I VOWED to not turn on the AC until at least May 15 this year. Paying the utilities on two big houses makes the sacrifice seem pretty inconsequential and we all need to sweat a little, anyway.

HOWEVER.

Have you ever lived in the Kansas City metro where the lawns are lush and the trees are thick…and the air is soup?

I woke up at 1 am to the sound of the attic fan – Sam got warm in the night and turned it on, so the cool, wet, night air was streaming in through our temporary bedroom window. That was fine in the middle of the night when all is calm, all is right.

This morning, I dressed in the darkness for my morning three mile walk while Sam slept and Banana and Split rassled, anxious for the autofeeder to kick in and deliver their breakfast. I could tell it was going to be a “pleasant” walk, since the INdoors was already 137% humidity.

I turned on my audio book and started my tracker, and off I went in the 64-degree pre-dawn.

The book I am listening to makes me walk taller, hold my head high, and it pushes me to find out who Rhonda really is in this season of life. I was feeling pretty good, even though I dress for less than success in my almost 15-year-old bright green school t-shirt, untucked because tight and tucked shows all that I want to hide.

Anyway. God gave me the gift of seeing a deer on the trail – it was so peaceful I had to stop the book, stop the tracker, and just stop…and gaze for a minute.

Down the street several minutes later, the hooded man with the gray beard was walking his overweight lab and mumbled a “Good morning,” and the fit moms jogged across the street in their tight, spandexy clothing. The early morning-ers were either out exercising or on their way to work before the rest of the world had work on their minds.

I breathed in dryer sheet laundry from someone’s home, a heavenly pine scent from the big old pine at the corner, and freshly mowed grass smell from the crew with the race mode, stand up mower machines.

It didn’t take about 40 steps in to this walk to determine it was a cool soup kind of day. Just not the cool soup you sip and slurp. This is a cool soup kind of day you breeeeeathe. It could be unpleasant if it weren’t for the cool part. But several thousand steps in to the walk, I was sweating, my hair was sticking to my face, and my pants were glued to my legs (because if you know me at all, you know I do not do shorts where pant sticking would be a non-issue but legs would be seen).

I enjoyed the walk, nonetheless. I like imagining the occupation of the woman driving the sporty Audi, or the guy in the beat up old Nissan, or the too-cool-for-school slick dude in the BMW. I marvel at the wonders of weed & feed when one plush green lawn is bordered by an army field of dandelions ready to propagate their fluff balls of seeds. I am beginning to know which neighbors belong to which dogs and what time those dogs decide to pull their owners out of bed for the morning gotta-go’s.

*********

I returned home at 2.99 miles and had to walk three laps on the first floor to hit 3.01 miles while the cats stared at me like I was a wet alien.

Sam was waiting for me and I kissed him, embarrassed by my drenched and sweaty appearance. I headed upstairs to the shower instead of literally “sticking” around to chitchat.

Two weeks ago, I did the laundry and when I took out the clothes for folding, I noticed one lone shoulder pad. I haven’t seen a shoulder pad since the late 80’s. I asked Sam what it was from, and he mumbled something about it coming from somewhere. “Do you need it?” I asked. No, he did not, so I tossed it in the trashcan and thought nothing more of it.

Until I peeled off my clothes.

As I did a Banana and Split and rassled with the soaking wet sports bra, I couldn’t figure out why there was only one cup. There’s no way that MY chesty chest fits into that one cup. What in the world. I untangled the tangle…and it dawned on me. That shoulder pad that was tossed two weeks ago was actually the padding for my sports bra, and I had just walked all over God’s green earth…

lopsided.

Head held high, confident in learning more about the real Rhonda, good morning-ing to the early morning-ers. And most definitely lopsided.

Today, I am grateful for a new sports bra on order.

Maybe it is spring fever.

Maybe it is transitioning back to an office setting and no longer working from home.

Maybe it is feeling loss as a mother and for a mother.

Maybe it is weight gain.

Maybe it is post-COVID everything.

Maybe it is living out of a suitcase and in a space that is not permanent.

