Safety Zone

Out of an abundance of caution, through these challenging times, the new normal has taught us to stay apart—stay together. It’s essential to self-isolate by sheltering at home in quarantine. This is so we can stay safe, stay strong, and stay calm. During these strange times, when the world changed, flattening the curve in order to slow the spread has been essential.

But hey, we’re not cut off while we socially distance. We’re AloneTogether. HomeTogether. Even in our time of crisis it is possible to keep being fearless while staying apart.

We're not keeping our distance because we're afraid of each other. We're doing it to slow the spread.

It’s crazy to think isolation means being alone. That’s what virtual hugs are for—to remind us we can Be Safe, Be Healthy, Be Well. We can stay in touch without touch because we have ZOOM.  With ZOOM we can be anywhere, anytime from the safety of our own homes. And it’s cheaper, too. We can attend virtual weddings, virtual funerals, and give our virtual good-byes to people who must pass on AloneTogether.

It’s true that these are difficult times that call for difficult solutions. But we’ll get through this. And we’ll do it because we’re in this together. As long as we Stay Home.

While we are apart, though, We Are Together. It hasn’t been easy for anyone these days. What a comfort to know in times like these, when it’s unhealthy to be outside, in the sunshine, in fresh air where it’s dangerous to encounter other people, we don’t have to be. We can be HealthyAtHome.

In these difficult times, even vacant schools assure with bold signs at blocked entrances that “We Stand With You.” How grateful I am that I can read during these uncertain times thanks to former days when schools were open and stood with me in person.

And, thanks to non-virtual teachers, I can also read highway signs. For example, ADOT has spent the last three months reminding us with illuminated overpass marquees to Stay Home/StaySafe/FlattenTheCurve, which is ironic since I’d have never known how to stay safe if I stayed home where I couldn’t read ADOT’s message.

We all know there are times it’s essential to drive, though. Not to one of those small stores that are non-essential, of course, but rather to one of the big box stores that were lucky enough to make the A List. You’ll be happy to know if you do need to drive, tires stores are An Essential Business Open To Serve You. I know that because I read their sign on my way to a small business who left a note on their darkened door—“We’re Closed But We’re Here For You.” I felt so valuable. And Essential.

In these unprecedented times, just knowing we’ll get through this together is enough. While businesses and churches are closed and millions are suddenly unemployed, all forms of abuse are on the rise, depression and suicides are soaring, and people turn to alcohol and drugs for comfort, some say the reason we Stay Six Feet Apart is so we won’t be six feet under. Which, as we all know, is far worse than a lockdown that feels like house arrest.

That’s crazy, of course. We’re all just doing our part to love one another when we stay apart so we can stay together. How ridiculous to believe that a house divided against itself cannot stand. President Lincoln must have been deluded when he quoted Jesus Christ. And Aesop’s observation that ‘united we stand, divided we fall’ was simply a fable. The only people who have our best interests at heart can all be found on social media.

In these difficult times, we must protect the most vulnerable. If you won’t wear a mask then everyone knows you just want Grandma to die. You don’t love others. Or maybe you do. We Just Don’t Know. It’s selfish to long for a hug, a personal touch, for things to go back to normal. You can Find Your Together if you stop thinking about yourself.

It’s easy. Stay Home/StayHealthy/StayConnected. There are HomeTogether Essential Movies & TV if you use Roku. Paramount Network offers StayHome Movies, too, which is good because movie theaters are all closed during these social distancing times. There used to be a lot of concern over too much ‘screen time,’ but in these unprecedented times, who cares? We don’t even bother to get dressed below the waist or put on makeup. We’re taking our cues from the news media. Stay Home and virtually connect—what people don’t know won’t hurt them.

We’re all just doing our best during these uncertain times. There’s a lot to do while we stay at home. With all this isolation and time on our hands there are closets to clean, TV shows to binge watch, alcohol to drink, and drugs to take. But as long as we’re safe at home, the virus can’t get us and it’s safe to self-destruct.

Sorry. That sounds so negative when positive energy is all we need to get through these uncertain times. Churches are non-essential. Gyms are non-essential. Why go somewhere to wok-out when you can do a home work-in instead?

