Kristin Hill Taylor

Seeking God as the Author of Every Story

Hello, 41.

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Hello, 41.

I had a lot of feelings anticipating this birthday – none of which have to with turning a prime number. Rather, I’ve been deep in reflections that come with marking another year. As many of you know, my dad died unexpectedly less than a week after I turned 40 and my family learned things about his life that rocked our world. That led to grieving during my favorite season and shifting perspectives about belonging. (I wrote about that, so feel free to look back: Reflections on living & dying and Seasons of belonging.)

Now, a year later, I’m finding myself isolated again but because of different circumstances. Spring is full of birthdays in my immediate family and with our best friends. Anticipating this round of birthdays looking different was hard on me at first.

And then I decided to embrace it.

I started celebrating a few days early. I’m extroverted enough that I am longing for face-to-face connections, so I was especially happy to get visitors. We did a decent job socially distancing ourselves. Jaclyn brought me lunch (and a Diet Strawberry Limeade!) on Friday. Then Saturday, Courtney showed up with flowers and Kim brought a chocolate chip pie. Sweetness, literally! As an initiator of plans and connections, having someone else reach out to me is a gift. Of course, I’ve had some time lately to process all my thoughts and feelings, so that’s been another gift.

Greg also asked me a few times what I wanted to do for my birthday. It took me a while to come up with an answer: Make myself homemade cinnamon rolls and start a “garden” with some potted vegetable plants – and I wanted my family to help me with these things. So that’s what we did this weekend, and that seems appropriate for this season. Of course, the cinnamon rolls failed because the dough didn’t rise, even though we followed the instructions, including how to substitute instant yeast for active dry yeast because that’s all I could find last week when I was grocery shopping. Here’s the hoping the tomato, zucchini, and pepper plants are more successful! Our pool is open, but the water was 62 degrees last time I checked!

Tara left bagels on my door step. Greg and Ben made me pancakes and sausage for breakfast. Greg and Cate put together a video of birthday greetings from family and friends that they’d collected without me knowing. I cried almost immediately, and the happy tears continued while I watched different people I love bless me with their words during this weird time.

Today is Social Distancing Day 51 for us, so I’ve settled in here. I’ve remembered the smaller circle of belonging that brought me comfort last summer in the midst of grief. I’ve found ways to connect to people I care about, even if I’m missing them in my daily life.

Really, it’s been a valuable year: I’ve learned about adjusting and appreciating what is right in front of me this past year. I’ve found the beauty in slowing down and living my best life with my few closest people. I’ve learned to play some new board games. I’ve gotten to travel and then come home to explore places right here. I wrote a book that I’m working on self-publishing. I’ve read more fiction and been more selective about non-fiction. I’ve deepened my relationship with my Creator and Rescuer.

I’d say that a good year, even if it had some hard surprises. So, here’s to another year and all the lessons and gifts it’ll bring, including cinnamon rolls made by someone other than me.

Redefining busyness

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Social Distancing Day #34 felt busy. Of course, the way we’re all defining “busy” is different these days. Before the coronavirus disrupted our lives, I had time commitments most every day – picking up kids, taxiing kids to where to needed to go, errands, meeting friends, volunteering. All of that is good stuff. But these days having a time-specific commitment is rare.

On Day #34, I had two: a birthday parade for a friend and a Zoom meeting with my Bible study, but I also decided I should grocery shop while I was out and drop off some mail. I also needed to help Ben with school, put dinner in the Crock Pot, and tend to other meals and chores around the house. Plus I wanted to finish a scrapbooking project.

I felt mentally spent by the afternoon, so I took two of my kids on a walk to a creek at the back of our country property. I sat on a tree stump, talked to my mother-in-law who I miss, and soaked in the fresh air and sunshine. In this slower season of uncertainty, I’m feeling changed. And I can’t imagine going back to “normal” when the economy and schools and parks open up again.

I want to protect this slower pace. I want friends to miss each other and reach out. I want family time together and so many meals at home to be valued. I want busyness to feel like a stranger.

When I was organizing photos and writing for that scrapbooking project I was motivated to finish, I was ready through my Reflect & Refresh posts from the end of 2019 that looked toward 2020. I realized I basically expressed my desire for more time at home and having the freedom to say no to some things. Obviously, I had no idea just how real that would become in 2020.

