At the time of this writing, it’s been 46 hours since we landed, exhausted from a flight that originated in Puerto Rico at 1:00 in the morning … to Newark … to San Francisco … to central Oregon.
My luggage didn’t land with us.
Photo by Jefferson Sees on Unsplash
Dan and I recently returned from vacationing in Hawaii with three couples—all members of my deceased husband’s family. Weird, right?
It might not have been the best timing to help load up a U-Haul truck and drive back through three states over multiple mountain passes. But we were glad to assist.
We couldn’t find our toilet. We noticed it had been removed, but it wasn’t anywhere in the garage. And then later, I walked further into the bathroom and there, partially hidden behind the shower curtain, stood our toilet. In our bathtub.
Back when I was a new widow, I adopted the attitude of saying Yes to as many opportunities as possible. “Yes, I’ll join you and the kids in Disney World.” “Celebrating your husband’s birthday in Mexico? I’ll be there!”
And not only Yes to new adventures, but also Yes to interruptions, volunteer respite care, and visiting the dying.
Dan and I made a number of connections this past month, among them a large Christmas gathering with family, a writers’ critique group meeting, and a last-minute drive to Seattle to catch the premier screening of a film—made by a friend, and featuring another friend.
Author Shauna Niequist was featured on a recent podcast where she talked about finding meaning:
I want an assignment. I want can’t-miss-it clarity, a special purpose, the certainty that I’m on the right path doing the right thing, and that it matters.
Shauna Niequist
My heart goes out to all the people who have someone to shop for and haven’t the slimmest idea what to purchase.
I have three words for you: Tea and books. One can never drink too much tea, nor read too many books.
Before Dan left for a full day of volunteer work, he pulled the car out of the garage, and in its place, he parked Matilda (our affectionate name for the Jeep Wrangler). So when it was time for my morning appointment, Matilda would be warmer than if I had to tromp through the snow, lift the heavy shop door, and start her up.
There was the Thanksgiving when I was alone at my son and daughter-in-law’s place in Tucson (well … not completely alone, if you count my grand-dog, Chloe). I signed up to help serve a community Thanksgiving meal at the Salvation Army, and by the end of the day I was exhausted. But in a very good kind of way.
Copyright © 2025 Marlys Johnson