It’s not like we’re living under martial law. Or even medical martial law. This is still a free country. We can drive anywhere we want to go that’s not closed, as long as we’re willing to stand outside in the sun, six feet apart, and wear a mask, to wait our turn to go inside and follow the arrows and wait on circles to buy essential toilet paper and rationed meat. This is still the land of the free and the home of the brave. On paper.

Virtually.

Certainly, we can all agree that in these tough times we need to stay together while we stay apart. Because we just don’t know if it’s safe to be around people. In groups of five. Or ten. Or one hundred. Or two hundred fifty. Unless we all wear a mask and socially distance. During these uncertain times.

Thank goodness politicians know. And the media knows. And science and doctors know. Because they’re the authorities we can trust. I sure wouldn’t want to depend on my own common sense or intuition or experience or faith in an invisible God.

Everyone knows those are non-essential.

Last Round Pick

It’s a long and boring read, filled with names I can’t pronounce. Sci-fi sounding places I’ve never been to. Strung together like a necklace of foreign words, this kind of chronology is the reason I fell asleep in Mr. Boyd’s sophomore American History class. Too many cold dates, unrelatable places, and long-dead people.

Just like the Bible.

Which was what I was trying to wade through at the time. But honestly, who cares about Canaanites and Perizzites and all the other bad guy Ites? What difference does it make if I look at a map and point out a town called Kiriath-arba or locate the Nahalol or Akrabbim or the River Kishon—which I can’t. Are these even real places? They sound like something Bilbo Baggins came up with.

Some days it’s all I can do just to speak English.

I dug in anyway. The Book of Judges. Dum dum de dum. Just sounds like a fun day at the zoo, doesn’t it? Well, I was after something that couldn’t be found on Facebook or Twitter or the internet—Truth. And a little shot of courage.

What I like about the Bible, even though all those weird spellings slog me down like hiking through a mud bog—okay, I haven’t ever done that on purpose, but if I did it would definitely feel like slogging. What is surprising about the Bible is its honesty. And authenticity. With the exception of Jesus, there are no superheroes hidden in those pages. Just people like you and me who took a risk. Or not. Like I said, it’s an honest book.

The people whose weird names are written there were really messed up. Failures. Weak and flawed folks who couldn’t keep a promise if it had a winning lottery ticket attached to it. If the Bible was the book of fables some people claim it is, shouldn't it make everybody on God’s team look like a bunch of high school football heroes? Instead, the Bible tells the painful truth about their screwed-up lives, making you wonder if God showed up too late for the first round of the NFL draft.

Well, He is a last-minute God.

I take a lot of comfort from reading about the stupid things Bible people did. Because I do a lot of stupid things, too. One of the dumb things I do sometimes is hide. Or pretend to be someone I’m not. Everybody wants to be accepted, right? Peer pressure is a powerful thing. Something happened in my life years ago that made me run for cover. One day I ran here, to the Winepress, which is an unlikely place to write stories but a pretty safe place to hide.

In my defense, I’m not the first person to do something like that.

There was a guy—in the Bible—a flawed guy who was so afraid of confrontation that he moved  the family wheat business inside an old winery to hide it from a bunch of bread burglers who were terrifying all the local villagers. He did all his production work at night inside that abandoned merlot facility. Which, by the way, wasn’t very effective. There he was, deep in a hole in the ground, beating up innocent wheat stalks while the worthless chaff fell back down on his own head. Really messy.

He lived like that for a while. Until God, King of the last round picks, showed up one night and told our little baker, Gideon, that he was a hero and a warrior and a courageous victor. It wasn’t how Gideon saw himself, though. The small, frightened man with so little chutzpah it could only be seen under a microscope. That’s when the supernatural kicked in. Because God doesn’t call the equipped. He equips the called. To Gideon’s credit, he believed God, emerged from that hole-in-the-ground winepress, kicked a LOT of butt, and obliterated the enemies of his people so thoroughly even Bible scholars don’t know how to spell their names anymore.

True story.

So, I read Gideon’s comeback kid tale. And then I decided to come out of my own Winepress. Inspired by a couple of women in the back stories leading up to Gideon’s emancipation, I started a second blog site (listed at the end of this page) where I take a few more risks when I write. Practice a little more transparency. Exhale a bit more honesty. That initial problem which sent me running for cover has been confronted, and now I am ready for new scenery. You and I are the only versions of us that exist. We are needed. Or, as my granddaughter likes to say, “You be you, Boo.”

