NORTH CAROLINA'S CRYSTAL COAST

 

                                                            Pine Knoll Shores Aquarium

Today is a strange day.  On the North Carolina coast, not only can we not see the horizon, we cannot even see the shore line.  All is foggy, dense and dripping.  I planted pansies yesterday outside my door--yellow, purple and russet--because they survive a winter freeze, and I can't see them from the upstairs deck. The fog comes right up to our windows, misty, translucent with shadows of outdoor furniture.  I poured a glass of wine; it's that kind of day.  If we still had our wonderful maltipoo, he would bark at the fog I am sure.  "What is this," his bark would say.  "I can't see."

Sitting high in a cottage on pilings, upside-down with entry on the ground floor, bedrooms up one floor and living area on top--the ordinary way of all Southern beach houses--is a lovely way to live, or vacation.  I'm an advocate for the Crystal Coast.  The sands are wide and uncrowded, the seafood fresh and the fishing good.  Nature trails abound.  

 There's a wonderful aquarium just down the road.  Pine Knoll Shores is a small coastal town on Bogue Banks, covering only 2.5 square miles with 1400 year-round residents.  The aquarium is open every day because, after all, the animals do need to be fed 24/7.  At 306,000 gallons of water, its ocean habitat is the largest in our state.  I go often when we're here to see the river otters, the sea turtles, jelly fish and sharks.  We have a niece who arrives in a day or two to spend the semester with the Center for Marine Sciences and Technology: CMAST.  What a great way to learn!

So today is a good day.  We need those.  I am missing the pop-up demonstrations at home in Durham, against ICE for the murder of Renee Nicole Good in Minneapolis.  I am sorry about that.  But I forwarded the details to thirty friends and many let me know they were going.   

It's always a good day at the beach.  Not living here full time, I don't know if that would be true if I did.  Maybe you live in a beach town, or on a lake or river or near the sea.   Maybe your homestead is in a woodland.  Or maybe you are urban, near museums and theaters and zoos, near farmers' markets and art shows. Maybe we can always find or make a good day when we need one.  I hope so.   

If we stumble into one, or intentionally set our sights on one, let us give thanks.  I am happy for today.  If your day was not so good, I hope tomorrow will be.  Or the day after.  

Nina Naomi 

 

 

 

 

 

 

LIFE LESSONS FROM NATURE

 

 Do you spend too much time on the news?  I do.  And yet, we cannot ignore what's happening.  Certainly as a lawyer, I cannot.  Or as a grandmother.  This week was January 6, the day Trump supporters stormed the Capitol trying to overturn the 2020 election.  Trump has now pardoned those criminals and the White House website this year claims that they were peaceful  patriots.  But we all watched it.

This week in Minneapolis an ICE agent shot and killed Renee Nicole Good through her windshield as she was turning her car around.  Dead at 37 and her children left motherless.   The administration says the killing was in self-defense.  But it's on video. 

Let's all believe lies instead of our own eyes.  Let's just fall victim to false memory syndrome.  

Or let's not.  Let's do otherwise.  Let's take a wintry walk, play with the children, love each other and still remember that shameful, violent January 6 day.  Let's pray for the children of Renee Nicole Good.  Let's learn lessons from nature during this dreadful time when we're being gaslit by the regime.  I'm trying to learn some.  

We are at the winter beach this week enjoying wide empty stretches of sand, early sunsets over the ocean, and crisp lung-filling morning air.  Oh if only the state of our country were half as good as most of our daily lives with those we love. 

One lesson we can learn is that nature never rushes.  More applicable to us, it doesn't panic.  Even fires, floods and hurricanes don't panic nature.  It heals and re-germinates. It has a job and continues to do it.  I see that all the time in my neighborhood when forests are clear-cut for timber and in two seasons are lush with small pines.  Many of us may have felt like panicking when without Congressional approval the regime kidnapped the President of Venezuela (not a good man) for the country's oil.  Something more, or worse, may have happened by tomorrow.  So how do we cope? 

Nature helps there too.  It never gives up.  Never.  That is our natural course too.  If our child is sick, we do not give up.  If our leadership is sick, the same.  The way a family rallies round, so do communities and states.  If we are grieving our country or something more personal, we can take solace in nature.   Time spent walking the beach, following a trail, or building a snow fort whisks away mental fatigue.  Whatever the problem, we can now face it more efficiently.  

The only thing that is not natural is perfection.   That is something for which we do not need to strive.  The opposition to this administration is not perfect.  It doesn't have to be.  Our own involvement is not perfect.  No guilt there.  We are living our lives now under a shadow.  But so did our parents:  perhaps it was WWII and the Holocaust; the Vietnam War and the protests against it;  the Civil Rights movement of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and Bull Conner hosing black activists; the assassinations of President John F. Kennedy, Malcolm X, Dr. King and Robert Kennedy; or the Watergate hearings.  The only sins might be apathy, resignation or acquiescence.  

