Tag: coronavirus

Counting Every Blessing
Sometimes we don’t know what we don’t know or we don’t know what we’ve been missing, until we experience a thing and realize that’s what we’ve needed.

For the first time in over a year, I went to church to worship in person this morning. I’ve been watching the service online each week and that’s been a beacon of light and hope amidst all the darkness and chaos. Online church offers many things in-person church doesn’t – you get to choose the time you want to listen, you can sit in your jammies and pause if needed, and you have privacy to have a moment or be moved without anyone noticing. But what it doesn’t offer, and that I’d forgotten and perhaps taken for granted, is things like hugs from people who feel like family, prayer in unison with others, and conversation with people with whom you have the most important thing in common.

I was nervous about going into a place with so many people, even though I knew we’d all be wearing masks and social distancing. We’re all vaccinated, but still the thought of being physically close to people again seemed strange and a little scary. I resolved to arrive at the last minute, keep my distance, and leave promptly – and I broke every single one of my own rules.

We arrived early because Audrey and I were excited to go and ready early and trying to decide if it used to take 25 minutes or 35 minutes to get there. We walked into an entry filled with familiar faces, and within two minutes I had hugged someone – not because he hugged me, but because I found myself saying “we’re vaccinated so you’re getting a hug!” And then when the service was over, we stayed around to chat and were among the last to walk out and say our goodbyes on the stairs.

I didn’t want it to end, I was so happy.

It was in the middle of the service that I looked at the pew in front of me and noticed the emoji face etched into the wood. Two eyes and a mouth in a straight line. The emoji that’s not happy or sad. The emoji that’s blah. It’s the one called Neutral Face, and it’s how I didn’t know I’ve been feeling because of the absence of worship with people.

As we sang and talked about counting every blessing, these are the ones that filled my heart and the things I want to remember about this day.
- When I mentioned the possibility of going to church to Audrey, I thought she would be hesitant because it’s different than what she was used to. But without any hesitation she eagerly asked “Will Mrs. Reesee be there?” I’m thankful for every Sunday School teacher I and my girls have ever had – from Mrs. Nunn and Momma Gloria in my day to Mrs. Wendy and Mrs. Edie and Mrs. Reesee of more recent days. I’m sure they’ve all had moments where they wondered if any of the kids around them were listening, but the impact they have on lives is so great and just beyond measure.
- I sat next to my Mom and together we prayed The Lord’s Prayer.
- Pre-COVID I attended the service that had the progressive people – the one with the band instead of a choir. Right now we’re hosting just one service in person, so that service has a mixture of music types to have a little something for everyone. I had forgotten in my years of always singing along with a band what it’s like to hear voices of all different ages and strengths sing together – from the traditional hymn to the modern song, it was just beautiful to hear the voices of the young and the old and everyone in the middle all mixed up together.
- Audrey wore wedges today – her first “big girl” shoes. Her triumphant and naughty smile when she raised up on tip toes as my Mom leaned down and said “you are not allowed to get taller than me!” was the absolute best.
- And finally, I want this visual reminder to stick with me. The further I get from spending time with God in the company of His people, the more my face goes from happy to neutral.
May 16, 2021
What just happened, and what did we learn?

It’s an absolutely gorgeous day, sitting in the 72 degree sunshine listening to Duran Duran while my Mom gets her second dose of the vaccine.

Tomorrow is the anniversary of my last “normal” day – the girls went to school, I spent the morning in the office, then had lunch with friends on a similarly warm and sunny day. It was Friday the 13th, and we thought COVID must be this thing that caused drastic intestinal issues because that seemed like the only logical reason people would be buying crazy amounts of toilet paper. The prospect of being home for a couple of weeks seemed nice, and yet there was an undertone of apprehension. More than anything I guess I felt Michael Scott-ish: I’m not superstitious, but I am a little stitious.

A whole year of quarantine…

What a terrible time for USPS to not be at the top of its game. We needed mail and packages, not just for meds and necessities but for breaking up the monotony of our days.

Sometimes I was so excited to get an Amazon box that I ripped it open without scissors or a knife. This almost always resulted in a giant and deep cardboard papercut, and after a whole year I still have not yet learned to control myself.

