Skip to main content

Postponed

Ahhh, 2020!

Reclaimed dreams. Excitement. Sorority Centennial. Graduations, (2), Trips, Reunions, Concerts, Recitals ....

The year that started with me popping sparkling cider and dancing in a room with my family has become the first quarter the stuff of scary movies.

I, am probably not alone, when we wonder, what in the world happened to 2020?

This was the year my oldest daughter was to vote for the first time (and did in a local election), but was to use her journalistic skills as a special projects cohort with Teen Vogue called Teen Vote.

It was her senior prom year - dashed, her debutante - dashed, her senior spring break - dashed, and her college Admitted Student Days - dashed. Everything she was looking forward to that were kicking off during Spring 2020 is become the virtual reality I chagrined every time my son was playing video games.

She is not the only one with moments of mourning what was, as the news in my state of more-and-more cases with increasing death tolls, becomes a collective doom. Despite our best efforts as a family, I know this is impacting her and her more extroverted little sister who is missing her entire track season.

I told my daughters what I told myself, it is ok to not be ok with this.

It is ok to be upset and disappointed with yet another major event postponed as far away as September. How do you keep the excitement about looking forward when it feels so numb in mourning the todays' loss?

Postponed is not cancelled.

I started to think about what could be an opportunity in the days when almost everyone in my home is walking around in pajamas or sweat pants.

We've had more family meals. We are a very busy family and had Sunday as our sabbath meal. Covid-19 meant we had an entire two weeks of meals together and slowing down.

We had a life that was nearly snatched from us through gun violence and that life is alive, walking, talking, and recovering, safely in a part of the hospital away from Covid-19, the incident happened just before my state shut everything down.

Postponed is reimagine

It is giving us more time to think about what we really want out of something.

For some, more time to imagine what could it be like if this work-at-home became a permanent thing and they were able to be more creative.

My younger daughter decided that since she couldn't go hang out with her friends, she would have face time and did an extra cleaning of her room to prepare. She also had school that returned this week on Zoom and she didn't want her teachers to see her bedroom. She picked up her crocket and started making little things, something she put away when she went to high school.

I already work at home, but imagined my entire family here with me, every day, and began to inhale. It has been a time of not-rushing. I didn't have to rush to make breakfast that the girls barely touched as they leap frogged down the stairs to get to school on time. I didn't have to think about how long my day was going to be with after-school activities that sometimes cut into family time.  I began to wonder what we would lose in going back to "normal."

My older daughter has been more creative and has been treating her bedroom like her assumptive dorm room. Being-at-home has allowed her to write, whittle down her college list a bit more, and connect with her French sister for even longer conversations than they had before. She pulled out enough clothes to start a store and has them ready to donate. She is reimagining what she can do with her career and even had a couple more bylines this week.

I watched them come and go while I sat in my office. I smiled, received extra hugs, and wanted this more than I realized I wanted them all at home.

Postponed is Living

It was not ideal, this time when the world has postponed living outside. It was not what we expected. It was not what we planned. But it is what we have and in it, I hope we find our life again.

Spring is coming and in a little while Summer and in a little while, we can get back to the business of being.

The world will correct and heal herself. She is already breathing new air as she is not choked through the consumption that has driven modern society. She is inhaling and exhaling, renewing and rejuvenating.

We will live, again. All of us. In a new and different way.

We will live, knowing that we were always mean to live for each other.

We will live, appreciating those who hold life in their hands, those who enhance living, those who serve for a living, we will, collectively, be new and better.

We will live, refreshed from needful rest and try to promise ourselves to never run to the grind of exhaustion again.

We will live. And breathe. And celebrate.

It is beautiful in September.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Hannah's Song

We came together last night and sang Hannah's song. Family from California was in town, it was the night before Aunt Hannah's Home Going Celebration. We met at my house late in the evening to fellowship, remember, hug, eat, and laugh. Thom felt the love in the room and I'm sure his mom would've appreciated us doing what she did all her life - love. Aunt Hannah was a gracious woman. Her gentle spirit, sparkling eyes, and constant smile will be remembered. She has left us physically, but never spiritually. The laughter was like music in Thom's ear. For the first time in weeks I saw my cousin relax. He has been in a tornado for the past four weeks from his mother's diagnosis to her death. Even in her final stage, Aunt Hannah was granted her desire. She asked to not suffer long when it was her time to go, she had been a caregiver her whole life and I'm sure her prayer was for her son. In the last days of her life, she still greeted well wishers with a wa...

Brothers, Can we Talk?

 I'm a Black woman, born of a Black woman and a Black man. When my mother died, it was my father who nurtured me and instilled in me a sense of pride of self, of my race, of my abilities to do whatever I put my mind to do. He never imposed limitations on me as a Black woman. The only caution he ever gave me was to not burn my candle at both ends and to be mindful of my health, I am an asthmatic. He never stopped me from trying anything and always encouraged me. Daddy was a strong Black man who introduced me to Shirley Chisholm when I was a little girl. He reminded me of the fortitude of my late mother's quest for gender equality in the workplace and of the namesake who marched at Selma.  He is the one who gave me my pseudonym, TayĆ©. Daddy was a strong tower of empowerment and fought all the way to his last breath for social, gender, and racial justice. It is in remembering my father this morning that I'm asking the brothers, can we talk? What is it, especially those of my g...

Ashes to Ashes

 This is Ash Wednesday. For a lot of Catholics and Anglican Christians, it begins the holy season of Lent. We remember we are but dust and to dust we return, ashes to ashes.  It is a somber reminder of our humanity and the finality of life. We are a mere breath. Today, as a Hospital Chaplain Resident, I am imposing ashes on patients, family, and staff. It is a visible marker of a shared faith and belief. We look with anticipation to the finished work of salvation on the cross and in eager hope of the resurrection. As my day progressed, I noticed how much hope was in the eyes of the ones giving and receiving this reminder of our existence. It was both a somber moment and a joyful moment. Two things can exist at the same time. Like the world we find ourselves in. Even as it seems like the darkest, certainly the darkest I’ve known in my six decades on this earth. Completely imperfect as a nation, there was still a glimmer of light until the nightmare became reality. We wonder abo...