We took a trip, along with Jeremy, to Brooklyn for our oldest grandson’s high school graduation and his four-foot- long sub celebration party. The sub might have been more celebrated than the graduation, but his graduation cap got some attention too.

Back home, I prepared “eggy potatoes” (what it sounds like but made with very specific directions—don’t even think of winging it) and boxed macaroni and cheese, the latter being much better than anything Grandma could produce from scratch! Then the Brooklyn family came to visit us, and for ten days and we had the whole family together except for Jeremy who had returned to San Diego for work. We hiked, and visited relatives, and even had a morning of hair dyeing. Not ordinary times.

Our daughter-in-law Stef lived with us too, even longer than her children. She was off to the hospital every morning before any of us were out of bed, doing an internship in Speech-Language Pathology. There is no better way to learn to know someone than to live with them, an opportunity that doesn’t easily present itself when we live on opposite coasts. I treasured the nearly three months she spent with us. She will finish her degree from James Madison University within the coming year, so no more internships here. I’ll miss this more-than-ordinary time. 

I came down with Covid causing us to postpone a trip. I wasn’t very sick but spending days alone in my room, taking naps, sitting and reading for long stretches while family life bustled along without me was definitely not ordinary.

Then we were off to Goshen, Indiana to visit my (now) 100-year-old Aunt Dot, my mother’s youngest sister and only remaining family member. Her husband Bob is 97 and they had moved to a retirement and nursing home a few months ago. My sisters, Dorothy Jean from Harrisonburg and Carol from Ontario, came as well, and we had an early birthday celebration with coconut cake, singing by us all, and piano playing by Carol.

Squeezed in between my goings and comings we had a small Weaver cousin gathering that included most of my east coast cousins. We sat in the present, but reminisced about a happy, carefree past.

Less than a week after returning, I drove to Richmond to be with my beloved writing group that started years ago in Manassas. We did no writing (although we vowed to start again) but walked around the Church Hill neighborhood where Cathy lives, talked deeply about our lives, attended noonday prayers at Richmond Hill retreat center, laughed together, missed Lauree who died this past year, visited the Frieda Kahlo exhibit at the Virgina Museum of Fine Arts, and ate ridiculously well. When Dana wrote about our time together in her blog I thought of responding to her that I envied her having that group.

Just back from Richmond, I got a text from my dear friend Pat saying, “Dwayne is taking his final earthly journey.” We all knew this was coming but no matter how prepared any of us are, it always comes as a jolt. Dwayne and Pat have been friends of ours for many years—Dwayne from my childhood and Pat in college. Several years together in Botswana cemented our friendship which has continued for more than 50 years.

In the following few days, we helped sit vigil as Dwayne sank deeper and deeper into unawareness and finally breathed his last. I helped plan the small burial service held in a green burial cemetery with the Massanutten Peak just beyond us, sculptured clouds in the blue sky above, air just warm enough for comfort, and crickets providing background song. Sacred time—not ordinary.

And then there is the daily news. I wonder how many times the word unprecedented is used to describe current events in our country and beyond. Most of them are unprecedented in a distressing way. Volunteering for the election, joining protests, writing letters, making phone calls are only a drop in the bucket, but I am trying to add my drop.

This season is clearly not being usual or predictable for me. However, it has been a time of numbering, not just the weeks after Pentecost, but the gifts of relationship, of goodness and bounty, of the accepting love of family, of health and the ability to take in the world around me with all my senses. It is also a time to show up and be counted in ways I’ve rarely done in the past.