Time: Life’s Elusive Entity

Time.

The one thing you wish you had more of when you’ve lost someone so special to you that every bone in your body aches for one more day.

It’s what you yearn for when your testy toddlers all of the sudden have grown into independent young men.

And, what your soul wishes would just stand still when you’re hundreds of miles away from home with your family, and it’s day six of your once-annual, seven-day getaway off the grid.

It's elusive.

As a young child, time ticked away so slowly from one grade-to the next. When the season of Halloween hit, I can remember thinking it seemed so far away until Santa would make his appearance and deposit the goods. Now, as an adult, that blessed season between the first of November and New Year’s Day flies by in the blink of an eye.

Maybe that's why I leave our Christmas decorations up well beyond the Epiphany. I need more time to enjoy all that the season has to offer, and it truly doesn't slow down long enough to do so until after we celebrate the birth of Christ.

“Just wait until they get to school,” I recall more than one experienced parent advising me when I was a stay-at-home-mom in the throes of the “terrible three’s” with my oldest, and my youngest teething, and every single day seemed like Groundhog Day. “You’ll blink and a year will pass,” they’d say.

No truer words were spoken.

Time slips from our fingertips as quickly as sand when we squeeze it. Ticking away the days and the months and the years of our lives quicker than we can count them ourselves.

It’s been one week since that very moment in time when I knew life was about to change for a while. The time was 10:30 on a Friday morning in early Spring. I dialed in to a conference call that ended by 11:00. And, just like that, something special I'd worked diligently for nearly a decade to build was taken away. For how long, only time will tell, but for a moment, my life stood still. A moment in time I will never forget.

I hung up the phone and I looked out my bedroom window at the Spring about to explode all around me with color, but not quite there yet. The grass getting greener than the day before, and the trees beginning to bud with life. Every color of bird basking in the sun as they flew between my birdhouses for their free-reign snack. And, I closed my eyes. And, I prayed.

In that moment in time, I prayed for clarity. And, I prayed for peace of mind, body, heart and soul.

Although a full week has already passed, it's as if time is standing still out here on our nearly-six acres of heaven-on-earth, while the world around me is falling apart. An invisible enemy is virtually consuming our earth one country at a time. I am in awe of its enormity, while in the same breath terrified of its power. I’m a part of this extraordinary moment in time when Covid-19 has changed our world forever. A moment in time that could have never been imagined just a few short months ago is now our living, breathing reality.

Six months ago, I was watching my youngest play soccer in 90-degree heat. And, we took our boat out for one of the last sailings of the season. The boys were a little more than a month into their eighth-grade and fifth-grade school years, and we were preparing for Fall. September 2019 feels like a lifetime away. So much has changed forever.

But, one week ago I was granted a sliver in time to just breathe in the life that’s around me. And, in the days since, I’ve been stopped in my own tracks by just how much of my reality has been held hostage by the hectic life I've created by my very own doing. I never realized how captive I was held by the chains of life’s agenda until I hopped off the train and stood alongside the tracks.

Numerous times this week I’ve caught myself in the midst of plowing through an activity with my head down at break-neck speed, for fear of time in the day running out before I can get my to-do list complete. And, then, I realized I could slow down. In fact, I could stop if I wanted to.

So, that's just what I did each and every time my mind went to that harried place of anxiousness over what to do next. It was eye-opening to digest how many times a day my mind automatically resorted to this exhausting existence.

Plow ahead!
What's next to conquer?
What time is it? Because, I have to get on to the next task by this time or that.

I’ve had to reassure myself more times than I can count this week that my existence does not need to be held captive by life's busyness. It's perfectly acceptable to just slow down and take the time to do something with ease. I can breathe through it, and take it all in, with no fear of what I have to do next, or where I have to be in another hour.

Severing the restraints of time has been amazingly liberating. However, it makes me sad to know that it took this entire world coming to a literal stand still, in order for me to stop the rat race and breathe in this blessed life I've been given.

This week, I sat in one of my pondside Adirondack chairs more times than I can count and just rested. And, when my husband was ready to take his remote work day lunch hour, we ventured out our long gravel drive to our countryside backroads for a few miles of much-needed exercise in the fresh air. I got my hands dirty in my flower beds for hours on-end with no worry on my mind of where I needed to be, or who I needed to rush off to ball practice (although, our whole household is truly missing sports right now!).

