Last week our pastor encouraged us to focus on four things: people, purpose, sadness and gladness. All four things are important, especially in a time of crisis, but the sadness and gladness part really resonated with me (and I also liked that it rhymed).
This week, sadness has been winning at our house. I tried to fight it, but when I fell on the sidewalk during my Monday morning run, I surrendered. In an effort to improve myself during our quarantine, I decided to extend my running route. About 20 yards into my new route, I fell nose first on the concrete. As I sat there surveying my scrapes, I wanted to cry so badly but I couldn’t, so I dusted myself off and ran home.
A little later, I saw that John Prine had been diagnosed with COVID-19, so I pulled up a performance for Hello in There, one of the most beautiful songs ever written. As Prine sang of old trees growing stronger, rivers growing wilder and old people growing lonesome, I lost it. The tears wouldn’t stop as I grieved my mother, my dad being alone, my kids missing school and so much more.
I suppose I can look at this as my official kickoff to sadness week, and that’s okay because I’m giving myself permission to let that happen. My kids miss going to school and seeing their friends. I miss working out with my friends, going to church and my dad coming over for dinner. My husband misses his normal work/home separation, big band rehearsals and being able to visit with his parents down the street. And we all miss the ability to eat a pizza in a restaurant — with other people sitting less than six feet away from us.
It’s easy to feel guilty while grieving these things when so many people are dealing with so much worse. When we first began making lifestyle changes due to the coronavirus, I’d glance at my sadness but quickly turn my mind to people in Italy or New York. How can I be sad when I’ve been ordered to hang out in my nice house, where my kids can learn and I can work? How can I be sad when I have books, food and Netflix (love Dolly Parton’s Heartstrings!)? How can I be sad when the birds still sing and the azaleas still bloom?
The answer is simple. Loss is loss. We’re all dealing with individual losses, as well as collective ones. Sure, there are different levels, but they’re all losses that result in an uneasy feeling that’s challenging to soothe. So this week, I’m embracing my losses and my sadness so that I can move ahead with helping others and recognizing my gladness.
Whether through silence, music, prayer, walking or reading, I’m giving myself time to heal so I can be strong for my family and whoever else might need me. It’s only Wednesday, and I’m feeling better. Maybe by Friday I’ll be ready to move on to gladness because there is so much to be glad about once you clear a pathway for it.