Over at the National Catholic Register Today

The goal is to keep writing, keep churning through even when I don't feel it.  It's why I'm happy to report, I have a piece over at the National Catholic Register.  It's Now is the Time to Embrace the Mass even if it's on TV.

So today, I'm praying my way through the crisis as we begin the STAY at HOME part of this pandemic.    The rosary is a favorite means for me to do a litany of sorts, of petitions.

Because no one wants to be here...waiting...fearing illness.  Hail Mary.
Because no one wants to be sick and alone.  Hail Mary.
Because no one wants to be the one who keeps a mother from her child or a husband from his wife, or force an elderly person to die without the comfort of a hand holding them.  Hail Mary.
Because people fear what is next.  Hail Mary.
Because people long for a return of normal.  Hail Mary.
Because people worry they will fall into bad habits while home. Hail Mary.
Becuase people will lose their jobs. Hail Mary.
Because people worry about having to choose between going to work/paying bills and exposing their family.  Hail Mary. 
Because we miss commuity.  Hail Mary. 

Because people struggle with anxiety.  Hail Mary.
Because people struggle with underlying conditions.  Hail Mary.
Because people lack a means to pay for medical attention. Hail Mary.
Because Medical Staff are overwhelmed and overworked.  Hail Mary.
Because people worry about the unknown want.  Hail Mary.
Because school is stop gapped and people worry about what will happen next. Hail Mary.
Because people don't know they're contagious. Hail Mary.
Because people will blame each other if they get sick. Hail Mary.
Because some people will die from this virus.  Hail Mary.
Because some people will live through it with scars.  Hail Mary.

Because people miss parties.  Hail Mary.
Because people will miss graduations. Hail Mary,
Because people will miss trips.  Hail Mary.
Because people will miss lessons.  Hail Mary.
Because people will miss boyfriends and girlfriends.  Hail Mary.
Because people will miss Aunts and Uncles and cousins.  Hail Mary.
Because people will miss Grandparents.  Hail Mary.
Because people will miss friends, all the friends from the ordinary encounters of life.  Hail Mary.
Because people will miss families. 
Because people will miss priests and sisters and deacons and others who minister to them spiritually.

Because people miss going places. Hail Mary.
Because people worry about needing to get things.  Hail Mary.
Because every ache and cough and sniffle makes us nervous. Hail Mary.
Because we cannot clean enough.  Hail Mary.
Because all the days bleed into each other.  Hail Mary.
Because no one seems to have a handle on how to make it stop being impossibly hard. Hail Mary.
Because no one knows how long this will last. Hail Mary. 
Because we're used to having so much more liberty. Hail Mary.
Because we cannot play together or cheer for a team together, or go to a concert or a museum together.  Hail Mary. 
Because it's harder to recognize Sunday. Hail Mary. 

For all those who are sick with this virus. Hail Mary.
For all those who care for them. Hail Mary.
For all those who can't care for them. Hail Mary.
For all who await testing.  Hail Mary.
For all who want testing and can't get it.  Hail Mary.
For all who are called into service. Hail Mary. 
For all who shelter in place.  Hail Mary.
For all who need to shelter in place. Hail Mary.
For all who don't believe this is real.  Hail Mary.
For all paralyzed by the reality of it.  Hail Mary.

For all who miss the Eucharist, and all the sacraments we've grown so accustomed to receiving as needed, when wanted, because we want it, we now get to be like the apostles and disciples of the Early Church, who knew the experience of being in Christ's presence, and now had to go out and tell the world about who they'd met, and what meeting Him meant. 

Fighting the Virus of Mental Fatigue

Yesterday, I sat with the hardness of this pandemic. 

Today, I'm doing something. 

I conferenced with my colleague.  I called my mom.  We made a plan for getting some necessary fun equipment to make the stay at home orders bearable.   We went for a walk.  We read the rules for maintaining mental health while eating pizza, treated by my son. 

I read.  I watched funny videos, and encouraged two people who seemed down. 

And the day felt normal. Better. 

Three students reached out and I gave them assignments they needed to complete. 

The day felt better. Brighter.

I dusted off my blog. 

So what did I learn?

Every day...walk. 
Every day...talk.
Every day...work.
Every day ...laugh.
Every day rest.
Every day make the best.

Every day...play.
Every day...pray.
Every day...create.
Every day...relate.
Every day...read.
Every day we do all of this, we succeed. 

Normally Happy

I am generally predisposed to be positive, and as a friend says, I have natural prozac in my veins.

Right now, while I'm healthy, I do not think I am not doing well.  I'm angry. I'm scared. I'm easily annoyed and even more easily moved to tears. My heart is on my sleeve and fearful it's going to be broken.  It is breaking every day.  The news terrifies, and the visits to the store (sort of necessary for the things of ordinary life) leaves me frustrated and fearful, because every time one of us goes out, the clock of contagion restarts.  Can we make it the 14 days...more? Fourteen after that? What about after that? 

Vacillating between wanting everyone to hunker down, and wanting somehow to go out, I'm still here.  I also want people to live. So we stay, and take walks, long walks.   It is on the walks, that somewhere we articulate the real feeling everyone has, "I am not okay."  Not because of sickness or anything, but because this time, this place, this everything, is not okay.   There isn't a spin, there's a we're going to get through this, one day at a time, one moment at a time.  However, the not okayness is a constant because one needs a floor for okayness, and we haven't yet seen the bottom.  We are all still falling. There's not a stopping point to it, and that's what makes me anxious.

I'm going to have to be okay with this not okayness, and that means at least admitting somewhere, this is hard hard hard hard hard hard hard hard hard hard hard hard hard hard hard. 

Sure, we are making bread.  We;re watching the mass.  I'm reading. I'm writing.  I'm praying. My family is here, and we are together.  All blessings abound. It's all true.  It's also true, we live knowing, we are not done falling, and that's scary.   That's what scares me.

Also, I miss people. I miss doing. I miss the ordinary of only two weeks ago.   Part of it is grieving what isn't.  Part of it is letting go of wanting the switch to flip and normal to return.   Part of it is a pity party I'm sure, and part of it is fear.  It's a bad cocktail of wants that can't be answered. 
The difference between surviving and thriving in this, will be persistence and leaning on each other spiritually, and deliberately choosing to count blessings rather than fears. 

Pray for me and mine, hunker down, stay safe, stay kind, stay clean, stay hopeful.  Know I'm praying for all of you and yours. Pray for me too.