Angering the Car Gods

There must be some car god that we've angered with our recent celebrations of the baby Jesus or the lamps that stay lit or the return of light to the Northern Hemisphere.  On some level, of course I am joking.  On some other level . . .

Yesterday I spent much of the morning on the phone trying to get to the next step with my car rental after the flooded car was towed away.  This morning, it appears that the reservation has disappeared.  I made another one, called Geico, and we're good to go.  Of course, I've thought that before  . . .

Yesterday afternoon, not one block from my house, my spouse was driving our one remaining car.  He turned too sharply to avoid a car that seemed to be running the stop sign.  He drove over what had been a curb, but now was just the storm grate, which had a sharp edge that punctured the sidewall of the tire.  So now we add that to our to do list . . .

I keep reminding myself that these are problems that are easily solved, as problems go.  We have money to replace the drowned car, and we'll get the tire replaced on the other car.  We have our health, we have our loved ones, we have work, we have a safe place to sleep.  Many people would gladly trade their problems for ours.

Let me keep this post short, so that I can get to the car rental place with hopes for restoring our equilibrium.

The Questions Posed by Floods and Fire

It's been an unsettling holiday in many ways.  But let me preface what I'm about to say with a moment of gratitude:  I've spent much of December seeing friends and family with time to sit and talk and reconnect.  In some ways, it's been a perfect holiday.

I continue to be unsettled about the pre-Christmas flood that we had.  We left town on Saturday afternoon.  There had been no talk of weather systems coming our way, no warnings, no alerts.  Our friends who stayed in town said that an alert came around 1 a.m. on the morning of Monday, Dec. 23.  My brother-in-law had heard something about coastal flooding and wondered if we would be affected. 

We had the kind of flooding that I've only seen during Hurricane Irma.  We had these flooding rains without any sort of tropical system nearby; in fact, we had this flood during the time of year that we usually think of as the dry season.

The insurance adjuster came out on Dec. 31.  She said that she could tell that the water came up to the dashboard of the car that was parked on the street.  She declared the car a total loss, and we didn't disagree.  She said that to salvage the car, we'd have to replace the seats, which were still wet when she sat on them (a week after the flood, still wet).  We'd have to replace the hybrid battery, and we'd likely have to replace all of the electric systems.  We were happy that she declared it totaled.

We had the title in the fireproof safe, so she was able to write our check before she left.  We got half of what we paid for the car when we bought it in 2014, which is more than we've ever gotten for a car that we tried to sell or trade in. My spouse has a different way of looking at it:  it's as if we paid $100 a month to rent the car. I like that perspective.

So now, we look for another car.  We are looking for something that's a bit more floodproof or at least sits higher off the road.  I'd like something that's designed to go offroad, as the undercarriage might be more protected.  I don't know if I want to afford something like that.

That's one of the questions we've been asking ourselves.  How much do we want to afford?  This question addresses the price of the car, but also the gas mileage, the hybrid possibility, the new-vs.-used question.

And then there are the larger questions.  We had a group of neighborhood friends come over on New Year's Eve, and the talk turned, as it often does, to the question of how long we can stay:  in our neighborhood and in South Florida in general.  We don't have answers.

In this week when it seems that all of Australia is on fire, it seems clear that we should make plans for moving to higher ground.

But first, we need to figure out a car replacement.

January 1, 2030

I realize that many are debating whether or not we start a new decade today or a year from now.  I have always celebrated the changing of the decade when we move from the year ending in 9 to the year ending in 0.  So I am thinking about the next decade today.

I have also thought about the past decade--I've been writing a blog post, but I have yet to actually hit the publish button.  Today, though, I want to look ahead, not just to the coming year but to the coming decade.

When I was younger, in my family of origin, we would often say, "Where do you think we'll be this time next year?"  When a new decade approached, we had even more to ponder.

Where do I want to be on the morning of January 1, 2030?

Wow, 2030!  That sounds so far into the future, but we know it will zoom by quickly.  So let me take a minute to think about what/who/where I'd like to be in 10 years.

--I want to have a book with a spine published.  This goal has been my goal for decades now.  Let me not despair.  Or maybe I should have more ambition--maybe I should want to have 2 books with a spine by January 1, 2030.  One will be a book of poems, and one to be determined.

I have been sending my book length manuscript out once a month.  It is time to send out book length manuscripts twice a month.

--But more importantly, I want to keep moving towards daily and weekly practices that nourish me:  more writing of all sorts, more sketching, more collage, more fabrics/fiber, more prayer, more pausing to reflect.

--Unless higher education changes substantially, I need to find a way to make a living outside of higher ed.  I need a career that pays both our mortgage and our health insurance.  It would be nice if my spouse had one of those too, but the times that we've both had that kind of job have been few and far between.