I know people are suffering and lives are far more disrupted than mine, but I am thankful for this season, even though we really don’t know how long it will last. It’s looking more and more like school at home is going to lead right into Summer Break, which usually involves more time at home for us. I’m ready for our pool to be open. I’m ready to see some friends.

But, most importantly, I’m ready to hold onto what I’ve learned in the slowness.

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I’ve been journaling every day, so here on some confessions I shared on social media recently:

I haven’t wanted to read. I’ve read three books in the last month, but my other hobbies (scrapbooking, working puzzles, board games, TV shows) have gotten my attention I also think I’ve had to be careful about how much information I take in, and that apparently includes stories!

Although a fabulous deal on Kindle Unlimited got me to dive into another book, which I finished over the weekend! Hello, TWO FREE MONTHS of Kindle books at my fingertips. Through April 30, you can sign up for Kindle Unlimited for two months for free, go to manage subscriptions and immediately cancel, and have access for two months and not have to worry about getting charged when you forget to cancel. (Learn more about Kindle Unlimited here!)

I haven’t been bored for a single moment. Seriously.

Our days go quickly, even when have very little planned. I haven’t even done that many organized activities or crafts. When I declare it’s bedtime, somebody still has something else they want to do, usually with Daddy, so I always remind them we get another day at home tomorrow!

I created a playlist for this season. The theme is basically: Be still, know God is God, and do not fear. (Listen here.)

We produce a lot of trash and dirty a lot of dishes when we don’t go anywhere. My kids have been outside so much (good thing!) that we have a lot of dirty shoes and clothes because we live in the country, and there’s a lot of dirt here.

*****

What have you learned in this coronavirus-prompted season of social distancing? Do you have any confessions to share?

A life with goldenrod

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I love seeing the fields of goldenrod lining our country roads. Seeing the yellow contrast the green growing to meet the blue skis is so pretty I forget goldenrod is a weed. Of course, it’s our state flower too. I saw goldenrod recently spring up from gravel and along the rocky shoreline of Kentucky Lake. The pops of yellow are sweet surprises among mud and gravel.

We’re beginning our fourth week of social distancing. We’ve left the house for curbside drop off and pick up of school assignments, although this week is actual Spring Break. And I’ve gone grocery shopping about once a week. We’ve done one drive-by birthday parade for Nana, who turned 91 last week, and have another coming up this week for our best friend turning 12.

Most days, I love being home with a clear calendar. I’ve gotten to see God do things in our family I’ve been praying about for a long time. I’ve gotten to deal with some deeply rooted things in my own soul. I’ve learned things about my kids. We figured out how to play Settlers of Catan online with our best friends. My Bible study group is continuing to talk about John on Zoom meetings. Our church small group meets, thanks to Microsoft Teams. I’ve taken long walks and talked to friends on the phone.

But some moments have been hard.

Rescheduling the mission trip to Guatemala we’d been planning for an entire year was hard. We’d be there now if it weren’t for this worldwide coronavirus epidemic. Wiping off soccer practices and games, volleyball practices, birthday parties for friends, school field trips, volunteer commitments, and family gatherings was freeing at the beginning but started cutting deeper each time. In a family of mostly extroverts, thinking about celebrating three of our birthdays in isolation together is sad. We miss our families and friends.

I realize other people are navigating many harder situations, but the reality is everyone is dealing with disappointment and adjustments of some kind. It’s okay to own the hard we’re experiencing without ranking and comparing to others.

Honestly, it’s been almost a year of weirdness for me. Right after I turned 40 in May, my dad died and the grief overwhelmed my favorite season. I finally felt more myself by the time my least favorite season was starting, and the irony was a spiritual lesson. Now we’re all in this socially distant life. Through it all, I’ve learned at least one thing: Goodness and grief co-exist. One moment can hold both. And that’s okay.

That’s where I am today. One evening I’m teary. Another morning I wake up anxious. Thankfully, we’re all healthy. I find peace when I pray and sing and reach out to friends. Getting groceries makes me anxious, but my home and all the wide-open space around it feel safe.

We aren’t in a world of either or, this or that. We are in a world of both and. It’s hard and comforting. It’s anxious and peaceful. It’s broken and beautiful. Like those pretty stalks of goldenrod that shoot up among the mud.

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This is the second post I’ve shared about our coronavirus season, which is obviously unlike any spring we’ve lived before. Here’s the first post.