Writing Prompt - Chores -

Story Prompt -

Do you have a favorite house/yard chore? One you dislike? Can you make a cake as well as mow the lawn? Were/are chores defined by gender in your home (no sides here, just a thought)?

I like to dust and vacuum, and weeding is a favorite outside chore. When I lived in Brigham City many years ago, my friend, Renea Allen, and I bought extra-long telephone cords, so we could talk on the phone while we cleaned, baked, did the laundry!

I don't like folding clothes, or ironing them. I enjoy working with shop tools, but I don't care for mowing the lawn.

You?

I wrote a poem about vacuuming several years ago (Oct. 3, 1993), and it still applies (and Jenna says it works with lawn-mowing too):

Around and around
Back and forth
The vibrating beat of the vacuum.
Back and forth.

In a noisy world of my own
The toils of the day
Go
Around and around
Back and forth.

Sift and sort
Push and pull.
I move the sweeper
Through the mindless
Clutter.

Sift and sort
Push and pull.
I move thoughts
Putting order to a
Cluttered mind.

Inhaling the excess off the floor,
The vacuum leaves paths of clean.
Ready for a new day
New activity.

Inhaling
And exhaling
I too have cleaned a path
Ready for tomorrows.

Washing Dishes and Mindfulness -

“If while washing dishes, we think only of the cup of tea that awaits us, thus hurrying to get the dishes out of the way as if they were a nuisance, then we are not ‘washing the dishes to wash the dishes.’ What’s more, we are not alive during the time we are washing the dishes. In fact we are completely incapable of realizing the miracle of life while standing at the sink. If we can’t wash the dishes, the chances are we won’t be able to drink our tea either. While drinking the cup of tea, we will only be thinking of other things, barely aware of the cup in our hands. Thus we are sucked away into the future — and we are incapable of actually living one minute of life.”  Thich Nhat Hanh  

Focus on what's now, not what might come.

Story Prompt - Jobs

Story Prompt:

What was/is your very first paying job? Of the jobs you've had, have there been favorites? Least favorites? Were you ever fired from a job? Did you ever quit a job?

My first job was scraping gum off the underside of the tables at my father's restaurant in Rigby, ID. I was probably 8 years old. He would pay my sister and I a penny for every piece of gum we had in the bowl at the end of our prescribed time. We were rich! And we'd go to the Jame's IGA and buy gum with that money.

My first "real" job was working at Christiansen Furniture in Orem. I worked there after school with another girl my age. We dusted, vacuumed, rearranged the furniture displays, and if we had down-time we worked on the designers projects for them, creating plans - from lighting to window treatments to cabinets, for their clients.

One summer I decided to do some temp jobs so I could better understand the job trauma and trials my students had. I gardened, worked in a factory, and did telemarketing. After one day doing temp telemarketing I was told to not come back. Hallelujah! This was my least favorite job too, well, that and tying bows on Teddy-bears in a factory line (another temp job that lasted a week). I returned to teaching with a much better appreciation for my students and the jobs they had, just to make ends meet.

A favorite job was working part-time in the Folklore Archives at BYU while attending BYU. I loved cataloging, reading stories, learning about culture, and the people in Special Collections were a joy to work with.

The only job I ever quit was working as an office manager for an IT company. I began full-time, then 2/3 time so I could teach, then part-time as I picked up more classes, and then I eventually quit to teach and begin my chaplaincy education.

I could write forever about this topic, and this doesn't even begin to include all the volunteer jobs or stay-at-home mother jobs, or the for-credit jobs:

Walker's Restaurant: Busing tables, waiting tables (not good at this), hostess, peeling potatoes and carrots
Macks Inn, ID: front desk clerk, ice cream scooper, gift shop, grocery store (head of lettuce story), motel maid
Florist

Toy Store Clerk

Read Leaf Bookstore

Online education - Assistant to CEO, Author, Administrator

Water Aerobics Instructor Chaplain UVU Instructor - English, History, Folklore

Can A Chaplain Help You -

This arhttps://intermountainhealthcare.org/blogs/topics/covid-19/2020/05/can-a-chaplain-help-you-remember-how-to-breathe/ticle, published this morning in Intermountain's public blog page, is pretty darn good. 

The author, Meredith Wilson, was able to sort through 3+ hours of interviews with 3 chaplains, and bring together a pretty darn good summary of a chaplain's role in healthcare. 

She is able to explain what we do - not necessarily religion-specific rites and conversations. 

I'm grateful for her time, her insight, and her ability to translate our conversations into this piece. 

Give it a read. 


Can A Chaplain Help You Remember How To Breathe? 

Intermountain Chaplains do a lot more than offer blessings. They're trained, empathetic listeners who can help you reconnect to yourself during difficult times, regardless of whether you're religious or not. 

