Realizing Provision

In a conversation the other day, Dad accidentally said “fully quarantined” instead of “fully vaccinated.” I decided that “fully quarantined” is a good description for me, as I am working on completing my 14-day quarantine for the fourth time since the beginning of Covid. If quarantining could eliminate all chances of me getting the virus, I think I would be pretty safe by now.

And now, for an explanation of why I have been in quarantine for over a week and still have not posted anything on my blog, here it is—a confession of my laziness:

Writing is too hard.

It is easier to sit down at the piano and play the songs you already know. (It is about as hard as writing to learn new ones.)

It is easier to read Shel Silverstein’s poetry and laugh, and be concerned about what he is communicating to children, and admire his ability to write second-grade humour, and think about how you are excited to use second-grade humour on your little students.

It is easier to eat cheese curds from Wisconsin. (Infinitely easier. Have you tasted those heavenly morsels?)

It is easier to go through pictures from your last two years at school and pick out your favorites and think up perfect captions to place in a simple photo book, then order the book and anticipate its arrival. (If you come visit me once I’m out of quarantine, I will show you my book and tell you about the wonderful people I got to know and the things I experienced at Faith Builders.)

It is easier to unpack all the physical accumulation of the last two years of your life and then eventually find your bedroom carpet again. (If you give yourself three or four days to do it.)

It is easier to take a walk in the orchard. (However, whether or not a walk in the orchard is easier than writing depends on two important conditions. *)

It is easier to watch The Chosen. (What a healing, beautiful show.)

It is easier to read The Penderwicks and Island of the World and to listen to Educated and Emily of New Moon. (Although reading is hard, too. What has technology done to me?)

It is easier to make egg salad, and sandwiches, and egg salad sandwiches. (I think I could live on bread, cheese, and eggs. And water. And juice.)

It is easier to look up the latest news on when the border will re-open, and be disappointed, and think about what you would do differently if you ran the country. (And then to remember that you are awfully glad that you don’t run the country.)

It is easier to discover old journals, and to get very distracted by them. I’m grateful that my journaling style has changed from when I was 11. It appears as though I had to write everything I did including showering, practicing piano, and playing the Backyard Skateboarding game on the computer (which seems to have happened frequently). I even wrote things like “And now, as you can see, I am writing in my journal.” When I was writing early in the evening and was not planning to go directly to bed when I was finished, I also wrote about the things that I would probably do yet before I went to bed. The journals do get significantly more interesting as I get older, however. Perhaps I will write more on that later.

It is easier to sleep.

It is easier to make healthy ice cream out of frozen fruit and almond milk.

It is easier to tell your readers all the reasons you have not been writing than to actually write.

And I seem to be running out of things to do instead of writing, so maybe I will write for real soon?

*Condition 1: The walk may be harder than writing if a deer fly decides to join you. You may not be able to enjoy nature, pray, or think about anything EXCEPT THE FACT THAT THIS STUPID FLY WILL. NOT. GET. AWAY FROM YOU AND YOU CANNOT STAND IT ANYMORE. Why do they love heads? Can they not understand that my head is not reciprocating the love?

*Condition 2: The walk may be harder than writing if you are afraid of getting attacked by a red-winged blackbird. It makes the walk significantly less enjoyable. On several of my walks this past week, I became suspicious that a red-winged blackbird was flying rather low over my head every time I walked near him. Tonight, there was no question in my mind that he was coming straight for my head before I screamed and wildly flapped my arms. When I returned home, I researched whether it is normal for these birds to fly at your head. I discovered that, indeed, it is common for these birds to attack people’s heads during breeding season if they feel that their babies are threatened. The orchard keeps teaching me new things.