From the news, the world seems to be falling apart around us. Millions of Americans have become unemployed, tens of thousands (or is it hundreds of thousands now?) have died from Covid-19, even more are at risk. Strange though it seems, it all feels surreal to my family right now. It's as if we're in a safe bubble -- at least momentarily.
This pandemic gets compared to a war, but there are no fighter planes overhead, no bombs being dropped, no sound of gunfire. At the moment we don't know anyone ill and none of our loved ones have died. We're not in an epicenter and we have what we need. I'm not so naive to believe we'll be untouched by either disease or economic depression. It just hasn't happened yet.
So for now, we try to get outside every decent day, often enjoying gorgeous spring blossoms and lovely birdsong. We carry on with our normal homeschool, and Steve keeps plugging away at his dissertation. We shoot baskets and play with playdough. We read aloud and play board games. We watch movies and cook dinners, just as always. For three weeks I've exercised daily by jogging in place while watching a Netflix series my sister recommended.
Our only significant changes are worshipping at home on Sunday mornings and not being able to have friends or family round for meals and games. Steve can't escape our home chaos by studying at IKEA anymore, and I can't escape for a rare evening to a mom's night out. I shop less and think harder before I do. The girls can't play on playgrounds. But these are minor and life carries on.
I try to be grateful and peaceful, holding these gifts in open hands. I know that at any moment it could all be torn away.
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