Caught in between the pain and sadness of Good Friday - and the of the resurrected Lord on Sunday is this middle ground on Easter Saturday.
I know the end of the story. I know that joy comes in the morning.
But there was a time on that very first Easter Saturday when the world did not know that heaven was counting to three.
The people were stuck in the pain and the chaos that was brought by Jesus' death on the cross. There were stories of hope, glimmers of what could be - but that Saturday, nothing had happened yet.
That's a lot of what I feel today - the truth in knowing that it will get better, the joy that will come some morning soon when I'm not asked to stay home and not see loved ones - I know that truth is there. I have faith in the Lord - and our fellow humans (well, most of them, anyway!).
But today feels "wander-y" - a wait with no end.
Saturday, April 11, 2020
Saturday, April 4, 2020
The Rain
The last two days have been beautiful - enough that I got a little sun on my face when cleaning out the beds. I'm so grateful for that.
But today it's raining. Blah. Rain. More reasons to stay inside.
Fear still swirls on the internet - I try to avoid reading the hyperbole and conjecture. It's nothing but frustrating. But I would like to get out and go to a garage sale - or to the grocery store - or the home improvement store to buy some supplies.
Everything seems off-limits right now - and rightfully so. I see the maps the CDC puts out on where the virus is - and I see how well Michigan is doing to stay at home. We do our part.
For our neighbor.
For the neighbors we don't know.
For strangers.
And I reflect back on a post recently about how my children will remember this time. Will they remember the stress (because even though they say they are fine - their anxiety is still present and their fears are still real) - will they remember struggle? My hope is that the remember lots of movie nights and playing games and reading books in hammocks and finding new ways to play Battleship over a computer. I hope they remember that.
April showers bring May flowers - and perhaps some hope as well.
But today it's raining. Blah. Rain. More reasons to stay inside.
Fear still swirls on the internet - I try to avoid reading the hyperbole and conjecture. It's nothing but frustrating. But I would like to get out and go to a garage sale - or to the grocery store - or the home improvement store to buy some supplies.
Everything seems off-limits right now - and rightfully so. I see the maps the CDC puts out on where the virus is - and I see how well Michigan is doing to stay at home. We do our part.
For our neighbor.
For the neighbors we don't know.
For strangers.
And I reflect back on a post recently about how my children will remember this time. Will they remember the stress (because even though they say they are fine - their anxiety is still present and their fears are still real) - will they remember struggle? My hope is that the remember lots of movie nights and playing games and reading books in hammocks and finding new ways to play Battleship over a computer. I hope they remember that.
April showers bring May flowers - and perhaps some hope as well.
Friday, April 3, 2020
Glimmers of Hope
My sweet neighbor - who has been in the ICU, sedated and intubated- for almost a week - opened his eyes tonight! He responded.
Praise be to God - we have been praying continually for his improvement and we hope to see him home.
A WIN! I love those moments of hope when all is dark and bleak.
Praise be to God - we have been praying continually for his improvement and we hope to see him home.
A WIN! I love those moments of hope when all is dark and bleak.
Wednesday, April 1, 2020
It's April...
When the governor called for classes to be canceled and schools to shut - and then for a shelter in place, she mentioned April 13. In March - the promise of April had the ability for us all to take a deep breath and hang on.
There was this nugget - this dangling carrot of hope, that once we got to April, we might get to the end of the upheaval, the chaos, the change and the confinement. There was a sliver of hope.
April 1 was also to be the day we were to get in the car, and do our annual trek to Atlanta to see the BFF - spend a few days with her and then pop a plan to Miami for our family vacation.
All of that gone.
Enough water has passed under that bridge to know that April 13 isn't going to hold. It'll be later.
School will more than likely be done for the year -we'll go to remote learning, whatever that will look like. Life won't begin to look like normal at least until May - and probably June. School won't feel like school until August.
Those who said this was possible a few weeks ago were right.
Those of us who needed hope put our head in the sand.
In any event - April is here. It's still chilly - there are no trips, there is no school. And we're in our home for a while.
Oof - that's a lot to swallow today.
Tomorrow will be better. It'll be the day after we were supposed to be on vacation. It won't be "there's still hope" - it will simply just be. Perhaps that will help. Perhaps it won't. Time will tell.
