It’s Monday morning and my alarm wakes me from a coastal vacation. After coming to the realization I am not suntanning in a hammock, which is actually somewhat illegal at the moment, I make my way down the hall toward my new morning routine. By new, I mean there is no rush to get three girls to three different schools and pray I make it to work by 8. No need to apply makeup or brush my hair. Instead, I brew my coffee, read my morning devotion and scripture, and sit on the porch to listen to the birds sing. Then, I return to my desk and fire up the laptop and prepare to work remotely.
In a short matter of time, my 3-year old will come toddling up the hallway with sleepy eyes and mussed hair wanting her milk and Disney. Shortly thereafter, my third grader and my eighth grader will begrudgingly fire up their own computers for e-Learning. The next 8 hours will consist of spreadsheets, emails, and Skype meetings with a side of yapping lap dog, constantly asking a tiny human if she needs to potty, four different lunch concoctions, conducting science experiments for third grade virtual homework assignments, and attempting to explain to a teenager that MY way of doing algebraic equations are much more efficient than whatever this current method is. All of this with some, “Hey Mama, watch my new dance!” or screams from someone throwing down a serious nap defiance. Maybe even a little bit of a doggy accident in the floor because the neighbors are apparently terrorists and we are being alerted very LOUDLY that something MUST be investigated outside. My husband comes home from work, seemingly unmoved by my rabid appearance, and we eat a family dinner together at the table followed by an evening game of volleyball in the backyard. I find myself counting down the hours until bedtime.
This has been my new routine for a month, and I have finally swallowed the uncomfortable pill that every day will not look the same. Things are happening, locally and globally, and these things are out of my control. For a Type A, OCD, Enneagram One kinda girl, this realization gives me the twitches. But it’s not in my nature to fall down the rapids. I am determined to fight the tide with a few mindset changes.
I will begin every day with gratitude. I still have a job, I am still receiving a paycheck, and so is my husband. Thank you, Lord, for your provision.
I will soak in the sunshine every day, if even for a few short moments. Last week, I did yoga in my backyard under a big oak tree. It was one of the most peaceful and pleasant moments I’ve had in weeks. Thank you, Lord, for your creation.
I will relish these long days with my girls. I have often found myself wistfully yearning for more time with my children and more insight into their daily lives outside our home. Thank you, Lord, for this opportunity.
I will dig deep and deeper still when the interruptions arise and the noise is thunderous. This is when faith is stretched; when we are at wit’s end and literally have nowhere else to turn. Thank you, Lord, for your steadfast love and strength and grace.
One day, I will look back on these days when time stood still - when the world seemed to come to a dead stop - when people donated time and resources to those in need – and, when we were forced to stay at home with our people. I pray my future self will look back on these days with a warm heart from memories made and a fiery ribbon of strength in my soul for all the ground we gained. Together. As a community, as a country, and as a people. At home.