OH HAPPY DAY

 It's dusk now  and the snow continues to fall without a sound.  We have our Christmas tree, sans ornaments, out on the front deck where we move it until we can bear to take it, stripped bare, into the woods, any day now as it's February.  It sparkles as darkness falls.  As I write, I can see the outline of the trees standing tall in the woods, each branch just lightly snow-covered (more by morning I'm sure) looking ethereal.  Now, moments later, only dark.   This is the North Carolina Piedmont and we can rhapsodize about the snow, it blesses us so seldom. 

I haven't left the house for days, suffering from a strain of flu that escaped my flu shot this Fall.  But today is Day 5 and symptoms are much better, so that nothing could be more welcome than what looks to be a genuine soft snow that will make our woods a refuge of white. Tomorrow our meadow will look like this: 

Cedars after snow storm in our meadow

 It is a beautiful sight.  The other day, during a dusting, I woke to find deer lying just up from our back patio.  They stayed that way the whole time I watched, no stamping of little hoof, just a direct gaze. 

I wonder where the resident Canada geese are during this weather?  No honking as they cross the sky tonight.  The birds must be hunkered down too I hope.  I hope the cedar trees are providing shelter and food.  We couldn't fill the bird feeder this week with the path all icy and both of us with the flu. 

We know how much is going on in America.  Mostly in Minneapolis but elsewhere too.  Cruelty and sadism to deplore and togetherness and community resistance to admire.  My mind, perhaps like yours, is buffeted and my actions more sporadic than I'd like. But we must always find what's wonderful, too. So tonight it's snow, deer, candlelight, blogging and a lifting of the flu symptoms that Tamiflu has helped with this week.  Tomorrow we will be solidly snowed in, in our house in the woods with no snowplows in sight and I will cook what we have.  My husband has been waiting to bake a cake; me, chili with every bean and veg in the house, lots of cumin.  If we loose power of course, all bets are off--two grandparents like ourselves.  But for now, thank you God for this snow.  Thank you for the time to write.  Help us defeat the totalitarianism in our country and keep us strong for that task.  Keep us mindful of the hungry deer and birds and all animals in our path, that we care for them as you intend.  AMEN

 

 

 

 

 

 

JANUARY 28, FOREVER

 

My mother Nina Naomi, born November 6, 1922-died May 25, 2005

My son, born January 28, 1972-died July 17, 2005

His daughter, born July 29, 2005

His nephew and our younger grandson, born January 28, 2005 

Everyone has a hardest year.  Ours was 2005. Our house was filled with love and grief so intertwined that swirling molecules of one collided with molecules of the other.  My mother was in a nursing home dying of cancer and her first born grandson could not visit her because he was dying of his own cancer. She was 82 and he was 33. My daughter had a 4-year old son and a baby born January 28 (today as I write this) the day her brother turned thirty-three. We have a photo of them together, our son, a tall man with soft light brown hair worn long in front--now bald from chemotherapy--and his nephew with the downy scalp, held high, matching bald head for bald head. Our son looks quizzical. 

Twelve days after our son's death, his daughter was born, a healthy amazing child with straight-up punk-style strawberry blonde hair. 

I still remember being in the hallway when a nurse asked me, is the new mother your daughter?  No, she's my daughter-in-law I said.  She made the connection and looked stricken for me. "Oh, I'm so sorry," touching my arm. 

But even then, just twelve days after our son's death, his daughter closed the circle. Our grief was cushioned by our love: for him, for her, for her mother.  Our daughter-in-law was sleep-walking.  She went from nursing a husband to nursing a baby; flush with all her new-mother hormones, yet asking God "why?"

I got through the day of the funeral holding the precious baby who had been born just six months before.  Our daughter handed him to me as we came home from the church, knowing who I needed to stay upright as friends came by. I focused on his silky soft head (99th percentile, his father bragged). By six months this baby boy was already saving a life.

From the moment of her birth our son's daughter filled the family with joy and admiration. She is a smart, willowy college junior.  As God's gift to her and to us, she has never shared our grief. She has her own knowledge of loss, I believe, but not with the depth of ours. When she holds out her arms for an embrace, no person is luckier than I.  

I am writing this small remembrance on January 28, the birthday of my son and my younger grandson.  Now, 21 years after the death of my son, it is my grandson who I awake thinking of.  His happy birthday, away from home in Scotland at St. Andrew's University, living his best life and sharing it during long phone calls, with us. 

In the midst of this remembrance of love and sadness, I get a call from our granddaughter.  It is Daddy's birthday, she says to me, and I am thinking of you.  Who raised such a girl I wonder.  How can she know I need her voice today?  