Maybe it is mourning the home we created.

Maybe it is spiritual searching.

I am grateful for spring.

I am grateful for an office to separate work from home.

I am grateful for memories I have of being a mom and having a mom.

I am grateful for food to eat and new trails to discover.

I am grateful for a light at the end of this tunnel.

I am grateful for mattresses stacked and a bedroom to call ours while ours is being created.

I am grateful to still have a beautiful home that held lots of love and no trauma, and I am grateful that over time, we will begin to let it go and it will be okay.

I am grateful that times of searching also produce times of learning, and God gives me just what I need when I need it.

Don’t let this rattle you. You trust God, don’t you? Trust me.  – John 14:1

I was walking this morning before most of the world had begun. It was so good to hear the cardinals and the chickadees and the robins. The blue jay manhandled a piece of nest and bullied his way past another bird that knew its place in the pecking order. The smell of flowering trees made me want to plant myself under one of the trees with a book. I didn’t even look up at the sky to notice the beauty of the clouds or the sunrise, because there was so much to see at eye level.

I’ve missed the songbirds of the city. I’ve missed the abundance of pastel-colored flowering trees in every direction. I’ve missed the routine of getting ready for work in an office, driving to an office, working in an office. I’ve missed the opportunities to see friends and worship in person with like-minded. I’ve missed being with my sister and my Dad. I’ve missed walking hills and trails.

When it was lunchtime, I walked around the building and enjoyed the smell of freshly mown grass and the visual of finely manicured lawns and a sea of daffodils in the beds next to the entrance. My penchant for orderly and neat is taking it all in right now on this side of the city as people work to make their landscaping “spring beautiful.”

At the end of a long day staring at three computer screens, I go home to hear all about Sam’s day that is typically filled with sheetrock dust, drill bits, Marketplace wheeling and dealing, and individuals bidding on a job. He’s hit his stride once again, visioning a beautiful new home and a new purpose in his unwelcomed retirement. He is finding that retirement DOES allow him time to spend a day showing off his car at a show, or time to work in his daughter’s yard and enjoy her company on her day off.

Currently, we are living in a home that is in destruction and under construction. Every room holds tools. Every room has temporary and only necessary furniture, if any at all. Every room is coated with dust or residual scraped popcorn ceiling waiting for an industrial vacuum and multiple moppings. Almost every room has a fresh coat of paint. Every room has a plan in Sam’s visionary mind. Every room will have Sam’s brainprint, and that makes me happy.

Our small group is beginning a new book study this week – Dream Big, by Bob Goff. I have begun listening to him read it out loud to me on my morning walks, and I can already sense that it is going to be a kick in the pants for me. I suppose it is good timing, since we are turning another page and entering a new season. It is time to wake up and rediscover a purpose and find new opportunities to give and serve and dream and live life abundantly.

On Monday evening, my Dad made sure I saw an email that someone from his Church of the Resurrection Sunday School class sent to him:

I am pretty grateful today. God has blessed us beyond what we deserve, and I haven’t been so good at counting every last blessing lately. I have focused on the black dot.

So today and days to come, I will retrain my life on focusing on the white paper that is full of color and stories to be written going forward.

I will think to myself…what a WONDERFUL world.

He hasn’t gotten over it yet, and I AM SO GRATEFUL FOR THAT!!

Tonight, I am grateful for the fact that Dad decided to call my sister and tell her he wasn’t feeling the best.

I am grateful the hospital decided to keep him for a couple days to whip his blood pressure into shape.

I am grateful he is following the rules now that he is home, checking his pressure, recording it in a journal, drinking water, walking his stairs, and keeping his feet elevated when he is sitting. Dad, put your feet up.

I am grateful the only book he wanted me to bring to him at the hospital was his Bible.

I am grateful my sister is so fun while grocery shopping for low/no sodium.

I am grateful Dad doesn’t mind, or is Delmar quiet, about his two girls taking over his food collection.

I am grateful God decided Dad still has a reason to be here.

And I am grateful for tight hugs and “I love you’s.”