As the mom of a cancer fighting kid, I know a little about what it’s like to be on a forced quarantine. For eight months, our family had to be extra careful about germ exposure which meant saying yes to social distancing and no to things like school, airline travel, movie theaters, sporting events, and church attendance. When we did venture out I was usually armed with Lysol wipes in my purse and hand sanitizers of every shape and size. (Yes, I was that mom wiping down the tables at Starbucks!) Keeping Owen safe from our germy world not only required forethought and discernment, but a willingness to temporarily give up many comforts we’d taken for granted.
As our world continues to take drastic measures to prevent the spread of the Coronavirus/COVID-19, I can’t help but remember our life last year. Despite so much suffering for our son, and moments of great uncertainty, I still see our forced stillness as an incredible gift to our family. Last year we learned to value what really matters: each other. Even greater, but perhaps harder at times, was pushing into the hope of Christ, and a future far better than this uncertain earth we call home.
In uncharted times such as these, it is tempting to panic and fear the worst. What could this virus mean for my asthmatic child? How will these university closures impact my professor friends who have to re-create their syllabi? Is my brother-in-law safe as an emergency room physician? Are my parents taking proper precautions? How about my almost 95 year old grandparents? What does this mean for our country and the world’s economic stability or lack thereof? Don’t even get me started about whether or not we’re going to experience a, er, situation in three weeks when our toilet paper supply runs out.
But, in uncharted times such as these, I also can’t help but dream a little. What could this virus mean for our tired nation? How will these school closures force families to get creative with quality time together? What might it look like to stay home and play games or have fireside chats with neighbors instead of attending the PTA meeting you didn’t really want to be at anyway? What could a Sunday morning at home feel like without being at church? What if you discover that without a Little League game at 8am on Saturday that you get to have a leisurely family breakfast and beach walk instead?
I recognize that forced stillness comes with plenty of small and large financial impacts--everything from losing money on the cruise you had to cancel, or, worse, losing a large part of a paycheck because you can’t work. I will not pretend these losses aren’t incredibly painful in their own respective ways. And yet, I must wonder, how will a worldwide lack of control over our daily plans and our finances force us to reckon with questions such as:
What truly brings me joy?
Why is it so unsettling when I’m not in control?
When I’m anxious because I’m not in control, who do I turn to? How do I fix it?
Who is in control anyway?
Why does that thought of slowing down or staying home scare me?
What is the root cause of my fear, and how do I break free from this fear?
What are the things I do when I’m trying to find peace? Are they working?
Where does my hope come from?
Whether or not you’re on a forced quarantine, you will likely have plans cancelled in the weeks to come. This opportunity for stillness comes as a great gift to our hustle heavy world. What will you do with this gift? If you’re not sure, can I offer some suggestions?
On the faith side of things:
Spend 15 minutes each day in silence and solitude. Practice slow breathing. Ask God to reveal to you how you feel in that moment.
If you feel sad or disappointed in your changed plans…tell God about it. Grieving is normal and good.
Journal. Push into some of the above questions.
Memorize Bible verses that calm your heart.
Consider asking God how He’d like to help you.
Consider asking God how He’d like to use you in this weary world. (Making a meal for a sick family? Watching your friend’s kids whose parents need to work?)
Pray for the elderly people in your life. Check-in with them and ask how they’re feeling emotionally.
Pray for your friends who are in the medical field; for their safety, protection from disease, discernment, and willingness to keep doing their job.
Pray for those people who are immunocompromised and at greater risk for disease.
Pray for people who struggle with depression or anxiety, as uncertain times may be even harder for them. Reach out and ask how you can help.
Practice Sabbath.
Listen to encouraging worship music.
On the fun side of things:
Swap board games with another family and play a new one each night with your kids. (We are newly obsessed with Sushi Go, and it’s very inexpensive on Amazon!)
Catch up on the fiction books you never have time for.
Have a Nintendo tournament with family or friends.
Set a family goal to finish a certain number of books by the end of March, or, choose a book you’ve always wanted to read together and then dedicate time daily to reading aloud.
Host small dinner parties for (healthy!) friends. Consider having neighbors that you’ve never invited over before.
Make encouraging cards for local nursing homes, or hospital care providers.
Watch the new Taylor Swift documentary because it’s fun and inspiring.
Go for long, regular walks.
Prioritize outdoor exercise—it keeps your body AND mind healthy.
Light a candle every morning and every night, for peace and beauty.
Catch up on random tasks like teaching your eight year old to tie her shoes or cleaning out a closet. (Wait. Only I find those tasks fun?)
Buy a new pair of sweatpants and think about them all day until you get to slip them on again.
Get regular sleep each night.
Make time for hobbies again.
Last June, just weeks after Owen finished chemotherapy, we piled into the minivan and took off for a camping trip to Big Sur. We were a mess getting out the door; Luke was sick, Owen was frail and bald, and I was a wreck from rounding up camping supplies and food for five people. And yet once we saw those great big cliffs, turquoise waters, and giant Sequoias we were breathless. While I think Big Sur likely has the breathless effect on most of its visitors, I am also certain that our wonder and gratitude for its beauty was birthed out of a deep and sustained longing for such freedom, and it’s miraculous fulfillment.
When the sporting events return, the flights are full again, and the unknowns dissipate, I hope you too will find gratitude from the unexpected gift of slowing.
As a post-script of sorts, I’d also like to offer some helpful links from this week:
How I’m Talking to My Kids About Coronavirus
FlattentheCurve.com: (All the practical stuff you’d ever need to know about COVID19, and then some!)
Alaska Airlines cheapest fares...because...it’s tempting, right?
A new favorite plant-based dinner, mostly made from pantry staples
And a tip from a fellow mom: Help your kids learn to regularly wash their hands by writing on their hands each morning with a Sharpie. (Try a W for “wash” or make a heart, cross, or inspiring word.) Tell your kids that by the end of the day, you’d like to see the marking gone. Offer rewards or bribes. See what happens! We’ll be trying it today.
Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash