“If we ever needed the Lord, we sure do need him now, …we need him every day and every hour,” one of my favorite songs, has come across my mind almost daily since November 3. Now would be the time to call on and listen to our God.
Earlier this week I spoke to a friend whose neighbor had died of COVID. She has the kind of neighbors people used to have—you know them because you spend time in their homes, the children play together, they have a key to your house, etc., and I lamented that even though I’ve met my neighbors, I don’t know them.
This Thanksgiving I have more reasons than I can count to be thankful. I try to live triumphantly every day, but this year has been filled with a tad more adventure and activity than I would’ve ordered in a given year. As November began, I warned that I would be celebrating my birthday all month and that is still my intention though my official 65th birthday has come and gone.
I believe experience is a very fine teacher. In her class I learned from the good, the bad, and the ugly—each lesson etched across my forehead like a badge of honor. I’m not sure which ones I learned the most from, but like Thomas Edison and his invention of the light bulb, I know a million ways not to do the same things the same way again.
Before our next national elections, here are three lessons we ought to consider:
I’m in the second week of political conventions and if I didn’t have common sense, I’d be scared to death. My father often said if sense were common, everybody would have it; after listening and watching the past eight days, he was right.
From what I can see and hear from the speakers, whichever way we go, we are up the creek with no water, paddle, or life jacket. With the Biden/Harris ticket or the Trump/Pence ticket, all our dreams will come true or they will all turn into nightmares. I suspect the truth is out here in the middle struggling to be free, and we, as an electorate, are left to sort through the demonizing/ hopeful language and decide which road to take.
I’ve probably enjoyed staying home a little too much over the past 35 or 40 days. I have my trusty laptop, food, books, and more work than I know what to do with, so I’m set for another two months at least. Yes, I miss seeing my barber, going out to eat, to the movies and library, wandering around aimlessly at the mall— “normal” stuff this pandemic prevented.
So far I haven’t suffered any fever—real or cabin—and though I have Zoomed until I literally fell out, I love my commute of 50 steps and no traffic, my casual business attire—t-shirt and cutoffs, and trips to the bank drive-thru and the pharmacy. My tank of gas is the same one I had last month.
This new mindset took adjustment but now that I have a new “normal,” I like it. I’ve decided not to go back to the “bad ole days,” and I pray you, too, will discover a new improved dailiness.
You’ve probably heard the phrase “perfect storm,” and after all we’ve been through in the past 45 days, I think I know what one looks and feels like. I am blessed that I have a home to shelter in place. I slept through tornadoes in Nashville last months and severe storms Sunday without an inkling a storm raged outside. I can work from home and I’ve had e-church the past three Sundays because we can’t congregate.
If the Coronavirus/Covid19 has taught me anything, it’s to not put stuff off. This is not the first time I’ve broached this subject with you and it probably won’t be the last, yet many of us are still figuring we have a million tomorrows. Trust me, friends, we don’t.