We are home with the flu and she drives partway up our icy drive, then walks the rest of the way carrying a bag of cough medicine and spicy Peruvian chicken.  She leaves it all on the back stoop and taps on the window and waves.  We are snowed in and feverish but now we have enough chicken, rice, beans and Robitussin to last till weekend. There are yucca chips in the bag too.  

The hardest year is long over.  We survived it.  We do, don't we?  Our daughter-in-law stayed a widow for ten years, until that no longer seemed right, and then married the man our granddaughter calls Dad.  But Daddy is still our son, a man who has filled her with his tenderness of spirit and so many other qualities.  More than any other feeling, I feel lucky and blessed.  I feel hope in the younger generations. I feel God's gifts in my marriage, in the snow softly falling again, in the candlelight glowing by my computer.   

In Waiting for Godot Samuel Beckett (1906-1989) said, "I can't go on.  I'll go on."  This is supposed to reflect the essence of human persistence despite despair, and it does.  But to Christians, surely a statement of God at our side. 

Thank you for reading.  Nina Naomi 

 

MID-WINTER MOMENTS, PART II

Four friends had lunch today at a cafe where we ordered lovely food and drink, a lunch that stretched two hours because we had so much to say.  That's a mid-winter moment.  We were willing to go out in the cold and make time for talk and each other.  Isn't one of your winter goals, or even a life goal, to be analog I've heard it called--i.e. spend time with people not technology?   

Although we didn't discuss this, I bet each of us will have a simple supper tonight.  I love eggs or pasta.  Tonight I have spaghetti in mind, olive oil, lemon, a few shrimp or scallops, spinach and white wine, all on hand in fridge or cupboard.

 

Before that, time with my collage journal. Here's a page from a few years ago.  I am finishing my 5th year of collage journalling, keeping track of my life with pictures, poems by me and others, cutting and pasting and layering and texturing and glittering, enjoying those endeavors a working person almost never has time for.  

Here's another bit, cut out and framed. Tea is a favorite solace of mine, gets me up each morning, but welcome anytime.  My husband makes me a cup when I ask, perfectly sweetened and milked. 

Today's conversation, as is often the case when women get together, was full of affirmation. Maybe because we share a faith but probably not just that.  Women have this knack. Here is how I would summarize the gift given:  My dear, nothing is missing, you are already whole. 

 

I would add to that, for each of us and for everyone I know or wish I knew. 

Believe in yourself.  Treat yourself as you would a friend. 

These are my winter moments from this ordinary winter day.  Tonight a fire with my pasta, feet up and a movie. Knitting on my simple cowl.

We can do this, you know.  We can take care of ourselves and also take care of our community.  We can use winter moments to keep ourselves healthy without losing sight of our goals for our country. We're heading into a winter storm.  After a good night's sleep we may wake up to snow, not as common here in the North Carolina Piedmont as on the rest of the East Coast.  Snow silences commotion and soothes the soul.  With that respite we will continue to resist those who wish to divide and conquer even though they are our own government. 

 

 

For all this we say, thanks be to God.  

Nina Naomi 

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

PRAYER FOR MARTIN LUTHER KING DAY

 

 

I am writing this on Martin Luther King Day. I intentionally did not read the news this morning so as not to begin the day with anything that would soil the work and memory of Dr. King, peacemaker and Civil Rights icon.  If the day cannot be a Day of Peace in our country or the world, at least I wanted a day of peace in my mind. Perhaps you feel the same.  So instead I set my memory on last Sunday's service, the 2nd Sunday after Epiphany, January 18, 2026, with our church's bulletin in hand.  The first hymn was the great hymn of Christian unity, "In Christ there is no east or west, in Him no south or north, but one community of love throughout the whole wide earth." 

Matthew:12:46 "In Christ there is no east or west, in him no pride of birth; the chosen family God has blessed now spans the whole wide earth. For God in Christ has made us one from every land and race; has reconciled us through the Son, and met us all with grace. ..."

 

The prayer springing out of these words might be, "Lord, let us set our hearts and minds on actions that bring this goal to fruition, that all are equal, none is condemned for birth or color or creed.  Let us turn to leaders who follow this Christian principle: no pride in one's birth or wealth, no shunning of any land or race.  Let us act according to our faith. Let us not waver. What we need to do, make us brave to do. This is our prayer."

 

Next I was caught by the words of the day's Psalm 40:1-11, specifically the statement "Happy are they who trust in the Lord!  they do not turn to enemies or to those who follow lies."  So we can add to our prayer, "The Lord excludes those who follow lies.  They may be legion.  It is our duty as Christians to confront lies and continue to work for the safety of our planet, our community and our neighbors."  

