How do you know it’s summer in the North West? We don’t wear socks under our sandals.
This morning I pulled warm socks on before I sat in the early morning sun to read and meditate. Later I took them off when I put on my heavy Keen sandals to go outside and pull weeds where I’m digging in new rich soil to plant a tree and some winter vegetables. I won’t talk about the dent I put in the passenger side of the old Toyota pickup “passed around the family garden truck” as I delivered soil to the backyard.
The last of the early apples are composting under the trees. Containers of applesauce are in the frig. Peaches from the farmer’s market were turned into pie and there are bags of peaches stashed in the freezer for cobbler on cold winter mornings. Plums squish under the tires of our cars as we drive down the shallow street in our neighborhood.
In August I failed to submit the required paperwork to continue Medicaid. Last Tuesday I paid my penance by waiting my turn to resubmit information in person. I entered the institutional building, checked in by computer and sat at the end of the row of lines of at least 100 chairs with my book for a long wait. My eyes and prayers wandered around the room constantly filling with a stream of people, some with wriggling babies and young children. We were all there hoping “call me next” to provide some assistance with whatever our situations required.
One of my father’s favorite spirituals was “Angels Hoverin’ ‘Round.” An angel unknown to me until later the next day intervened on my behalf to correct a mistake and my Medicaid is not “new in October” but “reinstated” which means some outstanding bills might be paid.
That same day I waited at the edge of the schoolyard for my 3rd grade grandson. I love this task. I wait with the au pairs, baby sitters, grandparents, daddies with strollers, pregnant mommies carrying toddlers, and older tired looking parents. All of us, waving at teachers and their helpers are greeting running, leaping, noisy children mostly with smiles and hugs. One little little boy ran up to his big sister and gave her an overpowering hug that almost knocked her down. She just rolled her eyes.
Later while I was helping wriggling Zeb get ready for soccer practice by pushing and pulling his stretchy tight soccer socks over his stinky feet and shin guards then double knotting his shoes, he said, “Gran, I’ve been thinking about a question. What is life?”
Last Sunday evening my Bellingham family and I along with 15 others spent 3 hours on a boat in Puget Sound watching 45 Orca whales including a 108 year old female named Grandma.
I put my camera down at sunset. The full moon was rising when the Orcas surrounded our boat for a last display of leaping and rolling, blowing, breaching and diving in what I could only call Holy Joy.
Again I must end this blog entry saying there is no ending… It is all mystery!