There was this nugget - this dangling carrot of hope, that once we got to April, we might get to the end of the upheaval, the chaos, the change and the confinement. There was a sliver of hope.
April 1 was also to be the day we were to get in the car, and do our annual trek to Atlanta to see the BFF - spend a few days with her and then pop a plan to Miami for our family vacation.
All of that gone.
Enough water has passed under that bridge to know that April 13 isn't going to hold. It'll be later.
School will more than likely be done for the year -we'll go to remote learning, whatever that will look like. Life won't begin to look like normal at least until May - and probably June. School won't feel like school until August.
Those who said this was possible a few weeks ago were right.
Those of us who needed hope put our head in the sand.
In any event - April is here. It's still chilly - there are no trips, there is no school. And we're in our home for a while.
Oof - that's a lot to swallow today.
Tomorrow will be better. It'll be the day after we were supposed to be on vacation. It won't be "there's still hope" - it will simply just be. Perhaps that will help. Perhaps it won't. Time will tell.
Tuesday, March 31, 2020
Their Hearts
It was a gentle tap from my husband about 7:45am. I had my headphones in (he snores, I like sleep. It works) so I couldn't hear the ruckus.
First, I figured out it was two children.
Then, I surmised that they were up to something with folding tables.
"Surprise!"
Both of them set their alarm, got up, got dressed and made a waffle for me and a bagel for dad. Additionally, they made us a lovely anniversary card.
All to celebrate 13 and Quarantined.
How lucky am I?! Love it - and to my husband, if we're going to be safe at home at least we get to do it together!
First, I figured out it was two children.
Then, I surmised that they were up to something with folding tables.
"Surprise!"
Both of them set their alarm, got up, got dressed and made a waffle for me and a bagel for dad. Additionally, they made us a lovely anniversary card.
All to celebrate 13 and Quarantined.
How lucky am I?! Love it - and to my husband, if we're going to be safe at home at least we get to do it together!
Sunday, March 29, 2020
Ear Worms
Yesterday, I spent about 9-10 hours sitting at my dining room table (y'all, those chairs aren't made for that much tushy time) - making masks.
First, I started for the woman up the street - that was about a week ago. I made about 16 for her - she's a cardiothoracic nurse of some sort. And of course, I had to make one for my favorite doctor, my cousin. Followed closely by 2 for my parents - because if they are going to go to the grocery store, for heaven's sake, cover your face! One for a friend's dad. And then I got a nudge to make two for my girlfriend in book club, she's a PA at the local hospital - who then came back and asked for 40 more.
Hence the tushy time at the table.
I pushed through the flat tush - I did take a good walk - and finished my night yelling at my bobbin for the umpteenth time.
Probably because I'm angry and depressed. I was supposed to be packing for our spring break trip. I was supposed to be going to see my BFF this week and then spending some much-needed family time at the ocean.
I wasn't supposed to go running out in the grass yesterday morning to see an ambulance at my neighbor's house. I wasn't supposed to hold my children - and my tears back - as they took out my beloved neighbor who was having respiratory distress.
No, I wasn't supposed to be doing that.
But there I was. Wet hair, cold feet, in the grass, 10 feet from his wife, who I could not go hug. Because if he has this stupid virus, she probably does too.
ARGH!!!!
So - yes, that left me yelling at my machine at 8pm and saying that I was done for the day.
All to wake up this morning, to see the sun and to sit back down to finish yesterday's goal of 20.
I put on church - or at least 3 minutes of online church because everyone else was trying to do the same thing.
"Oh yes I will, sing for joy when my heart is heavy..."
What?
Stop the machine. Listen some more:
"I count on one thing
The same God that never fails
Will not fail me now
You won't fail me now
In the waiting
The same God who's never late
Is working all things out
You're working all things out"
And then over and over, earworming from my brain to my fingers to the presser peddle to the mask in honor of my beloved cousin, and friend, and book club lady - and my neighbor. "Oh yes, I will, sing for joy when my heart is heavy, all my days, oh yes I will."
My heart is heavy today. I'm worried, I'm tired. I'm anxious, I'm over this. And it's not over. Not nearly even over.
