I always thought it was a Shakespearean quote but Google tells me it is much more recent than that. It was American wit and New York Times writer, Dorothy Parker, who would say, whenever her doorbell rang, “What fresh hell can this be?” It has morphed over the years to “What fresh hell is this?” No matter who said it first, it has been on my mind often over this last week.
Some sneaky virus laid me low, or more accurately, shut me up. I was completely silenced by laryngitis. For four days I could not even whisper, so complete was my undoing. Add to that indignity I got a big cold sore on my lower lip. It popped up before the last cold sore was completely healed. On top of this I have finally admitted to myself that the beautiful new leather shoes I bought a few months ago are too tight. Of course, I have not worn them over the summer, being a confirmed sandal wearer, but now that it is socks and shoes weather I kicked them off, after a long day of scrunched toes and threw them in the corner of my room. Shoes are expensive and I paid full price and they DON’T FIT! And don’t get me started on the upset to my bio-rhythms caused by the time change. All this going on in NOVEMBER – the darkest, bleakest, grayest month of the year.
November seems like some fresh hell everyday. Moody skies, brisk winds, indeterminate precipitation – is it rain? is it snow? is it sleet? I just want to pull the blanket over my head and wait for this month to pass. What to do, what to do. I don’t drink enough to drown my angst. I don’t shop enough to relieve my melancholy. There are not enough Netflix movies to lighten my ennui. What to do, what to do. There are not enough leftover Halloween chocolates to satisfy the emptiness. Something has to spring me out of this fresh hell.
It is people. When my doorbell rings I might say, like Dorothy Parker did, “What fresh hell is this?” But more likely I say, “Oh good, someone is here.” A visitor, a story shared over a cup of coffee, a communal laugh, a joke told, an email delivered, that’s what I need. A connection. It is no wonder that so much of our faith life happens in community. We need one another, especially right now in these shortest days of the year when the sky is glowering. We need the brightness and colour that only people can give people. The longing for assurance is summed up in our United Church creed. It begins and ends with ‘We are not alone, we live in God’s world.”
So, dear readers, wherever you are, whoever you are, this is my missive to you … chin up, you are not alone. We are in this together.
Some things in life are hard to fathom, such as the mystery of the universe or even more Nancy with laryngitis! Can’t imagine. Glad you still write.
While I truly dismay at the shortening of daylight hours that November brings and continues to do so until Dec 21 (my Yippee day) when daylight is just a few pico seconds longer each day, I embrace November as a month to cocoon and reconnect with myself. No more gardens demanding my attention, golf clubs & socializing all put away. I am good with just my own company – but for a short while only – as Christmas festivities start to roar in, demanding time and attention. So this self embracing is a short lived but a true necessity that November alone allows me to indulge in. Soon the bright twinkling lights will draw me out & about, and I am good to go for another year.