Time stood still this week at home, kind of like it does when we're on vacation far away. It was a gift. I rested. I took in the sunshine. I prayed quietly throughout the day whenever I felt I needed to. I did what I wanted to do, when I wanted to do it. And, every time I felt myself slipping back into that harried rush of time, I remembered to just breathe.

This moment in time feels like I'm exactly where God wants me to be. I'm home. And, I'm trying my best to be still. And, I'm trying even harder to just listen to him.

On Friday, Pope Francis stood in an eerily-empty St. Peter’s Square in Rome and led the world in a special Urbi et Orbi blessing. At one point in the livestream, I was one of 114,000-plus human beings across the globe praying with him for the eradication of Covid-19. We prayed for the protection of God’s grace to cover our healthcare workers and first responders, and for God’s gentle hand to bring peace to those suffering from this horrific virus. We prayed in global unison, hopeful for a miracle.

For that moment in time on Friday, I was connected to this world in a way I've never known, and it was powerful.

The Pope recited words of reflective encouragement. “Seize this time of trial as a time of choosing. It’s a time to separate what is necessary from what is not. A time to get our lives back on track.”

His words echoed through my soul as if it were God himself speaking them. What he was communicating I knew to be true, because I had felt it in the pit of my gut from the moment my world changed in response to this invisible enemy.

It's truly a unique time of choosing. A time to separate what's necessary in our lives from what's not. A time to get life back on track.

My soul is at a different sense of peace than I've ever known in this moment in time. But, I'd be a fool to think life will remain this way once the world begins to heal from the grips of Covid-19. When all the mandates are lifted, and the kids are back to school, and we return to work, and all the necessary evils that eat away at my precious time will again be squeezed into a two-day weekend. I know the ticking clock will once again be something I find myself racing up against. But, I pray I keep this moment in time as close to my heart and soul as humanly possible. I pray it changes me from the inside out, one day at a time, until this season of unknown comes to an end.

These times are like none other. A season I hope to never experience again as long as I live. So many lives lost, and changed, and transformed forever. But, God is working through these trials like none other. He's here amongst the despair and fear.

In the words of Pope Francis, "Seize this time of trial as a time of choosing."

Don't let it slip away so easily. 

Because, it will. 

Time is elusive. 

And, it's something we never get back once it's passed by us.

I pray I never lose sight of this blessing I’ve been given during this season of life. Time has slowed down. And, I'm thankful. This moment in time is mine to embrace and experience with every ounce of faith inside of me. This time is a gift from God. That's why it's called the present.

Perspective: My World A Month Ago

Our world is currently spiraling in an unfathomable manner. Lives have been lost at an astounding rate globally. Towns across America ordered under quarantine. Schools shut down. Doors of retail and restaurants closing up shop one-after-another. The National Guard called in to maintain order and assist where needed.

I spent the better part of this past week not only wrapping my head around the dramatic shift in how we now must live our lives in quarantine, but attempting to prepare myself for the inevitable.

And, then the inevitable happened on Friday.

I was laid off. 

A career slipped out from under me in a matter of weeks as an invisible enemy virtually consumes this world in just two months’ time. A once-stable career marketing a first-class national restaurant brand that’s been a part of my life for the better part of the last decade taken away in response to the mere fact that there's nothing left for me to market when our country is under quarantine.

The emotions are certainly mixed as my new reality sinks in, but every time I feel fear creeping up to the surface of my soul, a peace that surpasses understanding overtakes it like a tidal wave. I can’t help but feel blessed beyond my wildest expectation, because I truly am. I witness humanity across our globe in deep despair, and I shed tears of gratitude for all I've been given during this tragic time. 

Since part of my personal world has fallen victim to this horrific pandemic’s far-reaching grip, I now suddenly feel a little more connected to the rest of this desperate world. My heart aches for my co-workers, and the millions of others whose jobs have been impacted, especially those who may only have one income, and who will lose critical medical benefits by the end of the month. The financial toll it's taking on millions is so devastating, and it's happening in every community far and wide around the world right now.

I hurt for the tens-of-thousands of families who have already lost loved ones to this pandemic. The number of confirmed cases of Covid-19 in the United States surpassed Germany and Iran today at nearly 24,000. That makes the US the fourth highest number of confirmed cases in the world, as of today, Saturday, March 21, 2020. Ohio was at 247 cases as of 11:00 PM today. And, most alarming to my little world, the first “community spread” case in our Southwest Ohio county was announced last evening.

