I am lying in my bed, keenly aware that we are becoming a statistic in our out-of-control State.
While our county buzzes with 15 % positivity, our household is edging it out with 16.6% as one of the six of us is isolated in the basement after a positive test.
I am familiar with the rollercoaster of emotions during this pandemic, and now I struggle with the acceptance that what I tried to avoid found us anyway.
As I see folks totally disregard suggestions by EXPERTS and then beat myself up over my own hypocrisy, and while I have gone through most every stage of the grief cycle once or twice over the past 7 months, I am certain that the only thing I can truly control is my own self.
That really goes for all corners of my life. In my marriage, in my parenting, in my friendships—expectations will always fail, others’ actions will often disappoint, but I can choose the peace, the love, the humility needed to bridge the divide.
it’s really hard.
Especially for me—the melancholic 4 who trends toward a reforming 1 in health. When I see something that needs to be fixed, I want to fix it, even if it’s not mine to fix.
But, what I discovered this week, is when I let go of what I can do or say or post, and just turn to prayer and love and hope, God gently shakes my useless expectations Ike dead leaves off a wintering tree. He gives me the chance to enjoy the colors, the goodness of a changing season, the powerful present moment that is exactly as it should be, flaws and all.
So, for me, Autumn brings assurance that the very small things, the present moment things, are all I can focus on for relief. That my complaints and attitudes are my own, and that although we are becoming a stat around here,
we can still find some peace.
it starts uniquely with me.