Shulamith and I often comment that we are happy with our boring lives. I think what we mean is that we're grateful for what we have, and we don't need constant drama or excitement in order to be content. The regular routine is enough. Simplicity. I'm in the middle of a book called "Becoming Mrs. Lewis," told as an autobiography (though it isn't) of Joy Davidman, wife of the renowned author, poet, and theologian, C.S. Lewis. The author, Patti Callahan, spent hours interviewing Joy's sons, along with others with connections to Joy and Jack, in order to reveal a genuine and honest account of their journey and unexpected love story. And it shows. I am enchanted by the art of this author's rhetoric. Beauty defined.
Throughout the narrative, we get hints of Joy's health issues, but I don't think we'll learn the details until late in the book. I know she died of cancer, and no, I should not be reading this! I avoid most books, movies, and TV shows that include characters with serious diseases, especially cancer, because they trigger my anxiety disorder into the stratosphere.
But I must finish this book. Regardless of what happens. I simply must.
As I read Joy's story, I'm reminded of the simple blessing of good health. Ironically, despite my irrational but often constant fear of illness, I am possibly the healthiest person I know. I'm hardly ever sick, which is why my recent experience with COVID rocked my world, both physically and mentally. Today is Day 28 since the first day I experienced symptoms and tested positive. I don't want to jinx it, but yesterday was the first day I felt completely normal. I felt upwards of 95% better all last week, but not until yesterday was I entirely symptom free. It was a process lengthier than I ever imagined! Omicron is no joke.
On MLK Day, one day before my COVID symptoms began, I had lunch with three of the coolest people I know: Isaiah, Eli, and Seth. We ate yummy Indian food, and I watched the three of them chill together; laugh at private jokes; and discuss video games and Japanese Anime. It was a lovely time, right up until the following day when I got sick and was frantic that I had unintentionally exposed all three of them to COVID, and that Eli would go home and expose Amanda and their 3-month-old baby! I was terrified. But grace abounds, sometimes when we least expect it; none of them got COVID, and neither did Gerald or even Shulamith.
Two weeks later, when I was over quarantine and feeling somewhat better, we went to lunch again, this time minus Eli, who had to work. We met Shulamith on her lunch break at Penny Ann's for our favorite breakfast food, and once again, enjoyed laughter and nonstop conversation as everyone caught up with each other's life. Then Shulamith's 4-year-old son Theodore wanted to play
Sorry. Though it's possibly the most tedious game ever created, Isaiah and Seth both volunteered to play, evidence of how much they love Theodore. Isaiah even taught him to play
Uno after they finished
Sorry. Isaiah won both games. He doesn't believe in letting little kids win, even adorable ones like Theodore. True to his sweet nature, Theodore handled defeat with grace.
As I watched the three of them, I thought about Joy. Her life in New York was chaos filled. All she yearned for was the simplicity of a calm, peaceful existence. That peace came in London, and eventually Oxford. With Jack. Some might call their days together boring, but my guess is, like Shulamith and me, they were just fine with that. Unlike Shulamith and me, they were both brilliant intellects, and their work has memorialized their lives. Yes, Jack's writing is much better known, but take a second and read some of the poetry of Joy Davidman.
You will thank me.
