Rocks
On Thursday, March 12th, the day before the state “shut down” for this unprecedented Covid-19 pandemic, I walked around with a rock in my shoe. For whatever reason unknown to even myself, I never stopped to take it out despite how uncomfortable it felt. Honestly, I think I assumed it was going to work its way out of my shoe by itself. The logic in that assumption is pretty ridiculous because of several reasons, but I remember taking my shoe off in the closet that evening wondering why I had waited to remove the rock for an entire day. I also remember thinking that this seemingly insignificant event would connect itself to something much greater at a different time, but I filed it away for later. The very next day I was sent out of my classroom, out of all familiarity, and into a first-ever nationwide quarantine which would soon lead into an official stay-at-home order in Louisiana. Over the next several weeks, I would spend every waking moment with my husband and children at home, getting to know them and spending more time with them than I ever had before. At first, the “break” from work and the hectic schedule of the Spring of 2020 felt comforting. I spent the first week or so seeking the silver lining of this slower pace because I thought it would be very temporary. As you all know and experienced, the newness faded and the temporary felt much more permanent. I felt like my household had biked all the roads, executed all the picnics, fished all the fish, watched all the movies, and snacked all the snacks. Underneath it all, there was uncertainty, frustration, fear, and even a generalized feeling of lostness.
One day during a run, I felt like God was asking me to use the time more wisely, to look deeper and harder into what this awkward season could provide. It was during that run when I thought about the rock in my shoe… and about how God wanted me to figure out which rocks I had left in my shoe and to begin taking them out.
More often than not, I am too busy, spread entirely too thin, overworked, overcommitted, and without the time to take a meaningful look at the many things I do not do well and to actively work to change them. I often forget that these rocks, these things in my life, are not going to simply resolve themselves. They do not, in fact, just come out on their own. And, in this case, all I had was time! More specifically, if I was going to be spending so much of that time with my immediate family members, I knew that God wanted me to start there. If there was better communication to be had, I needed to do so. If there were kinder words I could speak, I needed to learn them. If there was a better way to show love to one of my people, I needed to learn.
The past 3 years have afforded me so many opportunities to grow in similar ways. But, the first 6 months of recovery following the accident felt eerily similar to these recent pandemic months – experiencing circumstances completely out of my control, being removed from my normal, daily life and confined to my home, a new intimacy with the people that I love and that love me, as well as the uncovering of the variety of rocks I could be removing from my life.
Today is the anniversary of that fatal accident that would forever alter both my life and the lives of so many others. I do not write as often as I wish to, but it always feels right to write on June 30th. I am certain of one thing, Tanya would have HATED the stay-at-home order and she certainly would have thought 2020 had lost its mind. But, I also know that she would have made the best of it. She would have looked for the opportunity to help others and to love her people well. She was the kind of person who would have never left a rock in her shoe.
