Peace

There's a point in our church service where we pass the peace.   We stand up and greet those around us with a handshake and say "God's peace" to each other.  There are hugs with friends and a kiss to my own family.   Truth be told, it stretches me as a closet introvert.   I'm comfortable greeting those whom we sit near every Sunday but seldom do I cross the room to others.

One Sunday about three years ago I was jolted when I noticed an older man in the back of the church.  His pale yellow-pink coloring, lack of hair, and larger body frame made me think it was my dad.  My breath caught and my brain caught up with my eyes as a wave of emotion that included the always present undercurrent of loss and regret passed through me.  How many phone calls did I cut short because dad was retelling me a story from years ago, or how many weekends that I could have visited that I did not because I wanted to sleep in, or go out with friends? 

The next time I saw him, I made a point to walk his way and reach out my hand to extend the peace.  He casually took my hand and it was shocking that his skin had a familiar paper-thin, but warm feel.  As I returned to my seat with my own family, again my eyes were moist with a feeling of connection to my dad.

So, now I'm a thief.  When I see him, I make a point to shake his hand and pass the peace.   I don't know his name and while I hope he's a happy person in a happy life, I don't need to know him.   I just want to touch him, and I know I am stealing from him.  The hand I hold for those three seconds isn't his, it's my dad.  That kind grasp and minute squeeze is a hug, a stolen touch of my father across the boundaries of life and death. 

I am careful not to be overly effusive when I take from this stranger what I want.  I give him a warm smile but no bigger than the people I greet on the aisles as I make my way towards him.  I don't want to scare him or let him know that I've got ulterior motives.  When I greet him with my "Good morning, God's peace." I'm really saying "thank you".

Dad would be 81 this week.  I wonder which story he would tell me when I called him Tuesday to wish him a happy birthday.  It would be nice to hear his voice as he talked through current events,  told me I'm doing a good job of parenting, or teased us about having an electronic gadget for every need.   We won't have those conversations ever again, but I have a secret.   When things get back to normal and we can attend church in person, I get to shake his hand and carry that familiar touch in my heart.

The more things change

Summer camp is officially canceled.  I think I knew it was not going to happen this summer, but when the news came I was pretty emotional.  Lucy took it better than I did if we're honest. 

It softens the blow that we were able to change our week plans to all go to the fabulous lake house.  A week of being on the water, mini-golf, real golf (for Jason), and evenings on the patio will be delightful. 

We canceled our trip to Canada in July and rented a house at Seabrook instead.  With the borders still closed it seemed silly to hold out hope and end up with a week off and nowhere to go.   We will shelter in place in a different place. We will cook all the same meals but in a different kitchen.

The fun thing will be being at the beach, a change of scenery, and forced time away from work, home chores. Oh, and a hot tub.   Maybe the Seabrook pool will be open, and maybe I'll feel comfortable taking Lucy, but with a hot tub in our backyard we won't be forced to do it to get the waterplay in.

Our (rented) Beach House

Perspectives

The list of things I am grateful for is endless.  My partner in this mess is pretty easy to be with, and our home is comfortable enough for us to all have our own spaces to nest in when needed.   We are both working, and homeschool while not perfect is going better.

Still, I am worried, and bored and heartbroken for all that is lost and changed.  Two of my neighborhood friends were laid off this week as a direct result of all this change.  One, a cruise consultant (salesperson) and the other a property manager, both very qualified and lovely people. 

While our employment is solid, I am not eager to spend any extra money and have been putting extra into our savings each month just in case.  We're back up to where we were before I had to bail out a family member out of a mess.  Still, I worry about:

1) Food shortages 

2) Income loss for families

3) Health concerns that aren't covid related.  Will we be safe to go to the ER if needed?

4) Will Lucy's long term impacts be significant?

5) Will we lose someone close to us

6) Will this always be a politics issue?

7) That Trump will get re-elected

8) That even if he doesn't the new order of lies and deflection has hurt our country beyond repair

9) That I'll never get to hug family again

10) Vacations are a thing of the past.

and on and on and on