Satisfied

Right after I published my last post, I spent a couple of minutes on Facebook before turning in for the night. I ran across a post from a friend, about a conversation with a colleague at the school where she works. The teacher told her that the only way to get through all the stress of this crazy year is to focus on being thankful for something every day. He also said it's important to make ourselves vulnerable so that we don't miss out on meaningful relationships.

I fell asleep thinking about both of those ideas. As I mentioned in my previous entry, I'd already been thinking about all the reasons to be thankful for the most important people in my life. Now I considered something I'd written several times on my inventory, in the column about the long-term effects of others' actions: "mistrustful... I built a wall." 

I don't like having walls up. I spent too many years hiding behind them, a prisoner to my perfectionism. How disheartening it was to find myself ensconced inside what feels like a fortress, to be lonely, yet afraid to open myself up for more hurt. I probably prayed about my feelings, but I soon lost consciousness because it had been such an emotionally draining day.

When the light woke me, I stretched luxuriously and then reached for my Jesus Calling devotional. Within moments, my eyes widened as I recognized one sacred echo after another, as if the entire entry had been written in response to my spoken and unspoken questions about how to let my walls down and how to open up and receive the unconditional love that I crave.

Don't Close Your Eyes

On Sunday my baby turned 14. You know how people tell you when you have a newborn, “Don’t blink, or you’ll miss it”? It’s true, of course. One moment your sweet, cuddly baby looks like this:

Hospital Picture

Ethan and Allyson

And then she’s thinking about things like nail polish.

And then she’s starting school, and she’s so smart and sweet and kind that you can hardly bear it. You just want to squeeze those cheeks and plaster that face with kisses, but already she won’t let you.

First Day of Preschool

The next thing you know, she’s in middle school. She’s busy with soccer and volleyball and track and homework, and the rest of her time goes to her friends. 

That’s when you wish you could’ve stored up those delicious snuggles, when you get lonely for the lovely young woman who still lives in your home yet feels worlds apart sometimes. 

Me Enjoying a Delicious Snuggle

But then...

Just when you’re getting dizzy from the relentless passage of time and the frenetic pace, the world grinds to a halt overnight. Enter COVID-19 and the quarantine.

Spilling Time

On my lunch hour yesterday, a bag of dried thyme burst open when I dropped it.

“I just spilled a bunch of thyme,” I remarked to Allyson as I passed her on the way to retrieve the broom from the laundry room. 

“Mmm,” she replied, eyes never leaving her cell phone screen.

“Doesn’t that sound poetic, spilling thyme?” I asked, but I was left to ponder that thought alone.

I did ponder over it all through my customary lunchtime walk in the park. What could it mean to spill time?