I am writing this from Lutheridge, the camp in Arden, North Carolina, which is in the mountains near Asheville. How strange to think that just 48 hours ago, I was at the desk that was once my grandfather's, that I was writing down in South Florida.
On Tuesday, I got up very early, brewed the coffee that I would later pour out on the North Carolina pine needles, put the last batch of stuff in the car, and headed north. It was a fairly easy trip: the road construction that I encountered was very early in the morning when the traffic was light, and along the way, all of us drivers managed to avoid accidents.
I got to Columbia, South Carolina just after my grad school friend got home from teaching her morning classes. During the last few hours of my trip, the public radio station in South Carolina had broadcast messages about various state offices closing early, the message brought to us by the department of emergency preparedness at the governor's office. How strange, I thought. I visualized a map of South Carolina, wondering if the counties were near each other, and the answer was yes and no, as the announcement broadened the number of counties.
My friend had had students leave her class early because their children's schools were being let out early because of possible thunderstorms. We shook our head at this modern life. I looked at the skies and brought my overnight bag in, along with my computer. About a half hour later, the skies opened up, and I was glad I did. There was a crack or 2 of thunder, but we didn't think much about it. It was cozy to eat soup and sandwiches assembled on sourdough bread while the rain poured down.
Later in the afternoon, the tornado watches were elevated to a warning. Again we looked at the skies and the maps. We thought we were out of range, but we made a plan, just in case. We talked about what would happen if we went to the room below ground, and a tornado came. Would the house be lifted off of us? Would it collapse down on us?
Happily, we never had to find out. I am aware that others were not that lucky. All the way up I 95 I heard the horrible reports out of Ukraine--so much death and destruction. And this morning, I'm reading about the destruction wrought by tornados across the very route that I drove on Tuesday.
On Tuesday, I had other thoughts as I drove up I 95. The last time I drove up I 95 was in January, when I went up to LTSS to finish my certificate in spiritual direction. Back then, I still owned a house in a flood zone in South Florida, although I was hopeful that we would actually close on selling it the following week (we did). Back in January, I was still employed in my full-time job, and I was beginning the think about whether or not I should sign up for online seminary classes since it looked like my job would not continue. Six weeks later, I had been severed from that job and signed up for a mix of online and onground classes, and I've submitted a request for on campus housing. When I last drove north on I 95 in January, there were rumblings of war in eastern Europe, and as I drove up on Tuesday, there were rumblings of war crimes and news of utter devastation.
On Wednesday, we had a leisurely morning, and then I got back in the car to finish my trip to Lutheridge. My month of retreats continues! Here I am at Quilt Camp. I last attended in October of 2020, the first large-ish gathering I attended since the pandemic started. Back then, we didn't have vaccines, but I felt safe-ish because there were only 13 of us, we had open windows and high ceilings, and we were able to be as distanced as we wanted. We were in the dining hall because a local elementary school group was using the Faith Center for school.
And now, here we are; I have had 4 vaccine shots, so I feel fairly safe. We are in the Faith Center, which has much better lighting. As I overheard conversations, I am struck by how many of us have gone through life-changing stuff in the past year or two--some of it in a good way, some not. Would we have gone through the life-changing stuff if there had been no pandemic? I have no idea. I can only speak for myself--the pandemic reminded me that I may not have as many decades left on this planet as I want to believe that I do. But other elements came together too--I found my dream program at Wesley Theological Seminary, and if that hadn't happened, I don't know that I would have decided that now is the time to go to seminary.
It has been wonderful to be able to travel--I was able to do my Tuesday night class, my Wednesday night small group session, and my Wednesday night class from a distance. Tonight's class has been cancelled. If my professor had to cancel a class, I'm glad it was this week.
It's strange to think that last week, I joined my Thursday night class saying that I had gotten a 2nd booster shot and was starting to feel chills, so if I shivered, just ignore it. We had a brief, pre-class, discussion about booster shots and travel, and then my professor headed off to London for a conference. And now, she's cancelling class.
As I said, I'm happy to have extra time for other pressing tasks--that might be a funnier pun if I ironed. But it's hard not to wonder what's barreling our way that we are not seeing. But let me not allow my brain to go down that path. I am trying to live in this current moment, surrounded by cloth, friends, and the mountains.
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