It’s OK To Cry Right Now

She cried because all the chairs were stacked and her favorite coffee house looked stark and unfriendly.

She cried because the tables that held friendship and hand holds and side hugs and steaming cups of coffee were silent and empty.

She cried because her shopping consisted of running in and out and extra hand sanitizer and constant awareness of what she touched and choosing the minimal amount of products with the minimal amount of money but at the same time wondered if this was enough food for the possible shut down coming.

She cried at the empty park and the silent soccer fields.

She cried because they needed kitchen chairs but new ones were too expensive and used ones were too risky to pick up.

She cried because she felt helpless and that made her feel needy and that made her feel tired.

She cried because her already tired mind had to weigh so many new choices. To sanitize the door handle or not? To hit the drive through or go into the store for food? To wash her hands religiously and often even if she hadn’t left the house for 48 hours? To sanitize all mail and groceries or to be careful and call it good? Was her shopping list legit or should she try to make something out of tomato paste and frozen blueberries and a cup of flour?

She cried because her sons birthday gift would not come for a month because it wasn’t considered essential online.

She cried because some people were paranoid and some people were naive and some people were stupid.

She cried because the church buildings were empty. The school grounds silent. The storefronts posted with covid_19 closure papers.

She cried because the lady in the drive through was so kind and sweet and cheerful that it made her feel loved and seen and heard.

She cried because children were suffering with no one to hear them. Lives were being taken out of desperate loss of hope.

She cried because her kids were fighting again and it felt like a reflection on her motherhood.

Friends, we all break sometimes. No matter if we trust God or not. And that’s ok. We don’t have to be brave every second of every day.

I hear your cry. I see your pain.

• 

I took a drive beside the river on a frosty morning when nature was at peace with hoarfrost and sunshine. A deep understanding stirred inside me.

All of nature was simply LIVING. Inviting humans to do the same. Reaching out beauty and grace. Inviting . Come play with me. Sit with me. Feel the connection of earth and matter and sunshine and wind. Reflect on water and listen to the wild goose quest.

We are more related then you know. Cut from the same dust. Returning to the same dust. Living RIGHT now. In this reality.

Friend, hold this moment in time gentle and holy. This beautiful moment as a light in your hands.

That’s what matters most.

Perhaps what felt like death to normal was actually life stirring in dormant places. Bringing collective love and strength to individuals. Showing up in texts and online chats and coffee dates in the back of vans. In food drops and recipe swaps and care snail mail. In face masks and empathy and acceptance. In prayers to Heaven. In Children being rescued.

In realizing the vulnerable, weak, ugly parts of our own hearts. In finding grace. Acceptance. Forgiveness. Hope .

In seeing that mankind is not all corrupt and that truth and justice will win. Even after hundreds of years.

In knowing. That the best is yet to come.