Welcome May + a Newsletter Invitation
Below is a transcription of my most recent newsletter sent last week. I am including it here along with an invitation for you to subscribe.
Dear Friend,
Not long after I sent my last letter here, everything started to change. In that message, I shared Cheryl Strayed’s quote: “Let yourself be gutted. Let it open you. Start here.” Little did I know then what was about to come.
Sometimes God prepares us for things that we can not yet imagine. Sometimes we are tested and strengthened and we do not why. In the moments before a major change everything feels the same, and then something shifts irrevocably and forever.
So much has been said on the topic of the pandemic. I have no desire to add to the choir. I’ve shared my thoughts along the way at the beginning here and more recently here. Then, a week ago, my perspective shifted when my entire immediate family–my mother, father, and sister–tested positive for the virus. They are still fighting to recover.
A raging storm is one thing from a distance, and another thing entirely when it reaches your front door. My thoughts have remained the same throughout this ordeal. I believe that people should be cautious, thoughtful and responsible. The virus is serious, I’ve known this from the beginning because we live in one of the places hardest hit in the entire world. And more because my mother works in a hospital, so early on as bodies started piling up, we saw firsthand the devastation that was to come.
I have already lost people who I considered family to this virus. I suppose it is needless for me to explain how it makes me feel to see people not taking it seriously, to see people protesting in the streets claiming that the virus is not real, or an invention of the media. I can only say that it must be nice to be untouched by loss. Like so many things in life–ignorance is bliss.
But as for me, like so many of us now, I am already carrying too much on my shoulders and so I don’t take on anymore. Instead I close my eyes and whisper, “Forgive them Father, for they know not what they do.” And that has to be enough.
Learning when to fight and when to let go is the very definition of strength.
And in spite of all of this, spring has arrived. Here in our little corner of the world, the earth is awash in a hundred shades of pink. The trees blossom and the baby birds chirp from their nests and the sun comes out warm and little green things pop up from every stretch of ground imaginable. And I am reminded that life goes on, that we do not grow when we are comfortable.
Months ago I started seeds in little pots. Today they are green, climbing, growing new leaves daily, and reaching for the sun. In a short time, I will move them into our garden. By the grace of God, come summer, I will bear witness to the most magic display of nature once more as our garden–cold and barren just months ago–explodes into a rainbow of abundance and bears fruit.
More than anything else, when the days are trying, I turn to nature and I find hope there, over and over again.
As for life around here, well, many things are the same but a lot has changed too. We’ve just learned this afternoon that the children will not return to school this year. I suppose that somewhere inside I knew that was inevitable, but it still hit me painfully. I never imagined that 2020 would have looked this way, but sometimes it is in the most unexpected of outcomes that we find the most beautiful growth.
I have so much more to say and to share, sweet friends. But just now the sun is peeking out from behind the clouds and the birds are calling me to get outside. I promise that I will not let so much time pass before I write again.
Wherever you are right now, please know that you are loved. Be safe and well until we meet again. xo
This spring, I’ll be expanding my free newsletter to include new resources and sections that will not be shared anywhere else. If you are not yet subscribed and would like to receive it, click here to subscribe.