I'm a Bag Lady!, a post by Nancy L. Agneberg

I have a bag for every purpose: bags for grocery shopping and a heavy basket with leather handles for going to the farmers' market on Saturday morning; bags for each of my writing projects and an empty bag with "Paris" written on its side, perfect to toss a couple magazines, a book, maybe stationery for letter writing to have on a plane or the car or in a cafe. I have bags awaiting a specific purpose, big, small, fancy or simple. Some with memories of the gift-giver. Some pure luxury. 
     Years ago I participated on a variety of committees and boards and had a bag for each one. I would check my Franklin Planner (Remember that popular organizer?) each night and see what was on the schedule for the next day and set aside the appropriate bag. Social Ministry Committee. Church Council. Summit Hill House Tour. The system worked well for me.
     Now I live in two places--Madison and St Paul. Bags are definitely required. Our house is on the market and when a showing occurs I turn on all the lights and grab a bag and leave. I play my own version of the childhood memory game we used to play at Brownie meetings. "I'm going to my grandmother's house and in my bag (suitcase) I packed..." 
     Recently, my car was broken into and my purse, which I had UNWISELY left in the back seat while a friend and I enjoyed a river view and deep conversation, was stolen. One of those pure luxury bags. Money, credit cards, drivers license--all gone in 10 seconds the police officer said. Since then I have been dealing with the aftermath of this theft. Most everyone I have contacted has been helpful and empathic, except the one credit card person who asked me if I was having a nice day after I told her I was calling to report a stolen card (!!!).  
     The aftermath, however, involves much more than the financial loss and complications.  I have lost some confidence in my urban smarts and in my view of myself as someone who thinks ahead and considers carefully my current context. I am embarrassed and have even felt shame, especially when someone tells me what I should have done. I feel guilt for needing my husband's help during his busy day and also for marring the visit from an out of state friend. I feel more anger with myself, interestingly, than with the unknown person who did the deed. I feel flawed and inadequate. I messed up. What could I have been thinking? Well, clearly, I wasn't thinking.
     The first couple nights after the incident I replayed what I should have done over and over again. I told a friend I wasn't going to beat myself up about what had happened, but I was doing exactly that. So often when I have sat with someone in spiritual direction I have softly encouraged, "Be gentle with yourself." I forgot that wisdom when it came to myself, but I also knew I needed to explore the lessons of the stolen bag.  
     Here's what Debbie Ford in her book The Right Questions, Ten Essential Questions to Guide You to an Extraordinary Life says in the chapter titled "Will I Use this Situation as a Catalyst to Grow and Evolve or Will I Use It to Beat Myself Up?"
     We beat ourselves up by rehashing an event over and over in our mind, analyzing why we didn't do it better and how we could have done it differently We beat ourselves up by spending our precious energy trying to figure out how we could have avoided the situation altogether...we always have a choice to use each event to learn and grow or to use it against ourselves...
     Everything in this life can be used to transform us, to bring us closer to our spiritual essence and our dreams. In other words, either we are using life in our favor or we are using it against ourselves. This is what is meant by the saying 'Life is a teacher to the wise man and an enemy to the fool.' By seeing life as a teacher, we transcend the pain and suffering we put on ourselves. And then we can spend our energy creating what we want rather than wasting it by rehashing the past.
     The Right Question will immediately shift our perspective from one of self-doubt or recrimination to one of open minded learning. 
     So what am I learning? I am learning how often I beat myself up. I chastise myself when I spill something or forget something or don't use my time as well as I think I should or eat more than I should or am not present to another person or...... On and on it goes. I beat myself up when I mess up, and I mess up often. Writer Joyce Rupp reminds me to greet myself mercifully." 
     I imagine if I had been more mindful in the moment I locked the car door without taking my purse with me, I would not have found a broken window when we returned to the car and therefore, I hope I will be more mindful, more present, but the lesson right now is to remember that I am human, and humans mess up. My lesson is to do what needs to be done and move on.
     I am going to my grandmother's house and in my bag I packed forgiveness, gentleness, humility, mercy, and mindfulness. What's in your bag? 


