Brave, Anyway

Tag: quarantine

  • Unpopular

    Unpopular

    I find myself biting my tongue, while screaming at the top of my lungs internally, all the time. It’s just too much right now. All of America, that is – on social media, in the grocery store, in the drop-off line at elementary schools, at school board meetings, everywhere in our government, and with media coverage of any and all things. It’s all just too much.

    Absolutely everything is polarized and political. People on all parts of the spectrum really need to consult a dictionary about the definitions of opinion and fact, and people on all parts of the spectrum just cannot seem to communicate anymore without some crazy drama.

    Maybe this is a side effect of covid and quarantine – we’ve spent so much time isolated and in our own heads that when confronted with people again we’re either an excited puppy who can’t calm down or a selfish human who’s found an audience. What has happened to social discourse? To letting the person who only has one item go in front of you in the checkout? To kindness and to humanity and to respecting others? Why can’t we admit that someone from our political party isn’t doing a good job, or behaved badly?

    And where are all the voices in the middle? The people who aren’t “black and white” absolutes on everything and who can see the validity of some points from both “sides?” The people who have feelings that are complicated because of their life experience. Maybe one of the casualties of quarantine is that the voices of the middle are silent, largely because they’re just exhausted.

    I keep a note in my phone where I sometimes write down things I want to say but hold back. I also have email drafts I’ll never hit send on. Sometimes it’s helpful to just get those thoughts out, to put them somewhere, so the moment can pass more quickly. Thoughts that are unpopular, and it just isn’t worth the energy (or I know the lady also shopping for apples doesn’t care what I think about her “facts” about why the shelves are empty).

    -I completely respect that you don’t want to wear a mask. But in order for us to peacefully coexist you need to not stand one foot behind me in line. You need to respect people’s personal space at all times, even if we’re not in a pandemic and whether or not they wear a mask. And if you see others wearing a mask the good-human thing to do is give them even more space, making the positive assumption that they or someone in their life is at risk in ways you do not understand.

    -Thank you for your feedback on how little we can actually trust doctors, but I cannot believe that the pediatricians and oncologists and surgeons and cardiologists who went to so much effort to save my daughter’s life would then be so awful as to recommend that she get a vaccine that they secretly know could kill her. Maybe you need to check yourself, and also please post a screenshot of your high school report card so we know with certainty how much of a genius we’re actually working with here.

    -Who cares about Tom Brady?! Every time I see him, I think of Ross Gellar and his glow-in-the-dark teeth.

    This is my opinion. I know nothing about football.

    -I believe that masks should be worn in schools right now, but I understand your concerns about how they might be impacting kids. I have a child who’s a cancer survivor, and I know I worry more about her than I probably should. That child is also in speech therapy and she and many others need to see faces. I can want kids to wear masks right now and at the same time believe that they aren’t great long-term. This does not make me a snowflake. I actually agree with some of what you are saying, which you’d know if you shut up for even three seconds.

    -More than any other reason, I want the pandemic to be over so my girls can live more care-freely and so they get to experience all the things. I want them to go to dances and games and plays and concerts. I want kids I don’t even know to show up at my house and want to play with the girls and stay up all night watching movies and goofing off. If your child isn’t wearing a mask and isn’t vaccinated, I do not want my children to sit next to yours. I love you and your kids and I respect your right to make choices, but you are a risk to people we love. All of these things can be my true feelings at the same time.

    -Cheers is not even close to being the greatest sitcom of all time. You could *maybe* make an argument for Frasier, but just stop it with that ridiculousness.

    -Some of you are so worked up about critical race theory and you want to ban books because you have no idea why you actually think what you do and/or you cannot have hard conversations with your kids. You have nothing to fear from kids being exposed to historical facts or other ideas if you have a leg to stand on with your own beliefs or arguments. I will sit down with my girls any day of the week and talk to them about abortion, slavery, tenets of other religions, or gun control. They might one day think differently than me and that is not something to be afraid of. We should be raising children to think critically, not to be mini-mes – and they can’t do that if they are not exposed to the good the bad and the ugly of all things.

    -Every legislator and voter needs to spend one week sitting and watching in a pharmacy as parents and the elderly and people from all age groups and walks of life hear the cost of their medicine and then have to make a decision about whether or not to purchase that prescription.

