How will you grieve the quarantine?

How will you grieve the quarantine?

Yesterday, with the sky blue, sun shining, I set out for a walk down to the lake. I’d been outside spray painting a coat rack to repurpose as a purse rack – pink it’s the color I had on hand. I quickly decided my yoga pants weren’t going to be warm enough. The wind up here on the mountain is razor-sharp, it slices through pretty much anything. I changed into jeans (which I seem to wear more now instead of less) and added a few more layers. Then I took off on my walk. Away from our windbreak pines, the wind bit me down to bone. I thought about turning around and heading inside but I didn’t.

What I can control

My thoughts – 

  • Walking outside is something I CAN DO.
  •  It’s something I can control. 
  • I’m a bit uncomfortable but just think how wonderful it will feel to go into a warm house!
  •  My legs are moving. My arms are pumping. I’m listening to one of my favorite podcasts.

I love comfort

Yesterday, I talked about how we have become a society who seeks personal peace and comfort. I am totally raising my hand here. I love comfort. I’m like Goldilocks. I like things just right. Not too hot. Not too cold. Just right. 

It’s just not realistic. Take it from a mama of seven kiddos. Life is not comfortable all the time. Plus we appreciate comfort so much after uncomfortable circumstances. For instance, after my walk, a hot cup of tea, a bowl of chili, and fresh hot cornbread were the ticket.  

The Real Discomfort

Let’s talk about the real discomfort we’re feeling – not just being cold on a walk. The discomfort of putting some projects on the shelf, canceled birthday parties and celebrations, coffee at the local coffee shop, not hugging people, changing the patterns of our days. It’s just darn-right uncomfortable. It’s okay to grieve what we thought our lives would look like at this moment. Or what we thought it would look like in a few months and probably won’t.

Right now I’m sitting in an orange camping chair on the banks of the Blackwater river while my son and husband fish. It’s chilly but the sun is shining. I’m wearing a winter hat, a coat, sweater, flannel shirt, and a tee underneath. I’m pretty comfortable. It’s the first time I’ve been out of my compound, I mean neighborhood, in a few weeks. It’s a fishing trip for the guys and a mental health day for us all.

Confession

Want to know what I did this morning? I sat in my bathroom and cried at the helplessness and lack of control I feel.

  • Not being able to go to Target with my daughter and grandkids.
  • Not being able to “work” at Joe n Throw with my other daughter (our coffee office).
  • Not being able to host family dinners.

I won’t give you the whole list of things I’m grieving. I’m sure you have your own list. Even when we have a list of items and comforts to be grateful for, it’s okay to grieve the loss of things we miss. It’s a season of light and darkness at the same time. 

We should grieve the loss of human connection. It’s what we are created for!

What are you grieving today? What comforts are you looking forward to?

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