The past month has probably been the busiest I’ve been for a while. Sometimes I wonder if diving into work was my way of coping with the chaos, or if I really just had that much to do. I think it was a little of both – my workload definitely expanded while I refused to just dwell on what’s happening around me. I was well aware of how the world is quickly shifting. I acknowledged my anxiety and worked through everyone else’s panic by being extra productive. While friends would be doing Google searches on “what to do during quarantine”, I was building websites from scratch, writing reports, analyzing spreadsheets, and putting together presentation decks. I hardly opened social media. I didn’t normally watch TV and I did not develop the habit, either. I found joy in cooking special meals and my rhythm in doing laundry. Life was almost normal, except that I had more things to do.
One by one, though, I would hear news of someone’s grandmother or father or aunt or friend dying. At first they were few, far between, and still quite removed from my family. But soon the lines were drawing smaller and smaller circles. A classmate’s father. A good friend’s aunt. A cousin’s in-law. Things started hitting closer and closer to home. And while I am still blessed to not have to deal with the loss personally, hearing news of one death after another – of people who are dear to those who I know fairly well, of those I grew up with – it strikes a different chord within. I grieve with those who grieve, as though their loss were mine.
The past two weekends were the first time I actually was able to unplug and not do any work for at least one full day since the pandemic broke out. It gave me space to just be and enjoy the stillness of being. And I realized, it gave me the room I needed to relieve my tired mind.
Life has changed, and as much as I have tried to embrace our new normal, a part of me still longs for yesterday. I long to be able to go out and have a simple meal with friends. To give warm hugs to those who need it. To stay up late over bubble tea chats.
Part of me still wonders – and maybe worries – about what lies ahead. Part of me is tired of just coping, and wants to get to the part where I am thriving. Some days are like moments in the desert – not quite sure when you’ll stumble upon an oasis, even though you’re sure it’s out there.
Tomorrow is the start of another weekend. Another chance to give myself some margin, some white space. Room to just be, and not feel restless about it. And maybe – just maybe – a chance to turn mourning into dancing.
For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will hear you.
Jeremiah 29:11-12
