Posts don't come easily to me. I like to wait until I'm inspired by a memory or a recent event to tap out a blog post. But nothing much happens when you have to stay home--all day; every day. You don't have people over or go out when there's a pandemic happening.
Life almost stood still, for awhile. I couldn't visit our Tennessee grandchildren, nor could they come over. I couldn't get my hair cut and colored, and it stung a little that my regular hair appointment was to happen one day after the mandatory shut-down/shut-in began. We couldn't go out any time we wanted for a lunch or dinner. I only went out once every seven to ten days, just to do grocery shopping.
So, I sat on the back porch, in the sun, as often as the weather permitted. I read a lot more. Surfed the internet WAY more. I'd make phone calls to friends, knowing I didn't have much of anything new to report (but then, they admitted they didn't, either). So we talked about our hunt for the allusive toilet paper and dream of the day when we could go to the beach. I began wearing my hair in a ponytail--it was so long. And I was cooking and baking an awful lot more.
Just a few months back, I was proud to have lost several pounds. As the pandemic was proclaimed official, I promised myself that I wouldn't snack and graze all through the day. Pride goes before a fall, and I fell hard. As the two weeks mandatory "shelter-in-place" stretched into four, then eight, I could see the handwriting on the wall. As the pantry shelves began to become more barren, I started looking for new recipes to try with the ingredients that I did have. It was like a game--at first. But I quit getting on the scale after a few weeks.
Grocery shopping turned into more of a hunt--for many items. I felt victorious when I found ground beef, rice, hand soap or eggs. I felt frustration many times in looking to bag the nearly extinct packaged toilet paper, paper towels or napkins. And don't get me started
about people who didn't follow the arrows on the floor of each aisle or forgot about social distancing by crowding me at the meat counter, looking to see how much meat was left.
Daniel's job was deemed "essential", so he was leaving the house and having social interaction almost daily. Because I had watched the same video everyone else did, by the doctor who showed us how to sanitize ALL our groceries before we put them away, I was on high-alert for germs. I had Daniel take a shower as soon as he got home. I would hook his work clothes on one finger and take them to the washer right away. Then I sanitized his keys, watch, glasses, phone, belt buckle, lunch box and any doorknobs that he touched. Every day. I was proud to do my part to keep us both healthy. It was almost as if we were at war, doing "our part" in the war effort.
I won't talk about masks--except to say that I detest that no one can see if I'm smiling or frowning. Walmart had a sea of faceless people everywhere I turned. It is very difficult to determine how a person is feeling when you can't see their countenance. I can hardly wait to throw mine away!
This "season of life" will be but a blip of time on life's continuum. How we treated other people during this time is an indicator of how we're doing internally. Did we exhibit patience? Was courtesy intact? Things like opening doors for others and letting them go in first. Generous tips when you did curbside pickup at your favorite restaurant. Saying 'please', 'thank you' and 'much appreciated'. Did we try to find the fun and keep others spirits high? Did we laugh and play games?
I hope so. I hope you found that peace settled over your home and in your heart and that joy surprised you by popping-up in unexpected ways and places. During our "shelter-in-place" phase, I would sit on our back porch that faces an abundance of trees and underbrush. I enjoy watching the hawks glide on the air currents, swooping down to check out their lunch. As I would stare up at the sky just above the treetops, this Psalm would run through my mind. I didn't like adjusting to "the new normal" guidelines...I grumbled a lot. But I knew where my source of hope and help came from. I hope you find hope and comfort reading through it. (And, if you want, you're invited over for a cup of tea and we'll share how we're doing.)
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