When I Don't Want to be Where I Am

This is not where I wanted to be. 

We had a contract on a house, and I had already imagined where all of our furniture would go. I’d been mulling over the seed catalog and making lists of what would grow where. I thought that by now I’d be planting my spring garden at our new home and sending out invitations to our Easter potluck.

Instead, we had to walk away from the contract due to a structural issue, and now we’re under Safer at Home orders in a rent house I thought I was finished with. 

I’ll admit, the combination of events left me doing some significant pouting. I gave myself time to be disappointed and sad. Then that time started stretching beyond what was helpful. I realized I was spending too much time with feelings that weren’t changing my situation.

To turn things around, I had to start working on where I am. I cleaned out a closet. Then I cleaned them all. When we had a break from the rain, I started pulling weeds which led to trimming shrubs. I found the chrysanthemums coming up from the ground and appreciated the brilliance of the buds on the trees that caught my attention when we saw this house for the first time. I carried my coffee outside to enjoy the impressive view from our front porch.

I had been so caught up in where I thought I should be that I was wasting the beauty that exists where I am. I’m still disappointed, to be sure, but I can experience gratitude at the same time. 

3 Tips for Having People Over

I batch-write and schedule my blog posts at least a month in advance of when they’ll appear. It’s ironic that this is the post I had scheduled for a week when we would all be practicing social distancing, cancelling any plans we may have had for having people over. I thought about saving this one for a time when this is all over, but I need it today. I need the reminder that this will all be over and we will enjoy being with each other again. Until then, create space for beauty.

I loved having company when I was a kid. We didn’t have people over very often, usually only grandparents, but when we did, the anticipation was half the fun.  

I could tell pretty early on that this wasn’t the case for my mom. In adulthood, I understood why. Parents or in-laws might judge the house, the meals, the children’s behavior. Having friends over means extra work, cooking beforehand and cleaning up afterward. Later, there’s the aftermath in the kids’ rooms. 

I understand why having people over might be stressful, but I still love it. Over the years, I’ve implemented some sanity saving tricks for making it more fun and less stress.

1.     Hide the toys. Before we have friends over, I make my kids clean their rooms. Then I carry most of their toys to a closet or to my room for safe keeping. Carry them out, cover them with a blanket, lock them away, whatever it takes. I consider the ages and preferences of the kids coming over and only leave out a few things I’m certain they’ll enjoy. Then, even if they drag everything out, there’s still not much that needs to be cleaned up in the end.

2.     Get ready for bedtime, especially if guests might stay late. I clean up my room, even though my door will likely stay closed. I give myself turn-down service, fill my water glass, lay out my book, and turn on the lamp. At the end of the night, I know my cozy space will be ready to welcome me into quiet rest.

3.     Don’t wait until . . . Maybe you think your house isn’t big enough, your dishes don’t match, or you’re not a great cook. I promise none of that matters. I started having an Easter potluck when our dining room table was in the living room, because that’s the only room where it fit. I still don’t have enough matching dishes for parties larger than 7. I’ve gotten better at cooking for large groups because I’ve created lots of opportunities to practice. So, go for it! The memories and relationships will be worth it!

 Do you enjoy having people over? What tips would you add?

Saving Space for a Garden

When I was growing up, my parents grew a big garden. We ate fresh tomatoes, squash, and okra. We shelled peas, pickled peppers, and canned tomatoes for the winter.

At some point in my teenage years, they stopped growing the garden. I think the idea was to take a year or so off as we got busier with sports, but there hasn’t been a big garden since. Mom has still grown asparagus or a couple of tomato plants, but nothing like the mounds and rows we used to have.

The funny thing is, the “garden” space is still there. Its borders are still marked by rocks, and Dad keeps it free of weeds. They still refer to that area of dirt as the garden. As in “I left the wheelbarrow by the garden.” 

But there is no garden. It’s nothing but a cleared section of dirt.

I can’t decide whether it’s sad or hopeful. 

They’ve set aside space with the hope that someday there will be a big garden again. On the other hand, how much time and energy has been spent keeping the space clear without taking the steps to fill it with anything fruitful?  

It causes me to consider how much energy I spend protecting and preserving, but not producing any good fruit? Keeping things out, but not letting anything in?

Gardening for the "Old People"

My granddad, who will turn 90 this summer, plants a huge garden every year. In August he’ll say that it’s his last garden. It’s too hot, too dry, too much work. But in the spring, he starts getting the ground ready and plants the seeds. When asked why, he says, “all the old people at church count on me to bring them vegetables.” 

Old people? Many of the folks carrying home his squash and tomatoes are decades younger than Granddad!

Here’s the thing.

He’s never reached a point of saying, “I’m the old one now. Someone who is younger should be bringing mevegetables.” It hasn’t crossed his mind that they could go to the farmer’s market or the grocery store. He’s able to provide a gift, so he does it. Year after year in the Permian Basin heat, he shuffles outs to his garden and does the work. It gives him pride and purpose.

What work will you continue long after retirement? What brings your both pride and purpose?

These are my Friends

These are my hot pants.

No matter how “real” social media feeds try to be, there’s nothing like a real, in-person friendship. These are the marks of my closest friends.

1.     We share leftovers.

One of the best friendship moments for me is standing on the phone in front of the open refrigerator, reading off its contents while a friend on the other end of the line does the same. 

I have leftover roast. 

I have half a bag of chips.

I have some cheese.

Nachos?

Perfect! See you soon!

 If you haven’t experienced this, it is beautiful. There is no pretense when you’re sharing leftovers. It’s as real as it gets.

2.     You’ve seen me in my hot pants.

Several years ago, there was an abundance of holiday generosity at my grandma’s nursing home. She received care packages from many sweet organizations and that particular year, they all included a fleece or flannel throw. Grandma spent a lifetime quilting and crocheting, so she had no need of extra blankets. Mom took them all home and made pajama pants. She didn’t have a specific pattern to follow, but she tried different variations of drawstrings and pockets. Since she wasn’t using a pattern, the results were mixed.

They are not figure flattering.  I wear them anyway. My husband dubbed them my “hot pants.” I like to think it’s because they keep me warm, not because he’s mocking me.

3.     I clean my house while you’re here, not before you arrive.

On one end of the spectrum, this could mean I’m wiping off the toilet seat as you ring my doorbell. At the other end, my friend and I once started cleaning the inside of my dishwasher after we’d had dinner together. If you’ve never experienced the satisfaction of cleaning a gunky dishwasher, you haven’t fully lived.