Memo from Msgr. Raun - Thursday, April 2nd, 2020

My dear family in Christ,

Yesterday I spoke to some dear friends of mine who live in Vancouver, Canada. She is 79, he is 84. They are very active and healthy for their age, have been married 60 years, and are very good Catholics. They, like so many, are "self-isolating" in their townhouse. I asked the wife how they are getting along. With a laugh she said, "Well, we haven't killed one another yet!" 

Even in the best and most loving of circumstances, it's hard when people are forced to share close quarters ALL the time! Nerves fray, tempers snap, patience runs low!

I ran across this article written by a woman who had just completed a 24 day trip across the South Atlantic on a small sailing ship with three other people. She shared what she learned to help others to deal with "stay-at-home" orders! Below I give a summery and commentary on her article:

On our ship, there was little to no physical privacy, save in the bathroom, where no one wants to hang out longer than necessary. Quarters were extra close, with four of us aboard and no cabins. It became essential to carve out spaces where we could each sit and read, draw, write, tinker, or stare off into space without fielding questions or comments. I would tuck myself into a corner on deck, facing the water, and was left largely undisturbed for hours at a time. That mental privacy, largely maintained by an unspoken rule between us, gave me the space to lose myself in a book, check in with feelings, and not have to react or respond to others.
Small living spaces, even shared ones, might offer a bit more flexibility: a bedroom to take refuge in, with a door to shut. But the importance of respecting each other’s space holds. Just because you’re in the same place with others doesn’t mean you need to hang out or chat constantly. Be communicative with one another about your needs, and be honest about when you want to be left alone.

When you do spend time together, make it feel intentional, even special. On the boat, we tended to stick to our own agendas for most of the day, from checking the compass heading to adjusting the sails, but would eat dinner and watch a movie together almost every night. We’d think of thematic marathons—we watched all of the Harry Potter movies and, in anticipation of our arrival in Martinique, the Pirates of the Caribbean series.

We’d find excuses to celebrate, too. When sailing, crossing the equator is a big deal; we threw a party, complete with King Neptune–shaped pancakes, a bottle of sparkling wine, and a ritualistic plunge into the water (holding onto a rope). No excuse is too small or too insignificant.

While nightly group dinners with housemates may be too much right now, think about a ritual that feels good for your living situation (like times for daily prayer!). Finding ways to spend time together that feel joyful and out of the ordinary makes close company seem like an asset versus a frustration.

Whether you’re cooking for yourself, a partner, or a whole family, it can be incredibly gratifying to prepare something delicious. That doesn’t have to mean complicated. It can be as simple as working big, bold flavors into your meals to help break up the monotony of your provisions. Curry pastes, premade simmer sauces, and a well-stocked spice cabinet were essential as our fresh supplies dwindled. (Pro tip: cabbage, potatoes, onions, and garlic last a very long time unrefrigerated. Eggs keep for a while, too, in whatever state you purchased them.)

It’s also helpful to identify simple foods that bring you joy. For me, it was a sunny-side-up egg with plenty of salt; for my husband, Alex, peanut butter straight out of the jar; for all of us, tins of sardines with crackers.

When faced with long periods of isolation, it’s tempting to make a lot of plans. “I’ll relearn French! I’ll finally write that novel! I’m going to do so many crunches, I’ll come out of this with a six-pack!” If that’s your speed, power to you. But I found it helpful to set more achievable goals so that, even on my tougher days on the boat, accomplishing something small felt like a major win.

On the crossing, I had two goals for myself every day: write and do something active. Writing ranged from reflections on the changing hues of the ocean and brainstorming on my upcoming meal shifts to outlining a cookbook project.. Exercise was a ten-minute Pilates mat routine that was (mostly) doable when the boat was in motion. The others would do crunches, push-ups, yoga poses, and  jogging in place while hanging on tight to the boat’s shade covering.
Give yourself a break if you skip a day—I certainly did. Having goals in place, and the motivation to try, is sometimes enough of an accomplishment.

Our limited communication capabilities on the boat included a satellite connection that allowed us to send and receive email (which we usually checked once a day) and a ham radio that we’d use to tune in to  other cruisers crossing the Atlantic.  This was not, generally, riveting stuff. But we’d all eagerly gather around the radio, excited to hear other voices. The break in isolation was powerful, even if the most exciting topic tended to be what people had cooked for dinner. Email from friends back home made me feel connected, despite the distance.
Considering the wave of virtual drink dates and dinner parties after mere days of sheltering in place, people are aware of how important communication with your friends and family can be in times like these, especially when there’s little to no indication of how long this lockdown might last. Use it as an excuse to reach out to friends you may not speak to regularly—a little extra effort can go a long way in isolating times.

On the crossing, I struggled with periods of intense frustration. Where did the wind go? How much longer? Why is everyone else handling this so much better than I am? What’s wrong with me? Maybe it’s inevitable. But giving myself space to process those feelings, and showing myself kindness when feeling them, was important.

What helped the most, though, was holding close the moments of real beauty: an epic sunset, a sky full of stars on night watch, the meditative quality of staring out at a never-ending, always changing ocean. While perhaps less obvious at home, those moments can and do exist. There is something powerful about having no choice but to slow down, live simply, and really exist with yourself for a period of time. Simple things like listening to the sound of birds or seeing spring flowers pop up on a neighborhood walk are all things to treasure right now.

This forced slowdown has a backdrop far different than an ocean crossing—disease, fear, anxiety, and so much that is unknown. Trying to find peace in the uncertainty, and moments of joy in our present circumstances, will hopefully help us as we try to reach the other side.

WE NEED CARE CALL VOLUNTEERS! This has been one of our best ministries at this time. People are so touched that the parish is reaching out to them. People - especially the elderly and those who live alone - need personal contact with their church. Right now we have 40 volunteers, but Viana Sikes, our coordinator for this ministry, told me that we need 50 more. To do this you just have to have a telephone, email, and a heart that wants to share the love of Jesus with others. We give you a script to guide you in what to say. It's really just three questions: How are you? Do you need anything? Would you like to  say a prayer together over the phone? This ministry is REALLY important at this time! A lot of you have time on your hands right now - how better to keep busy than this ministry? ! ?  To volunteer, email Viana at viana.sikes@stanm.org, or leave her a message at 892-1511. THANK YOU!