March Madness

Every day I open my computer to look up a recipe, or read the news, or lose myself in email or photos or online communities, and immediately, I start receiving calendar notifications – Pick up Lucy from Cheer Club, Take Boys to Piano, Feed the Elders, etc. All reminders that just a few brief days ago, life was still pretty normal.  I was washing my hands a bit more and making a more often mental note of how many bottles of Lysol we owned, but it wasn’t all that different.  Not really.  Not drastic. What a difference a few days makes.

This time of year, the country is usually enveloped in the fever of March Madness - cheering Cinderella teams and filling in brackets and gathering to watch those buzzer beater games. But this year, March Madness has taken on a much different meaning.  Now we are worried about actual fevers, reading about the Cinderella stories of those who have had the disease, and wondering if we’ll all survive the social isolation that has been suddenly thrust upon us as so critically necessary.  Many of us are facing uncertainty as jobs are (hopefully) temporarily going dark, suppliers are rushing to keep up with the demand of products, hospitals are fearing a shortage of staff and equipment, and parents and children alike are uncertain of how the school year will actually end. March Madness, indeed.

Today, we got notification that our school’s two week break has been extended for an additional 2 weeks. We’ve received notification that assignments and grades are not mandatory for this extended absence, so needless to say, I am fighting a daily battle to try and have my kids focus on some kind of academics, while also respecting that they are children who are used to having structure and friend access on the daily and are now trying to find ways to stave off intense boredom and share a limited number of electronic devices on really crappy wi-fi.  #FirstWorldProblems. That they don’t even truly understand.

I also happen to have a graduating Senior.  Who hasn’t decided where he is going to school.  (Except BYU-Provo. He’s not going there.  They didn’t want him.)  Our trip to go visit campuses has now been cancelled and trying to get transcripts to be sent is proving to be a futile mission in the present.  This Senior *may* not get an official graduation ceremony. This Senior didn’t realize that he was perhaps spending his last day with his official Senior Class when he drove home on Friday.  This Senior may have to make a college choice sight-unseen – talk about the possibility of a real “There by the Grace of God go I” moment.  This Senior saw his job get delayed because he is in a restaurant industry that no longer needs servers and busboys.   This Senior has some tough choices to make around his future.  This Mama is having a hard time dealing with it all.

If any of you know me well, you also know that I have been having a years’ long battle with my faith. Not the best time to not have a super tight relationship with the Almighty.  I know God lives and loves me.  I just have a lot of questions that He doesn’t seem predisposed to address right now and that makes all these pandemic, earth-shaking things happening around me a little scary.  Not the best set of conditions for an anxiety prone middle-ager.

I am an extroverted introvert, which means for me, that although most of the time I prefer solitude or the company of my husband, I do prefer stints of social engaging on a fairly regular basis.  I need adult conversation and, frankly, distraction in my life.  I don’t deal well having all of my children home at the same time for hours on end, as my brain never gets a chance to rest, and I don’t get the solitude I need to recharge and prepare for the mental madness. These are the times that try “my” soul.

I wish I could say “I was prepared, so I shall not fear.”  That would be an untruth.  I wasn’t necessarily completely unprepared, but there has been a teeny bit of panic buying, I confess.  I wish I could say “My faith is stronger than my fear.”  Again, that would be an untruth.  I am fearful.  Not necessarily of contagion or dying, but for all the future implications this pandemic holds.  My heart truly mourns for those who already struggle financially who will see the days ahead only get tougher.  I mourn for funerals with no guests.  Postponed weddings.  Sports seasons with no sports.  Small businesses with no tomorrow.  And children who will be hopelessly behind academically because of shuttered schools.

Some may be looking forward to an extended Summer vacation, and I envy that approach.  But I am a pessimist by nurture (yes, nurture), striving to become more optimistic, but right now it’s just all too raw and real and uncertain for me to be thinking of summer lemonade and vacations and trips to the pool.  Right now I am just holding on day by day, trying to keep the peace and trying my best to keep calm.  

But one thing I do feel strongly about, we need to look out for each other.  It doesn’t cost a thing to say a small prayer.  Even if you aren’t sure it will go past the ceiling.  It doesn’t cost a thing to make a phone call to check on someone or offer an outlet for social connection.  Really listen to someone’s concerns.  Send an email.  Send a text. Share a thought or a joke or a moment. We shouldn’t be afraid to share of our abundance, if we are so blessed, nor too proud to be the recipient of someone’s benevolence.  Even if that sharing is only of one’s self.

The other day, a lady at the gas pump offered me hand sanitizer not once, but three separate times – once before pumping, once after pumping, and once to put around my nose because she heard it could be effective.  And it was from a small, half empty travel size bottle.  In that moment, just like in scripture, this lady gave me of what she had.  And I was grateful for a small moment that reminded me that the human spirit is greater than a virus.

It has been a March full of madness, for sure.  It came in like a lion and seems to be strengthening it’s roar.  But for all the craziness around me, I’m trying to put my faith in the Lamb, however shaky it may currently be.  I’m trying to know that times like these have been foretold for centuries, and we are just a part of the turning pages of history.  I’m trying to use this time to reflect and reevaluate and use this as an experience to redirect and find purpose and meaning in life. I’m trying to be ok with trying. And that’s enough for now.  Stay healthy, my friends.