So, yes, live our lives. That's important.  While we protest, vote, donate, educate and play in the snow with our children and grandchildren.   In North Carolina we have a beloved coach, Jim Valvano who died of cancer, whose words ring true here:  "Never give up.  Don't ever give up."  

Nina Naomi 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 The outside world feels divisive, pitching us against one another, pulling us away from nature and towards greed.  

"LET ALL MORTAL FLESH KEEP SILENT"

 

The world begins in a humble bed

Love is given, a baby conceived, a baby born

We nurse it, tickle it, count its toes

So it has always been

 

Maybe a manger, maybe a bed

Maybe a child of God, maybe God Himself

 

Women become mothers in their beds

Men become fathers

Both touching and touched

A time of heightened vigilance

 

A bed is where we cry or hide under the covers

We gossip in bed:  sleepovers, lovers, marriages

We read

We drink our tea and watch TV

I kissed my mother goodby in her bed

My father too

And you? 

And even my son

Whom I cannot write about without being there

In the room at the bed 

With God at the bed, kneeling, yes He too

 

In our beds we wake with sorrow some days or years

I may dream of the train I hear 

Whose wheels could save me from despair

(Or wake with joy, a grandchild near)

 

Let my world end while I sleep, we pray

In a soft warm bed where body on body we were conceived  

Let our souls outlive our mortal flesh as is promised 

And enter heaven from this bed 

Let all mortal flesh keep silence

As the darkness clears away 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHRISTMAS WAS PERFECT

 CHRISTMAS was perfect.  How can that be?  Did everyone get what they wanted?  Maybe not, but we sang carols.  Was everyone on time for supper?  Maybe not, but we prayed for those with less than we, for those without shelter or a home country, for those incarcerated for a crime or not.  

Did everyone refrain from arguing?  Yes, in fact, we did.  We love each other, we love our communities, we love our country.  We had nothing to argue about.  Did we find sustenance from our churches?  Yes we did.  My husband and I attended the local Catholic church with family.  The priest prayed for the safety of immigrants, for food security, for freedom to speak our hearts in this time of great crisis.  He prayed for our country and our democracy.  He was bold.

So yes, Christmas was perfect.  The Christ child was born again.  We too, if we cared to, were born again with him.  He was born in a manger because Mary and Joseph were going to be registered so that all the world could be taxed.   Caesar Augustus wanted money. 

Christmas was perfect because it always is.  Whether we are sick or confused or under siege, whether a baby is born again with Herod at the helm, with only shepherds to follow the star, whether we're not sure what year it is:  1968, 1973, 200l, 2021--Christmas says, "Come and behold Him, born the King of Angels."

AMEN 

 

FAVORITE PHOTOS, FAVORITE MEMORIES

CHRISTMAS is here and so are the winter cardinals.  They do not migrate.  They shelter in the branches of cedar, fir and pine.  A cardinal brightens the dreariest day.  A fine sketch I ran across and kept. I wish I could draw!

   

 With grandchildren, we made Christmas cookies today, homemade sugar cookies with powdered sugar icing.  Trees and angels and stars, Santas and ornaments and sleighs.  We ate a pile before the afternoon was over.  Full of sugar and love. Fun every year.

These holly berries out my door are sought after by every robin in the woods.  They check for days waiting for that perfect ripeness.  I wait with them. When they detect it, the robins cover the trees, fluttering, diving, acrobating and feasting.  Soon only prickly leaves remain until pollination in spring when the new green berries emerge to ripen again midwinter.  A lovely cycle. 
 

This is how I want to feel.  A winter cold, a disappointment, no matter if it is well with my soul.  Do you not agree? I was in hospital for a few days recently.  My body needed such attention, enough to remind me that we are not bodies with souls, we are souls with bodies. 

Have you been to the National Cathedral in Washington, DC?  Many have.  Last December we went to a performance of Handel's The Messiah here.  This year I was in hospital and missed our local performance.  Today I listened to it in my car as I drove, well-recovered now. There are so many churches in the world to visit.  Places to light candles and pray.  To feel a part of the 2,000 year-old Christian faith. 

Don't you love the light of flickering candles during our long nights now?  The winter solstice is just days away, shortest day, longest night.  This is a small collection of my candles, making the darkness a place of comfort, as it should be. 

I grew up here, in a drafty old house in Missouri where we had long winters and heavy snowfalls.  The house was built in 1904 and still looks the same.  I check it out when we go back to St. Louis, which we did in early November. A coal furnace my dad converted to gas.  Hills to sleigh ride, school even during blizzards.  We all have childhood winter memories.  I loved this house. 

This is the woods where we live today on a winter morning with the sun just rising.  The day will be overcast.  Nothing is more beautiful than a woods in winter, sculptural, clean and fresh.  It's worth going out of our way to see one.  If it's snowing, the snow absorbs sound and creates a blessed silence. 