Out of the mouths of babes.

I’ll still be posting here in the Winepress. I love writing humorous stories and this is the right place for them. My heart is here, too. But freedom calls. It’s time to take off the mask I’ve been hiding behind. To be the woman God knows I am. I’d like to meet that woman face to face.

And see that God gives strength to men and women alike, even crediting the winning touchdown sometimes to the hand of a woman. Meet you at the end zone.

InTheHandOfAWoman.blogspot.com








With thanks to Mike Hoff for the inspiring photo seen above. The original photo can be viewed on Mike's page by following this link:
https://www.flickr.com/photos/crashmaster/2892956241/in/photolist-5pDa6T-5CFgGy-oYcXe4-2Z8Q7N-2Z8Kxs-2Z4gCp-5CwM2d-346N9S-2Z9w31-fT2bi6-5uYXEE-5rA1wn-39svdM-39syS9-2Z9BWA-5rq8XX-7Htx4S-8BkoQ5-8Bko8y-8BkpiE-29ym6oL-nEMvL2-nEMrzM-8BkmUh-8Bkor1-29ym6js-8BhdVr-NyFCSg-5CHjj5-5rEnmC-g3Gjhd-5ruiJQ-fT3eLQ-Mcgott-fT28M4-gHVGpw-4cMsH5-5AcbYg-g3GeSH-5pDa3H-fHoTna-5CFZnS-gNgyNW-2Z9xPy-gPDgyT-fFWnuL-fT39iB-29ym64s-g3GP2r-5pHsKm

Staring At The Post

My daughter, Katy Brady, my first guest blogger here at the Winepress, shares a remarkable and wise lesson that could change your life. It has already changed mine.

“I’m staring at the post.”

This has become a reminding phrase between my husband and I. It started on the day we took our first family bike ride down the nearby wash trail once our youngest son, Will, was ready to be on his own. It was an exciting day! After several years of waiting and teaching the kids one-by-one to master their bikes, they were ready. Now for the next milestone . . . solo trail rides!

As we headed to our favorite spot, fondly called “The Enchanted Forest,” full of huge, overgrown desert trees for climbing and where imaginations can run wild, we hit the last spot of our ride. This slightly steep, downhill section of trail bottoms out in a sandy area right next to the Enchanted Forest.

The older girls were already experts at controlling their speed and gliding gently into the sand to park their bikes for a rest and a brief adventure in the hidden suburban woods. As Will crested the hill, we warned him to slow his speed gently and stay in the center of the trail. Dan and I went ahead of him to show him the way and waited at the bottom for his first descent.

What Will must have heard was, “There’s a sign post at the bottom of the trail. Watch out for the post.” In fact, at the very bottom and just to the left of the trail is a sign warning that this is a flash flood area. The post is in the sand, off the trail, and on either side of it there are at least 20 yards of soft sand to get stuck in.

Out of 40 yards of clear space, this four-inch post captured my newly riding son’s focus. He could not look away.

“Will! Don’t look at the post! Look at your path!” My husband and I watched in agony as Will careened straight at the singular post just off the path. It was a direct hit. Fortunately for all involved, he was wearing his helmet, his tire hit the post, and he did not fly off of his bike. There was no injury beyond his pride, and he played in the forest and rode the rest of the way home without further event. But the memory of this occasion has struck us.

You will end up exactly where you focus all of your attention.

Will had endless sand and a paved trail directly in front of him. He could have landed safely in any other direction than this one signpost. But he had completely zeroed in on that cold reality and that became his ultimate destination.

Now, this doesn’t mean that the obstacle wasn’t there. It was a true and real danger. And it doesn’t even mean that we should necessarily ignore the obstacles. The signpost was fairly obvious, but there was so much space surrounding it. We told him how to safely navigate himself to his destination, but he was the only one capable of steering his own course.

When we “fix our eyes” on the obstacle, we will usually run directly into it. See the cold, hard signpost, but don’t keep staring at it.

