“We are living in a time when laughter is rare. That is all the more reason to look for it. The things that make you smile, the things that lift your spirit: seek them and share them as widely as you can.” – Steven Charleston, retired Episcopal bishop of Alaska
Yes, first things first. Let’s acknowledge that the world is on fire and it is scary. (And more awful if you live on the Canadian border as I do. ) Second, let’s do as the saints, poets and buddhists advise and set that aside for now, since otherwise we will be back to drinking gin from the cat dish. ( This makes me laugh every time I write it. Or think it. Thank you Anne Lamott for coming up with that line.)
I took a deep dive into caregiving. We had our seventh and ninth grade granddaughters for two weeks while their parents were away, and their cat (love her), and another daughter and two little ones ( 2 & 4) came up from Juneau and stayed a week of that same time. I also caught an awful cold and have since recovered. It was crazy busy and when the cold was in full force, exhausting. ( Basketball practice, pancakes before school, naps, walks, rain, sunshine, a birthday and two cakes, a lot of cake, and pizza. A lot of pizza.) By the second to last day, I was a tad tired, and a bit grumpy about cell phones, and how much kids depend on them, and so when Ivy yelled downstairs that there was a spider and would I do something, I hollered back, “Is it in your bed?”
“No.”
“Is it in the doorway or the bathroom?”
“No.”
“Then leave it be.”
“I’m scared!”
So up the stairs I ran. She pointed. I looked. The tiniest of spiders, a baby spider it seemed, was holding perfectly still on the attic beam above my exercise bike. She was hoping we couldn’t see her. She was nowhere near the girls or their stuff.
CC told Ivy to squish it if she was so concerned. Ivy pleaded with me to do it.
I thought about a friend’s father who keeps a string in the drain so spiders can climb out if they get washed down. I thought about how hard life can be, is, for so many right now. I thought about how everything we do matters. Then I thought, good grief, it’s just a spider. (I think too much.) Just be a good grandma and save the day. Show them how brave you are. But then I thought–
“No,” I said. “I won’t kill it. I love you, Ivy, but that spider is harmless, and more afraid of you than you are of her. She deserves a safe place to live.”
Then I went back downstairs to cook dinner.
It felt good to take a stand for that spider. It felt even better to teach my grandchildren to be kind not only to cats and each other, but spiders. I worried for a minute that they may swat it after I left, or if they’d think I was bonkers, but I set those thoughts aside. They are in that file with all the other worries. Now, I want to believe the best. I want to believe that this matters, and I do. I really do.
Here are a couple of Haiku by Issa selected by Robert Hass– (That are perfect for today.)
Don’t worry, spiders,
I keep house
casually.
The snow is melting,
and the village is flooded
with children.
