I live on a farm sometimes and I live in a city sometimes. I know that that gives me great privilege which I try not to minimize. In CoVid19 times, we have been in the country on the farm. It has been a safe place and mostly a place of rest where nature is concerned. In my mind it has been far from restful, even surrounded by blooming roses and scratching chickens.
Like many of my friends, I have not seen my granddaughters in several weeks. When I do see them, it will be from a car or through the window. Some states are loosening restrictions but my family is still being careful. I don't know how long this will go on and for all of us, that is big part of the anxiety. The waiting. The unknown. Wanting to touch a child but being removed from that ability.
It's incredible how 12 weeks or so can so completely disrupt our lives, our world. It is was so unexpected by most of us. And yet here we are.
I planned this year for my 'word' of the year to be Selah, a pause. I just retired from a lifework so I wanted to spend time in reflection on next steps, next stage. How ironic that a pandemic would not only force my pause but make it so unconditional, so harsh, so exact. I wanted pause on my own terms; instead I got pause as only this virus could impose.
So in my Selah, I go back to the grandchildren, the farm, the city. I know there will be a return to something like the life we all had, pre-CoVid. But I think I will be more sensitive to how much a moment costs when it could freeze at any time. Selah, yes. But life, too.