The virus is here. It’s in my community. And, I’m scared.

I toss and I turn at night, prayerful that this evil spread does not enter my home and over take the ones that matter most to me - the ones that I’m not-so-proud to admit I greatly take for granted on a regular basis. Life has been far too busy to give them the time and attention they deserve. I’ve had far more important priorities to dump my most precious time and attention into on a regular basis.

Until now. 

Exactly a month ago I was in the midst of overseeing a regional cause-marketing campaign for my company with one of my favorite non-profits. I had early morning TV interviews, and afternoon radio talk shows. We ran the media circuit promoting this amazing campaign. And, when I wasn’t working, I was glued to the television just to see if we got more media hits to help support the outreach. While watching the news, I was intrigued by people stuck on these cruise ships in different parts of the world dealing with a virus that seemed so far away. And, I’m not gonna lie – internally, I was accusing that same media (who I hoped would continue to cover my campaign) of completely embellishing what was happening halfway across the world. “Surely it’s not that bad,” I thought to myself. “Now, get to the story about my campaign.” 

One month later, I spent this past week glued to the television listening to Ohio governor Mike DeWine’s daily (and sometimes multiple times daily) 2:00 PM press conferences to announce the latest case number counts, statewide mandated closures, and harried warnings to head for my daily life moving forward. Flanked by Dr. Amy Acton, who at times has looked as if she could fall asleep standing up, DeWine has led the charge for our state and kept the health and well-being of Ohioans at the forefront over the last two weeks as we anticipate the next link to be broken in our everyday chain of functional life. I found myself moderately addicted to the news this week, nearly waiting with baited breath for the latest local update on how the pandemic would continue to impact my little piece of the world.

Will the bills get paid? Will anyone in my household catch this nasty virus? Will my sister and sister-in-law, both on the frontlines in the healthcare industry, be exposed, and bring it home to their families? Will my older relatives be okay a month from now? And, will my kids go back to school before the end of the school year?

So many questions racing through my mind when I lay my head down at night. Yes, I was laid off. But, I still have everything in this world that matters most to me. None of that has changed in this moment of time. Thank you, Jesus.

One month ago I was completely stressed out about what I was going to get my husband for his February 25th birthday. This man, who always goes out of his way to make my birthday amazing, doesn’t ever ask for much. How would I make it special for him? And, when would we celebrate it with the family, because our entire weekend was eaten up with commitments. And, I was admittedly annoyed and short-fused over my frustration, which seems a bit counter-intuitive. 

And now, one month later, I’m tossing and turning at night fearful of what will happen if this wicked virus gets a hold of him. A man that spent nearly three years battling random chronic issues, and ultimately could barely get up out of bed in the morning or open a bottled water on his own one year ago at this time, was finally clinically diagnosed with Psoriatic Arthritis last April – an autoimmune disease he is now getting infusions for every other month at a local cancer center. And, although those infusions have drastically changed his life for the better, they greatly compromise his immune system. If he catches this virus, it could be life-threatening. 

By the way, I ended up getting him a pair of Brooks running shoes for his birthday, because he’s now running several miles a week for the first time in years! His body is stronger than it’s been in a long time, and he feels so good. Please God, protect my husband from the potential wrath of this virus. He’s finally feeling himself again. Please keep him well. If I get Covid-19, I can fight it. If my boys get it, they would surely be able to kick it. But, how do I protect my husband from catching this? I toss and I turn all night.

One month ago this week my oldest got an expander installed at the orthodontist, and I’m embarrassed to admit how much we let it consume our week. He has little-to-no pain tolerance, and that expander was an adjustment. Literally.

He barely ate for days, and started getting bad headaches because he wasn’t eating. He couldn’t focus in school because his whole 14-year-old self was out of kilter. He didn’t go to after-school weight training for football, because his mouth “hurt too bad.” And, I'll admit, I was irritated by his embellished response one month ago this week, because I had bigger fish to fry. He didn't need to miss anymore school for this, and maybe if he went to weight training it would get his mind off his temporary misery.

“Toughen up, kid,” I thought. “It’s just a hunk of metal glued to the roof of your mouth. For real.”