  

Summer Reading, a post by Nancy L. Agneberg

One of my innocent pleasures is collecting and then creating my own summer reading lists. Book recommendations at any time of the year are always pleasurable, but there is something seductive about the idea that there will be even more time for reading in the summer. 
      Where did that notion come from? I wonder if it started when I was a child and June, July, and August meant open, no school days to decide how I wanted to spend or waste my time.  I recall days entirely spent reading; days when I simply changed my location from bedroom to backyard lawn chair, to basement rec room, if it was really hot, to a chair in the living room, which my mother said I wore out one summer, and then back to my bedroom at night. Often we moved in the summer, which usually meant no friends and no planned activities until school started in the fall. Except for babysitting my younger brother and sister, my time was my own. 
     Summers seem busier now, but still the Summer Reading list beckons. National Public Radio offers lists, as does the New York Times, of course, and local newspapers and favorite magazines. Book stores and libraries label tables "Summer Reading."  Just Google summer reading lists, and you will be amazed by all the possibilities.  As a list junkie, I am willing to consider and consult them all. 
     Here's my list, knowing I won't be able to read them all and knowing I will add other titles along the way. (no particular order)
Fiction
1.  Z, A Novel of Zelda Fitzgerald by Therese Anne Fowler
2.  How It All Began by Elizabeth Berg
3.  Mission to Paris by Alan Furst
4.  Let the Great World Spin by Colum McCann
5.  The Pleasing Hour by Lily King
6.  Vacationland by Sarah Stonich
7.  Istanbul Passage by Joseph Kanon
8.  The Woman Upstairs by Claire Messud
9.  Summer by Edith Wharton
NonFiction
1.  Willa Cather's Letters (Bruce and I are planning a road trip to New Mexico this fall and will route ourselves to Red Cloud, Nebraska, her birthplace. I not only want to read her letters but of course reread my favorite Cather novels--more titles for the fiction list, oh my!) 
2. The Monk and the Philosopher, A Father and Son Discuss the Meaning of Life by Jean-Francois Revel and Matthieu Ricard
3. Paris to the Pyranees, A Skeptic Pilgrim Walks the Way of Saint James by David Downie
4. Paris, Paris: Journey into the City of Light by David Downie
5. Team of Rivals, The Political Genius of Abraham Lincoln by Doris Kearns Goodwin (Now that everyone else has read it, but since a friend and I are planning a trip to Springfield, Illinois, where Lincoln lived, I will dig in.) 
     In addition to my list of what I intend to read, here's a list of what I have read recently. Lately, I have had a run of reading memorable novels. 
1. And the Mountains Echoed by Khaled Hosseini
2. Talk Before Sleep by Elizabeth Berg
3. The Summer of the Bear by Bella Pollen
4. A Lady Cyclist's Guide to the Kashgar by Susanne Joinson
5. Benediction by Kent Haruf
6. The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry by Rachel Joyce
One nonfiction book needs to be mentioned, too--Lean In, Women, Work and The Will to Lead by Sheryl Sandberg

One more recommendation goes beyond summer reading lists:  BookWomen, A Reader's Community For Those Who Love Women's Words is published six times a year by Minnesota Women's Press and is a wonderful source for titles and discussion about books and reading. (www.womenspress.com) The most recent issue focused on the topic of changing reading habits. Does what we read change as we get older, for example. Many women commented that they are reading more nonfiction than when they were younger. I have noticed that over the course of a year my fiction/nonfiction titles are more balanced than when I was younger and primarily preferring fiction. An intriguing exploration. How about you?

What's on your summer reading list? My list is open-ended and I am always open to additions. Now, where's my hammock? 
  

Living, Not Visiting, a Post by Nancy L. Agnebe

  
I bought an ironing board and iron for our apartment. 





I arranged for Internet here, too.

The bookshelf is becoming full. 