All things related to food are different than a year ago. Grocery shopping online became a pain in the rear and a giant blessing. Worst. UIs. Ever. It’s great to not risk getting COVID just because we’d like cheese and Raisinets, but the likelihood of getting all of what you want into an online cart in less than an hour and without having to start over is almost zero – and suddenly my swear jar has the potential to make more than my 401K. It’s no surprise that DoorDash revenue increased 267 percent in the last 12 months.

Masks seem like they might be here to stay and they aren’t all bad. They delay recognition of, if not entirely hide, our runny noses. They hide the WTH facial expressions we’re not always good at keeping under control. And they keep our faces warm in winter.

I used to always complain my office was cold. But now that I work from home I still think my office is cold. While there’s a possibility the issue is decreased circulation due to aging, I am leaning toward two broken thermostats. I also used to complain about having to wait the 1.5 minutes it took for the office Keurig to heat water and produce a cup of contentment – but that 1.5 minutes is even longer now that no one is standing around with me questioning my hair color and shoe choices.

I have had so much more time this year to read and watch. I had forgotten how much I like documentaries in particular. In terms of fluff, I will watch half of one episode of a show (Cobra Kai), or every single episode without sleeping until I have consumed the whole series (You and Virgin River). There is no middle of the road.

I also had time to just live with my girls. To pay attention because we weren’t rushing in the mornings or evenings. I love love love to listen to my daughters sing in the shower. We have laughed at and shared thousands of TikToks and youtube videos. I’ve seen every guinea pig photo on Instagram. I’ve listened to and read the lyrics of the songs on Ella’s worship playlist in Apple Music, and I found so many things that really moved me.

I know lots of moms miss the baby phases but I am enjoying talking to and meeting the kids with whom they choose to be friends, answering the questions they ask and that they don’t think to ask about history and current events, and seeing what interests them when someone doesn’t place in front of them what to read or watch or give attention to.

We’ve taken a ridiculous number of pictures this year. I regularly pick up a device and find that the girls have filled it with silly-faced photos.

We’ve also taken a stupid number of selfies, which is fine for kids and teens but such a strange thing for adult people to spend time on. Additionally I am apparently terrible at it because I don’t use filters, don’t want to take 30 and try to figure out which one is best, don’t use an artificial lighting device, and don’t remember to think about the fact that you’ll be able to see my hand taking the picture in the reflection on my sunglasses. Selfies are too much work!

Of all the “finds” I’ve saved on my phone this year girl, read your bible might be my favorite. I don’t eat kale or lift weights, but this piece reminds me where my soul rests and how to get back to rest when my soul is worked up or weary.

This year has been so good and yet so hard, sometimes all on the same day. I’ve thought what is even happening right now over and over and over again. I’ve mulled over what we’re supposed to learn from all this and how to live more purposefully. Sometimes I thought I was killing it, and sometimes I thought I was failing at it. Some days I was happy with how I spent my time, and other days I wondered why I didn’t keep up with The Joneses and paint murals or translate an ancient text from Latin to English. Some days I thought I’d figured out my next step and maybe even my path and purpose, and other days I knew that what I’d thought the week before was all wrong.

Perhaps only one thing was true on both day one and on day 365 of this quarantine year. Again, in the words of Michael Scott: I understand nothing.

March 11, 2021
Quarantine Christmas

Nine months into quarantine. And it’s Christmas.

Nine months into a pregnancy. The first Christmas.

Men and women preparing for an event that should be filled only with joy, but that also includes days that are sometimes marred by confusion or frustration or trepidation. Hearts in people that love God, and yet are still in need of some assurances and motivation. Is how we’re feeling now maybe also how Mary and Joseph were sometimes feeling two thousand years ago?

We know Mary sang with joy while pregnant but did she perhaps also worry and fret about her future? Especially when she first found herself pregnant and faced having to tell people, like her parents and her sort-of husband. Or when she had to embark on a long journey right at about the time she would be delivering her baby. Did she ever grieve because her life wasn’t exactly going the way she expected? Did she ever feel anxious about responsibilities she didn’t feel prepared for or expectations she wasn’t sure she could live up to? Did she ever cry in the dark and still of night because she was tired and overwhelmed?