    -Youngkin’s implementation of an email address where people can report teachers for talking about race or divisive topics reminds me of text written about the Gestapo. “Some citizens passed on information about their neighbors, family, and friends…The information passed on by informants typically accused someone of breaking the law or of being a criminal in some way. The information provided was not always based on fact and could often be rumor or suspicion…Informers had various motives including antisemitism, racism, a strong belief in Nazi ideology and governance, fear, personal gain, professional gain, and personal disagreements (e.g. informing the Gestapo that someone was a communist in response to a personal dislike or argument with that person). Most informers were aware of the consequences of their actions.” What are we afraid of parents? Is it that our children will see ugliness, or more so that they will see ugliness in us?

    Every news outlet and pundit tells us that the issue, whatever it is, is clear and it’s very black and white. But that’s a lie. There is so much gray in the world, and it’s in the middle. It’s in the people with complicated and even conflicting emotions and stances. It’s in millions of people who have processed information and life experiences into much more than the simplicity of black and white. It’s unpopular, but I think the genius is in the gray and the empathy is in the gray and the humanity is in the gray and the love is in the gray. The truth is in the gray.

    “Middle gray” is the center tone between absolute back and absolute white.

  • Promise

    Promise

    A year ago at about this time I was mulling over what my word for 2021 would be. The word that kept coming to mind was promise, but I dismissed it over and over again. In the middle of a pandemic with virtual school, not seeing anyone in person at Christmas, and vaccine rollout looking shaky, I wasn’t feeling the word promise.

    On New Year’s Eve I thought that maybe my word would come to me in the first few weeks of the new year. And I even thought that maybe every year didn’t need a word and maybe 2021 just wouldn’t have one.

    But then all throughout this year, things that I’ve been talking to God about for a very long time, things that have been on my heart but I’ve never spoken out loud, even some things that were important to me at a time but I’d since forgotten about have started to happen or fall into place. And each time, the word promise has come back to me and lingered in my thoughts.

    And I realized something this year…that I had stopped actively believing in promises. It wasn’t a decision I made at any point. It just sort of happened over time. As life happened, I guess. I still believed that prayers had power and that God answered prayers, but I didn’t necessarily expect promises to be fulfilled.

    So I started researching God’s promises. As it turns out there are dozens and dozens of them, and I even pretty regularly read and rely on them – I just haven’t been thinking of them as promises.

    * There is a plan for my life. Ephesians 2:10 and Jeremiah 29:11

    * I am filled with strength and courage even when/if I don’t feel like it. 2 Timothy 1:7

    * I can do hard things. Isaiah 40:29

    * I can follow my gut and trust my gut because God provides discernment. James 1:5

    * My children may have doubts and bad days, but they are always, always going to be children of God and know God. Acts 16:31

    * When I really mess up, God loves me anyway and nothing will change that. Romans 8

    * I always have a safe place, somewhere to hide. Psalm 5

    * Nothing that happens to me or around me is ever a surprise to a God, so He is not unprepared which means I am not unprepared. Psalm 139

    * God knows what I need before I ask and sometimes even before I know, and He’s got it. Isaiah 65:24

    * Literally even His name is a promise – Emmanuel means God with us and his name is a reminder of His constant presence as I walk through each day.

    In the last few years I’ve talked to God about everything from helping me fulfill my promise to get Ella a car, to living without fear, to providing the perfect helpers for the girls, to healing for hearts and bodies. In the last 12 months, He’s delivered over and over and over again – even with small desires like finding a beloved lost ring. He also prepared people and hearts and things just in time before some tough stuff. There are still things I pray about each day, several times a day, that have not yet happened – and my type A need-to-see-data-and-progress self is not great at waiting or with letting someone else handle it. I want to DO all the things all the time because why do things take so long sometimes??? But the truth is I’m not capable of the biggies, and God is batting a thousand.

    I’ve decided my word for 2021 was actually promise, and I even came across a new (to me) promise in words that I’ve read many times before but suddenly read in a new way. In the days leading up to Jesus’ birth, two women who dared to believe in miracles and promises got together to encourage one another. One of the things Elizabeth said to Mary is “Blessed is she who has believed that the Lord would fulfill His promises to her.” Luke 1:45

    These cloths with our prayers for the world and community will fill the manger in our church’s nativity.

  • Counting Every Blessing

    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.

  • Ides of March

    Fere libenter homines id quod volunt credunt.

    Men generally believe what they would like to be so.

    The second quarantine Ides of March.

    And perhaps the most appropriate Caesar quote for a time when Americans can’t agree on fact versus fiction or feelings in terms of votes, masks, vaccines, and just about everything.

    Mr. Martin from junior high Latin class, I still remember you. And your songs to remember how to conjugate.

    Amo Amas Amat Amamus Amatis Amant

    I also remember you named me Metella, which sounded nice but ended up being terrible once I got headgear and a mouthful of braces.

  • What just happened, and what did we learn?

    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.