Gravity (Perquimans Weekly 5/28/2020)

I’ve thought a lot about gravity lately. It’s not something usually on my mind, but it certainly holds me down a lot. I branched out of my usual genre of books to read one by Mary Roach. She is a pretty humorous science writer and I like her style. In her book, “Packing For Mars,” there’s much discussion on gravity as force, friend, and foe. I’m in my forties, so I’m starting to understand the real gravity of aging in ways I didn’t before. I consider it a foe, but that’s not what she means in the book. 

For Star Wars fans, I think of gravity as The Force that holds the universe together.  Gravity isn’t constant, even on Earth. It changes in different areas based on the density of the rock. This is good news if you put your bathroom scale somewhere it isn’t so dense, but good luck finding that. Mathematically speaking, you can calculate the force of gravity on an object by googling that equation yourself. I can’t be expected to do everything for you. I’m a writer. 

I was very happy to discover that weight isn’t really important since it changes based on your location. For example, I weigh more at the doctors office for some unknown reason. Probably dense earth and more gravity. A more accurate view may be to measure mass, but I’ll pass currently, in keeping with this quarantine situation and everything.

On the International Space Station, it appears to be zero gravity, but that’s not true. It’s only 10% less gravity because the orbit is pretty low to Earth. You can see it at night with the naked eye sometimes. We’ve watched it a few times with our kids. That close to earth, you don’t really float as much as fall continuously. I don’t know about you, but that makes me queasy to consider. It’s a constant fall, around and around the planet. Pass the Dramamine. 

John Mayer sings “Gravity is working against me” and it’s true for aging, but it’s working for us even more. It keeps our planets aligned, gives us tides, keeps us grounded, literally, in every way. It’s such a seemingly constant thing in our lives that we don’t worry when we sit in a chair. We step expecting to stay on the floor. We have a thoughtless faith in something we can’t see at all. It’s expected. 

I wish my faith in God was that automatic. Life is uncertain  and the gravitas of that statement can make us uncomfortable when we ponder it deeply. I don’t envy the decision makers of today, lives and livelihoods in the balance. Every move criticized from one side or the other. It’s so easy to panic, but like Martin Lloyd Jones said, “Faith is the refusal to panic.” 

We probably have all wondered if we’re in a free fall, around and around, but we aren’t. We’re held secure by a force we can’t see, and God made gravity. 

Dry Ground (Perquimans Weekly 5/21/2020)

We had only been married 2 years and one week when our world crashed. My husband was injured in the USCG in Cape Cod, Massachusetts in 2005. It was one of those moments that stands still in time in my head.

We celebrate our 17th wedding anniversary this month and the 15th anniversary of his injury. May is a reminder of both the hard in life and the goodness of God. 

17 years seems like a lot of time with the same human being, doesn’t it? We’ve loved, messed up, and learned a lot together. We started our wedded journey on the steps of Springfield Bed & Breakfast here in Hertford. It was my great-great grandfather’s home and my favorite house in the county. It was a shockingly cold day in May, but I didn’t mind so much. 

It wasn’t a cake walk marrying into the military. It is truly difficult trying to fight the federal government, while being a sole caretaker, at 27 years old. Craig was permanently disabled at 30 years old and he lost his dream career. It was devastating.

I know that seems dark. There have been dark days. But I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the answered prayers, the incredible people God sent to us, the miracle he worked eventually, and the strength he gives every day. I could fill a book with stories, and I might someday. 

Craig still has pain. It’s nothing like the 12 years and 6 months he suffered before, but it’s still there. No cure exists, but he has an implanted device in his back now that allows him a life out of a wheel chair. The boys call him  Robo Dad, and that’s pretty accurate. If it malfunctions or turns off, it’s horrific, but once it’s back on, he stands tall and walks almost normally. 

We knew this existed for 6 years before he could get a trial. Just thinking of that makes my chest tighten in emotion, but it worked out. The delay got him a fancier device that will last longer. It’s still hard to rationalize, though. I know God works for the good in all things, but the VA can be a circle of hell Dante didn’t recognize. 

I heard a sermon once that has hung with me. Noah was on the ark with all that craziness and you know he wanted out. (We’ve all been in a stay at home situation for two months, so you get it.) We think about 40 days and 40 nights, but they were on that boat for over a year! Noah kept sending out a dove, but the ground wasn’t dry yet. It’s so easy to get impatient and not see that God is working. He is - even now. 

I’ve learned in these 17 years that dry ground is worth the wait, God is near even when He seems distant, and I’d marry Craig Davis again in a heartbeat. 

Pets Rock! (Perquimans Weekly 5/14/2020)

It looks like we are now in a slow path to reopen and recovery for our economy within COVID-19. This time period has been very stressful and hard for our essential employees and those of us encouraged to stay home, as well. We’ve lost a lot of what we’ve called normal and the adjustment has been difficult for many. There is one group that has been impacted in a different sort of way though: our pets.

Pets aren’t just pets, at least not in my family. Our animals are family members, best friends, and with school at home now, student of the week. Our dog, Milly, has been overjoyed with the constant attention. She is of the Golden Retriever persuasion (meaning she’s a mutt, but she looks like a golden). Goldens, including Milly, are well known for being easy going, energetic, and loving. If you have two hands, one should be on her at all times. This new non-schedule of ours allows for that for large portions of our day. 

Animals provide an incredible service to us as humans. They can be life saving service dogs, detecting the slightest change in blood sugar for a diabetic. I know a dog that does that named Atlanta and she’s heroic in my opinion. The Hertford Police Department now has a police dog named Diesel! Who’s a good boy?!

