Let’s be real.  These are crazy times in our world.  I keep going back to the fact that this isn’t just my city or state or even just in the United States.  This is worldwide.  

I vacillate between utter gratitude for health and safety and security to total sadness over the circumstances around us.  

I am thankful that for the most part, we are healthy and our family members are healthy. We are safe in our house. Outside of walks, bike rides, or taking a drive, Adam and the kids have been completely isolated since March 17th. I am the errand runner so I make it about 9 days and then have to get veggies or something like that. Adam’s job hasn’t really changed. It is relatively easy for him to work from home and there are not huge adjustments. He still gets paid every 2 weeks and we are very fortunate in that respect. None of this is lost on me.

My sadness runs deep.  I’m sad for my friends who are doctors and nurses.  They are literally living in basements or other rooms or other cities, away from their families.  My heart breaks for all of them.  I am sad for the decisions that doctors are faced with and the loss of what seems like patient after patient.  Is it even possible for them to come away unscathed?  I am sad for my friends who have lost people.  I’m sad for those I’ve lost, not COVID related, but still the loss of a friend.  I’m sad for my friends who have ended up in the ER and are now home doing everything they can to not end up back there.  I am sad for the loss of school and life as we know it.  I’m sad for seniors in high school and college, sad for kids ending one school and going to another.  Sad for no closure for teachers or students for this school year.  I’m sad that there will be no celebrations for teachers and principals retiring.  I am sad for a lot.

I don’t really know what to do with my sadness.  Where do you put it and how do you compartmentalize it?  I feel like I am the one in my house who has to hold it all together and try to maintain some sort of “normal.”  I am the responsible one:  the laundry, the school help, the regular chores, the occasional shopping trip, all the meals.  (And they are eating like 12 meals a day.  As soon as I get one cleaned up it is time for another.)  I don’t really get time to myself unless I hide and that usually only lasts for 5 minutes.  That sounds selfish, but I recharge with alone time.  Lately, it has consisted of taking a long shower and just crying.  It is my release.  I don’t know what else to do in the moment and I am so overwhelmed by all the things, so I just cry.

My approach is this – feel it and take a step.  There is no long-term plan, there is just the plan for the next hour.  I think there has only been 1 or 2 days in the last 3 weeks where I haven’t cried.  I just cannot believe this is our reality.  And the number of projected deaths…is that even something our minds can comprehend?  If you haven’t had a friend or family member diagnosed, just hang on because you will.  Those deaths are sons, daughters, parents, friends.  They are someone else’s person.  How do you even wrap your mind around it?

Despite my sadness, which completely coincides with my gratitude (somehow), I wake up every day and put on a smile and act like today will somehow be different when it all just feels like Groundhog Day.  I’m the mom.  I’m the one who has to make sure everyone else is ok.  I feel such a strong burden for my people.  This can catapult anyone into some form of depression, even the person who has never felt it before.  I am checking in with my kids constantly and they are doing ok.  But at 10, it’s hard to wrap your mind around it all.  And when you are turning 13 and you can’t celebrate with your friends, what do you do?

Our pastor, this morning, prayed for families and he prayed for moms who are weary.  I cried.  I am that mom.  I am weary and it is so hard to “snap out of it” when you don’t know when it will end.  There’s no light at the end of this tunnel.  I am weary and fighting a little bit of depression and I am keenly aware of all of it.

I don’t say any of this as a poor me statement or to get attention.  I’d really rather no one know.  I don’t need the “Are you ok?” question right now because one minute I am and the next, I’m not.  And there’s nothing you can do.  I don’t say any of this to contradict what I wrote last time about this being a time to reconnect and come together and be present as families.  That holds true, always.  I write this because I know that I am not alone.  I know that you are not ok either, not all the time.  I know that there are other people who don’t know how to walk this and don’t know what step is the next one and don’t know if it is ok to cry or scream or take a nap.

It’s ok to do all of those things.  I have cried in front of my family, with my kids.  My oldest got really sick, really fast and it scared the heck out of us.  The tension in our house for 48 hours could be cut with a knife.  Thankfully she is good, but man, it is ok to show the emotion.  It is ok for your kids to see that you are not Wonder Woman or Super Man.  Seeing you struggle gives them permission to struggle and then we can struggle through it together, because that is where growth happens.  It is ok to tell your kids to go read.  It is ok to give more screen time than normal.  Do what you need to do to keep moving.  This is hard and we have no precedent for any of it.  We are learning as we go.  Our teachers are learning as they go.  Everyone is.  You have permission to not be strong all the time.  Give some grace to yourself and the people around you.  We’re all going to snap at each other and handle things poorly, but make sure you go back and seek forgiveness.

I just said there was no light at the end of the tunnel, and while that is true given the current situation, because we don’t know when it will end, I do have a light.  The light who told me I would have trouble.  The light who holds me when I just can’t keep moving.  The light who causes the sun to rise every morning.  I have to say, if I did not have Jesus, I don’t know what I would do.  I don’t think I could have hope without Him.  He is the only hope we have in all of this.  I can keep going because I can cast all my burdens on Him.  I can take the next step because He holds me and I know that He is listening.  I know that he sees me.  He sees my gratitude, my sadness, my sorrow, and my weariness.  He sees what my family needs.  He holds it all and that means I don’t have to.

So, I guess I’ll wrap it up by saying, its’ ok.  It’s ok to feel all the feelings.  It’s ok to have a big ugly cry.  Give yourself permission to feel the things but don’t stay there.  And if you can’t seem to move, let me know.  I do a lot of praying and would love to pray for you.  If you don’t know Jesus, google some bible verses.  Let me know if you don’t have a bible, Amazon is still delivering.  If there was ever a time to need some hope, now is it.  And what better hope than the one who conquered death and knows you and loves you?

P.S. Here’s my list of things that help me-

• Pray. (you don’t have to have the right words, just talk)
• Isaiah 41:10, “Do not fear, for I am with you; do not be afraid, for I am your God.  I will strengthen you; I will help you; I will hold on to you with my righteous right hand.”
• Call a friend.  (I’ve talked to my friend in Indiana more in the last few weeks than the last few months…she is a life line for me.  She lets me say it, but she doesn’t let me sit there and wallow.  Who do you have?)
• Funny memes.  (I’ve got a ton, I’ll send some.  I think I’ll make a book of them when this is done.)
• Worship music.  (If you need suggestions, let me know, I have a good playlist on Spotify.)
• A good cry.
• Matthew 11:28-30, “Come to me, all of you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.  Take up my yoke and learn from me, because I am lowly and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”
• A hot shower.  Get ready for the day like you are leaving the house.  (At least 3x a week.)
• Sleep.  Because we can wake up with fresh perspective.  Lamentations 3:22-24, “Because of the Lord’s faithful love we do not perish, for his mercies never end.  They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness!  I say, “The Lord is my portion, therefore I will put my hope in him.”