Last week was Spring Break for our kids, and before that time the plan was still go back to school the week following. Since then, circumstances have changed, and school might resume on April 15th. Basically, that's four weeks away from school, and we are halfway through our second week. This week the school district and teachers have been planning, and "distance learning" will officially begin next Monday.
So, we're stuck here, hesitant to leave, trying to help stop the spread of this coronavirus.
I'm trying to keep busy, encouraging my kids to make daily plans and set goals. My eight-year-old seems engaged, trying to get exercise, setting aside reading and music practice time. She has gone on walks with me every morning, completely willingly, without any begging from me.
As for my son, his bike is busted... for the one-hundredth time. He is just too dang hard on it. So he has been trying to earn money for a new bike. Spraying down the back porch, cleaning the pool, dusting blinds, vacuuming the van, dusting the tops of the shelves... Any job he can get. If he's not working, he's light-saber-fighting siths or swimming in the pool with his little sister.
My teenage girls are little more difficult to monitor and keep from wasting time. And maybe that's my fault.
I really don't see myself as a very good mom. I don't think I've ever felt differently. Heck! I have no clue what I'm doing!
I'm struggling, and depression is rearing its ugly head again.
I started to feel it again in January, as I felt like my life was on a runaway train. I was losing control with every event and activity that was dictating my schedule. I felt my agency slipping away from me. Then everything on my calendar disappeared over night. At first, I was a bit relieved, and I still am in a way, but being stuck at home, dealing with bad attitudes, feeling I'm not doing enough to help my children grow into responsible adults who have a positive influence on the world around them, is taking a toll.
I just don't feel very good about myself.
Last night after dinner I tried to get everyone to do something together, like play a game or go on a walk. Everyone ignored me, except my little one. She tried to get someone to turn off the TV, but no one would. Faces were glued to screens of some kind, so I put my shoes on and said, "Just tell everyone I'm going on a walk alone."
I can't help but feel like right now God is telling us to slow down and remember what is really important.
It was a beautiful evening, clear with a slight breeze, but warm enough to not need a jacket. I walked around the neighborhood, which is maybe a mile all the way around, then came back and set out a camping chair in the driveway. I sat alone, listening to the birds flying overhead, watching the sliver of the moon set in an amber sky while Venus lit up above me. Slowly, Orion came into view, and I just stared, searching the stars for something to comfort my soul, all while pouring my heart out to Heavenly Father.
Then Kevin came around the street corner, apparently having gone looking for me. He sat on the ground next to me while I expressed my frustration, my discouragement.
The sky continued to grow darker, and Kevin pointed out a faint satellite not far below Venus. Finding satellites is one of my favorite games while staring at the night sky. I mentioned to him that it would be a nice evening to pull out the telescope. Soon, Kevin had the telescope set up, and the kids were outside looking at Venus and the Pleiades, and counting satellites (I found 7).
After we went back in the house, we settled down for family prayer, and I sent the younger ones off to get ready for bed. Eve and I then read a couple more chapters of Holes before she went to bed.
Sadly, I realized that I have not been kind to myself, have been too harsh and judgmental. I have spoken to and about myself in a way I would never speak to, or even think about, another person. And as much as I would like to keep moving forward in my self-care journey, I can't do that when I have started back-tracking.
This time of quarantine is a lonely time. An isolating time. I need to make sure that the voice I hear in my head is one of love and gentleness and forgiveness and mercy. My words need to echo the love that Jesus Christ has for me, one He has deemed is of infinite worth.
I'm not perfect, and life isn't perfect. But I am perfectly loved. Time to start believing it.