Fast-forward to this week, one month later. It’s our first week of school at home, and he woke up early every day, made himself a cup of coffee in our Keurig, fixed his breakfast, and signed in to Google Classroom for his daily eighth grade workload in Honors Algebra, Social Studies, Science and LA without hesitation. He took his classes, and signed in to chats with teachers, and followed through with every bit of his work this entire week with no assistance or persistence from either myself or his dad. 

My oldest is growing up, and this week he proved how responsible he really is when the chips are down. Or, maybe he’s just excited to do homework in his PJs?! But either, way, I found myself thinking “For real, kid. You really are pretty outstanding.”

A month ago I was struggling internally about the impending season of Lent – we would fast on that next Wednesday, February 26th, which is never a pleasurable day. And, the burden of all the things I truly do need to give up and work on would linger in my mind and on my heart and soul. This Lent felt extraordinarily heavy to me for some reason – perhaps a precursor?

I set some personal intentions for the season. And, I gave up the norm – chocolate and Chardonnay. WOW, did I make a mistake on that one in this season of life!

But all jokes aside, how heartbroken I feel a month later to know we will spend the rest of Lent, Easter and beyond with no mass and no Holy Eucharist. It seems so surreal. Had I known Ash Wednesday would have been one of my last masses this holy season, I surely would have been more attentive to the message. I miss church already. Because, I'm a real big sinner who craves that renewal every single week. I need Christ's body and his blood to sustain me through good times and bad. But, especially through the trials of life, and this one is certainly no exception. I just miss church.

I think about my worries just a month ago, and it humbles me the curve balls life has thrown in such a short stretch of time. On the weekend of February 21 - 23, my “overwhelming” concern was trying to pick up groceries, clean the house, get the fam to church, attend a local benefit for a special family in our community, hopefully squeeze in a work out, and attend my 11-year-old’s basketball games in just two days’ time. Watching him on the court is the highlight of our weekend, but two games every Saturday put quite a dent into the winter weekend agenda. I would run all weekend long, be completely exhausted and real cranky by Sunday evening when I was still trying to complete the rest of my hectic to-do list before manic Monday kicked in.

On this very day, one month later, I would pay some serious dough just to sit in a gym and watch that boy do what he does on the hardwood for an afternoon. Our whole household misses basketball. Alongside the NBA and the NCAA, his season came to a screeching halt two days before his tournament championship game. 

We might refer to sports as merely "games," but they truly are such an important part of the lives of many of us and our children. These "games" make our lives a little more tolerable.

One month later, I am applying for unemployment with the state of Ohio, and I’m relieved, and thankful and blessed. Because, in this horrific season of life, when this entire world is being forced to be still, I have the fortunate opportunity to slow down and breathe through this crisis with as much ease as humanly possible. And, that is my new intention.

I have the fortunate opportunity to be home and be 100 percent focused on the needs of my family, with nothing pulling at my attention other than Mike DeWine’s next press conference. I can help my youngest with his online learning, and if my oldest ever needs me, I can help him too (except for Honors Algebra – his dad is the “math parent” in our home). We can enjoy an outdoor activity on our property for “gym class” every day, or head up to the town park and walk, run or shoot hoops whenever we want. I can cook dinner without having to rush someone out the door to practice (even though I desperately miss both of them playing sports right now!). We can sit at the table and eat together most nights. I can clean my house as slowly as I want. I can sit on the dock of my pond and read a book all afternoon if that's what the day brings. And, I can pray for as long as I want every morning without interruption.

We’re going to get through this tremendous season of crisis. And, when we do, I desperately want to be able to look back and know I did all I could to be a graceful voice of reason to the ones who love me most. Because my boys will remember this moment in time. They will remember how I handled their “homeschooling”, and the fun we had during “gym class.” They will remember this season in life we shared as a family, and how we responded. I want to be their calm in a stormy world of unknown. And, I know God wanted that for me as well. That’s why he gave me this gift of time with them.

Right now, our world is eerily quieter than it’s been in my entire lifetime. And, so is my living room. It’s a chilly early spring night. We’ve had a fire going all day long, and the Hallmark Channel started playing Christmas movies this week to calm the anxiety of our great nation. Everyone in the house is in their own quiet place right now, giving one another some personal space and time to just be alone and in our own minds for a bit. And, that’s a lot to be thankful for on this day – total peace of mind, body, heart and soul in this very moment in time. I will not let my thoughts race to what life will be like one month from now. I will place my fears in the hands of my God.

And, I will take a deep breath, and then I will exhale.