     I guess we live here and don't just visit here. More and more I realize my life is here as well as in Madison. In the recent past having an apartment here felt like a transition, a symbol of moving eventually, post Bruce's retirement, from Madison to St. Paul. An interim place while we attempt to sell our house and before we buy a house in St Paul. We would dash in for the weekend, clothes on hangars (No need for an iron!), and our dance card full of events and dates with friends and family. The grandkids would be excited to see us, and the two days would feel like a mini-vacation. 
     Gradually, there has been a shift, a feeling of being at home. A sense of normalcy. I have a full set of make-up and skin and haircut products here. We each have slippers and a robe in our closets. There is Diet Coke and wine in the refrigerator (and not much else) and bagels in the freezer. The shift, however, became more apparent over the weeks I spent here before and after Dad's surgery. I am aware that I will be here more frequently as we help Dad make the transition into senior living and then ready his house for sale, but the shift from visiting to living here is not just about amount of time spent here.  That is a factor for sure, but the shift is more about living fully right now. Living life fully and not just being a visitor in my own life. 
     As part of a new writing project I have been re-reading the journals I kept when we moved from Minnesota to Shaker Heights, Ohio, in 1994. A major change for us all, and while it was our choice, responding to an exciting career opportunity for Bruce, it was not without difficulties. Soon after we moved there, I experienced some unexplainable leg pain. My right leg ached for weeks until I invited myself to meditate about the pain. During the meditation I saw myself facing north with one leg stretched across Ohio and Illinois and Wisconsin and reaching into Minnesota. Home. The other was tenuously perched in Ohio. Uncomfortable to say the least. What I needed to do was pull my right leg into Ohio. I needed to plant myself in Ohio, and until I did, I could not have much of a life there. With that realization my leg pain disappeared, and I opened to a new stage in my life. 
     This transition is different. It is true that I think longingly about living in St Paul full-time, and I admit to a number of plans for my St Paul life. I would love to start a small spiritual direction practice here--just a few clients. I think about starting a contemplative writing group, my own version of Miriam Hall's gifted writing groups in Madison. I think about volunteer opportunities, perhaps doing life review or journal writing in senior living facilities. I have registered to take a class at The Loft Literary Center this summer and look forward to more involvement there. The list is growing. However, I want to be clear. My life in Madison will continue to grow and satisfy. For example, I intend to start a contemplative retirement circle in Madison in the fall, and wherever I am, I will write. Wherever I am, I will connect with friends and family. Wherever I am, I intend to be open to life in that time and place. 
      Once again the lesson, the hope, is to Live Now. Live in the Present. Live in the Moment. Wherever you are. 

In what ways is life offering you the opportunity to Live Now?

Holy Encounters, a Post by Nancy L. Agneberg

The last two weeks have been ones filled with Holy Encounters. 

"When you meet anyone, remember it is a holy encounter. As you see him, you will see yourself. As you treat him, you will treat yourself. As you think of him, you will think of yourself. Never forget this, for in him, you will find yourself or lose yourself." A Course in Miracles, p. 132. 

     I have been home from Minnesota for almost  two weeks and in that time have re-connected with many special people in my life. What I thought I most needed was quiet, alone time to read and meditate and write, and I am grateful for those times and clearly, did need chunks of solitude, but what surprised me was my need to spend time with loved ones here. 

    Last night dear friends joined us on our porch for wine and appetizers. We have missed each other these last months because of trips and work and family commitments, but much to our delight we were all free for the evening. We have not entertained much during these never-ending months of having our house on the market, and I have missed doing so. Originally, I planned just to go the wine and cheese and cracker route, keeping things simple just in case there was a last minute showing scheduled, but I changed my mind. I wanted to anticipate the company, the Holy Encounter, by doing something quite unholy on the surface--messing up the kitchen. I got out some cookbooks and recipe files and got busy, almost humming in the process. Greek croustade (phyllo with a spinach and cheese filling, roasted shrimp and cocktail sauce, roasted cashews with rosemary, cayenne, and brown sugar, and hummus with pita crackers. Oh, and to drink, kir (white wine and cassis--very pretty.) The napkins said "THIS HOME RUNS ON LOVE, LAUGHTER AND LOTS OF WINE." The evening would have been just as full of laughter and love without the extra time spent in preparation, but every bit of measuring and chopping and mixing and then washing and drying reminded me of my good fortune of having so many special people in my life. 

"Relationships are meaningful because they are opportunities to expand our hearts and become more deeply loving." A Return to Love by Marianne Williamson, p. 138.

     The Holy Encounters of this last week included a weekend in Chicago with our son and daughter-in-love who live in Cleveland. I rejoiced in the pleasure of this adult relationship, liking them as much as I love them. Two female friends here made time in their week for me, and I thought about how it wasn't really that long ago that I didn't know them, and now they are necessary people in my Madison life, and I miss them when I am not here. Another friend and I hugged hard after a space in our friendship and realized our hearts had maintained crucial room for one another. Out of town friends here for a convention included us in their busy agenda, and we added onto our friendship of over 40 years. Even my much needed haircut felt Holy to me as we updated one another on our lives, and I recalled how I found her without anyone's recommendation when we moved here--just took a chance--and now she is one of my special "peeps." 