There are many different sighs. There’s the relieved sigh after you negotiate four lanes of traffic to make your exit. The satisfied sigh when you survey the results of a day working in the yard. The contented sigh of finishing a big meal. Then there’s the sigh that Intermountain chaplain Ronda Weaver says is the sign you need to talk. It’s the weary sigh, a slow inhale and sharp exhale, like you’re trying to shift a heavy pack before you keep trudging up a steep trail.

“Everyone carries a burden,” says Ronda. “We tend to hold on to the bad and let go of the good. The more we tamp down bad feelings in our hearts, the less room we have for good.” When feelings go unprocessed, it can lead to compassion fatigue and eventually burnout. Care providers are especially vulnerable. Caring for patients, children, aging parents, or a sick loved one requires a lot of compassion, but also exposes the caregiver to a lot of difficult experiences.

Anyone who is experiencing fatigue, anger, self-doubt, or sadness may benefit from talking to an Intermountain chaplain. “Chaplaincy isn’t about sugarcoating. It’s about exploring feelings. There’s healing in expression,” says chaplain John Bush.

“So many times we can work out our own issues if we just have a listening ear,” says Ronda. Chaplains go through years of training to learn how to listen, how to not insert themselves into a person’s story, and how to create a safe, non-judgmental space where any and all feelings can be expressed. Chaplains are skilled at building dialogue, picking up on non-verbal cues, and asking questions to help people explore and express what they’re feeling. 

Unlike most therapists, chaplains don’t shy away from talking about spirituality. “There’s a quote by Rachel Remen, who’s a medical doctor. I’m paraphrasing, but it goes, ‘What do you do when your skills are no longer sufficient? When we come to the end of our mastery, can we be comfortable with mystery?’” says David Pascoe, semi-retired chaplain and former pastoral coordinator at Primary Children’s Hospital. That space of mystery that sits outside of our ability to control, influence, or even fully understand is where spirituality lies. It’s the place where we find our sense of meaning and purpose in the world. Sometimes this space is understood through religion, but not always.

“We never bring anything into the room that isn’t already there,” says David. Chaplains aren’t members of the clergy and won’t bring in theology or scripture unless the person they’re talking to brings it up first. While they may have their own religious beliefs, they’re not there to defend God or evangelize. Instead, they’re there to validate what someone’s feeling and help clarify their thoughts, whatever they believe.

David sees an engagement with this mysterious space as universal and fundamental. “What makes us human is our constant search for meaning. We are always questing, always searching, and are never satisfied for long,” he says. When our sense of order and purpose is disrupted, either by an accident, a death, the birth of a child, or a pandemic, it disrupts something fundamental inside of us.

A chaplain’s goal is to reconnect people with what makes them feel like themselves. “We’re looking for the things that are already inside you. Can you grab on to something inside you, a point of light, and can we tease that out for you to hold on to?” says David. “Our work is about helping people remember.”

Often, chaplains only have an hour or so with the people they talk to. “I think, because of the nature of the relationship, chaplains are seen as a safe place to vent and open up,” John says. “Unlike maybe someone’s pastor or their significant other, there’s no history and no judgment. We offer a singular space where they can let go.”

Sometimes John will ask people how they feel after they talk to him. People tend to say they feel freer, relieved they got things off their chest. That they didn’t know they had so much on their minds.

A sigh, an exhale of breath, can articulate or speak truth without words. It has no form or shape or substance, but it can remove the weight we may be carrying.

Chaplains are available for support Monday through Friday from 8 a.m. to 4 p.m. by calling 801-357-8781. After hours calls will be returned by the next business day. If you or someone you know is in crisis, call the Emotional Health Relief Hotline at 833-442-2211 or the National Suicide Prevention Hotline at 1-800-273-8255.

Food Storage - Toilet Paper, Pickles, and Mormons -

When I first married, Feb. 16, 1978, I proudly displayed my trousseau at our wedding reception. There was the tricot quilt hand quilted by my mother-in-law, a picnic quilt tied by my mother, another pink quilt with delicate stitching from my grandmother. As well, the display included the hide-a-bed couch my mom and I picked up at Deseret Industries and stripped and reupholstered and the table my husband refinished for our kitchen and the four chairs he stained and varnished to match the table. On that table was a setting of Pfaltzgraff stoneware dishes I had purchased as our every day dishes, with silverware, and the gorgeous and simple china - white with a silver ring, a center of light gray, with a tiny lavender violet in the center. My father had purchased this in Japan during the Korean War, gave it to his mother, who gave it to me. Sitting with the china was the crystal I had earned when depositing money in my checking account that year and another set of special-silverware.
Lastly, there was an old-fashioned metal flower cart filled with smaller things - dish cloths hand stitched or printed, an apron or two, and jars and jars of fruits and vegetables my mother and I had canned that previous summer and autumn. Of all things displayed, these home-canned goods were the most unique, and yet, most well-understood items on display. These jars included - tomatoes, peaches, pickles, apple sauce, and zucchini-pineapple (shredded zucchini mixed with pineapple juice and canned - a disaster and later the bottles were emptied, washed, and put to a better purpose). I had to show that I was prepared for married life - Mormon woman married life.

