I want someone with authority to shut down the world again. Eighteen months into this pandemic and the 2020 trauma stuck in my body is shouting at me to retreat. To clear my calendar. To set up camp on Zoom. To order groceries again. To keep my unvaccinated kids home. To lockdown.
I know how to do this. It's difficult, but familiar.
Or, if I had to pick another option, it would be an early summer 2021 vibe where masks came off, flights got booked, and we thought we arrived at a beautiful new phase of the pandemic.
I know, intellectually, that we don't get to choose one or the other anymore. But I'm protesting in my spirit and struggling to accept reality.
I hear the medical professionals telling us the truth. Living with Covid is our now our story. Variants will come and go. Masks will feel normal. Physical distancing will become second nature. Sure, life will become "normal" again but it will forever be altered a bit by this season of our lives together.
I'm struggling to make peace with the in between of it all. I'm sure time will help. But right now? It feels like we're on one side of a steep canyon bridge and someone is saying it's okay to take the first step. I glance up at the other side and I see our lives a few years from now. People look content and relaxed with new realities.
Then I turn back to look at our side of the bridge. We're not there yet. We're scared. Anxious. Unsure.
Maybe that's enough. To know that we can be scared, together. We can hold our collective anxiety with many hands, not just our tense aching ones. We can draw strength from each other as we let go of what used to be so we can pick up what is.
We're letting go of a lot. Still.
While trying to make complicated decisions about life and death matters.
It's hard to make peace with an in-between like that.
Grief alters so much of who we are, including how we make decisions and navigate new worlds. Beloved, may we be exceedingly abundantly kind to ourselves and each other. We're standing on one side of a rickety bridge, trying to make impossible decisions. We don't know yet know the best decisions for this in-between. So let's do what we can do. We reach out and name these realities with friends. They nod their heads. We feel less alone. We practice a palms up life. We show up, pay attention, cooperate with God & release the outcome. We tend to our grief and anxiety with compassion and grace.
We expect less of ourselves and each other.
We love each other fiercely. We get vaccinated and mask up when we're inside. We make intentional decisions and adjust as we learn new information.
We make time each day to feel safe in our bodies. We feel the sun on our faces, breathe deeply of the rain and clouds, stretch and smile. We play and rest. This life is beautiful and good. Even as we attempt to make peace with the in-between. Palms up, my friends.