     And, of course, time with my husband, for "Partners are meant to have a priestly role in each other's lives. They are meant to help each other access the highest parts within themselves." A Return to Love, p. 127. The best kind of Holy Encounter.

     I returned from Minnesota relieved at my father's healing, but at the same time quite depleted, and these two weeks have been ones in which I have filled with the energy of so many Holy Encounters. There are others here I have not had a chance to connect with, except for continuing to hold them in my heart. Our day will come, as my father always says. But now I prepare to return to Minnesota for two more weeks, weeks that will be filled with a variety of activities, including grandchildren time, sister time, daughter time, father time, and a visit from a dear out of town friend. I return even more aware of the gifts of Holy Encounters. 

     "Relationships exist to hasten our walk to God." A Return to Love, p. 92.

Note: Sometimes a Holy Encounter is rediscovering a favorite and influential book from the past. That's what happened while reading a new book by Richard Rohr. He quoted Marianne Williamson in her book A Return to Love, and I immediately went to my bookshelf and immersed myself in her wisdom.

I would love to know about your experience with Holy Encounters.  I invite your comments. 

The Biggest Changes are Within, a Post by Nancy L. Agneberg

Meet my father. This picture was taken in his home the day he came home from rehab following back surgery. Looks pretty good for almost 90, doesn't he? His physicians, nurses, physical therapists, and other health care providers were all astounded at his age and said they guessed he was much younger. Of course, he is delighted with those compliments, but still, he knows that living alone in his large home is no longer the best option for him. He has made the decision to move into a new senior living complex in the fall, and while this will be a major change for him, he is expressing eagerness and even excitement about the move. Ever since my mother died 10 years ago he has stated firmly that he wanted to stay in the house, so I wondered if he might have second thoughts the day after making the deposit for his new apartment.  He assured me that was not the case and furthermore, he said, "I will not make this hard on you." 
     Amazing! Believe me, I know how fortunate I am to have an elderly parent who is undemanding and also willing and able to make good decisions for his own health and wellbeing. I know of too many cases where that is clearly not the case. True, there may be days ahead of negotiating, but his outlook is positive, and he is open to this next stage of his life.  
     The thing is that not only is this the next stage of HIS life; it is also the next stage of MY life, and I need to be at least as open to change as he is. As I think about the last few weeks, I am aware of so many moments of learning and flashes of insight. I will share three:
1.   Do the next thing. There were moments when I felt overwhelmed and remembered why I chose teaching as a profession and not nursing, but a friend told me I could do anything. She reminded me I am the woman who wrestled a sheep in the ditch, after all! When we lived at Sweetwater Farm, we had three sheep, Wynken, Blynken, and Nod, and one of them escaped from the barn one morning after Bruce had gone to work. I heard cars honking on the road in front of the house and what option did I have but to go charging after it? Amazingly, I tackled it to the ground and then wondered what to do! A passing motorist took pity on us and helped me restore Blynken to its proper place, and all was well. Blynken was safe, and I had a great story. So yes, I am the woman who wrestled a sheep in the ditch, but I can't do everything. What I realized, however, is that I can do the next thing. These past weeks I did whatever the next thing was and then the next thing and the next. The feeling of being overwhelmed lessened as I reminded myself to focus on the next step. 
2. Grow bigger and deeper. I have said for years that as I get older I want to expand my world. I want my world to get bigger, instead of smaller. Even as I have said that, however, I have been aware that in many ways one's world actually gets smaller with age--friends and family die, one's ability to be out in the world or to experience the world lessens due to health or financial issues, and even one's physical space, moving from home to apartment to nursing home, gets smaller and smaller. A friend commented recently that his father in-law's world has gotten smaller and smaller, and I suspect in his observation was a desire not to let that happen to himself and perhaps an unconscious fear that it will. I know people who are squeezing as much travel time into their lives right now, for example, because they know at some point travel will not be as easy a proposition. For many retirement represents a loss of interaction in the world, and there can be a feeling of diminishment and lack of purpose. 
     Still, I feel a commitment to the idea of an expanding world even into the late years. What I realize is that my definition of "world" is changing. Where I sense the expansion can come is in my inner world, my spiritual world, my knowledge of my essence, my True Self, my acquaintance with the God within and without. There are not limits to that kind of growth.
     "A door opens in the center of our being and we seem to fall though it into immense depths, which although they are infinite--are still accessible to us All eternity seems to have become ours in this one placid and breathless contact."  Kathleen Dowling Singh in The Grace in Dying, p. 15. 
     My father is a model for me in his dedication to his spiritual practice of reading scripture and other devotions, including studying a section of Luther's Large Catechism every day. He may not be doing all the things that previously gave him pleasure and stimulated his intellectual growth, but his spirit is getting bigger and bigger. 
3.   Let go and live. When it was time to say goodbye to Dad before they took him in for surgery, I was aware that this could be the last time I would see my father alive. Given his age and his past history of heart issues, surgery was a risky proposition. I thought about all the other times I have said goodbye to him or other loved ones, in most cases fully expecting that a hello would follow soon. This time the outcome seemed good, but was not a sure thing. I told him I loved him, said goodbye, and let go. 
     Letting go of hurts, of disappointments, of expectations, of hopes and dreams, of fears, of possibilities, of plans and routines, of viewpoints, of worries, of control is no small task, but it is one we are asked to do every day of our lives in some way. Each time we let go of our grasp on whatever binds us, we practice dying just a bit. We move towards an acceptance of our own physical death. With that understanding comes freedom, I think, to live in a way that can be transformative. A life full of the fruits of the Spirit--"love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, trustfulness, gentleness, and self-control." Galatians 5:22. A life that provides evidence of an ongoing encounter with God. 
     
