It's been 50 days since I've been off the island. The last time was to visit my family for a couple days in the middle of March as the first cases of the coronavirus were confirmed in Maine. My husband and I went out for a date that included stocking up on food and an insane amount of hand sanitizing after every doorknob we touched. At that point, school had been canceled only through the end of March. Daycare had been canceled. Little did I know I had just conducted my last in-person worship service that past Sunday, complete with socially distanced coffee hour and elbow bumps instead of hugs.
50 days. 50 days of social distancing and staying at home. 50 days of evolving news about the virus and how it spreads. 50 days of no daycare. 50 days of Zoom meetings, Zoom cocktail hours, Zoom family hangouts. 50 days of not hugging anyone outside my household. 50 days of not seeing my family or my husband's family. 50 days of figuring out how to do ministry online. 50 days of figuring out how to keep our community safe and together and connected. 50 days of communicating, communicating, communicating. 50 days of bulk grocery runs. 50 days of stealing a minute to work here and there, of interruptions of "Mommy, play with me!", of working after the kids go to sleep. 50 days of watching the numbers rise of cases and deaths and seeing things stabilize - maybe - in Maine. 50 days of worry and struggle and thinking "how the heck can we make it another day, let alone a week, let alone 4 more weeks." 50 days of realizing that, in fact, we do make it. 50 days of realizing that we can never go back to the way things were. 50 days of realizing that it's still going to get harder. 50 days of realizing that we're in one heck of an apocalypse and what it's unveiling isn't pretty at all.
50 days. 50 days of quiet moments snuggling with my oldest during "rest body time", though sometimes I give in to the temptation to catch up on work as he listens to Audible stories. 50 days of Papa Tom Chapin concerts and the new songs that are in our repertoire for lullabies and dance parties around the house. 50 days of Movie Mondays (and the subsequent reenactments and retellings throughout the week). 50 days of watching the baby grow teeth and sit up and devour new foods and express exuberance at just about everything her brother or her father or I do. 50 days of watching my oldest learn new skills, like holding his own part in a round by himself, remembering the opening line of Fur Elise on the piano, of spelling CAT and BAT unaided. 50 days with weekly DnD sanity checks. 50 days of refining my minimal sewing skills in order to make cloth masks, of pulling out my camera for impromptu photo shoots, of baking bread and making yogurt and finding food on our doorstep from a neighbor. 50 days of warmer weather and more days outside and family walks.
50 days. 50 days of daily moments of grace that can only be God's doing because life's a mess right now.
