That resonates. Yesterday was a pretty good day. It started out rough, as I was trying to coax (read: drag, kicking and screaming) my kids into some semblance of a home school schedule. We got over that hump, thanks in large part to my decision that Uno and Scrabble were satisfactory teaching tools, and that it was more than fine for the school day to end at 2 p.m.
The day continued to look up when my daughter “helped” me make dinner. To my surprise, she even ate it—despite having bitched and moaned all along the way that she wouldn't like that kind of chicken. (It was chicken baked in cream of mushroom soup covered in cheese—who doesn't like that?!)
After dinner, I even took a shower! What could be better?
The icing on the cake was a Zoom call with three dear friends I haven’t talked to properly in years. Over a bottle of wine (mine—not sure what they were having) we talked about what our lives look like in this brave new world and just generally caught up—it was a much-needed treat.
Just before bed, my husband initiated a discussion about the kids’ schedule for the next day. Let’s just say we were not on the same page. It was frustrating—I finally felt like I had a handle on this thing, and then it became clear that I did not.
Thus far today has been a struggle. To manage my frustration, I’ve looked to the tools and supports that have seen me through other dark days. Writing and journaling are my go-to practices. Prayer, too—seeking wisdom from people who have endured far worse than I usually puts things in perspective and offers new (or renewed) insights.
On bustedhalo.com’s Lent calendar today, I found this:
Which reminded me of this:
Unlike the Little Flower, I am not much of a mystic. I wish I could say that faith and prayer have the power to dissipate my every fear. Not so, for me. But it’s clear that each of us has been handed a challenge via this pandemic, and I'm not in a position to refuse it.
Saying Yes to this challenge does take courage. It also takes creativity and patience and, perhaps most importantly, it takes kindness. Yes, kindness with my kids and my spouse and whoever else has the misfortune to encounter me online or on the phone or across the bike path. But mostly kindness with myself. There is no roadmap for this uncharted territory, and I’m not going to get it right all the time or even most of the time. But there’s always tomorrow.
Apologies for the awkward editing here:
“For though we may be parted .... there is still a light that shines on me. Shine until tomorrow ...”
Enjoy.
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