That which yields is not always weak.
Jacqueline Carey, Kushiel’s Dart
I’ve muted all of my social media that admonishes me to do more right now. This is not the time to reorganize my closets or learn a new language. In this house, we’re grieving our losses. We have not lost loved ones, thankfully. No one in my family, immediate and extended, has been hospitalized with COVID19. We know that could change in an instant. The virus lurks and we remain vigilant while we grieve.
We grieve the loss of normalcy. We grieve the loss of spontaneous outings and social gatherings. We grieve the loss of a high school orchestra trip, a college graduation, Girl Scout troop meetings, school concerts, and so many things the members of this household enjoy. Soccer season is next; we’re just waiting for the official announcement. We are not optimistic about my daughter’s summer camp plans. Grief is part of our lives right now.
We know we’re lucky. We know we’re privileged. We can grieve our losses while still counting our blessings. We can be grateful we have robust internet access and enough computers in our home to allow all of us to continue our schooling and work, respectively. The college graduate is job hunting and will likely find something soon in his automotive repair field. If not, he has a roof over his head and food to eat and will ride this out in relative safety. We are so very fortunate and we know it.
Twice a day, I check the news. I see stories of resilience. I see stories of despair. I see people from all walks of life doing their very best to adapt to the challenge of surviving when the world as we know it vanishes before our eyes. We yield to the power of this virus. It takes incredible strength to bend our lives into a new shape. It takes courage to venture out into a world where every social interaction may be the one that results in our death. It takes patience to stand in line, waiting for our turn to enter a store so we can retrieve necessary items and return to the relative safety of home. A friend in NYC said a ten-minute outing took her an hour under these new conditions. Parents of school age children are learning how difficult it is to be an effective teacher. We’re all learning how many people we used to interact with each day; their absence from our lives creates a void. It’s okay to grieve these changes.
We show our strength most when we make these adjustments with grace and as much compassion as we can muster. When we volunteer to help others less fortunate, when we run errands for those who cannot risk it, when we stay home despite feeling trapped inside four walls, we are demonstrating tenacity. This is our new normal. The sooner we accept that the world has changed and bend our lives to accommodate these new restrictions, the better off we’ll be in the long run. In yielding, we show our strength.
