Transformation

11 weeks ago, when the world came to a stop, we were under a foot of snow.  The temperature was below zero as I huddled in my basement, setting up a makeshift office with the heater blasting beside me.  We had winter boots at the door, and parkas hanging on the hooks.  I went for my daily walk bundled in a toque and scarf and crunched along in the snow.  

11 weeks have gone by.

Today the sun shone and the heat blared a 25 degree warmth.  We had our first play at the lake, the kids in swimsuits, wading in the water, while I sat nearby in shorts and a tank top.  The grass is green, the leaves are full on the aspens, and the smell of lilacs and cherry blossoms is in the air.  

11 weeks of transformation in the world around us.

11 weeks of transformation in us.

Today I sat back and acknowledged, for the first time, the change that has occurred in myself.  

I didn’t expect it to happen.  At the start of this pandemic, there was so much crisis, so much fear, so much uncertainty.  I found myself flailing in anxiety, consumed by all that was going on, unable to know where to land.  I fumbled through the motions.  In a grasp to control, I set up homeschool, gung-ho on day number 1.  I rushed, frazzled, through the weeks, adjusting to a new norm of work, setting  up assignments for the kids, cooking, cleaning, cooking again, stressing over the housework that never could get done, even though we are home all the time.  

I reached out to friends at first, longing to validate the feelings that I had, and to hear that I was not alone.  And then I found that reaching out was too much to handle.  All week I sat, comforting people, guiding people, walking through some of the heaviest situations I have encountered as a counsellor… grief, loss, thoughts of suicide, paralyzing anxiety, brokenhearted relationships.  It was too much.  It is too much.  So I pulled away, self-preserving by just getting through my days, so that I could get outside, go for a walk or run, and come home to ground myself through time with my family, and time in my home, my precious space. 

And then came spring.  

With the shift of the season, and the warmth of the sun, and the plants coming to life, part of my has come alive anew too. It’s not quite the same as before.  At the core, yes, I am the same.  But some softening and some growing, and some maturity is there, that just was not before.  This experience, this pandemic (so far), has shifted something deep within.  I am guessing that is true for us all.  

I speak to so many clients, who have weathered through this storm, and all say the same thing: Being at home, with my family, has been a gift.  They say that before this happened, we were all rushing to and fro, with not much purpose except to keep up with some self-imposed version of life we thought we had to live.  Now, we are taking the time for self-care.  Families are eating dinner together.  Kids are playing in the backyard while the parents sit together and talk.  Couples are renewing their relationships.  I know this is not the only experience going on right now, but this is one that I hear time and time again.   It is something so simple, and yet so powerful to witness.  

For me, I am no longer filled with the same anxious energy I had before.  It’s still there, and it rears its head when I am overtired, and overwhelmed, and not filled up or restored.  My job is hard, and draining, but it again provides meaning.  I am thankful to contribute, thankful to help.  I am finding ways to be sustained, to dig deep into the well, so that even through a global crisis, I can feel peace.  I can feel joy.  I can feel content.  It isn’t even all that groundbreaking.  I seek God, as best as I can at the start of the day.  I fill my body with healthy food and drink.  I get outside and move my body.  I pause and pay attention to the sounds of the birds, and the taste of my coffee and the smell of the flowers, and I give thanks.  I treasure the time I have with those whom I love.  I write.  I call people when I need to.  I rest well.  I do these things not out of selfishness, but out of necessity.  They are my breath, my life, my sustenance to keep going. 

11 weeks of crisis.  11 weeks of transformation.