coronavirus

Depending on where you live, you may or may not be going through what we are here in Houston.

We are open for business. That means reentry for some of us, in some capacity.

This opening up has come with some scary statistics.  More than just the escalating COVID-19 case numbers, the hospital beds and ICU occupancy numbers are up.  Way up (as of yesterday, each day for the past week has set a new one-day high). 

Because of this dichotomy, I’ve got friends in my circle who have responded in a number of ways. 

FROM: Embrace the openness, do as much as they can, and don’t live in fear.

TO: Completely terrified of the dangers the virus can wreak and the escalating numbers so they are nearly agoraphobic, unable to have social interaction even with family members outside their home. 

And then everything in between. 

We’re in between.  (And where ever you land, I feel you. This is all brutally hard to navigate.)

The kids have been fortunate since we have a family farm and ranch that they have been able to get out of the house and ride horses or work cows or bail hay in very remote locations. 

But we have begun reengaging.  The slow process of reentry.

A week ago, we spent the weekend with our friends at the lake.  It was wonderful to visit a new area of Texas and the kids absolutely adored tubing. 

We ate out at a restaurant to celebrate 4^th grade graduation.

We’re doing more with friends outdoors – swimming, backyard drinks, biking, etc. 

I went to one of my dearest friend’s house in Fort Worth and hung out with her crew in the backyard for two days.

I took little bit to run a couple of errands with me this weekend, in our masks, her first outings to stores since pre-Spring Break. 

I’m far more comfortable doing things outside so we maximize those activities (of course with 100% humidity and feels-like numbers topping 100, it’s getting tricky). 

Next week, I go back to the office full time.  A fact over which I’m really sad. 

But as I’ve said previously, there’s a lot from our time in quarantine I want to keep. 

We’re all reading so much (I’ll talk books and cooking tomorrow!).  I can’t keep the baby and me in books (I really need to move to Kindle, because our house has stacks of them everywhere).  We’re less scheduled.  We have interesting conversations about topics that range from challenging to silly. 

We have gotten a ton of work done on our backyard remodel.  The deck and corner trees are gone, the flagstone is laid, the pergola has been ripped out, and the turtles have been relocated back to Louisiana (more on this later).

Things will not be “normal” for a very long time, I believe. 

My guess is things might not even look “more normal” until next summer. 

So this gives us the opportunity to rethink American life. 

This gives us a chance to evaluate how we can give back more authentically and connect more meaningfully.  How we can extract value from our time instead of wasting it on television or technology. 

We’re still in the reentry phase.  And I’m in no hurry. 

I’m willing to let this move forward at a pace that both protects the most vulnerable in our community and allows our family and our church and our companies and our communities to set important guardrails.  Guardrails which I hope will serve our children well.  Ones to give them a pace and lifestyle that is less rushed and more meaningful. 

Praying for your reentry, and for all of us, as we navigate the unknown.

Today, I drove to my office.

The last time I was here was March 13th. The Friday before our Spring Break trip.

Things were already quite uncertain then. But I had no idea what would come. Or for how long.

It’s Wednesday, May 20th. It’s been over 2 months.

I can’t come back every day yet. There’s still no one to watch the kids – really nowhere to put our country’s children (safely). Our school will end today. So will my two month’s tenure as a homeschool teacher.

Yesterday, while thinking about coming in, I was excited. As a corporate lawyer, I need time and quiet to think through legal issues and write coherent documents. While I actually enjoyed my time working from home (breakfast with my kids for the first time in six years, no long commute, etc.), it was very hard to get quiet time for deep thought.

But this morning, I nearly cried on the way in.

I wasn’t ready.

Today was their last day of remote learning. I wasn’t there to help them get on their Zoom calls and photograph their math assignments and lead a devotional over a late breakfast.

Plus there is general anxiety over coming back to a workplace when cases in our state and county are most definitely on the rise, as are hospitalizations. One friend wrote on social media recently, it’s like we just gave up on containing the virus.

In writing a friend this morning, she responded with this:
I am so excited to return to the office. I am so nervous to return to the office.
I am so happy to eat at all the restaurants and go all the places. But then I don’t understand why we can’t just sit here and play family games.
I want my son’s baseball to start so he can see his friends. But then I don’t want baseball to start.
I am so excited for this to end. I desperately don’t want this to end.
I am all the feels. All the relaxed. All the overwhelmed.

I couldn’t have written that any better.

There is still so much unknown.

And while I love this quiet environment and these big double computer screens to edit my documents, I miss my little corner at the kitchen table with kids fighting over Rip Stiks.

I don’t want to go back to life like it was.

We won’t. We can’t. At least not for a long time.

But during this time, in the in between, when there is some normal and some still wildly abnormal, how do we sift out what is really important and implement changes that stay with us.

There’s so much hard ahead.

But there’s so much good in what we’ve uncovered during this season.