I don’t know about you, but I find posts on “How I Stay Organized While in Quarantine” insanely, hair-rippingly annoying… but also crazy interesting and helpful.
I think we all want to be productive and live lives as parallel to our normal lives as possible during these uncertain times, but it’s hard to decipher what is “okay” to post about, because the truth is, our metrics for what is doable at this time varies individually, and wildly, at times.
For me, the days have been a mix of predictable comfort—I’m finding myself a fan of this type of low-energy routine—and low-grade panic. The reason? The world as we know it will be so, so different when we come out the other side.
Friends have lost friends to this virus. My social feeds show new posts daily about those who have been infected—some who have made it through, and others who have not.
There is no easy way to quantify the impact of something like this. We have the numbers, of course. The statistics that show who has fallen to the virus, whether fatally or not. And we also have numbers that show how well-prepared—or more frequently, how underprepared—our hospitals and medical systems were equipped to deal with a pandemic. Those numbers, across the board, are frankly dire.
Those are numbers my heart is having a hard time processing. Is yours, too? Those numbers offer no comfort, and that’s okay. The world doesn’t always need to cradle us. Existence is, and always has been, a mixture of the savage and divine.
Instead, the metric I am using to quantify this experience are the moments. The number of moments I have that I can appreciate that which, and those who, surround me.
That is the world in which I’m living, and the world I, and likely you too, must focus on to make it through.
In these moments, I can watch my kids build a block tower together and laugh with joy at what they’ve constructed, and feel a true joy. I can wipe my countertops down for the fourteenth time in one morning and feel the deepest gratitude for the home we are sheltering in. I can moderate a sibling fight and be grateful that all of my children are weathering this storm together, under one roof, with their parents.
No moment is wasted here these days. Everything happening, I’m feeling deeply, whether it be a moment of joy or a moment of panic.
The one thing I predict we will all come out of this with—whether it can be quantified or not—is the counting of these moments. This bright light is what lives beyond these dark moments.
Praying for you and your loved ones in this time of uncertainty, and lifting you up virtually, my friends. xo