Whether we choose to accept it or not, all of the chaos of our lives adds up to a beautiful symphony. The Christian contemporary group Switch brilliantly tells the story in their song, Symphony.
Recently as I was hunting for a book review I’d previously written, I found the beginning of this column. I’ve no idea when I started it, or even what inspired me to start it, but I believe today is the appointed day to finish it.
My husband and I spent the week of spring break (March 6-13) in a secluded cabin nestled in the snow-peaked mountains of New Mexico. We arrived back in civilization to toilet paper shortages, Broadway went dark, Disney World/Land closing, canceled MLB, NBA and NHL seasons and that was only the beginning.
It’s been over thirty-seven days since we heard the first reports of major closures and this whole pandemic still seems surreal, like we are going to wake up tomorrow and realize we’ve all been majorly pranked!
Most of my friends and family seem to be putting up a brave front on social media, but I have to wonder, is anyone out there struggling? I certainly am. Social isolation is hard. Supply shortages are frustrating. Travel restrictions are maddening. CNN/Fox News reports of death tolls are frightening.
Although I’m abiding by all the suggestions; social distancing, frequent hand-washing, less face touching, I’m not afraid of getting sick, I’m more concerned about the economic impact of all this chaos. I still have a job and don’t anticipate that changing; however, I am concerned about my staff, they serve on the front lines, and right now, their roles are severely diminished. When this is all over, I’ll need them, but do the powers that be share my opinion?
My father in law lives in a nursing home and is completely shut off from the outside world now. Although he is still relatively cognizant, I’m concerned he doesn’t understand why his family just stopped coming to visit. My brother in law and sister in law live nearby and visited daily. The only way we can see him now is if he were deemed to be knocking at death’s door, and none of us wants to see him on those terms.
My kids are grown, living in different towns, so they are no longer safe at home with mommy and daddy, and I wish they were. Since this pandemic began, my oldest son first lost his job then suddenly transitioned to a new city six hours away. I want to make everything alright for him again. I can’t. My daughter got engaged a few weeks ago. I want to celebrate with her. I can’t. My youngest son and his wife are expecting their first child in July. Her baby shower scheduled for the first weekend in April had to be postponed. I want to celebrate with them. I can’t.
My employer has transitioned most of us to work remotely. My first day working at home sucked, and it still does. I miss my standing workstation, having dual monitors, interacting with my staff, and many of my co-workers.
During the Easter break and many weekends, I don’t want to get out of bed. What’s the point? There’s nowhere to go, nothing to do, no one to see. Adding to my misery is dreary, rainy weather. On a Saturday I couldn’t even go for my scheduled seven-mile run. I was relegated instead to an hour on the elliptical. I mean I’m grateful for a way to work out, but one cannot compare an outdoor run to the indoor elliptical.
Sheltering in place took this self-diagnosed introvert completely by surprise; I miss people, not all of them of course, but some, and more than I would’ve anticipated. As pastors, we’ve had to adapt both Sunday & Wednesday services to remote broadcasts. I miss our congregation, those familiar faces of people we love and serve. I’m not a hugger, but there are some people I’d love to hug right now.
Living in a small town with basically nothing was already difficult, but now that I’m ordered to stay here, it’s even more suffocating. It’s April, time to start hitting the beach and soon the waterpark at Fiesta Texas, but we can’t. Sadly, our dining choices are also severely limited. It’s eating at home, pick up fast food, or Chili’s. I want PF Chang’s, Jason’s Deli, Cheesecake Factory and virtually anything I cannot leave town to get.
April 5 was our 34th wedding anniversary. We’d discussed couples’ massages and dinner at Fago de Chao. Ha. I’ve noticed a lot of friends have birthdays/wedding anniversaries around the same time and seem unperturbed by the lack of normal celebrations. I wish I could share their perspectives because I’m really bummed. We can’t even get celebratory cupcakes at HEB because apparently they aren’t baking during the pandemic. I tried to order a strawberries and crème Nothing Bundt Cakes but SURPRISE, they don’t deliver where I live. It’s hard to make the best of circumstances when they conspire against you.
I know, I sound pitiful. We are all in the same boat and I need to get over myself because I am not the only one facing the uncertainty of unchartered territory. Sometimes in the evenings I just sit and cry, overwhelmed by all the sickness, deaths, hurting families, scared people, and millions suddenly unemployed.
And yet, in the midst of this chaos certainly, a host of beautiful symphonies is unfolding. My niece is an ER nurse working on the front lines. Hospitalized with severe appendicitis during her early childhood, she made the decision as a very young girl to become a nurse. She’s prepared for this snapshot in time her entire life, and her preschool-aged daughter has a front seat to witness the selfless/giving nature of her mother, what a beautiful symphony.
For the last three weekends, the small, independent coffee shop in our town has sold farm fresh jumbo eggs from Missouri for $3 a dozen. The first weekend, they had 2000 dozen eggs, what a beautiful symphony.
My former boss’ two elementary-aged sons wrote thank you cards to local doctors/nurses enclosing restaurant gift cards, what a beautiful symphony.
Grocery workers in every community continue to brave the unknown to ensure their neighbors have plenty of food and supplies, what a beautiful symphony.
Busy families who were running numerous directions are home together playing games together, making new memories, and harried moms have time to cook and bake again, what beautiful symphonies.
Determined administrators, teachers, parents, and students are working collaboratively to ensure education continues to occur via online modes, what a beautiful symphony.
No doubt there are thousands more unheralded stories that will surface in the days to come.
Despite the chaos, I don’t think we have to look far to find beauty in our circumstances. I am confident we will emerge from this pandemic a stronger and more resilient people, of course, as always, the direction is totally ours to choose, let’s make it a beautiful symphony.
Until Next Time,
Becky J Miller
Warrior Princess