What would this living look like?  One of the elements that drew me to higher education was the idea that I could be part of helping people improve their lives, so I'd like to find another career that does that too.  I love the idea of leading retreats, of being a chaplain of some sort (but not a parish pastor), of being part of a team that creates opportunities for people to encounter the sacred and Divine in new ways.

--I want to be living a more vibrant life.  I want to spend less hours, both physical and mental hours, at work, in an office.  I want more creative time.  I want more time with friends, and it's sobering to realize that in 10 years, I'm likely to have lost one or two.  I want to be more Zen Kristin and less control freak Kristin.

I'm trying to only be thinking about my life and what I can control.  I look at my patterns of consumption and wonder what I'm trying to heal through my excesses.  I look at the excesses of my spouse with alarm--they are more excessive than mine and more likely to damage his health, particularly in terms of alcohol and smoking.  Part of living a more vibrant life for me will be looking at my excesses with a more discerning gaze.

--Part of living a more vibrant life means I need to be aware of my body more--but not in the shaming kind of ways that have consumed me so much during the first half of my life.  Let the coming decade be one of stretching more, hunching less, working steadily with weights, taking a daily walk, doing something more vigorous several times a week.  Let me keep eating fruits and vegetables.  Let me keep smiling.

--By 2030, we'll have a better handle on some of the questions that plague me right now:  should we move and if so, where?  When can we retire?  What will Medicare look like?  Let me be open to more possibilities than I see right now.  Let me be flexible.

2019: A Look Back

I began this post in mid-December, in an attempt to boost my mood.  I've been trying to jolt my way out of my sadness with cups of hot tea and buttered toast, and by the middle of the day, I decided to do something more intentional.  I finished this post this morning, on the last day of the year and the last day of a decade.

Let me take a look back at 2019.  Let me take stock.

Reading:

My goal was to read 100 books.  One of the unexpected benefits of increasing my reading amount was that I read so many more good books this past year.  As the year has come to a close, I've been trying to think about what book would take top place, if I had to choose the best book of 2019.  So many choices!  Perhaps I will write a future blog post about all the good books.

I remember the days when I would read 100 books in a summer--of course, they were shorter books when I was a child or a teenager.  I began this year feeling a bit dismayed about how my reading habits were slipping away.  I wanted to be more intentional, and I have been.  Hurrah!


Writing:

I'm calling this past year a mix of success and falling away from patterns that lead to success.  I'm happy that I started a novel, and I am frustrated at the ways it's hard to stay faithful to novel writing.  At times, I've written lots of poems and had no lack of ideas.  At other times in the past year, I've wondered if I'll ever have even a glimmer of inspiration again.  Most days I write a blog post, some days two--I try not to compare my output to past years when I wrote 2 new blog posts almost every day.

Writing Submissions:

My goal was 100 submissions.  At mid-December, I had 110.  I'm counting all submissions:  poetry packets, book manuscripts, short stories, essays.

Publications:

I know that some people have seen that their publication rate increases with a goal of 100 submissions.  That's not the case with me, but that's O.K.  This is the year that my book-length poetry manuscript was a semifinalist in not 1 but 2 competitions:  the Wilder Prize (Two Sylvias Press) and the Crab Orchard Series in Poetry.

I had a poem included in the Women Artists Datebook, published by Syracuse Cultural Workers group; I bought my first Women Artists Datebook from them decades ago, but never would have thought about submitting there back in those days.  Being included thrilled me.

I am also thrilled to have a poem appearing in Sojourners again.  When I wrote it, I thought it would be perfect for that magazine.  I'm so happy that the magazine agreed.

Culture/Getting Out of the House:

It's been a year of trying to do more cultural stuff.  During the first part of the year, I went to at at least 1 concert a month, from the professional ones (Carrie Newcomer!) to free concerts at the beach.  Summer disrupted that record.  I also went to more author readings:  Colson Whitehead, Te-Nehisi Coates, and Patti Smith, plus too many to list at AWP.

I don't see much TV, even though we're living in a golden age of TV, and some of the stuff sounds good, if I had various streaming services, which I don't.  I also don't make it to many movies.  Most of the movies I don't care about missing. 

I've been trying to stay connected to friends, which seems much harder than it used to be.  Sigh.  It's not that we don't want to be connected.  It was easier when we all worked at the same school and/or lived in the same county.

Cool Events for Students:

I began the year by creating a station in the break room where students could create vision boards.  I created a butterfly garden in late June that captivated us when we had butterflies emerge from their chrysalises.  And then we had a Come Out of Your Chrysalis Party.  We also celebrated the Dog Days of Summer with frozen treats and Pi Day (March 13). I helped with the Teal Takeover which raised awareness for the American Lung Association.  Not all of our events were new:  I'm overly fond of the pumpkin decorating, and it seems to be popular, as is the Halloween costume contest.  The bloodmobile comes to campus every eight weeks or so.  Let me remember that I do these things, and that they are important.

