This virus, however it’s affecting us, is affecting ALL of us, and in that sense we are all in this together.

A couple nights ago I hopped onto a Zoom Bible study, apologized that I would probably miss a good bit since Littlefoot had to have Mommy put him to bed, and came back half an hour later totally lost.

After rushing to get to a study that was happening my own home, the lesson finally slowed down and we were sharing what’s going on in our lives. The leader and many others in the group seemed to assume that “we are all home right now” and “time has slowed down” for everyone. I didn’t want to be a dissenting voice but I couldn’t help but muse that my life has far from slowed down; I’m trying to compress an already compressed 32 hour workweek into 15 hours. I’m chasing tiny feet from 9am till 7pm and later, trying to make sure my mom gets something to eat every once in a while, trying not to lose my patience with my brother who doesn’t quite understand that what’s important to him is kinda low on the priority list most of the time, fielding phone calls with requests for reports and random information from work (thankfully not as often as my husband does, but that’s why the kids are mine from 9-7 rather than attempting a more equitable arrangement).

I probably just said a few things that need explanation. Yes, I live with my mom and brother. I don’t share much about my living arrangement because it’s usually not pertinent. But in this case, it’s very pertinent.

If I were separated from my mom during this quarantine, my mom might have died. A few weeks ago, as I was trying to make my weekly run to work to get the necessary things done there, Love called and asked if we had any gas medicine at the house. I didn’t know, and I was surprised he was calling me — wouldn’t my mom know? She’s usually the keeper of the medicines; she knows what we have and what should work for just about every ailment.

“It’s for your mom,” he said.

So I turned around and stopped by a pharmacy to pick some up and bring it home, where I found my mom in about as much pain as I’d ever seen her . . . and I’ve seen my mom pain a lot. She has fibromyalgia. Pain is a constant for her. Unfortunately, but maybe fortunately, that’s made seeing her in pain not much of a shock for me. I tried to make her comfortable, adjusted a heating pad, and asked her to breathe deeply and moan through the pain in case it was gas; moaning relaxes the muscles. After a few minutes, we both agreed that going the ER was best. I drove her there and dropped her off — and that’s probably a story for another post about the most surreal aspect of this pandemic I have experienced to date.

Since then she’s come back home, minus an appendix, unable to lift more than ten pounds, and weak. That’s been the hardest thing for us to navigate: how to build her back up to any sort of normal activity level after not just this appendectomy but a knee surgery a month prior.

As for living with my brother, he has special needs but he’s not a child. And you either know what that’s like or you don’t. And even if you know what it’s like, if you’re smart you’ll know that you can’t know exactly what it’s like. Throw in the fact that living with him is a newish development and you can see how I might have gained a few extra gray hairs these past two months.

So, my days are fuller than they’ve ever been. This time here, writing about this, has been the most time I’ve gotten to myself in weeks and it’s under the guise of getting caught up on work. Which I do need to get caught up on; I’m behind on so many things. But those things can wait. I need this.

(Um, feel free to just skip this paragraph entirely; leaving it here for those who know me a bit better and get a kick out of seeing my little wheels spinning.)

I also need a plan for handling all of this much better than I have been, but I’m working on it. Just taking this time right now is a step in the right direction. I can’t let the noise of others needs drown out the pure and simple fact that I do have my own needs. One of those needs is time alone, and time to write. I used to get time alone at work, in the mornings before the rest of the sleepyheads made their way in. I adore mornings, when those mornings are relaxed and I’m not rushing to get things done. Maybe working in the mornings isn’t the best plan. Maybe quiet time, some coffee, and working on Wednesday evenings and Saturdays is best. Get an hour or so in the mornings if I can, after I’ve had time to just BE. Compressing the time even further, but it’s just temporary until my mom is back on her feet. We’ve already talked about a plan to help her slowly build up her endurance. And then, just taking work calls if they come in and handling things as I absolutely have to. With that work pressure off, I need to put my energy into better housekeeping routines so laundry does pile up and bathrooms don’t get scary. And I also need to plan more things for the kids. Rotate toys every couple days since they’re home more. Pare it down to just about 10 toys in the room at a time, and keep it fresh by rotating them in the mornings before they get up. I could alternate toy rotation day with shower day — meaning, I would shower more than once a week.

Sorry about that little detour. Back to the blog post . . .

We’re not all going through the same thingS, but we are all going through the same THING – this virus. I know I can’t be the first person to point this out, but it seems to be a recurring theme in my life, as someone who has been dealt a fairly odd hand of trails, that it’s better to extend the open hand of “I may not know what you’re going through, but I care,” than the determined clasp of, “I know exactly what you’re going through.”

As I wrap this up at 2am after a long text message conversation with my brother, I’ve lost a lot of the motivation I had this morning. But I know that joy comes in the morning, so I’m holding out for that. It’s gonna be alright. We will get through this, whatever it looks like for you or me.