A Thousand Things

Today's weather forecast had a new picture icon--billowing smoke. Before I saw the forecast I had noticed haze in the air and had a hard time figuring out if it was cloudy or extremely humid--neither of which made much sense, given the brisk wind, dry air, and the 100-plus temperatures. Hiromi reported that someone at work said there's a big fire in Arizona, and the smoke has drifted across this area. That explains what I was seeing.

Yesterday Wichita set a heat record for June 6, at 102 degrees. The old record had stood since 1958.

The first wheat has been cut in Reno County, but I still saw wheat being irrigated this morning. Non-irrigated wheat looks dead ripe from the road. I guess it probably doesn't have a thing else left to do to complete its mission in life--producing seed.

Watering the garden takes up many hours each day. The landscape is waiting its turn, and limp, blue-green dry spots are visible on the lawn. The beautiful rain we got more than a week ago has long since been sucked up, but hay and row crops are looking a great deal better than they did before the rains.

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I realized something today. I really, really hate to see plants and animals suffer. If I bear some responsibility for their welfare, I feel almost physically sick myself if I have to witness their discomfort or struggle to survive. A horrible kind of paralysis grips me, and, when things have gone on too long, I find it hard to do the little bit that I could sometimes do to alleviate the situation. The rabbit with terrible ear mites, the diseased and bug-eaten potatoes, the weedy front flower bed--it's easier to turn away than to intervene--knowing the likelihood of reversing the situation is small, because of the magnitude of the problem.

I empathize also with people who suffer. But somehow I don't usually have the same sick, paralyzed feeling. Maybe it's because it's possible to talk to them or hear from them about what is happening, as if words help somehow to make things better. Or I can cry with them. How that helps them, I'm not sure, but it helps me. My nurturing instincts go to work, and I can do something practical to feel that I'm making a difference. I am less tempted to give up, because people are too important for that.

Nonetheless, all of us can be thankful I did not take up nursing as a profession. Sickness, tears, and paralysis in the face of suffering would not serve me or anyone else well in a caretaking profession.

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Clare went home to Washington today. She left behind a nicely growing garden, and many clean newly painted walls in the house she and Grant plan to live in. The Iwashiges gathered last night to give a final vigorous push to getting all this done, adding to Clare's faithful plodding efforts over the past two months.

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I went to the sewing today. Ruth M., who is in charge of the sewing this year, reminded us of a ten-year anniversary this month. Ten years ago her sister-in-law, Rose Ella Wagler, resigned her position as the sewing "chief" after she was diagnosed with breast cancer. She began chemotherapy at that time, and was thought to be cancer-free by Christmas of that year. The following year in September a brain tumor was discovered. She did not recover from that. Her funeral was on New Year's Day.

I still miss Rose Ella. She was a dear friend who lived unselfishly and purposefully. She was a good writer. I wonder what happened to some of those good pieces she wrote. Her oldest son plans to marry this coming weekend. In the past ten years, her children have passed many other significant milestones without her presence and support. Phil has done his fatherly duty for his family, but he knows better than anyone that their home is missing an important presence. I really do wonder sometimes what God was thinking when Rose Ella died. Certainly He welcomed her home, but what was the plan for those who remained? If I wonder about this, I'm sure her family wonders too.

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Janice Y. talked today at the sewing about listing things for which to be thankful--a thousand things, as did the author of a book she's been reading recently. She read some of the items on her list. She's still on her way to !,000. Around the quilt, she added to the list later--some things she didn't feel free to mention to everyone, for one reason or another.

That book reminded me of a similar book, although without the spiritual emphasis of the "Thousand Things" book Janice read. This book was called simply Naming Nature. We used it one year as part of our homeschooling science curriculum. I liked the way the author made learning about the natural world a part of every day's activities by daily listing one thing she observed in nature. If she couldn't name what she saw, she researched it till she discovered the proper name.

Tonight on my way to Dwight's farm to get milk, I saw a blood-red sun fairly high in the western sky--a result of the unusual smoke in the air. I also saw a male Ring-Necked Pheasant on the way there, and a female on the way back.

I'm going to try some "naming nature" disciplines in the next days, as well as the "thousand blessings" activity. I know just where I'm going to write them down--in the dairy-like record book I got with gift money from Eunice one year at Christmas.

Right now, I'm especially thankful for an air-conditioned house to live in and a comfortable bed to go to.