Social Justice

I admire people who write a daily letter in support of their social causes, but I am not that person.  Still, let me remember that I participate in a variety of social justice causes in an effort to build a more equitable world.  I give money on a regular basis, I support our church's food pantry, I show up at various assemblies to show that a critical mass of people demands justice.

And of course, I write letters to those in Washington D.C. who make decisions, but I have done less of that this year.  My representative will vote the way I want, so I tend to write thank you letters instead of letters demanding action.  My senators are not likely to be swayed by my letters.  And it's useless to write to the president of the U.S.

I also continue to go to Publix every Monday to pick up the bread and treats that would be thrown away.  I redistribute them:  I set out treats in the morning and the afternoon for students, and I leave the bread in baskets for anyone who wants them to take them home.  Is this justice?  Charity?  Just my grandmother's instinct to avoid waste?  It feels important, even though I often wish I was offering more nourishing food.

Unexpected Delights

When I started the butterfly garden, I fully expected the plants to be dead by August.  I think of myself as not being good at keeping plants or any living things flourishing.  I need to change that inner narrative.  When I arrived at work yesterday, all the milkweed plants were in full bloom.  Some of the other plants are scraggly, but they may make a comeback.  Yesterday, a monarch butterfly flitted across the plants.

The butterfly garden has given me joy every day.  Setting out bread and treats for students has given me joy most days.  I love creating events and book displays for the library and bulletin boards.  The days when the writing goes well--sheer joy.  Sketching--also joy.  Having bread in the oven and coffee brewing makes me happy--as does a cup of tea at work when the work coast is calm.  Let me keep remembering these delights.

Spiritual Developments:

This past year, our church moved away from the weekly interactive service, which was often a creative activity.  I still miss that service terribly.  It fed me in ways that our current approach does not.

But I did create some creative opportunities for my church.  We did journaling:  a weekly gathering for Lent and a one opportunity for one evening in Advent.  One Sunday when I was in charge, we wrote prayers on scraps of cloth and tied them to a huge hoop.  I continued to help with making the sanctuary more interesting in terms of visual elements.

I went to the Create in Me retreat and a retreat at Mepkin Abbey.  I am the social media coordinator for the Create in Me retreat, and I love elements of that work--should that love be telling me something?  I also love doing that kind of work at school.

I was asked to be part of creating a prayer chapel for Synod Assembly.  I created a station with a weaving frame, and I got good feedback--plus I was asked to be part of the process again.

What feels like the biggest development:  in January, I will begin a certificate program in spiritual direction.

Work for Pay

My online teaching progressed as usual.  In this way, 2019 seemed the same as 2015 or 2013 or any other teaching year.

When I reflect on the situation with my full-time administrator job, it's no wonder that I'm feeling a bit whipsawed.  In the beginning of 2019, we had 3 full-time Program chairs and 2 part-time.  During the first half of the year, 2 of the full-time chairs left; we replaced one but not until September and one full-time position was changed to a shared position with another campus.  In the beginning of 2019, my boss was only on campus one day a week, and now our campus is his only focus.  And of course, we had an accreditation visit which became all-consuming for almost 2 months.

Planning for the Future

The recent flooding reminds me that it may be time to get serious about making alternate plans, but what should they be?  Moving to higher ground?  Giving up on the cottage but enjoy the house for a few more decades?

Let me try the approach which has worked in other settings.  I am in a period of discernment--that sounds better than being paralyzed by the fear of making the wrong decision.  But let me also get a bit more intentional about actually discerning a good direction.

The Last Sunday of 2019

Weeks ago, my pastor asked if I would preach on Dec. 29, and I said yes.  He gave me a choice of texts:  Herod killing the babies of Bethlehem in an effort to get rid of a possible rival that had just been born, Jesus being presented in the temple, or Jesus at age 12 staying behind during a trip to the temple and scaring his parents half to death when they realized he had been left behind.

I preached on Anna last year, and the Jesus in the temple story is much less interesting than Herod.  I chose Herod, and the sermon went well.  I walked a delicate line between including politics and backing away from it.  I thought about talking about our inner Herods, but as I spoke, I decided that including that part took away from the main message, the threat that Christianity poses to Empire.

It seemed to go well.  No one stormed out in a huff, which has happened when I've been in charge at church and brought politics into the mix.  On the contrary, several people thanked me for giving them something to think about.

After church we had to count the money, both for yesterday and Christmas Eve.  We had extra help, so it was easier than I was afraid it would be.

After church, we went to pick up ingredients, primarily a brisket.  We're hosting several events this week, with little time to shop, so we grabbed the opportunity. 

