I had to be up bright and early yesterday to take the truck into the body shop to fix the damage from the rebar I ran over a couple of weeks ago. Could it have waited? Yes. But there was very minimal contact with others in the interaction. I wore a mask, spoke to one man in the body shop…at a distance. Handed over the key and declined his offer to wait inside for the Enterprise guy to bring my vehicle. When the car arrived, I sat in my truck and the agent stood six feet away and asked questions. I handed him my ID and credit card wrapped in a disinfecting wipe…for his protection. I received it back in a different wrap for mine. It was all done in five minutes.

I took my container of wipes and went over every surface of that car that I am likely to touch, although I could see from the streaks left behind that it had been cleaned before. When I was satisfied, I got in and left. I checked my mail and went through the drive thru for a bag of pepperoni rolls because one must have pepperoni rolls when facing the worst week of a pandemic, right? The package got wiped down as well.

My laundry was still in the truck from my ill-fated trip to the farm last Sunday when the hillside was on fire, so I made plans to head out there after getting the rental car. I arrived in late morning and the sun was sparkling on all the lovely green grass and flowering shrubs. I hauled in my laundry and got it started. As the first load was in, I crawled into the bed my grandparents slept in. I pulled the covers up under my chin and stared out the window at the massive flowering quince along the creek bank.

My mind, like most of yours I’m sure, has been a whirlwind these last few weeks. Between prayers for my family, friends, readers, and public at large and keeping inventory of where I’ve been, how many times I’ve washed my hands, and if I’ve touched my face…I’ve been…what? Teetering? No, that’s not it. Worried? Yeah, who isn’t? Overwhelmed? Surprisingly, no. Actually I’ve been running steady like a little two-stroke engine pulling a grist mill. Humming right along, but bound to run out of gas soon or later.

I decided to take a preemptive break BEFORE I ran out of gas. This is a good mental health strategy that I learned along some of the rockiest paths I’ve been on in this life. And, I can’t think of anyplace in the world that gives me more comfort than being at the farm by myself for a day or two. It even beats being in my camper…and you KNOW how much I love that!

As I watched the flowery branches of the quince sway to and fro in the breeze, a Yellow Eastern Tiger Swallowtail butterfly landed here and there, sucking up the sweet nectar. It made me smile. I took a deep breath through my nose and smelled flowers and moss and wet leaves in the woods. I smelled “grandma’s house”…a pleasing mixture of old wood, old fabrics, old books. I wish I could bottle that and keep it. Or make candles with that special scent. The birds were calling and I saw the blue heron that frequents the creek across the road as it slowly beat its wings up the holler.

I drifted off into a deep sleep and when I woke up, I vowed I would not watch the news on this beautiful day. I know what is happening. Instead, I prayed for them all. Those being left at the door of the hospital. Those being left behind when they don’t return. I cannot change what is happening right now. I cannot do anything more than what I am currently doing….wiping, washing, and waiting. Weeping more doesn’t help.

A high school friend lost her husband during the night. It was not unexpected. It was not coronavirus. It was cancer. Death doesn’t wait for anything or anyone. That death hurts, too. Because that’s the one we knew was coming and couldn’t stop it. This pandemic has changed how we grieve. We will continue to find all the ways it has changed us as we go along, but my heart breaks for the newly bereaved in this time without hugs.

❤️

“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.”

Psalms 34:18 ESV