And now, the rest of my life...

Like many other people, I pushed through the pandemic, hoping there might be life on the other side, while the cynical bias of my brain pulled on me to doubt it. I battled one wave of depression after another and struggled with extreme isolation that challenged even my introverted self. I taxed my capacity for compassion, unsure if I had it in me to care for other people while so preoccupied with caring for myself. I lived for moments of face time with my grandsons and cried when they disappeared with the simple push of a button. I smothered my skittish cat with more lovin’ than he could comfortably handle. I zoomed every day with a group of women who became my lifeline. I went on a quest for yeast, baked my own bread, and had to stop when it was so good that I ended up eating an entire loaf in one day. I grew my iconic pixie haircut into a shoulder length mess. I dieted and lost 20 pounds and then gained 25 of them back again. I reluctantly cancelled the reservations I had to spend a week at Jellystone Park with Nick and Justin. I learned to write, produce, direct and edit worship videos, which used up so much of my creative bandwidth that I had little space for anything else. I hung onto every word Dr. Fauci said and followed the rising and falling rates of infection, particularly in Baltimore County. I got all worked up over people who were cavalier about the coronavirus and spent way too much time venting to anyone willing to listen. I explored new depths of my racism with naked honesty. I helplessly watched from a distance as beloved members of my congregation died without presence of a pastor or community to help them through it. I bawled my way through election night just as I had four years earlier, but for much different reasons. I applied in vain for a Covid-19 vaccine and finally received one as a gracious gift.

That’s a bit of what I remember from the blur of my life over the past 14 months. And now, suddenly, none of it matters to me. What did I just live through? Was it me or someone else? When I look at the movie line-up on the Hallmark channel, I can’t understand how it came to happen that I’ve already watched all of these cheesy movies. I marvel at my clean, organized closets and wonder who the person was who snuck into my house and accomplished such a Herculean task. I vaguely remember that people were pissing me off a year ago, but I can’t recall who they were or what they did to piss me off.

I’ve turned the page and begun the next chapter. Back working in my office, I’m planning for Ascension’s first indoor worship service since March of 2020. I’m driving to my favorite restaurant, parking the car and actually going inside to eat. I’m making plans for a Jellystone vacation with my grandsons and their parents in July. 

I don’t want to waste another moment of my life fretting about all that I lived through over the past 14 months. My desperate angst has been transformed into giddy gratitude. All I can think about is the rest of my life. It’s been waiting for me. And now it’s here!