During these days at home, waiting, I bake aggressively. The smell of rising bread gives us a good change to look forward to, even as it gives us a measure of comfort and normalcy. We built a blanket fort that spread from our living room to our kitchen, and then a satellite fort upstairs that involved a full-size tent. Making a smaller home within our home seemed to help: it gave us somewhere to enter and exit, places to visit and then leave.
But in the evening, as all four daughters make their way to bed and the day’s work slows, I cannot hide from this thought: So little is certain. I do not know what tomorrow will bring. Even the world outside is shuttered to me then, and our darkened windows reflect back only these familiar rooms.
That thought has always been true: I have never known what the next day will bring, but I have been able to make educated guesses and found my plans upon them.
So little has ever been certain, and yet, as I brush crumbs from the table and sweep the dining room floor, readying the room for the morning, I know that some things are certain. Some things always have been and always will be. Whatever the news when I wake up tomorrow, these truths will remain firm and unchangeable.
What is Certain
When the things we thought unshakable are shaken, what can we stand upon? In response to the world-wide upheaval we’re living through right now, I wrote about this question for Deeply Rooted. You can read that article, “What is Certain?,” on the Deeply Rooted blog.