Each year I try to read The Nativity Story, developed from the screenplay of the 2006 movie. It helps me think of the Bible “characters” as real people, who had thoughts and feelings and reactions like all people do. Like all humans do. Like I do.

These last few months I have found myself constantly trying to be a “together” Mom who cheerfully and competently manages work at home and school at home and church at home and literally everything at home. All while being stuck at home. All. The. Time.

I have had all kinds of time to put into action plans that one year ago I was convinced would never work until I had more time and a different schedule. Things like getting up early to walk and stay healthy, cooking fancy things on weeknights, reading the dozens of books and devotionals that are stacked around this house, patiently helping with homework after researching and refreshing my knowledge on all subjects needed to pass fourth and tenth grades, and really dedicating quiet time to just writing and focusing on family and faith.

As it turns out, when faced with all kinds of time at home I will embrace DoorDash and books no one reads in school. I will not walk or ride bikes if it’s even remotely chilly or hot. I will spend time stewing over the ridiculous racist, sexist, total-antithesis-of-Christian content “good” people like on social media instead of brushing up on the different layers of the earth and atmosphere. I will focus on what is not working or not fair, I will then not sleep well and then not get up early, and as a result I will find myself frustrated. All. The. Time.

Was Mary this human? It doesn’t seem like it. I feel more like Zacharias’ kind of human – the guy who didn’t believe Gabriel’s news that he was about to father John the Baptist, so faced a punishment of not being able to speak for months and had to learn the hard way that he should have a little more faith.

It’s Christmas, and I competed all the tasks I needed to and had time to spare. This season I got out cards, finished shopping early, read the book I like to focus on in this season, watched the cartoons and movies I always like to watch, found a new nativity set…and yet still things were off. So last week, I gave up logging on to Facebook thinking maybe I just needed to not be exposed to people for a while and focus on more positive things. That definitely helped, but still there was just a strangeness about this season. A disconnectedness.

All because of stupid COVID and quarantine. I wanted to dress up and go to the Christmas Eve service. I wanted to see my parents and my sister and brother-in-law. I wanted to hold hands while we say Grace. But I wasn’t going to get anything I wanted.

And then today, I opened a gift from Ella and the world righted itself as thankfulness rose up within me. She’d filled a mason jar with hand-written notes. Some are funny, some are encouraging, and some are things she’s thankful for. Written on the first one I drew out was You showed me God.

I’m not sure exactly how I’ve accomplished that, particularly in the last nine months, but somehow she loves God even though I am a stuck-at-home mess of feelings and frustration. The answer is only by the grace of God.

I’ve been the innkeeper this quarantine Christmas season – the one missing the opportunity as I was focused on all the wrong things and all that wasn’t going to be the same. Thankfully, I opened Ella’s gift in time to notice all that quarantine added to this Christmas. Because my family celebrated via FaceTime today, it was actually less chaotic as we all opened presents. We had to really listen and pay attention to one another, and we were really looking at each other instead of at all that was going on in a busy house. Toward the end I realized I should take a picture of all of us “together.” The first picture I took had two empty chairs, because 2020. But I continued to try to get shots at just the right time even though at times our phones and iPads were moving around like in The Blair Witch Project.

On quarantine Christmas, our limited shopping ability (online shopping is just not as fun) resulted in several homemade gifts that we all laughed and cried over. On quarantine Christmas, my sister gave my daughters the most thoughtful little boxes which will help them focus in tough moments but that are also really a lesson on how to live and to learn to trust God. On quarantine Christmas, I noticed the looks of joy on all the faces of the people I love the most. On quarantine Christmas, we didn’t take pictures all sitting or standing in a certain spot and as a result I now have this picture of my Dad. On quarantine Christmas, I got my thankfulness back.

December 25, 2020
Six Months into Quarantine

On the last day of real life, six months ago today, I ate pizza at a restaurant with some of my favorite people. I miss them. Critical commentary and witty banter in person feels like family. Critical commentary and witty banter via Zoom feels like maybe we’re mean.

For days I will eat a bagel, some pickles and cheese for lunch, and maybe a bowl of cereal and a mini Hershey bar before bed. Then one day I will consume ten thousand calories within a few hours – chicken biscuit, a box of Gobstoppers, pizza, fries, banana cream pie from the Cheesecake Factory. I will get a tummy ache and promise myself and God I will never ever eat that way again if I can just go to sleep and feel better. But about 10 days later I will in fact do it again. I cannot seem to stop this cycle.

