front end of the car.  It’s been in the body shop all this time, and I was driving a loaner.  Tuesday morning I got a call saying it was ready, so I went to the body shop, dropped off the loaner, signed a bunch of papers, and drove off the lot with my car.  Whew, right?

Nope.  Nothing is ever that easy.

I got halfway home, and the whole dashboard lit up with every possible warning.  A message was flashing, “Go to dealership immediately” and luckily, it was just down the road from where I was at the time.  I’m still under warranty, so I got to drive in on the “VIP side” of the garage.  I explained my problem, and it turned out to be just a system reset issue.  Nothing was wrong, except the car’s computer needed to be rebooted.

However, they couldn’t do it right away.  So they put me in a loaner.  Sigh.  Got it back yesterday, though, and it’s like brand new, inside and out, so I think (fingers and toes crossed) that this particular adventure is finally over.

As a gesture of kindness to the human community during this pandemic, Andrew Lloyd Webber will be putting his musicals online so we can all enjoy a reprieve from worry.  Starts today, with “Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat.”  Each musical will be available for 48 hours starting on each Friday at 7 p.m. British Time, which is 2 p.m. U.S. Eastern Time.  So, if you are interested, be sure to tune in during a 48 hour window after the start time.  Search for the Youtube channel called “The Shows Must Go On.”

I’m still sewing masks for the local hospital, and I’ve got a bit of a cottage industry going here.  Fabric all over the place.  I haven’t sewed in years, so this is different for me, but it’s for a good cause.

Please observe all the “rules” during this time, and keep yourself well.  The world needs you.

Fondly,

Annette

Dear friends,

Hello!  How are you holding up?

I’m curious to know your level of news consumption during this pandemic.  Are you a person who has the news on all day?  (That’s me).  Do you check once a day?  Or are you trying to tune it out as much as possible?

I’ve always been driven to face the worst.  I figure if I do, then I can start absorbing the blow, and I can’t be blindsided by outcomes. (I don’t do very well with reading mysteries … I get partway through, and then I just have to flip to the back to find out “who done it!”)

I suppose, deep down, it’s a control issue.

I’ve been sewing masks for the local hospital, and again, I think it’s a control thing, a way of feeling like I have some agency over what’s happening.  Keeping busy helps me avoid crossing the line into helplessness and despair.

Could there be a bright side to all of this?

I believe so.  We have all been asked to put our lives on pause, and this gives us time to reflect on what’s most important to us, and to appreciate all that we have.  I realize how much I value my ordinary life, teaching my classes, interacting with my students.  I miss my church community.  I miss feeling carefree enough to run to the store without worry.

I hope we can all find something constructive to do during this difficult time – start a journal, learn to bake, deep clean the house (that’s on my list too).  We’re allowed to be frightened, too, to cry and to worry – but let’s do our best to keep ourselves and each other from crossing the line into a state of despair.

Storms always pass, and you will find the strength you need.

Blessings,

Annette

Hello lovely friends,

In our Interpersonal Communication course, we talk about secondary meanings of certain words and phrases – such as the question, “How are you?”  In our culture, it’s a throwaway line, a form of saying hello.  When we say it, we are not inquiring after the other person’s physical, mental, or spiritual health.  We just say “How are ya, how’s it going?” and walk on by without even getting an answer.

The past couple of weeks, I’ve noticed something interesting happening.

People are checking in on each other (mostly by mediated means).  We’re asking “How are you?” and we mean it.  We want to know.  Are you feeling well?  How is your family?  Is there anything you need?

In the discipline of Communication, we emphasize the interdependence of people, the ways in which we live in community with others.  If anything good comes out of this time, it will be a reminder to us all that yes, we are our brothers’ keepers.  We succeed and fail together.  We must look after “the least of these.”

I miss you, my friends.

Annette

Hello friends,

On Tuesday, I had a surgical procedure to remove a large and impacted kidney stone (some things won’t wait, even in the midst of a pandemic).

I’ll tell you about the process, but you might want to stop reading now if you’re squeamish.  It’s not too graphic, but still.

Fortunately, this surgery didn’t involve cutting me open.  The surgeon passed a tube up through my urethra to the kidney, then lazered the kidney stone into pieces and removed the pieces through the tube.  So it’s gone, but there might be some little particles / shards left over that will have to pass through – and that might be uncomfortable.

The procedure itself was painless.  I was very nervous, but it really wasn’t bad.  I remember dozing off from the anesthetic, then waking up thinking I had just drifted off.  I asked the nurse, “Is it time to go into surgery?” and she answered “It’s over!  You’re done.”  I was surprised, and there was no pain.

I’m recovering really well.  I haven’t had to take many pain pills – I’d call it more “discomfort” than pain.  When I “use the restroom,” there’s a little discomfort, similar to a cramp, but otherwise I’m feeling fine.

I had heard stories from people who’ve had this procedure, and have told me how terrible it was for them.  Everyone’s experience is different, but I really had no problems.  The worst part was the kidney stone (it was 9 mm!) and now it’s gone.

Going to the hospital in this time of COVID was a bit scary, but they were extremely careful.  There were people at every entrance door, screening those who came in.  Sanitation procedures were being followed carefully.  I did not feel I was at risk at any time.

Thanks to those who sent prayers.  Please keep praying as I’m recovering.

Fondly,

Annette