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A Twist of Fate

I have been battling homesickness on this Snowbird journey, so I was elated when my husband announced that we needed to spend the following week in Michigan for an important work meeting. A week of living in a real house, seeing my friends and family and doing laundry in my own (free) machine was definitely worth a two day drive with drugged cats. My week’s activities were quickly planned and I was terribly disappointed when the meeting was suddenly cancelled.
That cancellation meant that instead of being on the road, we would now be spending the weekend in Florida and I didn’t like the weather forecast. The weatherman called for severe thunderstorms, gale force winds, and tornadoes. The thought of riding out a twister in a trailer park made that two day drive on winter roads all the more appealing.

Authorities tell you to go to a safe place in case of a tornado, only there are no safe places here. There are no basements because the water table is very high, and ditches quickly fill up with water, snakes, and gators. The desk attendant at the RV Park told us the standard procedure for dealing with tornadoes is “get in your car and try to outrun it.”

So, we prayed for God’s protection and sat and watched and waited. The sky turned black in mid-afternoon and the tall trees began to whip from the wind. The RV began to rock and shimmy. The torrential rain was so strong we couldn’t see outside of any of the windows.

At the peak of the storm’s fury, the RV sprung a leak. A seal on a stationary window gave way and water poured in and down the wall. It soaked the floor in the front third of the RV, including everything stored under the sofa and in front of the driver and passenger seats. We moved what we could to higher ground and went to bed.

The next morning we bought a shop-vac and pulled at least a quart of water from the carpet, washed the towels, and tried to dry out. We have been running electric heaters, the air conditioner and a small dehumidifier to dry out of the flooring before it grows mold and mildew. The window is now resealed and survived last night’s rainstorm, but the carpet is still damp three days after the flood.
I can only imagine the mess we would have walked into, had we followed our original plan and returned to Michigan for the week. The storm and flood would have hit on the first day of our absence. Outside temperatures are ranging in the mid seventies, which would have turned the inside of our soggy RV into a mold and mildew breeding ground. Chances are, the interior of the unit would have been destroyed.
Now I look at the cancelled meeting with grateful awe at God’s protection. Not only did He protect us from the storm itself, He protected us from the property loss that would have ensued had we been away.
And it makes me wonder how many times our plans don’t work out because a merciful God was protecting us from very unpleasant consequences. Yes, I am disappointed that my week at home didn’t happen, but I am ever so grateful for God’s providential intervention on my behalf!

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My “Fantasy Island”

I have a fantasy, which I visit when I feel I am being pulled in every direction and need a “Calgon Moment.” In my fantasy, I am spending the winter in a large summer “cottage” on the back-side of Michigan’s Mackinaw Island. The walls are made of golden pine logs, with original wood floors that are covered with worn Persian Rugs and hand-made rag rugs. The living room is furnished with a well-worn leather sofa and comfy over-stuffed chairs, complete with cozy red Native American wool blankets thrown over the sofa’s back. There is a wood-burning stove in the living room, topped with a simmering pot of soup.

In my fantasy, it is snowing outside, with big white, fluffy snowflakes drifting to earth, and the water of the lake outside the window is rough and grey, but inside the cottage, the light is golden and warm.

I am snowed in for the winter, armed with stacks of canvases and paints and I spend my days painting wonderful, artistic pictures. There is no television, no radio, and no internet. I am content to be snowed-in alone with my art.

This is totally a FANTASY! In reality, my cold-induced asthma would take me out the first time I had to reload the wood box. And, despite the pretty surroundings, they would become a lonely cage. I need to be involved with other people.

Nothing has brought that need for human interaction into crystal focus better than spending a few months in an RV park in northern Florida. Instead of being a “jeans and tee shirt” winter, it has been “sweater and jacket” weather. One night, the wind-chill was actually zero!

Winter weather here in the panhandle is cold and wet and people stay holed up inside their rigs most of the day. Temperatures may top out around 70 for about 30 minutes in the late afternoon, but quickly plummet once the sun start to set. Folks bundle up, walk the dog, and scurry back inside where it is warm. The best place for conversation and chance meetings seems to be the laundry facility.

There are only so many books one can read, so many pod-casts one can hear, and so many hours on Facebook before the need for human interaction drives you out. And rightly so! God created us for relationship, both with one another and with Him. We are called to be conduits of God’s blessings instead of reservoirs. Life is intended to be shared in fellowship.

Do you know people who are “shut-in” at home? It might be health issues, age, or a new baby in the home that confines a person to their house. When I was a young mom, at home with two little ones, I had a friend in a similar situation. When the Mr. Rogers television program came on, we had a scheduled daily thirty minute phone date that carried us through the rest of the day. Nearly thirty years later, and living in different states, we are still in contact and consider ourselves friends.