Yesterday afternoon was one of the events.  We have lots of members of my spouse's family living in South Florida, and yesterday, some of them came over.  On Wed., some of them will come back again along with those who couldn't come yesterday, while one of yesterday's group flies back to see other members of the family far away.

Yesterday I spent time enjoying coffee while watching the lights on the trees--so little time left to enjoy the lights on the trees.  Yesterday was the low prep day--we put out leftovers from our Christmas travels and enjoyed being together.

And now it's time to begin the return to normal life, much as I would prefer to be on a balcony pondering the slates and greys and greens of the Gulf of Mexico or watching the trees twinkle.  Today it's back to doing the bread run and getting to spin class.  And then to work, to get ready for the term that begins on January 8.

Season of Broken Things

It has been a season of broken things.  In the past three weeks, my spouse's Fitbit went dark and refuses to be revived.  His laptop went to the dreaded blue screen, and we await a visit from the tech wizards to see if it can be fixed.  One of our hybrid cars may have been drowned--again, we await, this time for the insurance adjuster to tell us what the insurance will cover, and we'll go from there.

When I pull the camera back, I can see this pattern of brokenness, and perhaps this pattern is appropriate for autumn.  But it's often felt like a more wintry brokenness.  Since late August, I've had lots of moments of self-doubt about various aspects of my life.  I thought my self-doubt might have been triggered by our impending accreditation visit, but after a successful visit, the self-doubt didn't lift.

And perhaps it's been more than self-doubt.  Usually self-doubt encourages me to have some reflection, do some course correction if necessary, and keep going in the same trajectory.  This season of brokenness has made me doubt the trajectory.

As I look back on this season, I wonder how much of the trajectory doubting comes from not doing the creative work that has fed me through the decades.  For example, I've been doubting my poetry trajectory, but nothing substantial has changed.  I send work out, a bit of it gets accepted, more of it gets rejected, and there are kind words with a few rejections.  But this season, I have had to beat back the "Why bother?" blues.

What has changed?  I haven't actually written as much poetry.  I haven't done as much other creative work either:  cooking, sketching, sewing, journaling, any writing at all.

I've also been teaching more online classes than I often do.  There have been weeks that have felt like a long grind:  8 to 10 hours of work in the office, with every scrap of free time dedicated to grading, grading, grading.  I have let my good disciplines fall by the wayside:  cooking nourishing meals, reading the work that can talk to the negative voices in the larger culture, doing some creative work each day that keeps me rooted in my core values, core values that aren't often found in the larger culture.

My time away has been refreshing and renewing.  I have a bit of fear as we move forward into the new year--the grind begins again.  But let me reframe my thinking.  Let me do some planning in this last week before the pace picks up.  Let me think about schedules that can keep me more grounded.  Let me find a way to nurture new growth.  Let my wintry season melt into a good spring.  Let my season of broken things give way to a season of mending.

Vacation's End

Today my vacation comes to an end.  I am having one of those vacations where I wish I never had to leave--what a gift!  We've all been healthy and in good moods, with a good mix of together time and do-your-own-thing time.

If the vacation wasn't ending today, we'd have more time to explore Marco Island.  I still haven't gotten to the beaches that are great for birding.  It would be cool to see Little Women with my mom or to go to the new Star Wars movie with the whole family.  There are restaurants we never visited.  If we stayed here longer, we might get tired of cooking and clean up and venture out more.  Or maybe we'd just do more of the same stuff that's brought us joy this week.

Of course, I don't want the vacation to come to an end for other reasons.  We go home to a flood-damaged cottage and a car swamped by flood waters that won't start.  I have no idea where we go from here, as we haven't had a chance to assess the damage or talk to my sister-in-law.  I haven't let myself really think about the situation, in terms of making a plan and a back-up plan, with three variations just in case we need them.  Once that would have been my approach.  This year, I didn't want to ruin my vacation.

And then there's the old damage to repair.  Just before we left, my spouse's laptop died--AGAIN.  Can it be fixed?  Is it worth fixing?  The IT guy comes on Monday to find out.

There's also the prep I need to do for my online classes.  One class has changed completely, so I need to work my way through the content--in an ideal world.  At the very least, I need to plug in dates and change all the parts of the course shell that need changing every term.

Of course, one of the reasons that I don't want to go home is that this place is neat and clean, with a balcony that has a magnificent view.  Home just isn't the same, even in the best circumstances.  These days, it feels like we'll never have the house reassembled again.

Let me remember that these problems can be solved.  Unlike some years, we're not facing health issues.  We still have most of our loved ones with us.

And let me look forward:  I am starting the certificate program in spiritual direction.  There's much to look forward to.  Let me not plunge into despair.