This household consumes ketchup at the rate of 38 ounces every 6 days. It is more precious than milk, bread, OJ, and maybe even toilet paper.

John Cusack should not play a serious serial killer. Just stop it, Netflix. He’s supposed to be holding up boom boxes and kissing girls that are like us. Grosse Point Blank is an exception because the government made him do it AND because he kissed a girl that could have been us.

I let my teenager go on a double date to the roller rink. All kids were driven there by parents. All kids were in a public place at all times. All kids were wearing masks at all times. COVID dating simplifies some things for parents.

I have a thousand and one complaints about virtual school. I’m not sharing a single one. Teachers are busting their butts and stuck in the same crappy situation as all the rest of us – but they also have to try and teach with few resources and sketchy leadership. I desperately want my girls to go back to school and learn face to face, and at the same time I am terrified of the risk involved.

I am not going to be one of the first half a million people to get the vaccine. That’s a Stephen King novel just waiting to be written.

Occasionally I’ll get a little brave and venture out, but then I end up spending the next 14 days holding my breath a little. Vacation was great, getting my hair cut and colored was great, getting a pedicure was great…but I’m not sure it’s worth the late night thoughts that bombard my brain or the slight tension that rests in my shoulders the couple of weeks following.

Every time I start to worry about sickness and events outside of my control, I try to remind myself that evidence of miracles walks around my house daily. I snapped this picture of Audrey a couple weeks ago and I keep coming back to it. She’s got a little Wonder Woman stare combined with maybe a Drew Barrymore Firestarter moment. Her expression is so focused. And fierce.

September is Childhood Cancer Awareness month.

My favorite quarantine purchase is an In Our Prayers display. It’s a visual reminder and a method to communicate who and what is on our hearts. Right now every single one is related to family: blood family, church family, work family.

I am watching too much news. This has resulted in my firm belief that there is no revelation or story or coverage that is going to sway votes for or against Trump at this point. Supporters of his will not believe them. He said it himself years ago and it’s an absolute truth – he could shoot someone on Fifth Avenue and still get votes. The case involving the President and E. Jean Carroll and the Justice Department is the news story that has me the most frustrated right now: DOJ to represent Trump. The president denies knowing his accuser and is being asked to provide a DNA sample as part of the case, which is pretty standard. His DNA, that could prove he’s telling the truth and she’s lying, is the thing he’s trying desperately not to provide. Why aren’t more people asking why is that?

The longer I’m out in the world less and at home more, the less faith I have in humanity. Especially if I spend any time on Facebook or Twitter. I need to get out to see the good in people. Online, it’s too easy to judge solely based on what they copy and paste and share. And yet, I guess that is who they are. It’s all so confusing.

Regardless of what some people might say in rally speeches or tweets, I’m voting Democrat but I am not trying to lock anyone in their homes, fire all police officers, overturn the second amendment, fighting to keep churches closed, or thinking we shouldn’t be allowed to say God in America. I’m just a girl, standing in front of the TV watching a boy, who’s not doing a very good job at his job.

I have peaceably protested. I have never been a participant in looting or destruction (unless you count that time we spray painted the train overpass in college). I think the destruction of property is wrong, it works against trying to get people to see your “side,” and it distracts many from the core issue. And yet at the same time I get why some people are doing it. Sometimes frustration builds and builds and builds over months or years or a lifetime and then it bursts out. Maybe if we didn’t view equality and fair treatment of all people as an issue that has sides, we wouldn’t be dealing with these explosions.

I don’t know if this is real or photoshopped, but it doesn’t matter. It sums up how I feel about several situations in the world right now.

This world lost a pretty great human a week ago. Her name was Alicia. We went to Emory & Henry at the same time and we graduated together. She was fierce and passionate, she had a huge heart and an old soul, and she spoke truth verbally and in writing. She stood up for people regardless of what others would think of her. About a year ago, we were both having “a day” on the same day and I picked up my phone and dialed her number instead of sending a message. I hadn’t heard her actual voice since 1995 but it seemed like no time had passed since the last time. We laughed about old times and current times, we man-hated, and we traded Momma stories. The time talking was the hug I needed, and I hope she felt the same way. I am so thankful I made that call, and I have a feeling she’s looking out for us from that great cloud of witnesses while slyly making mischief and casting some spells by request.