We are blessed when we bless others. Who is in your circle of influence that would be blessed by a visit, a phone call or a note? I encourage you to reach out, brighten someone’s day, and be a welcome blessing to someone else.

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What’s YOUR Story?

I am meeting new people on this snowbirding journey. Protocol for meeting new folks covers the same questions: “What’s your name?” “Where are you from?” “What do you do for a living ?” (Or “What did you do for a living?” – because most of the people I am meeting here are retired.) And, “Which rig is yours?”

There is the usual mental sizing up and rating system: Yankee vs. Confederate, blue collar vs. white collar, urban vs. country dweller, those who camp in huge, shiny RVs vs. those who stay in older ones. We tend to classify and pigeon-hole people as if we are scientists cataloguing plants. We smile and nod, are polite and play nicely, but it takes time and shared interests for real friendships to develop, so conversations rarely move on to deeper things.

People shut down if the conversation moves into tricky waters, such as religion or politics, too quickly. You look for little clues and nudge the conversation, all the while being ready to side-step the issue if they are not receptive to the nudge. So, we stay in the shallow end of the pool and tread water instead of diving in an risk alienating a potential friendship. Everybody has a story, but you have to build that bridge of trust before they are willing to share it with you. Trust takes time to develop. As a result, most stories remain untold.

Last night I had a dream about heaven. I was with a huge crowd of people, from all ethnic backgrounds. We were all wearing whatever “street clothes” our culture or time period deemed, and we were all roughly the same age. There were no children, teens, or elderly in the group. Folks were clad in jeans and tee shirts, prairie dresses, sari’s, buckskin, and silks – a wide assortment of humanity, both men and women,

There were people standing shoulder to shoulder as far as the eye could see in any direction. We were all facing the same direction, and way off in the distance was an elevated platform with some people seated in fancy chairs. We in the crowd were all very excited to be there, and were eagerly sharing our stories with those standing near us.

These stories were intense, personal, and vivid. There was no reference to names, places, jobs, or titles.. Instead, the question was, “How did you meet Him? How did you meet Jesus?” And, we talked, sharing our stories in heartfelt, deep details, giving glory to Jesus for His grace to touch our lives. There were no half-hearted, “Well, my grandma used to take me to Sunday School, so I decided I was a Christian” or “Well, my family all went forward on an altar call when I was little and I didn’t want to stay in my pew, so I guess I’m a Christian.” stories. These stories were rich, detailed, personal, and powerful.

There was no classifying, no judging, no rating system of who had the “best” story. Instead, there was a deep excitement, acceptance, and overwhelming joy. Everyone had a story and everyone was intensely interested in hearing what anyone had to say.

One day we will all be called to tell our story, to give a personal account for our life. What will your story be?

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Discoveries on the journey…

I met a woman yesterday who spends her winters here at the park. She is retired and lives in a 19 foot long travel trailer. When I asked if living in such a small space bothered her, she replied that she only sleeps inside the trailer; she spends all of her time outside. Her “living room and dining room” are under the canopy, on her patio slab. Which is fine, if you don’t mind wind, rain and chilly temperatures. She bundles up and sits in her lawn chair all day long, watching camp life happen around her.

Winters are still nippy in Northern Florida. Last night the temperature dipped to 27 degrees. We were warned by a neighboring camper to disconnect the water hose to our unit so it wouldn’t freeze and break the brass fittings. Now, at 9 am, the sun is streaming into the windows and the outside temperature is up to a balmy 39 degrees. This is a temporary cold snap; the locals reassure us that we will be topping out in the 70’s again by the end of the week. For the next few days, I will be holed up inside the RV.

We have had to make adjustments to life in small spaces. I am not willing to spend my days wrapped in blankets to sit outdoors during the cold snaps. That defeats our purpose of coming to Florida to escape the cold weather!

Getting the RV road-worthy was only the beginning! We find ourselves adding to our list of missing essentials on a daily basis, as we adjust to this new life-style. We have already added three electric space heaters, one for the bedroom, bathroom, and main living quarters. These RVs are not well insulated and must be driven to the refill station to refill an empty propane tank. Heating by electricity is the easier choice. We will find out how pricey the electricity is when our bill arrives at the end of the month.

Other discoveries:

After years of living with an automatic ice-maker in my refrigerator, I needed to buy an ice-cube tray. Simple pleasures of life; ice in your drinks.

