Life lately has looked like a smattering of lists:
- itineraries for monthly adventures and weekly trips to visit family,
- items packed and left to pack,
- a list of to-do's squeezed into my agenda to be later scrawled on scrap pieces of paper, daily checklists of tasks to get done before the Sabbath,
- post-it's with a schedule breaking down my weekly medical interpretation assignments,
- next steps for a fledgling project,
- Bible verses to consider for a DIY ABC Scripture Memorization card project (s'cute!),
- celebrations and challenges to intercede for.
In my Notes app:
- a growing list of DIY's time won't allow me to get to ("for the next pandemic," Mike joked, referencing his own personal project list),
- cookie recipes (that I'll probably get around to after Christmas),
- grocery items for when (insert name here) graces our table (<3),
- items to look out for at the thrift store (for those DIY projects future me will eventually tackle),
- grievances to process and journal later,
- closet additions (has my life been joyful without it? the answer's typically "yes").
Being in the midst of multiple transitions feels like there's a lot of growing branches to care for. My mind has needed extra help focusing on the very present, the things I can prioritize getting done today, and the ideas and ambitions to contain for the future. These lists, ever-evolving and of various formats, have been serving their purpose.
How satisfying to check off one small task for a large project with no clear roadmap, confirmation that progress is underway for the obedient "yes" to uncertainty.
How humbling to be reminded that I can't do it all and life doesn't happen on my time.
How freeing, too, to practice focusing on the now, like letting my eyes soaking in the carotenoid-rich, sweet birch leaves fluttering, like gold glitter, against the dull grey skies, showering Ithaca in autumnal magic. Or, soaking in how the mist swirls upwards from the lake as the low sun rises with a warmth that reflects off the frozen sienna red and yellow ochre leaves, some of which tumble onto the windshield - the joys of sitting in traffic. Life and society seem to have hastened back to a pre-pandemic pace, and it's nice to be reminded, both by autumn and God's grace towards my human-ness, to slow down.
Fall 2023 (mostly iPhone photos)
Please note: this is a highlight reel. Unphotographed: a lot.
Lately:
Remodeling America's School Lunches with Brigaid (Brad Leone)
Black Liturgies (Cole Arthur Riley)
When Work Weighs You Down, Take a ‘Sad Day’ (NYT)
Field Hearing: Overworked and Undervalued: Is the Severe Hospital Staffing Crisis Endangering the Well-Being of Patients and Nurses? (Chaired by Senator Bernie Sanders for the US Senate Committee on HELP in New Brunswick)
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