16 Mar COVID-19 Calm or Chaos?
Sister Sledge belted out “We Are Family” as the five of us cruised towards our local Pieology. It was Saturday, March 14th, pi day and the restaurant chain had a special: buy one pizza at regular price and get one for $3.14. Our fridge and pantry were fairly empty because at 4 am we were scheduled to depart for Maui visiting the Hawaiian Islands, for the first time, as an early graduation gift for our twin sons. They had requested this trip as freshmen so it was a few years in the making.
The Universe had other plans called COVID-19.
Dusk is one of my favorite times of day to walk or drive around our town. Victorian homes nestle up against Craftsman style cottages while Spanish adobe structures hug their Mid-Century Modern neighbors. Lights go on; dinner awaits in crockpots; retired folk or those at home early from work walk their dogs or walk alongside one another chatting about their day; BBQs start smoking; parents arrive home with children in tow or parents arrive home with children running out to embrace them around the knees; groceries get unloaded; backpacks carried in; sports gear carried out: life happens. And I, like the Peeping Tom of the 21st Century, slow down to soak it all in.
I marvel at the choreographed dance, holding my breath as I witness a family’s quiet moments. Their story is my story because they are my neighbors, my community, strangers who I call friends – my village. Every single one of us has a story filled with millions of moments that make up a human. I just happen to behold a portion of that unfolding.
Suitcases for Sister, Damon and I were packed and the boys were delaying the inevitable. The week leading up to our trip was filled with calls from both moms, concerned about our well-being (probably our mental well-being, too), the need to reschedule our plans, and the insistence of re-evaluating our choice. Their concern was well intentioned, filled with love but masked by fear. Damon and I do our best not to react to fear.
We both are science-minded, spiritual beings. Sometimes my spiritual side outweighs logic – working with energy and intuition; kinda hippy, dippy and woo-woo – while Damon resides on 123 Fact Street. The two can (and should) live in harmony with one another bringing the heart and mind in balance. Thanks to our numerous years of working on healthy communication, we had a thorough and thoughtful conversation regarding our trip that was in the next 12 hours. Having updates from friends who specialize in Western medicine, Eastern medicine, and scientists (we are blessed with a badass community), we came to a conclusion that best suited our family.
“Sometimes my spiritual side outweighs logic – working with energy and intuition; kinda hippy, dippy and woo-woo – while Damon resides on 123 Fact Street.”
The amount of information that is being shared regarding COVID-19 overwhelms me. There is a sense of panic, a need to hoard and take what one can get for their loved ones, leaving all others in a cultural tsunami of frustration and instability. There is no control over this virus. A lack of control breeds fear. Friends, lucky for you that’s what I’ve been working on for the last three years in therapy – letting go of control. Here is the gist – we have no control over anyone or anything. However, you have full jurisdiction of yourself and how you respond to a situation, if a response is even needed. Yay for us, right!
“Kiddos, Dad and I have come to a decision,” I said in the boys’ room they have shared since toddlers. Seth and Leia were snuggling on his bed while Jonah and Bentley, our family Miniature Schnauzer, reclined on Jonah’s. Phones went down, heads went up.
Sharing is caring.
“It would not be responsible for us to travel knowing that our movement could cause a disruption and God forbid spread the virus to someone not as healthy as us,” I said. “And for what? A vacation we can go on another time.”
The kids nodded in agreement.
There was no fear, no panic – just a simple statement of our plans being changed. Within an hour, the school district called to notify us that Spring Break would be extended from two to three weeks.
“You’re stuck with us for another week, Mom,” Seth teased.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and showered him with kisses, tousling his head full of wavy hair.
“We’ll bake and cook, play board and card games, practice circus tricks, jump on the trampoline, go on nature walks, create art, dance, sing, have fashion shows, sleep in, read…” and my voice trailed off as I wandered down the stairs towards the kitchen unpacking memories of little versions of my children doing exactly all those things.
I’m a stay-at-home parent, starting my days with self-care, and then supporting the four humans who live under the same roof. I can work from home for our business. I am blessed, but what of my neighbors, my community, my country, my world? Have they enough? Enough shelter? Enough food? Enough water? Enough love? Or are most of my family living in a state of scarcity? Most humans don’t have their needs met on a good day let alone at a time when fear takes hold, leaders follow the all-powerful dollar, integrity is bargained to the highest bidder, and human dignity distanced.
I have felt as powerless as you and then the answer came to me. I didn’t read it in an article or see it on the news. It wasn’t on social media or on the Internet. No one texted it to me or shared a link in my email. It came in the silence, amongst the salty tears staining my face, in the still hours of meditation, guiding me towards peace and surrender. It Whispered to me, “I am here.” Faith is knowing that God is taking care of us, showering us with His devotion and mercy. Faith guides me to be of service in any way that I can. Service looks different for everyone but it feels the same for all – in complete alignment with the Universe.
I am sorry for your heartaches and fears and pains and suffering. I am sorry that these times feel so scary. I am sorry if you feel alone. You are not. I am sorry about my brothers’ and sisters’ reactions and behaviors, for the lack of compassion and generosity. I am sorry for the empty shelves and emptier hearts. Don’t hold humanity accountable for the actions of a few…thousand. Forgive them.
“I am sorry for the empty shelves and emptier hearts. Forgive them.”
I cannot control others but I have full sway over my response, so I did what I do best – connect. I reached out to family, friends, and neighbors, young and mature in years, let them know while I am running errands to the market, I can also go for them; I reached out to Rabbi Lindy offering up my services (our temple calls those that cannot leave their home regularly and has enhanced that opportunity even more); I listened to the difficulty of my barista friends and others who work in the food service industry not knowing if they can make rent or pay bills; students are struggling with the unknown and upcoming quarter; educators are learning how to teach on-line programs; district board members and city officials are meeting the needs of our community that receive food on a daily basis or they will go hungry; medical professionals are on the front lines of these intense times; life is happening.
We are not meant to go through life alone; we never were. At a time where connection is at our fingertips and accessible to most of humanity, how will you utilize your superpower and freewill? How will you respond to this crisis? Will it be with clarity and calm or will chaos reign your decision? Before you answer: sit in the silence.
People want to be heard, know they matter, and that someone cares.
I care. You matter to me. I hear you. I feel you. I see you. I love you.
“I am here.”
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