Our motor home was stocked with a set of unbreakable Melmac dishes. We have seen them for sale at Camper’s World stores, hawked as the best camping dishes on the market. I remember Melmac dishes from my childhood. They truly are unbreakable and are a nice alternative to paper plates, but I have discovered that they do not hold up well in a microwave! They melt! Off we went to Wal-Mart for a 4 pack of Corelle dishes.

The glass tray in the microwave oven is a perfect fit for my frying pan. Of course, there is no handle so a lid to fit the frying pan is on my list for a future trip!

Our coffee-maker sprung a leak early in this journey and we replaced it for less than $20, at Wal-Mart.

The air quality is greatly improved since switching to unscented kitty litter. We are glad Wal-Mart also carries pet supplies.

Cooking presents another challenge because my little kitchen only has a 12 inch span of counter space. It is manageable, but meals are by no means elaborate or complicated. Space is at a premium so most of my kitchen tools stayed at home. The process of meal prep reminds me of the years I spent living in a college dorm, fixing weekend meals in my room. At least I have a small stove here, and don’t have to figure out how to cook everything in my popcorn popper!

My daughter jokes that we really are “retired” despite my husband’s job allowing him to commute to work by phone. It seems that every time she phones us, we are at Wal-Mart, picking up groceries or those missing essentials to make life easier. And, if I get too bored, maybe I can apply for a job! I can smile and say, “Hello, welcome to Wal-Mart!”

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CATastrophic living

Snowbirding takes major adjustments. How do you transition from living in a sprawling 2500 square feet to 300 square feet – a space just slightly larger than a college dorm room? From the nearest neighbor being 1/8 of a mile away to life in a trailer park? How does one transition from commuting to work in an office to working “at home” from a laptop? And, how do you adjust to living with two cats in that tiny space? What do you do with the litter box?

At home, the litter box is a non-issue. The cats have their own space in a room under the basement stairs (which is actually larger than this RV!) where their beds, food, and litter box reside. Odors are no problem. Clean the box daily when you feed them; it is out of sight and out of mind. Here the litter box presents a major problem.

We thought we had the problem preemptively solved . My husband removed a chair from the “living room” section of the RV and replaced it with a cabinet. The top houses the TV and printer, but the litter box is hidden inside with an opening for easy entrance for the cats. And, because we occupy a very small space, I purchased a new brand of kitty litter that is specially designed for small spaces. One would think we had the problem solved.

However, I did not factor in sensitivity to scents. I have allergic reactions when burning scented candles and sitting near someone wearing strong perfumes. A heavily deodorized kitty litter is not the best solution!

My husband’s workspace is next to the cabinet and he has complained since we arrived about the “landfill odor.” It gives him a headache and has talked about moving to a different town just to escape the smell. I have developed a “stomach bug” and have battled an upset tummy and headache, which increases when I step into the RV. Oddly enough, we don’t notice the “landfill odor” when we are outside!

The proverbial light bulb went off today and we finally connected the dots! The rank smell is from the litter box! Since we are using the showers here at the camp, which are far more spacious than the tiny shower stall in the RV, we have relocated the litter box to the bathroom shower stall. We must keep the door ajar for kitty access, but can open the ceiling vent, and hopefully, dissipate the smell.

And, after work today, we have a date planned to visit Wal-Mart for some unscented litter. I can hardly wait!

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Suddenly Snowbirds

Singer Ann Murray had a hit record in the 70’s titled “Snowbird” where she sang about a migratory bird that left the snowy, frozen meadows of the north for warm sunny skies. “Snowbird, take me with you when you go to the land of gentle breezes where the peaceful waters flow…” or something like that. My diagnosis of suffering from an unconventional form of cold-induced asthma, battling an asthma-induce URI since early October, and the opportunity for my husband to transition into retirement brought us to the sudden decision to spend the winter in Florida.

This introduced a series of rapid life changes! I gave notice at my job just prior to Thanksgiving, he applied for retirement,and we spent the month of December breathing life back into our ancient (22-year-old) RV after ten years in dry dock. 

Christmas was a whirl-wind of family parties, rapid packing, and a departure for the sunny south before the New Year with an ice storm nipping at our heels.

We are unconventional snowbirds; most of the folks we have met are truly retired and maintain a home in the north where they live during the summer, and spend the winter months in luxurious RVs with multiple rooms that “bump out” when they settle in for the winter. Our little rig is only slightly larger than the dorm room I had in college! (As a student, I would have loved a dorm room with its own kitchen, living room, bathroom and bedroom.) All the comforts of home are here, including a small flat-screen television. But, my husband is still “working.” He has an office area set up in a corner of the RV as he transitions out of his current career by satellite remote. I have my “office” on the dinette table where I write and attend an internet class I am enrolled in. And, we share our little space with two cats!

Boots, our 18-year-old tabby, spends most of his time curled up next to me on the dinette bench sleeping. Buster, the three-year old Maine Coon, spends his days leaping around the dashboard chasing birds and squirrels. The cats are loving all of the attention and “people time” they are receiving from such close quarters.

Because of my husband’s job, we are “tethered” to a site during the week and are limited to traveling only on weekends. Consequently, we have rented a monthly slot at a Florida campground where he can commute by internet.  We are close to the well-maintained showers and laundry room, have a concrete patio and little picnic table, and are surrounded by other monthly lease campers.  The park is its own little community of friendly people, with pre-planned activities if you choose to participate. 

As I walked the mile circle around the park this morning, feeling the warmth of the sunshine on my face, I was overwhelmed by the blessing of being outside and able to breathe the air. This transition from Michigan feels as if it happened rather quickly; we like to plan our life and work our plan. But we serve a God who specializes in “Suddenlies.” He cares about the details of our life, and directs our paths. He will guide us as we listen to the still, small voice of the Holy Spirit. Because of God’s direction, we are “Suddenly” Snowbirds.

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Sacrifice

My daughter’s apartment was robbed just before the Thanksgiving weekend. She lives alone in a small apartment on the “edge of the ghetto” in Virginia Beach and interrupted the robbers when she returned home from a party. Fortunately she was not injured and her little dog was found locked in the bathroom. However, most of her electronics are missing as well as her handgun. One of her laptops is gone, and one was staged by the door. Her cashbox was untouched but her piggy bank is gone. The apartment was in shambles and the burglars got away.

After the police left, she spent the night with friends and left town the next day for the Thanksgiving weekend in Michigan. She has decided that her apartment is in too dangerous of a neighborhood for her to live at without feeling afraid, and is making other living arrangements. Friends have offered to allow her to stay with them but these offers do not extend to her little dog, as many live in pet-free apartments.

We offered to keep her dog here until she moves. He will most likely be with us until Christmas. This is not without sacrifice on our part. Her dog is a friendly little beast that thinks cats are created for his chasing pleasure. Our cats do not agree. He needs twice daily medication and we must be aware of his bathroom needs before we leave the house. The dog is not accustomed to sleeping in a room by himself. We are not used to sharing our bedroom with animals. The dog wakes up barking and growling at the sound of the furnace turning on, the water softer recycling, or the sump pump running. None of us got much sleep last night!

We chose to sacrifice our comfort, sleep and time because we love our daughter. She has a need we are able to provide it.

And yet, our sacrifice of keeping the dog is of no consequence in comparison to the ultimate sacrifice of Jesus Christ. Because of his great love for us, he chose to take on human flesh, walk the earth, suffer and die for our sins. We have a need for a savior and his death was the only way to provide it.

As we approach the Christmas Season, keep in mind that the sweet baby in the manger was born to sacrifice himself for us. Because of his great love for us, we have a hope and a future if we believe on him and accept his sacrifice as full payment for our sins. Don’t allow the glitter and tinsel cover the fact that without the cross, Christmas would be a broken promise.

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Christmas lights in November

Today is November 4. It was dark and frosty as I drove to the office this morning and the sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon. Amidst the piles of leaves and rotting Jack-o-lanterns, I passed a house that was already decorated for Christmas.

Every tree and bush around the house was lit with multicolor twinkle lights. And when I saw them, it made me smile.

Some people say that decorating so early is “pushing the season” and rail against the department stores playing holiday music in November. Holiday music in November makes me smile, too.

I’m not talking about adopting the whole “Santa is coming to town” commercialism mentality, but am referring instead to the phenomenon of “God coming to Earth!” Those little twinkle lights remind me that Jesus Christ, God in the flesh, came to rescue sinful man from spiritual darkness.

The promise of Jesus the Messiah began in the garden of Eden, after Adam and Eve sinned. Later, Abraham was told that through his offspring all the nations of the earth would be blessed. God in human flesh, Jesus Christ the Messiah, is a descendant of Abraham. He lived a sinless life and paid the total payment for all of our sins. Anyone who trusts in Him will be saved from damnation.

Those twinkle lights remind me that Jesus is the light of the world. The music at the mall reminds me of the angels singing in celebration of His birth. When I see Christmas lights and hear Christmas music, I smile and thank God for His incredible sacrifice for me. Christmas is THE gift to celebrate: God Himself coming to earth to rescue sinful man.