Above is a picture of the Loretto Chapel in Santa Fe, New Mexico that we visited early last spring.  Below is the famous staircase of 33 steps, two 360 degree turns and no central support 

Maybe I will do a Part II later.  If you have time, check your own photos, even those years old, for your favorites and the memories they hold.  Thank you for looking at mine. 

Happy Advent, Happy Hanukkah and Merry Christmas.  Holding all dear, Nina Naomi 

DARKNESS

  

For darkness covers America.

Children go hungry while pedophiles feast.

 

Yes, darkness covers America. 

Brown neighbors disappear.  

Boats not in American waters. Unknown

Venezuelans not charged, not tried, or convicted, 

Blown up to no more than debris. 

 

Like Christians sent to the lions 

For the pleasure of Emperor Nero 

Remembered only for his tyranny and extravagance. 

Did Nero have a Golden Ballroom?  

Ah, yes he too loved gold.  

 

Darkness covers America

A faltering President turns to a reporter on Airforce One

And says, "Quiet, Quiet Piggy"

For questions about Epstein (who may not have killed himself). 

That word piggy so casually flung 

At a woman doing her job on Airforce One. 

 

Darkness also covers America

In December when the sun sinks low mid-afternoon.

A Gift-of-God-Darkness, 

So the light of the star pointing the way 

To the newborn awake in the hay beams brighter, sharper. 

This is the mid-winter dark that we savor,

To prepare, to be one with the earth.

 

When we keep to our rituals, they soothe our souls.

When we light the first candle on the Advent Wreath

And start to decorate our homes with greens, red berries and wreaths,

Some, many even, get depressed 

From memories or fear.

Those lighted candles help, week by week, one at a time. 

We light the second candle 

And wonder who might like what for Christmas. 

We light the third candle and set out the creche. 

Then we light the fourth. The church is full of light in darkness.

At home the lighted trees help, with treasured decorations.

Vintage baubles of mercury glass, so thin and shiny, so few left.

 

Light in the darkness that covers America.

Light in the people who stand up for survivors, 

The people who sell and buy local, 

Who boycott Home Depot (where ICE is allowed to do harm),

Walmart and Target (who dropped DEI). 

Light in the people who feed all with grace, 

Who quit buying Teslas, 

Who protest AVELO Airlines at our airport 

That deports brown people hands chained to feet.

 

Light shines through the deepest darkness 

When Christians follow their Lord.

When we don't look away, when we shield those under attack,

When we fund those on the front lines,

When we don't normalize evil.

 

Did we ever need Advent more?  

Was there ever a year when the choice was so heavy, the lines so deep?

Call the children to the table, say a prayer, eat your fill 

And sleep in warm beds.  

There is no moral, only truth.  

 

 

 

  

 

 

  

REFRESH PART IV

Lots of us take road-trips this time of year.  🎶"Over the river and through the woods to grandmother's house we go . . . ."  I wonder if kids still learn this song.  I live in the woods so whoever visits this grandma's house comes past the meadow and through the trees. 

No, we don't have snow yet

Most of us moms and grand-moms have prepared more holiday dinners than we can count. Our church also hosts a Thanksgiving feast on the day itself and just a month later a Christmas meal.  Whoever wanders in has the best traditional dinner.

This year five members of our New Jersey family braved I-95 for Thanksgiving at our house.  It's a harrowing road-trip but for how early they leave.  They saw the sun rise somewhere over Maryland. Family from Florida flew in, amazingly without delay. 

Our own road-trip was to St. Louis and back to see relatives right before the holidays. We drove through North Carolina, Virginia, W. Virginia, across Kentucky, Indiana and Illinois and over the Mississippi River to get to our home town. Mobility issues, some memory loss, two marvelous children, one with special needs--concerns disappear in the joy of being together.  And of course we remember when everyone was worried about whether the two sides of the St. Louis Arch would meet, we're that old. 

St Louis Arch, 630 ft tall, 630 ft wide

All I am thinking about now is how I want this holiday season to be a refresh for everyone.  I'm sticking to making my best efforts to buy local.  Our town has some wonderful Christmas markets with makers who design unique gifts.  I have those marked on my calendar.  One year we found small fused glass mirrors that everyone still has hanging making their homes more beautiful.  My husband asked for a radio this year, totally retro.  When streaming and online go out, we can listen to the radio! 😊  We have in independent book shop that everybody likes. 

It's important, isn't it, that however big or small our Thanksgiving and Christmas are, however confined our expansive our life, that we are thankful to be alive, to be as healthy as ever we are, for family and friends even if remembered, or especially if remembered. From Thanksgiving we move right into Advent.  Tomorrow the first Advent Candle will be lit in churches around the world.  We begin our time of waiting for the eternally new birth of the Savior in whom we believe. 

Every year I look forward to this season of long nights and preparation. If I were even older and lived alone, I believe I would still feel Christ's love and the blessings of a very average life holding me gently aloft.  Wishing for you in a month that can be hurried, in a year when our government has made each of our lives more difficult, a time where peace and joy undergird your thoughts, even the hard ones.   

With much love, Nina Naomi