After the months of watching COVID-19 roll west from China, like waves coming in that seem far away until suddenly they're knocking you over and pulling you under, it felt like life in the US changed overnight. Many of us have been groping for the words to use to describe what we're living through. Worldwide trauma, waking up in a dystopian movie, so weird, unfathomable. We try out different comparisons: is it like the influenza pandemic of 1918? like 9-11? like fighting in the US war with Vietnam? Each person, it seems, has their own story of when the crisis became real to them -- stories that I expect we'll be processing and listening to and talking about for years to come. More and more, the unfolding of this pandemic reminds me of my experiences living in China, only this time, it's like the entire world just got slammed down into a foreign country -- one that none of us chose to be in, one that we don't have a return ticket from (yet), one where som
Yesterday afternoon I went on a walk and after a short distance, saw this ahead of me. Well, that's how life feels , I thought. If you don't know me, this is not how I work. I don't slow down for speed bumps (sorry, Dad, about what that does to the car) literally or metaphorically (sorry, Susan, for always making fun of you for doing the same thing.) But there I was, with a tree down across the path, and then a chainlink fence right after that. Okay, I guess that's the end. I can't say it had been a particularly happy walk up to that point. I was on the verge of tears, trying to wrap my head around how much the world has changed in the past week. I'm grieving the loss of normalcy, of good rhythms and structures. And I'm grieving the very real possibility that Jason and my wedding in June may not look anything like what we had planned. It's not as if I think that our marriage is going to be seriously harmed or that the world will fall ap
It took me by surprise This old house and these old feelings Walked round and looked inside Familiar walls and halls and ceilings... Hadn't given it much thought Hadn't been back here in a while Everything looks so small Seen through the memories of a child Who would dream and stare From that second story window That was my whole world It was all I knew Like the hull of a seed This old house cracked wide open And I flew Memories for miles and miles Summers, falls, winters and springs... See, He's withheld no good thing (From This Old House by Sara Groves) It did take me by surprise. I didn't know that merely standing in the sanctuary of my home church, going through the familiar liturgy, would be enough to trigger ocean rushes of memories. My sister and I talked about it some; I didn't realize, when I was a kid (because how I have the perspective to be able to do so?) how much I took for granted. I didn't think about that some day there will be rifts that I
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