My BFF will still be there. Florida will still be there. And I want my neighbor to still be here.
So I will stay home for him. And for all.
I'll sing for joy.
And I'll keep sewing.
First, I started for the woman up the street - that was about a week ago. I made about 16 for her - she's a cardiothoracic nurse of some sort. And of course, I had to make one for my favorite doctor, my cousin. Followed closely by 2 for my parents - because if they are going to go to the grocery store, for heaven's sake, cover your face! One for a friend's dad. And then I got a nudge to make two for my girlfriend in book club, she's a PA at the local hospital - who then came back and asked for 40 more.
Hence the tushy time at the table.
I pushed through the flat tush - I did take a good walk - and finished my night yelling at my bobbin for the umpteenth time.
Probably because I'm angry and depressed. I was supposed to be packing for our spring break trip. I was supposed to be going to see my BFF this week and then spending some much-needed family time at the ocean.
I wasn't supposed to go running out in the grass yesterday morning to see an ambulance at my neighbor's house. I wasn't supposed to hold my children - and my tears back - as they took out my beloved neighbor who was having respiratory distress.
No, I wasn't supposed to be doing that.
But there I was. Wet hair, cold feet, in the grass, 10 feet from his wife, who I could not go hug. Because if he has this stupid virus, she probably does too.
ARGH!!!!
So - yes, that left me yelling at my machine at 8pm and saying that I was done for the day.
All to wake up this morning, to see the sun and to sit back down to finish yesterday's goal of 20.
I put on church - or at least 3 minutes of online church because everyone else was trying to do the same thing.
"Oh yes I will, sing for joy when my heart is heavy..."
What?
Stop the machine. Listen some more:
"I count on one thing
The same God that never fails
Will not fail me now
You won't fail me now
In the waiting
The same God who's never late
Is working all things out
You're working all things out"
And then over and over, earworming from my brain to my fingers to the presser peddle to the mask in honor of my beloved cousin, and friend, and book club lady - and my neighbor. "Oh yes, I will, sing for joy when my heart is heavy, all my days, oh yes I will."
My heart is heavy today. I'm worried, I'm tired. I'm anxious, I'm over this. And it's not over. Not nearly even over.
My BFF will still be there. Florida will still be there. And I want my neighbor to still be here.
So I will stay home for him. And for all.
I'll sing for joy.
And I'll keep sewing.
Thursday, March 26, 2020
It's Not That I'm Back
...but I might be.
We've been social distancing for 2 full weeks now.
Because there is a global pandemic that's pretty much causing the world to shelter in place.
Yea, that's something I never thought I would type. Nor what I thought would bring me back to the keyboard. But things are different. We're stuck at home, hoping not to get sick. Hoping to "flatten the curve" to allow hospitals time and staff to support those who will get sick and die.
Kids are out of school. Many businesses are closed. There is no end in sight. Hypothesis and conjecture are everywhere.
And in our world on our side of the street - life seems pretty ok. We've got perspective: this is temporary and this is light. We've got the benefit of shelter, food, electricity and water. We have neighbors to wave to from a requested 6' distance. We have our health.
So it's with Coronavirus - COVID-19 - that I jump back into writing. I've got to figure out a way to process my head and heart without frightening the fishes.
So it's not that I'm back.
But I might be.
We've been social distancing for 2 full weeks now.
Because there is a global pandemic that's pretty much causing the world to shelter in place.
Yea, that's something I never thought I would type. Nor what I thought would bring me back to the keyboard. But things are different. We're stuck at home, hoping not to get sick. Hoping to "flatten the curve" to allow hospitals time and staff to support those who will get sick and die.
Kids are out of school. Many businesses are closed. There is no end in sight. Hypothesis and conjecture are everywhere.
And in our world on our side of the street - life seems pretty ok. We've got perspective: this is temporary and this is light. We've got the benefit of shelter, food, electricity and water. We have neighbors to wave to from a requested 6' distance. We have our health.
So it's with Coronavirus - COVID-19 - that I jump back into writing. I've got to figure out a way to process my head and heart without frightening the fishes.
So it's not that I'm back.
But I might be.
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