I haven’t felt like blogging much for the better part of 1.5 years. The pandemic sort of killed any inspiration I might have had; daily life felt too small, too sheltered-in-place to have anything either worthwhile to report or to look forward to. Like many, I’m sure, I was feeling overly anxious about anything and everything, because it felt like leaving the house - unless it was to go somewhere outside - seemed hazardous and required extra precautions. Who wants to hear about the 114th Covid-style trip we made to Trader Joe’s where one kid licked the cart handle and I worried for two weeks? No one, that’s who.

I’ve never been one prone to anxiety, but between what felt like an everlasting tough transition to two kids and a global pandemic during which a lot of smaller stressors that would have felt like big stressors during non-pandemic times occurred (I’m looking at you, multiple trees that fell and damaged and then totaled our cars, as well as our church going through a schism in more recent months), I suppose feeling a bit out of sorts isn’t to be unexpected. At least the tow truck taking away the totaled car was entertaining.

All that to say, now that Covid cases have gone dramatically down, restrictions are lifting, the transition to two kids feels a little bit more normal, no more trees seem to be crushing our cars, and the church is regaining stability, the anxiety seems to be lifting a tad bit more every day and…dare I say it? normalcy feels like it just might be around the corner.

A friend visited from Maine a couple weeks ago, and she observed that it sort of felt like the year and a half that was locked down didn’t really happen. Somehow I feel like it does have a dream-like quality to it (I mean, let’s be honest, it was a nightmare, not a dream), and I suddenly felt rather mournful for James’ first year of life that could have been. To be fair, he wouldn’t have remembered it, but I would have. Would our transition to two have been easier because we could have kept things more normal for Elise? Would he have ridden on a plane or two? Would Elise be less fearful of the world now, since she spent the last year most likely picking up on our fears that I tried so hard to keep out of her range of experience? Would our church have avoided its schism if the underlying issues weren’t exacerbated by Covid restrictions and responses? I guess we’ll never know, but I can emphatically say that I’m extremely glad that it seems to be fading in the rearview mirror, and I’m looking forward to being able to actually move forward, and have things to look forward to again.

I’m rambling now, so I guess this has all been a preface to say that we’re doing things again, and there’s more joy and awareness of the privilege in ability to do them than I think we had before.

Now looking back, it’s easier to thank God for his faithfulness through it all, though he was faithful all along. I’m thankful for Zoom Bible studies that grew my faith in a way that I don’t think I would have experienced otherwise. 7pm in-person Bible studies are near impossible with a baby in the house.

I’m thankful for healthy, growing babies who are daily learning to love each other better, in spite of the struggles over sharing toys and access to mama’s lap.

I’m grateful for a husband who works long hours, but who works those long hours from home so that we get to see him even with the heavy workload.

We are blessed to have remained healthy, when it felt like sickness was perpetually on our doorstep.

I’m looking ahead to the future again, which is something I didn’t feel like I was able to do for so long, and now there are exciting things to plan for. Here’s hoping we’ll travel again in the upcoming months, but for now, we’re practicing by riding a couple of stops on a local train. Children, with their wide-eyed wonder at even these little adventures, are a miracle.

Woodstock Writings