Over and over again these past few weeks I've been reminded of the Mormon scriptures, If ye are prepared, ye shall not fear." (D&C 38:30)

Through the years I've canned - pickling green beans, beets, and carrots, cucumbers, bottling grape juice, making berry and apricot jams and jellies, as well as preserving tomatoes, peaches, apples, apricots, pears, even dried beans, with garden-picked raspberries being my favorite, and still a comfort food. Having a row of 12 quarts of fresh out of the canner peaches, listening to the jars pop as they seal, brings a sense of pride and comfort and security.

As a new wife I was so proud of not only the home-canned foods in my pantry, but finding space in our first apartment for a "fruit" or storage room. A pantry a little larger than a closet was where my home-canned goods rested all sparkly and proud, along with store bought cans of beans (green and black and pinto), soups, tuna, and boxes of cereals and crackers, and bags of flour and sugar, as well as seasonings and spices, and the non-perishables of paper towels, tissues, diapers. I could shop in my own store any time I wanted.
And our first major purchase? Of course, a small Sears upright freezer, that I could load with the goods not necessarily cannable - green peas, corn, shredded zucchini, meats, breads, anything bought on sale that was perishable if not frozen, including green peppers diced and ready for cooking.

As the years went on, gardening was more fun than canning, and yet there was the "be prepared" mantra of my youth not far from my mind.

Several years into my marriage we moved from Brigham City, Utah to Sheffield, Alabama, and of course we took that fruit room with us, which included the bottles and cans and boxes and bundles that kept us confident we could weather a storm. And when moving only 10 miles away, from Sheffield to Florence, we looked for a home that had a room we could use specifically for storage - and the movers noticed, even asking, "What is it with you folks from Utah bringing a room full of food with you whenever you move?" As great a teaching moment this could have been, I laughed, and pointed to the garage workroom that would be fine for storage. We moved back to Utah a few years later, this time giving away most of the items in the room, except for our precious dry-canned wheat (even now I have some dated "'80").

Fast forward to 2004, newly remarried, no storage, no freezer. Building a kitchen pantry takes time, and every time I bought, I bought 2, and soon we had a small room that was beginning to look respectable. Shortly after, when finding one more thing to freeze, and not having the space, we too bought our first major purchase - a freezer. Over the years I've filled that freezer with fresh tomatoes in plastic bags, fresh pesto with basil from the garden, fresh diced peaches, berries, and bananas for smoothies, and meals upon meals for those days I come home and cannot cook or it's Scott's day to cook! And to this day I have to smile when, upon getting a Costco card and buying our first 24 pack of toilet paper and case of bottled water, Scott, with tears in his eyes, said, "Now, this is what I've been preparing for."

This winter Scott and I decided we'd use up our storage from December to the end of March, emptying the freezer and shelves, so when case goods came on sale we could start fresh, donating to the food bank what we hadn't used. We did it! All that was left were some now-precious home-canned peaches, beans, seasonings, and frozen grated zucchini and corn.
A week prior to leaving on vacation (March 3), I suggested we beginning restocking our "storage room" with a few items. So off Scott went to Costco and the local grocery store, bottled water, vinegar, oil, canned vegetables, broths, as well as toilet paper, hydrogen peroxide, lotion, contact solution, and Lysol wipes all found their place on our shelves.
Needless to say, when the sky fell 2 months ago, well, we didn't panic. Nor did our Ukrainian guest, when following Scott into the room just beyond the laundry room to get a light bulb, was surprised to see our "stock pile." He had plenty of questions, and I'm sure he had a story to tell his family back in the Ukraine.

PS - It's been nearly 3 weeks since we've bought groceries. Again, I decided to see if we could live on what we have. I've fed 4 people dinners and Scott and I breakfasts and lunches, eating out once, on what we've had in our refrigerator, freezer, and food storage. I'm ready to fill the fridge, but we did it!

And this -
https://www.theatlantic.com/politics/archive/2020/03/stockpile-food-my-garage/608290/?fbclid=IwAR29NbCVjGlnGZ6rbUfYp3zqJayVYPopvCvHmbYBNEIq8OZxNyRqIfz154A