TruMama

Our first pandemic.

Doom and gloom

That’s what it’s been for awhile now. The world is spinning a little more wobbly than normal, it seems. And we are all hanging on tight and trying not to get too dizzy. It started with Coronavirus and the whole world shutdown. Then the riots and the world was getting burned down. But really, for us, it started long before that. COVID was just the last straw.

They say happiness has a tipping point. As long as you can stay above 50%, you’re good. Smile. But once you hit 49%, that tips off the happiness scale and down you go.

Our scale tipped last year in 2019. Grammy got worse. Then Poppy got cancer. Then Grammy got even worse. Then Poppy got worse. Then Grammy died. Then poppy died. Then we got worse. And then the world got worse.

Just when we were drowning in all of the mess of life, the entire world stopped. Yes, came to a sudden halt. Well, that’s never happened before.

With all of the tragedy that has come with the Coronavirus, and it is a nasty thing, I have oddly felt a relief. A gift of some sort. As if the universe is whispering to me, “Hey, things have been super crappy for you and sorry about all of it happening at once. Take a break from life and sort things out.” I feel guilty for saying that knowing that so many have suffered and I know it didn’t happen to help my little family out, but I have to find this gift of time nothing less than miraculous. Just when we needed it most.

Boom.

Time.

Time together.

Whenever tragedy strikes, we try to find the silver lining. Well, the silver lining for me is the timing of it all. When you experience a death in the family everyone sends condolences and offers thoughtful words and tells you to grieve, but really they expect the grieving to end in a few days and you go back to normal. You are expected to move on and be fine. You are judged for how you mourn – if you mourn too long or if you seem too happy too soon, if you cry or if you don’t cry. Most people mean well…I know they do. Others just really don’t care. They give you a little sigh and a moment of sorry, but in the end, they think – get on with it.

Just when I needed to be home with Grant, school shut down. Really? Never before have teachers worked from home. The whole premise of teaching, is in the classroom, with the children, not at my dining room table. But I was home, and together Grant and I took on the monumental task of filling Poppy’s shoes in the shop and in life. He was the anchor of our house. He was here every single day overseeing all of the operations of home and shop and family. Bringing you a plate of sausage or a pack of Reese’s. His presence was reassuring and his absence was terrifying.

Together we found new ways to do things. We figured out how to function and there was no guilt for taking all the time we needed. The whole world was changing how to do things. The whole world was figuring out new ways of operating. The whole world was slowing down and taking a moment of stillness. Like a global deep breath. We all inhaled and slowly exhaled together. The whole world was maybe recognizing the importance of balance. And since the whole world was on pause, we were granted some incredible guilt-free time to mend and heal.

Our breakdown started in 2019.

But 2020 has been about re-visioning. Getting clear. Changing perspective and rising above that tipping point.

A self-retreat, of some sort.

It’s been like the little plant that sits in my bedroom. I loved this plant. So soft and delicate. I thought it was beautiful. It’s a rabbit’s foot fern and when I think of a rabbit’s foot, I think of good luck. So, yay little plant! But one day, you looked at it very curiously and asked why in the world I would have such a plant. You thought it was weird and ugly. You critiqued it pretty harshly. Your nose crinkled up and your mouth turned down. You leaned in closely and said, “Who would want a tarantula plant?” I was shocked. I stopped and looked. I saw it. I totally saw it. I could not deny it. For the first time ever, it did indeed look exactly like a tarantula. It probably looked more like tarantula legs than rabbit’s feet. This plant that always made me smile and brought visions of a sweet little bunny, all of a sudden made me think of a big, scary spider!

Do I get rid of it? What now? I was at an impasse. Is that all I will see when I look at it from now on? It’s beauty ruined for me?

That’s my decision. It’s up to me as to how I see this plant. Beautiful and symbolic in inspiring hope or as terrifying and creating fear?

I choose beautiful and hopeful.