Now, how are you *really*?
Seriously, y'all. What a strange time. For weeks, I've been feeling like there's a tidal wave coming at us in slow motion, and we don't know when, exactly, it'll get here, or how bad, exactly, it'll be, or how long, exactly, it'll last, or even how to tell that it's arrived, but we just know that it's coming and it's threatening to overtake us.
We are well. Mostly. I mean, I think so. Tomorrow, our state's governor is planning to sign a Safer at Home order, which is just a gentle and hopefully-strong-enough, but also not-panic-inducing, way to tell people to stay home, already. Frankly, I think some people need a little more panic in their lives. Not actual panic panic, but enough panic to realize that this is serious business.
Since all of us are home indefinitely, I wish I had a space where I could close the door--a place to which I could retreat and regroup--but with a very open floor plan, and 5 people for 4 bedrooms, there isn't a place for me. Everyone's schedule has been disrupted, of course, but of the five of us, I think I, more than any of us, needs personal space, and time without people. I've been doing some thinking on this issue, and here's what I've come up with for retreat spots:
- The master bathroom. I could put all of the decorative pillows that are usually on our bed in our double jetted tub to make a comfy reading nook. Advantage: I'd have running water and a toilet right there. Disadvantage: people might want to use the bathroom for its intended purpose.
- The car. It's actually pretty comfy in there. The front seats recline and the back seats can be folded down or removed. Disadvantage: it might be cold this time of year, and it'll be dark if I leave it parked in the garage.
- A hammock outside. It snowed last night, but this could work. Disadvantage: people could very easily find me, especially if I return to the hammock regularly. Also, it's a little cold right now, but I could bundle up and/or bring my sleeping bag with me. Advantage: it would be comfy, and being outside would be good for my mental well-being.
- The utility room. It has a door, and people hardly ever go in there. Advantage: there's food. Disadvantage: the food is frozen and/or raw. But there is a microwave in there. Not plugged in, but that's easily remedied. Also, there isn't any comfy furniture, and the lighting is depressing.
- The chicken coop. It's kind of small, and I run the risk of being pooped upon, but it does have a door that I can close.
I've been feeling it in my body--this tension, the not knowing. The concern, not necessarily for myself, but for the others. The others who are vulnerable and know it. The others who feel invincible, and are putting themselves and others at risk. The others who already felt isolated and now are even more so. The others who have lost their jobs, and may lose their homes as well. The others who may lose their small businesses. The others who are working so hard to keep essential services going. The others who are caring for the sick.
Friends, I know that we're going to get through this, and we will be better, stronger. I know that my trust is in God, and the assurance that God wins. I don't mean to be trite or overly simplistic, but y'all. This is the only way I can move forward.
Anyway, what are you eating? Here's what's on our menu this week: