( Note: No audio blog today because life's gotten a little wild. Read on for details )
Last night, I received the worst news I've had in a while. Mom's back in the hospital.
A recovering cancer patient, my Umma spent years going through the full and torturous gauntlet of surgeries, needle probes, and hospital visits. Through it all, she demonstrated such remarkable unflappability that when her doctor announced her remission and invited our family to celebrate, I caught myself in a brief moment of confusion. Well, of course she survived. Mom's more of a rock than The Rock himself.
But when I got the call that she was back in an emergency room, with pain so staunchly unexpressed that it would run down her face in sweat rivulets, my immediate impulse was to crawl into bed, pull the blanket over my head, and curl into a little ball. As a little girl, it was my immediate response to anything that felt even the slightest bit overwhelming. Last night, I could feel my adult self quickly retreating to that 'take cover' stance.
Why is it that whenever we're scared, upset, or fearful, we seek to hide? What is it about the darkness under a blanket or in a broom closet that the human soul finds so comforting?
As human beings, we generally don't like the idea of covers. Masks and covers make so many of us think of something dark, as Simba did in the Lion King. When Mufasa brought his little cub out to a high cliff to survey his future kingdom, Simba asked, "What is that shadowy place, all the way out there?" As it turned out, it was the domain of his nefarious Uncle Scar and his cabal of hyenas - the clear villain of the tale.
In Disney and in most of our minds, dark and shrouded places are instinctively known as places where nothing good resides.
It makes me think of what happened when we were all advised to don masks throughout the pandemic. To some, an uncovered face meant personal independence and freedom, so much that a mere piece of fabric - even one for the sake of public health - felt like an intolerable flouting of personal rights.
But I've come to see shadows quite differently as of late.
I was recently watching a cheesy, feel-good movie where a set of star-crossed lovers met at a masquerade ball. These two classmates had known each other for years, but it was only by the comforting anonymity provided by fancy, feather-splayed and glitter-dusted covers that they finally felt courageous to be themselves and brazen enough to confess their attraction for one another. Sometimes face covers provide a safe place for uncharacteristic courage.
In similar fashion, this blog has provided a cover of sorts. When I first decided to make this blog, a friend wondered about my domain choice. Why Page and Spoon? Why didn't I start a website like janewrites(dot)com? Writers relish the anonymity of pseudonyms for a whole host of reasons, but chief among them is the authorial freedom of a nom de plume. Behind fake names, aspiring writers can create written art that needn't be tethered to their known and everyday identities. Even if I'm not shy about sharing my name throughout this blog, the happy mask of a name like Page and Spoon has allowed me to open up more vulnerably than I might have under a site that flashily bears my own name.
Living in the South has aroused a fresh appreciation for literal shadows as well. James and I traded our Yankee roots for Southern addresses nearly six years ago, and for all the things we love about this part of the country - the hospitality, the food, the people - there's one thing we can't stand.
The outrageous heat of summer.
I have a black car, so when the Southern sun bears down unrelentingly on that absorbent color, I have to handle seatbelt buckles as gingerly as I would cast iron pan. James, whose body temperature runs much higher than mine, is far less tolerant. When it gets hot enough, he begins to lose his mind. He'll look for keys that are right in his hand and struggle to string words into sentences. "It's too hot to think!" he'll often pant while frantically fumbling with the AC knobs of his car.
So you'll understand why, when we go to a place and arrive at a parking lot, we're often ignoring the closest spots and driving right past the prime spaces.
Instead, we're searching for shadows.
Science purports that the cover of shadow can reduce felt temperatures by as much as twenty degrees. I'm not so sure about the numbers, but I can tell you that in the midst of a Southern summer, stepping into an overshadowed car is a far more pleasant experience than one that feels like Satan's armpits. We've frequently sacrificed the short walk to a front entrance for the cover provided by a single tree branch.
The idea of shadows being a place of comfort and safety has come up in my studies as well. Lately, my church has committed to memorizing portions of the Bible, one verse at a time. The pacing of this challenge allows us to slowly chew and linger over phrases and single words as we recite it to ourselves for an entire week. This past week, my homework was to memorize a verse that left me soulfully masticating the various meanings of the word 'shadow'.
As a scientist by (past) trade, all these definitions made me think of the cleverness of covers all around our physical world. Not only do trees present cover over my baking vehicle, we have an ozone layer that shields us from radiation. Our planet's electromagnetic field wards off most of the harmful cosmic radiation from the very star that keeps us alive. Someday, there will be a time where our beings won't constantly need to be protected from harm. Until then, it seems that shadows and shields are a pretty decent thing to have.
I know that not all readers will not share my faith, but if there's anything that should ever by known about the author of this blog, it's that the fabric and foundation of my being is based on the belief and knowledge of a God who offers the best and most perfect kind of shadow there is.
So as I steel myself to get soon reacquainted with the sights, sounds, and hospital visits surrounding Umma's most recent complications, I can do it all with fresh courage and fearlessness because I'm resting in a pretty great shadow.
Here's to all the shadows in our lives - both literal and figurative - that protect us, restore us, and keep us safe until we're ready to wrestle with the world again.
