May
12
2020
Nothing Is The Way It Was
Posted in Daily Living 6 Comments
There are days, when I open my laptop, there is nothing to say.
If there is nothing to say, there is nothing to write about.
If there is nothing to write about, then I could go back and retrieve something from the past.
However, that is the easy way out.
Maybe there really is something to say, but it is hard.
Maybe there is something to write about, but it is prickly and uncomfortable.
Maybe, each of us, feel like we have nothing to say.
Maybe if we tap into that well down deep, we would be surprised what comes out.
For someone who listens for Whispers, it has been very silent lately.
For someone who notices things each day, there is not much to notice within four walls.
For someone who always has a story to tell, I have been coming up empty.
That, in itself, is worth pondering.
I just heard two cats fighting in the woods.
At first, it sounded like a baby’s cry.
Then, it sounded angry.
After a few minutes, I knew that one would be killed or perhaps retreat from the fight.
The cats sounded like I feel.
They had the luxury of making all the noise they wanted.
The sounds bounced off the trees.
I could not tell from which direction it was coming.
I want to yell.
I want to talk to someone and say, Do something!
I want all the furloughed workers back to work.
I want things to be the way they once were not so long ago.
My husband needed to get gas for the lawn tractor.
He drove to the nearest convenience store.
I think I will get a cup of coffee, while I’m there, he told me.
I haven’t done that since I’ve been working from home.
He sent a text to all of us.
It was a picture of a coffee cup in his hand.
His words beneath the picture made me pause.
My husband, the man of few words, was wistful.
I just realized the world has changed forever.
No self serve coffee at Wawa.
You have to order and they make it.
The cream and sugar proportions will never be right.
This seemingly little thing really bothered him.
The pleasure of getting coffee himself cannot be done anymore.
Someone else gets his coffee.
Someone else puts in the sugar and cream.
One of our daughters-in-love suggested that he ask for sugar and cream on the side.
My husband told her that was a good idea.
This is not the same Wawa I know, he said.
My husband said more than he knew.
This was not about a convenience store.
This was not about self-serve coffee.
This was about change.
This was about commonplace things that cannot be done as they had been done before.
I am weary.
People are frustrated.
Nothing seems to make sense.
Safety is paramount, but so much more is at stake.
My husband just lost his aunt.
She was a sweet woman, though I have not seen her in years.
She was in a nursing home, and had recently celebrated her 100th birthday.
She was born in 1919, during the flu pandemic in Philadelphia.
The virus had seeped into the place where she was living.
Her daughter (my husband’s cousin) wanted to get her mother and take her home.
Her request was denied.
She could not enter to get her mother.
My husband’s aunt died of the insidious virus that is infecting the world.
She was born during a pandemic.
She died during a pandemic.
She is just one story.
There are many stories.
The news is full of them.
Do you ever feel like you want to turn off the news or put your hands over your ears?
Do you long for the days of Walter Cronkite, when news was just thirty minutes each evening?
Do you ever feel like Sgt. Joe Friday?
Just the facts, ma’am.
No opinions.
No talk show rhetoric.
No anger.
No yelling at each other.
No rudeness.
No stacking the deck in order to shrewdly persuade.
I am weary.
I want to get on top of the tallest building and yell, ENOUGH!
A little civility, please.
A little autonomy, please.
Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up. (Galatians 6:9)
The coffee is no longer self serve.
Two cats were fighting in the woods.
People are frustrated.
I am weary.
Thank you,Gina, as this particular week for me was very emotional. We had plans to fly out today to Iowa to visit our daughter and family for Tulip Festival and then graduation for our grandson’s eighth grade graduation. Certainly not the same as those graduating from High school and college, but special just the same.
I keep asking if and when we will be able to make that trip? My next birthday which is only a few months away is my 75th so plane travel is risky. Everything is different.
The one good thing both Jay and I see as we take walks is the number of families that are walking or biking trails together. We went kayaking at French Creek state park it was packed with families. Picnic tables full of laughter and families enjoying the outdoors and not looking at electronic devices it was heartwarming. I am trying to redirect my thoughts reading Phillipians. It does work sometimes? It is definitely not the same as a hug from a grandchild or from a son or daughter? I keep asking how long oh Lord until this pandemic is lifted?
Oh, Carol, my heart hurts with you! We have learned, through the years, to write our plans in pencil; however, this pencil writing seems more difficult. This pencil writing seems endless. We are not alone in our cry of, “How long?” The Psalmist’s laments are full of weariness and longing. Imagine the hugs that are waiting for you when you can travel again! Soon and very soon! Please, Lord.
Gina, you’ve hit the nail on the head. We all feel frustrated and weary–will this ever end? Yes it will, but right now we have to be patient (is this what the Lord is teaching us?) You are blessed that your husband is still here with you to share this time of isolation, as are some of your kids. I count my blessings every day and know how blessed I truly am. Psalms expresses so much of what we’re feeling and is a great comfort to us. THIS TOO WILL PASS!
Love to you all and God bless you–miss seeing you and hope we can have your Bible study in Sept.
I miss you, too, Sue!
I surely hope we can have Bible study in the fall.
I am trusting that God will open those doors.
Gina
Thank you Gina, your open honesty of what we all feel at least intermittently helped to sooth me. See you did have something to write!
Thank you for your encouragement, Theresa!
It means more than you know!
Gina