It’s early morning. Molly gifted both of us with a full night’s sleep and I stand, feeling relatively refreshed, looking out over the top of the window blind in our dining area. A crescent moon and Venus shine brightly in the southeastern sky. Constants. There’s a smattering of other lights—stars, or planets, or something else. I wonder if every light I see is God-created or if there are man-made satellites of some kind in my view as well. I never know anymore. Everything has and is, changed.
In October 2021, our world still reeling from all that 2020 ushered in, we prepared to move Laurinda and Makiya down to Kamloops from Prince George, B.C.. They moved in with us and, what was meant to be short-lived, turned out to be something longer. Our daughter worked two jobs, and we stepped into a pseudo-parental role that’s a tad more difficult than that of grandparenting. Those ten months of having our girls live with us were a gift, but they weren’t without difficulty.
Last year at this time, Gerry and I were in the midst of a purge as we prepared to move to Saskatchewan. It was the fulfillment of my lifelong dream and a joint decision made with our daughter. Laurinda and Makiya had already settled here, having come before school started; but, in the end, their time here would prove to be temporary.
In November our house sold, kicking into gear a flurry of activity as we purchased a new home in Moose Jaw (without ever stepping foot inside) and made arrangements to move.
In early December, we drove for two days from Kamloops to Moose Jaw (through a snowstorm and traffic delays that cleared once we left British Columbia). The moving truck met us at our new home, which we toured for the first time, and we began settling in. Days before the end of 2021, our tiny Yorkie, Murphy, died unexpectedly in his sleep.
At the end of March, Laurinda returned to Kamloops for work, and our granddaughter, Makiya, moved in with us for the remainder of the school year.
In June, we said goodbye to our senior Yorkie, Maya. Makiya finished school and joined her mom back in Kamloops. And then there were two: just Gerry and me in a house with no family and no dogs for the first time in forever.
Then summer and gardens and visitors and activities and, save for one week when Gerry was away on a hiking trip back in BC and I was home alone, it was go, go, go. Oh! And we brought home a 12-week-old Yorkie puppy at the end of August.
Now it’s October again. I feel the impact of the past two years of change deep in my soul. My body confirms it. I am tired.
I am reading a pre-release copy of a memoir scheduled for 2024 publication, and have the privilege of peeking into the thoughts of a woman the way reading memoir allows. I’m being remind of things I unintentionally let go of. A conversation about the wisdom of staying grounded catches, and tells me I am not at this moment. I wake in the morning and mentally run through my too-committed calendar, longing for a stretch of weeks with no commitments. I meltdown. Finally, I say “no” to a request for the first time in a long time and the world doesn’t come to and end.
So, on a quiet morning I stand with a puppy in my arms waiting for my tea to steep, looking up at the moon. Gratitude for something on which I can rely fills me. God, you have brought us in safety to a new day. I don’t know how this one will play out, but God. Two words I think of often in light of this and that and, oh yes, that other thing that has just happened. But, God. Again and again until it sticks with me, I breathe and pray. But, God. But, God. But, God.
Another day begins.
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