     Everyday it seems I discover opportunities to relearn the lessons that offered themselves so clearly these last weeks with my father. Do the next thing. Grow bigger and deeper. Let go and live. I welcome hearing how these lessons are alive in your own life.   
      
     

Core Strength, a Post by Nancy L. Agneberg

Just a week ago my father had back surgery and his recovery has been amazing, especially for a man of almost 90. He is thrilled, as we are all are, with his  new "no pain" status. After only two nights and three days in the hospital we moved him to rehab for another short stay and finally, home.  Although the results are indeed happy ones, full of relief, the last few weeks have been intense physically and emotionally and will continue to be so as we find the right assisted living situation and facilitate that move. These busy days don't include much time for my usual quiet mornings of meditation and prayer, which brings me to our 10 year-old granddaughter, Maren.
     Recently, she purchased with her own money a ripstick which is similar to a skateboard, but only has one wheel at each end and has a bar in the middle making the board flexible and very tricky to ride! Learning to maneuver it successfully has taken Maren lots of practice, and there have been the inevitable falls, (Yes, she wears a helmet,) but her father is thrilled for she is developing core strength, which will be an advantage during basketball and volleyball seasons. 
     Thanks to Maren, I have been thinking about Core Strength. 
     Where does your core strength come from? How have you developed it and how are you maintaining it? What shape is it in today?
     I know that in optimal times what sustains me is enough quiet and alone time for meditation and reflection--time to pray, time to meditate, time to write, to read and study. Lots of emphasis on time, which is not always possible in crisis or the anticipation of or follow-up to crisis. However,  because I have been intentional about building my core strength, I have some reserves, a backlog of core strength to draw upon. The body, the soul and the heart seem to remember that I have followed a long time routine of spiritual practices in my life, and I feel supported, even though I am not practicing them daily now in a disciplined way. 
     However, there are still opportunities in the moment, even stressful, full ones, for spiritual nourishment, spiritual care taking,  that can help maintain and replenish one's level of core strength. A few suggestions:
     * Breathe. Just stop, even for a minute or two, wherever you are and become still and breathe. Close your eyes or gaze through soft eyes. This was my main practice as I stood in the hall outside my father's hospital room or as a nurse checked my Dad's vital signs or as I waited for the elevator.  
     * Stretch. Raise your arms. Bend at the waist--whatever. Feel yourself in your body. Remind yourself that you are a creation of the Divine. 
     * Do one different thing today. Drive to the grocery store a different way. Don't make the bed (or make it!). The point is to make a different choice and notice how that feels and what that brings up for you.
    * Notice. Become aware of the moments of beauty or gift in your day, your surroundings. This is not about being a PollyAnna if you are in the midst of a difficult situation, but instead it is about being a witness in the world. As I looked out my Dad's hospital windows, I could watch spring finally come to Minnesota and  sitting on his three-season porch, I watched a cardinal couple creating a nest. 
    * Give thanks. My Dad received such excellent care, and I am so grateful. It seemed he had just the right nurse at the right time--the one who took time to get to know him before taking his blood pressure and the one who in the middle of his first night after surgery, when he was quite agitated, was so calm and sweet and respectful. My gratitude list is long. 
All these suggestions can build your core strength.
     Margaret Silf in her book At Sea With God, A Spiritual Guidebook to the Heart and Soul says, "One practical way to 'collect' the fresh water in prayer is to foster the habit of noticing God's presence and action in every day things, in the people around us and the ordinary events and encounters that happen to us, and to notice any ways in which God has rewoven the brokenness of our experience into new designs for fuller living. When you feel you are adrift, especially, try taking a little time each day to ask yourself: 'What has awakened new life, fresh energy in me today? What has caught my attention and reminded me that I and my life-raft are not the center of the universe? What has made me rejoice,or even feel compassion, or a desire to speak out for justice? What has made me feel loved today?' Where love is, there is God You may find at the end of the day that you have collected more living water than you expected and that God has recycled the apparent 'waste' of the past into pure water for the future."
    How do you build your core strength and what ways do you have for maintaining it when life intervenes?

