The onset of this pandemic has changed our lives and shifted
our perspectives in some very impactful ways. It’s brought many things to mind
besides just health and sickness, flattening a curve, and remembering to wash
our hands thoroughly. Obviously, those things are of utmost importance and what I'm about to say is certainly not to ignore the serious affect this sickness is having on people, especially those who are most at risk. But for myself, and so many others, a resounding topic from the walls of quarantine has
been the discussion of what we’ve taken for granted. From fully packed grocery
store shelves and open restaurants to normal work days and family gatherings, a
new appreciation for the simple things is growing.
I miss my family and friends. My kids miss their cousins, classmates and teachers. They
miss running up the street, grabbing a friend or two, and playing until dinner
time. We miss church. We miss worship, fellowship, and youth group. We miss
going out to eat. We miss hitting up the library on a rainy day and going out
for frozen yogurt. We miss normal days where we didn’t have to think twice
before we did basically anything to make sure it was in line with social
distancing and stay home orders. It’s been a strange adjustment. People who
know each other around town have to stop before greeting one another in a warm
and physical way. The comfort of a hug and the feel of a firm handshake has
been temporarily taken from us. Even a friendly conversation with a neighbor
has become more difficult from the safety of social distance. Screaming at
another person across the grass just isn't pleasant.
Let’s face it, we have taken so much for granted.
But a few weeks deep into the new pandemic way of life, where most of us have had
some extra time to think about what we’re missing and how things have changed,
I find myself looking my privilege in the face. It’s unpleasant. It’s eye
opening. It involves some things people would prefer not to think about, like hunger
and abuse. But it’s real.
When I look inside my cart and see a pared down grocery haul (only the
essentials!), I roll my eyes because I didn’t even find everything I wanted.
But to someone around the world, maybe even the person behind me in line, my
half-filled cart holds more than they’ve ever been able to afford or have
access to. Some people have struggled to acquire toilet paper and other
toiletries since long before the idea became the subject of hilarious memes.
When I get frustrated with teaching my kids at home, I think about the
essential working parents who are also (somehow) supposed to be teaching their
kids at home. I think about the teachers who are helping me teach my kids, but
also teaching their own kids. (No, seriously. How are they all doing this?!)
When I get irritated with my kids for being too noisy, bickering with each other, and eating all the food in the house, I wish they could just go back to school already. But then I’m reminded that somewhere out there is
a parent wishing they could see their kid(s) more often; or a couple struggling with infertility
who aches for noisy children in their home to break up the silence.
There are husbands, wives, and children whose time spent sheltering at home is an elevated version of a daily horror story, due to domestic abuse and neglect.
There are foster kids out there who adjust to a different normal every few
weeks, sometimes on a day to day basis. Some of them carry around every single item they own in a trash bag from home to home, never knowing what kind of environment they will have to get used to that week or which school they will attend for the next few months before moving along again.
There are kids of ALL ages whose meals
primarily come from school/daycare but they aren’t even able to take advantage of the lunch program right now because their parents, grandparents, or caregivers don’t have a way to get
there. Some may not even know about it.
It’s easy to get irritated when the Wi-Fi signal is low and I can’t access
social media or my child’s new virtual classroom, but then some people don’t
have internet to work, learn, or keep them busy and connected to the world.
Some don’t have running water and other basic necessities either. I’m not
trying to be dramatic. I’m just being real and offering perspective. No one has it easy, I get that. But some people have it really
really hard all the time, pandemic aside.
I could go on. I could really lay out how good some of us truly have it. And it’s not
to make anyone feel bad or negate what they’re going through right now. Like I said, we are
all struggling with stuff and facing our own hardships. And the current state
of the world certainly seems to magnify those difficult parts. But the simple truth is that
there are people throughout this entire world, and even right in our own neighborhoods, communities and schools, who are forced to stare into the face of what they
lack every single day and in much more powerful, life changing ways than us.
And in times like this, it’s a whole lot worse for them.
Can I change the world by simply
wishing things were better for everyone? No, I cannot. But I can bring
attention to their struggles. I can research more volunteer opportunities and outreach programs in my area, get involved, and encourage others to do the same. I may not be able to do anything huge, but I
can do small things that cause ripples and
change lives. There are numerous opportunities in my community (and yours!) to
take advantage of. There’s always something more I could be doing. And I can
certainly begin by keeping my complaining to a minimum. Because someone always
has it worse than me. That’s an unpopular opinion but an undeniable fact, when
you really take the time to think about what other people are going through.
I know that soon enough, this will all be over and we’ll adjust to yet another
new normal. We’ll definitely make jokes about social distance and that one time
when we weren’t allowed to leave the house. But we’ll also talk about how we
overcame a difficult time in our country together -- a scary time of sickness, death, and economic hardship. We’ll talk about how excited
we were to hug people and go out to eat again. We'll handle a common cold or a stuffy nose with new attitudes and grateful hearts, I'm sure. We’ll reschedule all of our
events, catch up, and eat lots of birthday cake together. There will be normal shopping trips, new haircuts, and a general appreciation for the world
around us.
But I also hope we come out of this with some extra compassion, empathy, and a
drive to make positive changes in the lives of people whose return to normal
didn’t look like ours or change at all. We can do that, too, right?