And so, when I find myself staring at my current obstacles and all of my energy and attention seems fixated on it, I try to remind myself gently: I’m staring at the post. Look at the path. Re-route your course as necessary.

And above all, as Will taught me, for the times when you do crash into the post, get back up and enjoy the Enchanted Forest.










With thanks to Hege for the use of the artistic photo above. The original can be viewed at: 
https://www.flickr.com/photos/104815519@N08/

Non-Essentials

We went to church last Sunday. We were the only ones there, Rob and me. We got there on time for a change, too, but things have . . . changed. Churches made the Top One Hundred List that no one ever wanted to be a part of.

The Non-Essential List.

For the first time since pilgrims took their lives back and boarded ships in search of religious freedom, church gatherings are now non-essential in the United States.

No one wants to pick up a virus and carry it back to Grandma.  Grandparents are essential, as it turns out. Just as long as they keep their distance, preferably on Zoom. This is for their safety, everyone believes. Force them into quarantine so they can keep living. There are so many arguments on both sides. I just don’t think anybody asked Grandma.

Common sense and courtesy also made the Non-Essential List.

So, Rob and I stood in the empty parking lots of several churches Sunday morning and did the most powerful thing we knew to do. The only thing we have any control over. The only thing that can possibly make a difference anymore.

We prayed for the congregations of those churches, those frightened members who are forbidden to congregate in person. Who risk citations and arrest and fines and even jail if they show up to be together and offer encouragement during a very dark time in this country and the world. We prayed that the virus would die and people wouldn’t. We prayed that these congregations would be able to come together again soon because they have an inalienable right to gather in America.

Words like “inalienable” are now on the Non-Essential List. Along with “life.” And “liberty.” And “the pursuit of happiness.”

It’s quite a long list, now that I think about it.

Last night I talked with my sister who lives in Texas where a salon owner who has hungry children and bills did the unthinkable and went to work. A judge sitting high above the courtroom, many times more than a safe distance of six feet away from the hairdresser defendant, told her through his mask that she could either close up shop or go to jail. She chose her children over the judge.

“How’s it going a way out there in Texas?” I asked my sister.

“Oh, you know. Lines and fear and isolation and panic. The new norm.”

We talked for a long time on the phone instead of in person because she lives a safe distance of 900 miles away from me. So far there is no evidence that the virus can be transmitted through cell phones. There is also no evidence that a healthy adult can transmit the coronavirus to an elderly person without the normal connection of being sick himself. I’ve checked. But I digress.

We had a lot to talk about. We talked about how we both feel abandoned right now. My sister also drove to an empty church parking lot to pray that God’s people would soon gather in person again. Before He parts the Red Sea. And makes it clear as mud that He is the One Who is in control of winds and storms and all other dangerous things. She sat in her car while she prayed. A danger to no one and safe from hugs and other risks to her personal well-being, even though the parking lot was empty. And she cried her eyes out, just like I did.

Tears so far have not made the Non-Essential List.

After two hours of sharing notes, it was time to hang up. Conversation lulled. Emotions settled. Hope hung in the balance.

“Is this still America?” I asked her quietly.

There was silence on the other end.

“I don’t know,” she finally answered.

Maybe it was a Non-Essential question.






With thanks to Robert Huffstutter for the use of this non-essential document's photo. The original can be viewed by following the link below:
https://www.flickr.com/photos/huffstutterrobertl/3431670016/in/photolist-6efcWq-p6o7JN-BbFfnv-B9tSUL-B8n2a7-B8o9Yb-B9u6R7-AdCEq5-AdMTXr-BaFqzz-AdMvbV-BaFkk6-Az1wMa-B9tmm1-BbEuwK-AwGHFk-BaEGyR-AwGabw-BaFJMX-AdMUCp-AdMCT8-AwHaQK-B8nCCG-pKQsa7-BaFj6T-BaEQRn-B8ntS5-BbEeza-pKMeYC-B9t8FG-B8ngis-BbEj8i-B9sYr9-p6o9n7-AdMwsH-BbEzza-2hGvG7Q-eSjy1-AdMkjv-q312k2-pKNAkM-p6o9GA-pKNCCn-q15bwC-pKNEjP-pKQrqG-q157k1-q159fd-q157Yq-p6qS9i