Since the blog is my own scrapbook, I thought that I wanted to record some of the surreal facts we've been living with for the past 3 weeks.
On Thursday morning, March 12, I was teaching when my phone blew up with texts that Ella's Robotics team was headed home 3 days early after their big Central Valley Regional competition, that they had arrived at just the night before, was cancelled. This was the first that COVID-19 touched us personally and it was a major blow. For us, it was kind of the first domino.
The next day, our church girls group was slated to head to the hills for our annual camp for the weekend. All the area pastors and club coordinators met to discuss cancelling and decided to go ahead with it, as long as extreme safety measures were taken. Our coordinator, Erin, carried a tub of Chlorox wipes around the entire weekend. We laughed a lot about the absurdity of it all. We shared face-to-face fellowship and worship up at camp-- something that would end up being a major gift, as the life we returned to was quite altered. It was up at camp where we learned school was being cancelled the following Monday for two weeks. We comforted a lot of emotional girls.
Our church tried to run its first live streamed service the Sunday we were up at camp. It remained open for congregation members to come, but they were encouraged not to. All children's ministries, greeting times, and fellowship were cancelled. My whole newsfeed that Sunday was full of people posting about the novelty of attending church at home.
I attended a meeting at school the next Monday for all the staff, where our questions were answered and where plans started getting laid for the possibility of this all lasting more than 2 weeks. It would be the last time I saw my co-workers. Though many of them I still talk to every day.
School's closing did last more than 2 weeks. And over the course of those 2 weeks, our world changed. We were told to "social distance", a term never used before that has become a major part of our lexicon. Stores let in just a few people at time, creating long lines outside the doors. Signs reminded us to stay 6 feet away from each other.
Non-essential stores and businesses were required to close. My friend who runs our local donut shop expressed fear that her shop was her only income. Another friend, who runs our local home goods store, is staying alive by taking online orders and driving to people's houses to drop them on doorstops.
We made a crazy "Corona Fun" to-do list for our weeks off school, but quickly had to disregard it as parks, trails, beaches, and zoos locked up.
Concerts, tours, plays, and all sporting events were cancelled. No Hamilton in San Francisco for the VMs to enjoy (Ella's early birthday present and our big Spring Break plans).
My friend texted to cancel the wedding shower she was throwing for her future daughter-in-law. We're praying the wedding can still happen this summer. Another friend is burying her father without a funeral, and without even being there because she cannot travel out of state.
Our church has moved 100% online. All services are pre-recorded on Friday and air on Sunday. All Council and youth group meetings now happen over Zoom. Dave hosts a live prayer meeting each Wednesday. He's trying hard to figure out how to creatively lead a Good Friday Communion Service. Our far away families are able to join us for church each Sunday for the first time ever.
We were first told no gatherings of 500 or more, then it switched to 50, then 10, it is now 5 or more.
We aren't supposed to socialize with anyone outside of our homes. A sweet friend stopped by to drop off a gift of fruit and meat for us yesterday, how I longed to visit with her. Instead we had a quick conversation, separated by a ridiculous amount of space-- me in my door frame, her on my lawn.
There is a shortage of masks, gowns, and gloves for our front-line workers. There is a shortage of ventilators for the critically ill. My sister, who works in a private surgery center, but who has ICU and ER experience, is wrestling with if she should jump in and help. I'm reading and hearing the harrowing tales of our nurses and I'm honestly terrified for her to put herself in danger.
Panic buying sets in and we have no toilet paper, no disinfecting supplies, no paper towels, no hand sanitizer, no flour, no bread, or other dry/canned food. Shelves are eerily bare. Target.com has been a lifesaver delivering everything from guinea pig food to laundry detergent right to our door (and some fun stuff too-- like purple hair dye, because why not?)
My social media is full of funny memes, trying to keep the scary situation light. We mourn and pray for those with deep losses-- friends whose parents tested positive, or whose parents they can no longer see for their own safety; friends who are let go from their work; friends going through chemo with compromised immune systems; friends moving and being robbed of closure; impoverished children without school meals; dysfunctional families trapped under the same roof with no escape; the list is ever growing. But, we have found plenty to laugh about too in these strange days, our human way to not be crushed under the immense burden of this.
Every day my kids do school from home. They log onto their laptops around 8:30, Delia at the desk in the study, Ella at the desk in her room. Distance learning has been pretty positive for them. Their teachers send a devotion to start each day with. They keep in touch with their friends. Ella actually said, "I might be learning more this way, Mom!" Being highly self-motivated, she was kind of built for home school. Delia's dance teacher wins my undying appreciation for leading dance classes on Zoom. The kids roller blade and walk the dog and do yard work for PE credit. My friends who teach are struggling to balance homeschooling their own kids with re-imagining and reinventing all their lesson plans for a completely new platform each week. It's SO much, with such a steep learning curve. Nurses and teachers will be our heroes when all this is over.
I miss my own students like crazy. I popped into my classroom to pick up some stuff and saw my last lesson on the white board, the pieces I'd prepped for my projects all laid out on the counter, and my calendar frozen on March 13. A deep wave of sadness hit me. I grieve all the fun plans I am not able to teach right now. I started a Facebook Messenger group for the moms of my students and send them videos of Bible stories and devotions. I pray with them. I email at-home modifications of my lesson plans each week. Every day our administrator posts a video on the school's FB page of one of our teachers reading or singing. Every day, I hear from my kids in the form of videos or pictures their families send of them learning at home. This delights me.
Our world continues to groan, but respond in cool ways too. Manufacturers, distilleries, and other businesses switch their lines to help make visors, masks, hand sanitizer and PPE. The government closes the border to all non-essential travel. Stadiums and recreation facilities open up for the overflow of Covid-19 patients in New York. Press conferences are held daily. City streets and roads are deserted. People are wearing masks and gloves in public. Essential service workers are terrified to go to work. Medical field workers are afraid to go home to their families. There are 1,000,000 applications for Employment Insurance as people go without work.
This is our reality right now. It's worth recording because it's history. We know there are many ways the world will never be the same. But, we continue to put our trust in the Lord and choose faith over fear.
