Several weeks ago when Mark first told me we were going to go to Oklahoma City to pick up an air compressor his cousin had bought on an online auction, I protested we should definitely not be doing this because of the “Rona.” Then he told me he had already talked to the place we would be picking it up from, it was already paid for, we were to call them when we arrived, stay in the pickup as they loaded it and tied it down and be on our way without speaking or breathing near another soul. We could fill up with gas at home and make it all the way and back, we could take snacks with us and not have to stop and eat anywhere. Even though at that time I was still freaked out about the big bad virus, an outing sounded irresistible so away we went!
On the drive down he glanced over and asked me what I was writing. I told him it was my gratitude journal. I said, “Here, I’ll read to you what all I’m grateful for to pass the miles.” I turned back to the beginning of December and started reading. As the ramblings on my pages reminded us of the mundane happenings of our lives the past four months, we laughed and talked about a multitude of things. At one point when I read that I was grateful I was someone whose panties didn’t get in a wad easily, he made some strange sort of noise as if he did not agree, and said “That’s a stretch.” I informed him “My panties DO NOT get in a wad easily!” He said, “They just did!” Eventually, I laughed.
When I came to February 1st, I had written a full page, reflecting on my granddaughter Lexi’s wedding that day. As I read myself thanking the Lord for our family, how much fun we had, what a perfect day it was, I got so choked up I could hardly read. “I don’t know why this is choking me up like this,” I managed to squeak out when I had reached the end. I stopped and pondered for a minute then I said, “I know exactly why this is getting to me. We had such a wonderful time that day, it would have been a perfect 
memory no matter what. But the way it is, it seems like her wedding was a door, a door between normal life and life now, life before Covid-19 and life after. And I’m scared that door has closed and life as we know it is over.” He assured me life will once again return to normal and we will have many more wonderful, fun-filled days with our family.
I feel like we are now seeing light at the end of the tunnel and I have hopes he is right, but at the time I was doubtful. I had grown tired of video-chatting with grandkids when what I really wanted was a hug. Trips to the grocery store felt strange, it was a place to get in and out of as fast as I could. Instead of stopping to visit with people I met in the isle, I’d rush past, turning my eyes for fear I was looked at as a threat to their health. It had become and still is yet another reason for people to disagree and to criticize one another. We are labeled paranoid, panic-filled and “sheep” if we think we should follow the latest CDC guidelines, or we are “putting others in danger” if we stand less than 6 feet from someone in our yard or told we care more about money than people if we want (need) to get back to work. We don’t know what to think, we don’t know what to believe, we don’t know what to do. I am at the point I don’t believe anything, but yet there is nothing I wouldn’t believe.
But I do know this, everyday I have choices, I can choose despair or I can choose joy, I can choose to criticize or I can choose grace, I can choose worry or I can choose faith, I can choose to waste my time or I can choose to be productive, I can choose to turn my head from others struggles or I can find ways to help. Everyday it is a struggle to choose the right thing, but hopefully, if we all make enough right choices, we will eventually find our way back to the other side of the door.
Simple Life Blessings 