I’m Ready

I’ve lost count of what day of the ‘stay-at-home’ order this is.

The kids have been on Easter break and so we have had a reprieve from the schoolwork. I am truly grateful for this. In fact, the things for which I am becoming grateful are surprising. Things like shorter than usual lines to get into the grocery. Things like finding handsoap on the shelf. Things like having enough leftovers to give the kitchen a rest for a day…or two.

I’m also learning that I’m a lot more resourceful than I thought. As my sister-in-law so flawlessly stated: “By the end of this I’ll be a full-fledged chef, barber, seamstress, teacher and sanitisation specialist.”

And she’s right.

We are being called upon to do things we never dreamt we would have to do. Some of it is exhilarating. I’ve made meals that I would never have otherwise attempted because they were so easily accessible. I’ve sewn masks for loved ones and enjoyed the catharsis of running the fabric through my machine. I’ve witnessed my son squirming and giggling under the buzzing of a hair trimmer while his daddy skilfully shaved away all tell-tales of quarantine.

But some of it is downright frightening. When I think about the long term implications of lockdown and the things that we will need to do in order to drum up work to provide for those who depend on us, I feel much trepidation. When I consider that our school term will resume this week, yet the physical school building won’t be opened until at least September, I can’t help but feel that I’m way out of my league.

As I think about these new challenges, here’s what I’ve noticed: In doing new things, we have the opportunity to be intimidated by new things… and to fail at new things.

And so we may find ourselves longing for old things. Things that we know. Things that we understand. Things that we are accustomed to.

But this is ALL new.

And so, every time I try to reach for what is gone, I remind myself:

This isn’t where I should be.
But it is where I am. And so I will show up and be brave.

This isn’t what my life should look like right now.
But it is what it is. And so I will make the most of each of the moments that I have. Sometimes that looks like organisation and control. Sometimes that looks like movie marathons in pajamas. And both are completely fine.

This isn’t resignation.
This is resilience. This is adapting. This is being.

This isn’t giving up.
This isn’t giving in.
This is acceptance. Acceptance of the challenges that lie ahead. Acceptance that I will falter and learn. Acceptance that this is only for a season.

This isn’t a setback.
This is growth. And with growth, there must be grace. Because with growth, there will be failure. There will be stretching. There will be pain. And so– with growth, there must be forgiveness. There must be compassion. There must be understanding.

This isn’t what I had planned.
But I plan to make it work as best as I can, knowing that my best effort is enough. Satisfied that perfection is an illusion. Content to lead, albeit blindly, with resolve instead of cowering to the unknown.

This isn’t what I want.
But perhaps it’s what I need.

Perhaps it’s an opportunity to loosen my grip on every detail and to embrace the faith hidden deep within uncertainty.

Perhaps it’s the space to turn down the noise of distraction, delve into the depths of silence and hear the still, small voice that calls.

Perhaps it’s a chance to prove to the critic within that showing up exactly where I am is far better than berating myself for not being where I think I should be.

This isn’t ideal.
But it won’t break me. It won’t stop me.

This isn’t something I’ve prepared for.
But I’m ready.
Not because I know what I’m doing. But because I’m ready to grow. I’m ready to falter. I’m ready to learn. And I’m ready to keep going.