We’ve all been living the dream, right? Living our best life. Not really. Quarantine has felt less like a dream and more like a nightmare.
Aren’t we tired of hearing “social distancing” and “sheltered at home?” We’re worn out with it. Even my phone now autocorrects “Coronavirus” for me. If I hear “we’ll get through this together” one more time, I’m going to scream! “Together” might just be part of the problem for those of us sheltered at home.
It’s been quite a ride. It feels like we’re living the script in some fictional film. When I had to close my small business on March 18th, I thought I’d be out for a couple of weeks. Now, almost ten weeks later I’ll be opening my doors again. An extended vacation sounds nice under normal circumstances, but this did not feel like a vacation.
Early on, I began cleaning closets and drawers. You know, those things we want to do but never have the time. Now I had the time. I made my way through the house with my sorting and organizing, and finally ended in the basement, nice and tidy. The trunk of my car is busting at the seams waiting for those local donation bins to be opened back up. I’m guessing we’ll all be lined up.
I’ve been doing some cleaning out of another kind too. The mindless tasks of sorting and organizing gave way to some sweeping and tidying up of the corners of my mind.
Sometimes we have to step back and take inventory. Decide what needs to be kept, repurposed, or gotten rid of. I wanted to come out of this time with refreshed vision. It’s kind of like being away on a vacation. You get clarity of mind and you have time to re-access. You come back home feeling rested and renewed, ready to take on the world. But inevitably, within a couple of days of returning to work, you forget you’ve been anywhere.
I fear the same will be true post-Corona. I need quarantine to have served a purpose. I want to be able to see value in it. My “time-served” needs to matter.
I want to return to work—better. I want to return to my church family—better. I want to do normal, everyday life—better. But I also want the “better” to stick. I want the drawers in my house to stay sorted and organized. I want my closets to stay tidy. I want those corners of my mind to stay swept clean.
Keeping all of these things tidy is made easier by paring down. I want less junk in my heart. Holding on to less, letting go of more. Chaos is brought into order when we long for Home more than we long for the stuff that fills our home.
I’m anxiously awaiting the day that Corona has passed, but for now, it’s not going anywhere. We’re going to have to learn to live with it, masks and all. I don’t want quarantine to become a new thing with our days spent worrying about a virus, or the economy, or listening to daily updates.
I’m hopeful the next shelter at home order looks a little different. I’m thinking a mansion with a gated entry, surrounded by innumerable angels. Safe in a home that defies re-entry into this world filled with struggle. I long to be seated at my Father’s table, knowing I will never leave His side, forever sheltered at Home.
