Pots and Pans and Intimations of Immortality

Yesterday was a rare Sunday.  We didn't go to Bristol because I had to be here to see what hospital chaplains do for Sunday worship.  It was a cool experience:  Bible texts, songs (delivered by way of YouTube), prayers, and a meditation.

Because we knew I'd be free earlier on a Sunday than usual, and because my spouse's brother didn't have to work, we decided to head down to Spartanburg to see their new house.  They have spent the last few months moving from Homestead, Florida to Spartanburg, with all the headaches and paperwork involved.  It was good to see them in a less-stressed space.

We got home in the early evening and unpacked our new cookware set:  3 saucepans, two skillets, a dutch oven, and a small stock pot.  I tried to remember when we bought the last set.  We were in the Fillmore Street house in Hollywood, FL, so it would have been before 2013.  We bought that set because the pans we had were starting to look a bit beat up, with the nonstick parts scratched, which made me worry about ingesting it.

Of course, by now I've ingested so many forms of plastic that I don't know why I worry.  

Our new set has a "ceramic non-stick coating"; I'll be interested to see how it performs.  The set is supposed to be oven safe and dishwasher safe.  Here's hoping.

As we unpacked the set, I thought about how old we are, about how we buy cookware sets every 15 years.  Will this set be our last cookware set?  In 15 years, I'll be 75 years old, and I am unlikely to buy a new set so much as replace the pans I use most.  Will I be a widow?  Will we be in a care home so that we don't need to think about pots and pans?  It's hard to imagine how we could afford that outcome.

I thought of Wordsworth and other poets who found inspiration to think about the meaning of life (its shortness, what is important, how quickly what is important goes away even before we realize its importance).  Wordsworth looked at meadows and groves and streams in "Ode:  Intimations of Immortality" and thought of the difference between childhood and adulthood, and I look at pots and pans and think of how quickly we might become incapacitated in adulthood, the grief that comes from the loss of ability.  Wordsworth worked his way backward (because he wrote the poem when he was in his early 30's), and I went forward.

After we got the new pots and pans put away, I went to bed.  I pretended that I was going to read, and then I could only read a few pages.  So why not go to sleep?

I did not go for a walk this morning--because of our travel yesterday, I didn't get my lunches ready for the week.  Plus, I've walked every morning for the last 5 days, so why not take it easy and write about pots and pans?

But now I must get ready--the 4th week of chaplaincy training awaits!