Dear Grownups—the social-distancing post

So, how’s your week been?

Mine went from spring break spent potty-training a toddler to an extra week of spring break covered in a thick layer of dread caused by something called Caronavirus. In order to slow the spread—flatten the curve—delay the inevitable, I don’t know—we are all supposed to stay at home. For the future week, maybe more. 

What does this feel like? I’m curious to know how other people are dealing with the social-distancing. 

For me, it’s not so much not being able to see people as it is…everything else. The uncertainty is almost as bad as the cabin fever. Maybe it’s because I know other people are just as nervous as I am. Or more nervous. 

It feels like hiding. Don’t get too close to your neighbors, don’t go out, wash your hands, shut the doors, say your prayers. It feels like hiding from an unknown assailant—we can’t see a sickness, it doesn’t limp up the stairs like the Walking Dead. 

And everything’s gone. There’s no toilet paper, no milk, no bread. Everything’s canceled—games and concerts and school and church. It’s like a snow day with no snow. 

Suspended life. We just have to wait; there’s no end date. Everyone has a future date when things might resume, but tempered with the line, “plans may change. This is an evolving situation.”

I like to imagine a place where things are normal, but I’m not sure there is one. This thing reached across the ocean to grab us—where are people still going to school, going to church, going out for dinner, shaking hands, buying groceries they need and then strolling out of the store? 

I like to imagine Andrew growing up and asking me about this—the 2020 Quarantine. And I imagine laughing and sharing glances with other adults who remember it, reminiscing about the long lines at stores and the somber emails from schools and companies. 

But at the moment, honestly, this is stressing me out, guys. Anybody else stressed out? 

So I’ve been cooking and baking—lemon blueberry scones, rice pudding, stuff made from frozen veggies I forgot we had—and watching long tv shows and listening to historical podcasts. I’ve swallowed the stories of famous princesses and queens, pioneers and inventors, performers and other creative types. And I’ve reminded myself that we have to play the cards we’re dealt, and that at the moment being a grownup is being stuck in this apartment with my husband and son, remaining calm and trusting God. 

Because when I think about it, I realize that God deals with this sort of thing all the time. Humans can seem so wise—grownups with more years under their belts, with more experiences, can sound so omniscient. And this reminds me that they are not. We’re clueless and nervous and scrambling and selfish, and God knew that all along. 

So while we wait for this situation to unfold, I’m going to do the best I can—play with Drew every time he asks, wash my hands a million times a day, and pray whenever I worry. While God and I are locked in here together, let’s see what we can accomplish.

God bless, team.