There is even more benefit to bringing an animal into your life. Having pets has been shown to lower blood pressure, which I disagree with at times when they drive me crazy, but statistics persist. They can help us live longer as well! I often joke that Milly is my emotional support animal, but she pretty much is. Hard days are better when I take her for a drive to run on the farm and she begs my Dad for treats. She’s a joy to watch with the kids and we get so many laughs playing with her. She’s a windows down kind of girl and is ready for adventure at a moment’s notice. I’m so thankful to have her in our lives.

I should mention we also have a cat named Noel who is now 10 years old. She’s a beautiful, long-haired calico and is a big supporter of ReOpen NC and please leave the house. She is past tired of interrupted naps and kids everywhere. I’ve explained the schools are closed, but she thinks they should go anyway. She loves us, but would seriously prefer we let her live in peace, unless she demands something. She’s a funny girl, too, while we practice social distancing with her; you never know if she might snuggle up with one of us to watch TV.

As the state and nation figure out what the rest of the year will look like, let’s remember our confused four-legged family members. If you don’t have one and are interested, check out the animal shelter! 

New Skills, Perhaps? (May 7, 2020)

We’ve reached the day in the quarantine when I pulled out the 1956 Singer sewing machine I inherited. No, I don’t sew. I’m barely crafty at all, I prefer writing and performance art to visual. I appreciate the work of others, I just didn’t get that particular pull for me. Honestly, I glue myself to myself.

I’m the mother of two boys, 12 & 8. An old sewing machine was pretty confusing to them both and me. The 12 year old wandered off to do other things after surveying the situation, but the 8 year old stuck by me out of curiosity and for the entertainment factor. He’s a lot like me. 

“So what are you going to make?” he asked, innocently assuming I would be doing that today. I told him my general idea of masks for our entire family to protect from germs, but that I needed to figure out the machine first.

I told him how I used one in 8th grade, probably 30 years ago, in a home economic class. He chuckled in his much older, wise man way and said “I don’t know what that even means.” He pointed out again the LONG time period that has passed and my obviously rusty skills (at best), which was very helpful as I struggled to make sense of the users manual.

The manual, also from 1956, is funny in the wording for 2020 eyes. I looked at numbered figures, numbered instructions, and tried to figure out what goes where.

“This is a bobbin!” I exclaimed proudly. I realized I remembered all of 4 or 5 terms total, but that was certainly one of them. I pulled it out and it immediately popped out of my fingers, rolling across the floor, unwinding the thread wound many decades before. After making sure I had it safely in hand again, mini me excused himself, calling back, “Let me know when the masks are done! Can’t wait to see!” His vote of confidence in me is truly astounding. Or is it sarcasm? I’m not really sure.

I rewound the bobbin absentmindedly, still looking at the manual drawings and numbers. I started talking to myself, so I’m glad the kids had left. My husband, Craig, had sat down though and he grinned as I learned to thread the machine.

“Ok, says here that there are twelve guides and then the needle itself. TWELVE? That’s a ridiculous amount of guides, isn’t it? One….two…oh man… where is three? We’ve lost three.”

Mini Me returns. “How’s it going in here?” “We’ve lost three.” My husband drily replies.

“I found it! Three….four… oh dear what is even happening with 5?” I make my way through the figure, the entire twelve step program, and finally the needle! “It works! I can do this!” I prematurely declare.

After making a mess sewing a straight line, I have decided to make one (1) mask if its the last thing I do. It just might be. 

School Days at Home (Perquimans Weekly 4/30/2020)

By the time you read these words, I’ll be fine, but I’m a bit sad right now. I knew schools would probably be closed throughout NC, and I said so in March, but the reality of that is a real bummer. I think a lot about the seniors and how emotional the last year of public school tends to be for them. It is rough not having the proper closure. I’ve thought a lot about these students of all grades, missing out on the fun part of the year with field trips, field day, friends, and beloved teachers. Oh, teachers! I think so much of you! You have figured out how to best reach your particular students and hit the ground running. I lift a hearty shoutout to the Superintendent, Principals, school nutrition, and so many people behind the scenes. Thank You!

But let me tell you who this love letter is truly for today: parents. I see you! I have seen it said that it takes a village to raise a child and a vineyard to homeschool one. Coffee is my vice. This isn’t normal homeschool: this is “surprise! We are in a pandemic and here’s some math you haven’t seen since 1989 and 14 apps to learn - Good luck!” 

Here at the Davis Satellite Campus, I recently read a fable from India with my second grader and had to answer questions about what we read. I finally took a photo of the question and sent it to his teacher. I went to college for a variety of majors - none of them fables - but I’m no slouch in literature. These questions can be so tricky!

I won’t go much into what is happening with my fifth grader. Mainly because it is confusing. He announces three times a week, Chromebook in hand, headset on, that he’ll be in a Zoom conference. He works on things with his classes, laughs a lot, and sometimes brings our dog into class. It’s fine. Just please don’t make me multiply improper fractions with paper and pencil. 

I always thought if I ever homeschooled, it would be filled with trips to the library (closed), the playground (closed), many museums (all closed) and zoos (also closed). I thought I’d be able to join others to work on things together (not allowed). This is NOT regular homeschool: it’s crisis school.

Our home WiFi gets a complete workout from Zoom and everything else involved here these days. Devices are in use often in our home. Even church is online and we watch it with an app on our TV. I’m so grateful for technology during this time because we would be isolated without it. Outside adventures and books are a wonderful break from screens.

I think we’ll manage - all of us. It won’t be necessarily pretty. Nothing seems certain at the moment except for change, which is constant. The kids will be ok. May it build character and a sense of humor!