September 13, 2020
It’s Not Me, It’s You

What if the one to blame is actually me? Or us? What if what we think is the fault of others is actually the fault of ours?

We and us are Christians. Me, and maybe you.

I’ve spent a lot of my adult life retraining my brain to not first think of God as the Old Testament punishment guy. He is the Old Testament angry guy, but He is also the New Testament love and peace and turn-the-other-cheek guy – and perhaps most importantly the forgiveness guy.

We are in a crazy time right now in the United States. COVID, racial injustice, unemployment, hurricanes, fires. It seems like our nation is under attack. And, indeed, it may be.

How’d we get here, and who’s to blame? Is it the radical left? The radical right? The looters or the KKK? Most of us live somewhere in the middle, and yet it seems like all of our talk is only about the folks on the fringe.

We can’t ever allow ourselves to forget that the folks on the fringe are not and will not ever be in control unless we have allowed them to be. That’s the power of the middle, especially when it’s the size that it is. And perhaps our main issue right now is that many of us don’t see each other as fellow citizens, or as comrades, in that powerful force that is the middle.

I am so very tired of hearing Christians say we need to turn back or we need to change our ways or we need to focus on values – with the implication or even the clear and intentional statement that if we don’t, our country is doomed to fall or fail.

Maybe that’s correct, actually. But here’s the thing: when Christians say that, they are always pointing the finger at others. The implication in the statement is that others who sin need to turn from their way. Others who don’t go to church or don’t go to a church like ours need to get with the actual God program. Others need to have politics like ours. Others who are gay need to be straight. Others who have abortions need to stop. Others who commit adultery need to not do that. Others who protest need to be thankful for what they do have and love their country more.

What about us? The Christians. Perhaps we should turn that pointing finger back at ourselves. What if the reason this nation is struggling is because we – the Christians – have set a very bad example in this supposed Christian nation.

What if the issue is our failure to show Christ to the world? That we haven’t been the hands and feet. That we have failed to love our neighbor as ourselves. That we have failed to lead with love. That we have failed to be the light. That we have failed to forgive and have empathy and show compassion. That we have failed to live by the ten commandments. That we have put other gods before Him. That we have made idols. That we have supported and elected leaders who live in ways very contrary to the tenets of Christianity. That we have failed to preach and live the actual gospel. That we have been disobedient. That we have failed to take a stand when we should. That we have failed to recognize and act when some of our fellow citizens, including our fellow Christians, have not been treated fairly.

Tweet that moved me most this week:
Stop using Dr. King as an example of a peaceful protest…you shot him, too.

What if WE are the issue? What if what we’re doing or not doing is to blame? Because as Christians, we have a responsibility that’s clearly outlined in Luke 12:48. To whom much is given, much will be required. We are and will be held responsible for what we have been given.

We’ve been acting like the sinners are always the others. The sinners are us, too.

We’ve been acting like we are above reproach because we are believers, when actually we’re more accountable because we know better.

We’ve been acting like everyone should believe and behave like we do because we’re better, when the reality is that we’re not behaving very well at all. And worse, everyone sees it.

I believe Jesus, if He were walking on two human legs in America today, might be found walking amongst that big crowd in the middle, in the group made up of most of us. There are differences in how we believe and look and think and act, but we commonly seek a place of peace and safety and healing. And perhaps he’d be speaking words like these, appropriate two thousand years ago and still today: “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God. Blessed are you who hunger now, for you will be satisfied. Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh.”

There is surely Jesus in many Republicans and in many Democrats and in many Libertarians and in many Green supporters and in many people who don’t vote at all. Any suggestion that Jesus would side with a certain political party in America is simply a lie. Any suggestion that the fault for where we are lies with the others is a half-truth. The truth is always somewhere in the middle.

Seeing God in America is one of my favorite devotionals right now. From a reflection on Maroon Bells, Colorado: “A murky, weed-choked pond won’t give back a reflection of even the mightiest mountains that tower nearby. But a clean, calm lake surface will shine out with the image of the majesty that surrounds it.”

August 30, 2020