We’ve landed. Here - in the middle of a global pandemic. And a big slow down… and I’m grateful. I’m extremely grateful to have my husband and best friend with me. I’m grateful for our home, the neighborhood, the little stoop outside our front door. And restaurants and people that are keeping their / our spirits high even while serving at a distance, or in a totally new format.
We’ve gotten closer to our neighbors - in an emotional sense :) by leaving cookies and bread starter, and recipes for each other at the door. Our yard looks better than ever, and our neighbor even started a compost bin for all the scraps of cooking that we’ve been doing. There’s a lot of good moments. We’ve been calling to check in on parents and friends with more frequency than I’ve ever known. We’re learning the art of the five minute conversation to just say hello, I’m thinking of you, and we’re here for each other. That is a blessing indeed.
We have learned to be better at taking things one day at a time, and enjoy the very small things that make us happy along the way. Pretty window light, fresh coffee, good breakfast, listening to the breeze, squinting into the sun.
On any day, We explore, check in with friends, send a few notes of encouragement. I remember to pause - ask myself, “How do you feel? Do you need to step outside? Are you worried or afraid? Do you need to talk with someone?” These are sensitive times and we’re learning how to be more sensitive to ourselves. How do you listen to the “inside you”. The quiet you. What do you need when no one is watching. The answer most of the time is: close the computer and breathe. Sit on the stoop. Go for a walk. Pray. Say Jesus’ name out loud. You’re good.
And then it’s the afternoon, and it might be time for popcorn, which takes a lovely amount of my attention to make and eat. One piece at a time. Without spilling all the toppings on myself. A book, more stoop time, and later - a glass of wine. Or whatever Chris wants to experiment with on the bar shelf. Sip slowly, we have no where to be. And I’ll say what I feel out loud. Or say the opposite - knowing full well I’m joking. Like when I say, “this sucks” to the 73 degrees and breeze that surrounds us. To the golden hour, and the just-got-off-a-great-phone-call-with-a-friend feeling. And we laugh, because we are fiercely aware that this, this very moment, most definitely does. not. suck.
These days have been slow, of course. And the reason I’m writing this post right now is because I have no other photos to edit, no emails to send, and no tasks to run out and complete. The funny thing is - I like this place. It’s scary, but it’s damn refreshing. It’s a rare thing to have the to-do list completely blank and to be given space to wonder. To trip around the corners of my mind and see what’s going on. Today, I don’t want to worry, so I’m going to choose not to. I’m going to remind myself that God is big and he sees all the things we need. He meets us and our needs, daily.
Today I’m going to let myself wander in my brain and let my head drift up to the clouds. I don’t need to be anywhere else.