 

Then our pastor's sermon listed ways to be unhappy.  I didn't take notes, but some of them were, in essence,  the Seven Deadly Sins. We might call these greed, narcissism, megalomania, or just list the sins of Pride, Greed, Envy, Wrath.  We could then add to our prayer, "Lord let us see when we are motivated by pride or greed.  Let us see when others are motivated by pride or greed and take all actions so that those sins do not flourish or harm the community. Give us the strength and commitment to do this. Give us the freedom to speak."  

 

Next in our service we sang the great hymn "We Shall Overcome," the anthem of the American Civil Rights Movement, symbolizing the struggle against injustice, prejudice, and hate with the belief that collective action will lead to freedom and equality. It's a powerful message of resilience, rooted in spirituals and work songs, assuring people that they can overcome oppression together, hand in hand, even when facing fear. Now we add to our prayer, "Lord, our collective action must counter injustice, prejudice and hate if we are to achieve or preserve freedom and equality. When we see injustice, we must respond.  When we see prejudice, we must respond.  When we see hate, we must peacefully respond, never wavering from your commands. Keep us mindful of this mission."  

 

Finally, extrapolating from the prayers of intercession, "Just God you desire respect and equality for everyone. Raise us each up to speak the truth. Embolden us to take action for people in need, for people transgressed even unto death, for cities and counties under siege so that we show no fear.  Merciful God, receive our prayer."

 

This is my prayer.  We do not need to cite transgressors. Everyday brings more.  Only the Lord knows them all and the depth of their sin.  We pray and do not shirk.  Thanks be to God.  AMEN 

 

 

 

 

 

 

MID-WINTER MOMENTS, PART I

"Winter reminds us that everyone and everything needs some quiet time," says Katrina Mayer. We agree.  Winter air freshens everything. 

Bear Lake, Rocky Mt. National Park

As soon as the sun goes down, or when we get home from work, let's fill our homes with light, candles, twinkle lights, firelight.  Or later, if it's not too frosty, light the outdoor pit and bring out the marshmallows.  

On the weekend, we could have friends over for potluck, casseroles or finger food: deviled eggs, veggies and dip, prosciutto, cheese and pita bread, pickles and olives, a festive cake. . . . I love that kind of party; and as the poster says, we should "savor it." 

We could fill our plates and watch sports together in front of the TV, or eat by the fire. An easy night with friends. 

 

  

Remember that Winter is a lingering season. No one rushes in winter. We trudge in the snow. We stir the crock pot.  We take our time. Only on sleds, skates and skis do we go fast.  Otherwise we snuggle. 

 

More comfort:  we take a long, warm bath at close of day. Use bath oil or bubbles.  Light candles.  

 

Or a steamy shower followed by fluffy towels or robe and soft pajamas. Children love this too, a supervised bath by candlelight (not too much splashing!), then lifted out and wrapped up. We did that for years, made a nest of pillows on the bed for the clean, happy little one.  Then an early night for all.  

Next day, have a friend for morning or afternoon tea or coffee.  Or meet at a cafe.  

We can use our best cup just for ourself.  Before everyone is up?  After everyone is in bed?  Mid-day?  It's always time for tea. 
  

If it's raining, watch the rain from a window, cuddled with your pet or child, toes under a blanket. Just sit for awhile.  Remember, winter doesn't hurry and neither should we. Kettle on again?  Or glass of something else.  A rainy day is as lovely as any other day.  It's the same nourishing gift as sunshine. See the skeletal trees waving their arms?  A tree is a great friend we couldn't do without.  Boulders too.  I have favorites in my woods.

Maybe read a book.  Don't you have a stack waiting for you to find the time to live in their world? The Fountain of Age is one of my favorites.  I've read it more than once.  What a fine, encouraging writer she is, thoroughly researched and scientific.

 

If there's time for a mini-break, or if you already live near the water, take a walk on the windy shore and look for shells.  Where we stay, the shells are sparse in January unless after a storm.  Yet I found three lovely pieces of sea glass yesterday, one aqua, two green. Or take out the shells you have collected and admire your display.  I have mountains of calico scallops, but only broken sand dollars.  I have not found a whole one yet!

 

 

 

THROUGH IT ALL,  PRESENT, PAST AND FUTURE, USE MID-WINTER TO BE GOOD TO YOURSELF!

 

 

 

These are my winter moments.  Lovely, like yours.  For all of us, it's only mid-winter.  More to come!   Nina Naomi 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

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.