Lessons in Self-Care: Going to Bed, a Post by Nancy L. Agneberg

I have a confession: I am a hoarder. I hoard alone time. I hoard quiet time. When I don't have my usual amount of alone time or my normal routine for meditation and reflection,  I compensate for it, sneaking it and stealing it from other times. What that most often means is staying up later than my usual 10:00 bedtime. The consequence is that I am more tired in the morning and less able to respond to the demands and even the pleasures of the upcoming day. An unhealthy cycle is often the result. 
      I am not just discovering this about myself, of course. I have been aware when we have family or friends staying with us, for example, and the time is full of wonderful, stimulating, fun, thought-provoking interactions and activities, and the time is busy and full that I am likely to stay up alone in the quiet of a late night house, rather than going to bed. I may empty the dishwasher or straighten the living room and den, fluffing pillows, stacking newspapers and mail, restoring the rooms for a welcoming morning. I may do some preparation for breakfast time. I may watch some junk tv--yet another episode of House Hunters or Love it or List It. I may check and reply to emails or even play solitaire on my iphone (You are learning all my secrets.) or I may get totally absorbed in whatever book I am reading. What I am not as likely to do is move into some brief meditation and reflection time and go to bed. 
     Last week when I was staying with my father responding to some health concerns, there was little time for my go-to spiritual practices and yet, after he went to bed, I remained on the enclosed porch and flipped through TV channels, looking for distraction. I was tired, emotionally, more than physically, but how often the two go together. What I should have done was set the timer on my phone and meditated for just 10-15 minutes and then gone to bed. Doing that I knew would make me fresher and more able to respond with grace and openness in the morning, but I didn't do that. 
     Why is that I wonder? I know I should eat better, exercise more, and I know what the fruits of those healthy activities are both on a short term and long term basis, but oh, how often I am swayed from doing them.  I seem to believe that knowing what is best for my body, mind, and soul is as good as doing them. Wrong!!! I seem to need to resist. The two-year-old in me is alive and well, apparently.  
     The next week or so is going to be challenging. My father will have surgery on Monday and be in the hospital for one to two nights. The orthopedic procedure is not an uncommon one, we are assured, but he is almost 90 after all, and nothing can be taken for granted. I am staying with him now and will be staying with him while he is in the hospital and then again when he comes home. This is an intense time of care taking, and while I am grateful, very grateful, not to be doing this on my own, I need to be at my best, my very best. 
      Before settling in with Dad this week, I had the luxury of a night alone at our apartment in St Paul. After dinner with Dad, I returned to the apartment and immediately got into my pajamas (flannel--have you seen the weather reports about this area?) and got ready for bed. I set the alarm clock on my phone for 10:00. Instead of wake-up time, it was a Go To Bed time. I sent three brief emails. I read for awhile, finishing a wonderful book, The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry by Rachel Joyce, I meditated for 15 minutes and spent time in prayer. I listened to the quiet. At 9:58 I turned out the lights and crawled into bed. I slept well, and I was ready for the day. 
     When life moves out of the ordinary, regardless of the reason, welcome or not, how important it is to adapt what supports you into what is the new normal.  It may not be anything major and may be something that in everyday life one takes for granted, but the benefits are real. Right now I pretend to hear the voice of my mother, "Nancy, it is time to go to bed."