RL4B: Relentlessly Looking For Beauty

For decades, I've wanted to dye my hair a bright color, but each time I visited the salon, I'd go with something safe and traditional.  I convinced myself not to do it because "there was no good reason" I needed purple hair.   Instead I listed all the reasons against it.    It would just fade out, probably badly.    It would draw too much attention.    It would be unprofessional.    It would be a waste of money. But there's been a shift in my thinking. With the current state of the pandemic, I'm isolated and my routines and priorities have been turned upside down. What had once seemed an unwise, impractical fantasy now held the promise of novelty and whimsy. Any qualms I'd felt about other people's negative judgement began to fall away. The last few weeks have been rough as several of my concerning health symptoms from last winter have reoccurred. However, through guided journaling and an intentional mindset to live in the moment, I've b...

If you’re like me, you’ve been feeling the weight of the challenges and busy-ness around you. You’re tired all the time, and feel like you’re constantly playing catch-up with yourself and your family. The burnout is real, even for (especially for?) people like me who barely leave the house. Last week, I discovered a small pocket of rest and renewal in my routine. It was an experience that embodied the mantra printed on this sign (which was  one of nine gifts from my family  last winter when I was going through a dark valley). It is well with my Soul. As someone in the high-risk category for Covid with my severe respiratory condition, I’ve been avoiding public places and have been vigilant about masks and distancing. The choice to get a booster shot was and easy one, so I made an appointment at the health clinic hosted by the hospital. Along with my health and safety, I’ve also been paying attention to the stress and challenges my local hospital is facing. They are maxed out on...

Last week I was scrolling through my inbox. I hadn’t checked it for a few days because it’s an email address that tends to get a lot of spam. Somehow, I got on a list to receive action alerts from a state-wide advocacy group. I didn't recognize the name of the organization, but the issues they’ve promoted align with my values, so I haven’t unsubscribed yet. I usually just delete the emails. But one message in particular caught my eye. “Contact the Senate committee today to support proposed changes in disability parking laws!” Since I use a wheelchair and have first-hand experience with parking challenges, I clicked on the link, thinking I would just fill out and send the provided email template. I’d done this before for other organizations and causes, and it was easy. This level of involvement was within my comfort zone. However, listed under the email option was information about giving live testimony to the committee via Zoom. I was intrigued, so I found the full text of the Hous...

I spent the last two weeks living with my sister, and it was beautiful. When I arrived, I was greeted with cheerful hugs from everyone, including my mom who had come over to visit. It had been nine months since I’d last been in her house, and nine months since I’d hugged my family. It was reminiscent of visiting grandparents, aunts, and uncles several states away. However, my sister was only six miles away, living right next door to my parents. This is what Covid has done. It has made everything “long-distance.” From family and friends to book clubs and volunteer groups, and even church, I may as well be dialing in from the middle of nowhere. To get to those hugs, six adults and three children had to quarantine for fourteen days, then remain in quarantine for another two weeks as we gathered together for meals and movies. And did I mention one of those children was my newborn niece? My sister had to convince the hesitant pediatrician to conduct the baby’s wellness checks via telehealth...

Several weeks ago, the Nurture-Care team at my church put forth a program called Front Porch Visits . Anyone who was interested could sign up to deliver or receive a visit and a care package. I've been self-quarantined since March, Zooming with friends and only venturing out to parking lots to pick up groceries or to the drive-through lane at my pharmacy. I thought it would be nice to have someone come to my porch to chat in person, so I filled out the online form and waited for a call. I wanted to feel included and not forgotten. As the designated weekend approached with no word from the church, I wondered if my request had gotten lost.  Then an email from the pastor popped up on my phone. I was delighted to see you had signed up to do a visit. I’d like to assign you Carol Smith. Her husband has severe Alzheimer's and she has been living alone since he moved into memory care. Even though he doesn’t know who she is, she has missed being able to visit him. How would you like to ...

A local author and writing coach, Molly Caro May, recently offered a month-long daily writing experience titled In the Middle of It . Her intention is to help you uncover and write your story during this time of Coronavirus and its impact. I joined immediately, eager for a structured outlet and time to journal. In the weeks leading up to yesterday, I was still processing my fear and anxiety ( see my last blog post ). But as yesterday dawned, I could see a light in the darkness. I was in that state of consciousness that's between deep sleep and being fully awake, a half-dreaming-half-reality sense of being - the place where you feel confident, content, and hopeful. For the first time in two weeks, fear was not on my mind. It felt like I was being lifted up and over my worries to see a larger picture. I could see a path winding across the landscape and a rush of energy and motivation urged me to follow it. I smiled and got out of bed, stepping lighter than I had in days. As I ...

Due to a rare muscular dystrophy, my muscles can only tolerate a certain amount of walking, standing, and sitting at one time. Even lying down has its challenges, depending on my positioning. These limits create a challenge for chores, hobbies, and daily living. Yet for many years, I focused my attention in the wrong places. Intellectually, I knew these physical limitations were there, but when I was in the middle of loading the dishwasher, mingling at a social gathering, or at the computer writing, I didn't want to stop, so I powered through to complete the task. I got the rush of accomplishment, but then a few hours later, I paid for it in muscle pain and exhaustion. While recovering, usually on the couch with a book or with the television, I admonished myself for skipping the laundry, putting off a project, or otherwise not being productive. All I could see as I looked around was every unfinished chore, and I felt the judgment and shame building. I needed to change my vi...

I subscribe to Ancestry.com , and part of the package includes access to Newspapers.com . I'd had the service for six months before I took the time to try it, and within the first fifteen minutes of searching, I'd found an article that made the extra fee worthwhile. A few weeks ago, I sat down at my desk and brought up the Newspapers.com website. I had about an hour before dinner, so I settled back in my padded chair, laid my hand on the mouse, and clicked in the search bar. I typed in Murl J. Hume, my maternal grandfather's name, and hit enter. On top of the list was an article from the Muscatine Journal and News-Tribune in Muscatine, Iowa. Bingo! I had a hit on my first attempt! The article was titled, Pvt. Murl J. Hume Returns to Camp , and it detailed how Hume, an enlisted Army serviceman, had been home on a 10-day furlough to visit his parents. It also told of his basic training and his Camp address in South Carolina. I smiled at the way small-town news...