Can I share what may be an unpopular opinion, that may cause some, especially my extroverted friends, to respond with, “You shut your dirty mouth!”?

I’m not necessarily eager for quarantine to end.

Over the past several days, I have been picking back up my planner, which I use more as a journal, and filling in the blanks from the past several weeks, documenting what we’ve done and how we’ve been feeling. But first I had to fill in the couple of weeks before quarantine, because I had not been doing a great job keeping up even before I had nothing to write in the blanks.

And as I filled in just those two weeks, I was amazed – first at how many experiences we were able to encounter just before we couldn’t go anywhere – many of them out of the normal. In just those two weeks, the kids had Lego Club at the library, their two-day-a-month supplemental homeschool class, PE at the Y, dance classes and music lessons and church activities. I was taking a Greek class and teaching a Greek class, went to see a theater production with my sister-in-law, took the kids for a day at the art museum and a picnic in the City, took the youngest to the beauty college and the children’s museum for her birthday, went to visit my mother-in-law and, later, a friend for good conversations, took the kids to Braum’s to use reading certificates they’d earned, and drove to Dallas twice. As a family we celebrated the littlest’s birthday, went to the movie theater TWICE (super rare for us) and went to a comic convention. I mean, in two weeks, that was our life. And I can point to so many things on that list that are out of the normal for us, and I’m so glad we got to have those moments in prepartion for a season of still-ness, but on the other hand, I look at that list (missing so many other things, still) and I realize, no wonder I was so stinking exhausted!

Because this is what life has become. An endless running from one place to the next, one activity to the next, squeezing in home life and home maintenance and schoolwork (for both them and me) in between all the crazy of our calendar. As previously mentioned, when we cut out TV, it was easy to look around and realize, “How did we even have time for this?!” When I wanted to watch the sunset with my family, I had to literally put it on my calendar a week in advance because we didn’t have any room in our schedule to do it on a whim. In a year when I was striving to make the most of the white space, white space was still so very rare.

I began in February to write it all out. Because my emotions from this oppresive schedule were so overwhelming they were pouring out everywhere and I needed to get them out on paper so they would stop spilling on to those around me. I wrote this:

And I just feel like it. won’t. stop. And rest will never come and there are things I want/need to do – and when will that happen? When will I homework or blog or write something I want to or create something I’ve been envisioning.

It just doesn’t STOP.

All of life just keeps heading at breakneck speed like a runaway horse and I’ve fallen off the saddle, but just being dragged along and I can’t get myself back up, so it’s a matter of just not letting go, so that my hands are bleeding from the reins and my body is torn apart, but I can’t let go.

And it just won’t stop.

And meanwhile the kids are in the carriage being pulled by this runaway horse, asking where we’re going and when and all the questions, somehow thinking I’m driving this thing (though not well enough) and not seeing that I’m barely holding on. So I scream at them, but not because they’ve been bad or wrong, but just because I can’t focus on holding on to these reins and pulling myself up AND all the things they need from me.

And where is my white space?

I wanted to focus on white space but I don’t see any – anywhere. It’s all so much and so full and I just need it to slow. the. [heck]. down.

February 13, 2020

And then there was a break – a few days later, I was feeling ok, but then this:

So, I broke again. I can be going, going, going, putting one foot in front of the other – just keep swimming. But if I stop for a moment and look at the vast ocean around me, I suddenly feel like I’m drowning. . . .

What I need is actual help and time and energy. It feels like I can’t find time – like I go, go, go and then sleep and then go, go, go. It just isn’t stopping. When will it stop?

Where is my white space?

February 21, 2020

And finally . . .

I’m beginning to feel a little less like I’m drowning and a little more like I’m wading, or, rather, slogging through every day. Or, rather, maybe caught in a river – not rapids, like I’m overtaken, but moving at a speed so I can’t catch my footing. . . .

I end each day feeling like I at least maintained the status quo – the kitchen got mostly cleaned and everyone was fed and is still relatively happy, or at least alive, but I can’t get ahead, because how do you stand up and get ahead of a current that is carrying you forward – like the only reason I’m moving at all is because I don’t have a choice. The sun is rising and it’s setting and it’s not asking me how I feel about it.

March 10, 2020

And then we were told to stay home. And I had nothing but time. And I breathed a complete sigh of relief. I know for so many, taking things off the calendar was heart-breaking – weddings and birthday parties and graduations – those are devastating to take an eraser to. And, yes, I was heartbroken when I realized we’d miss seeing Hamilton (but seriously, guys. Hamilton. Those tickets sit sad in their envelope). But, mostly? It was relief. It was freeing to realize all the expectations were being released. I was free to sit and to be.

I mean, not literally, because I’m still a mom. So there is still loud and there is still chaos and there is still not getting to use my own brain for more than 30 seconds at a time and there are still to-do lists left undone at the end of the day. But, much like I felt when the TV was turned off, I think back on life before quarantine and I look at the crazy chaos that still happens in this homeschool house and I wonder, “How did I even have time for all of that?!” In days that are still so full of parenting and schoolwork and housework and reading and snuggles and the kids running wild outside and homework and projects that I need to get done for me and for others, with emotions that still run big, but are having space to be processed, how will I be able to put other things back into the middle of this? How will I squeeze them in?

Suddenly, home and family are on the front burners and the thought of shifting them back again just overwhelms my spirit. I’ve been told that it’s ok to be in survival mode in this time, because this is an unprecendented time for humanity. All of us are figuring this out. But, honestly, I was in survival mode BEFORE all of this hit. My entire life was day after day after day of survival mode. And this? This space in my calendar? It’s breath. It’s the CPR I needed to wake up and breathe on my own again. It’s the time I needed to look around at my home and my family and say, what isn’t working? What can we fix? Where can we establish routines NOW that will build roots for the future so we can actually be firmly planted – a tree by streams of water (Psalm 1), rather than being carried by the rushing waters?

This is our season to grow and establish and breathe. This current of time and busy has slowed enough so that I can stand up and take in my surroundings and wade to those who have been rushed along beside me and just give them a hug and climb out of this river, so we can plant ourselves.

So, no, I’m not eager for quarantine to end. I’m not eager to load up the car at least once a day to go to all the places and do all the things and to fulfill obligations from committees and teams and ministries. I don’t want to go back.

I want a new normal. One of white space and peace and room for the kids to run and imagine together and for bedtime stories and for snuggles and for working out conflicts and emotions and recognizing these are my people and they deserve my best and not my leftovers. I want a normal where we are firmly planted and we are bearing fruit in season and our leaves are not withering.

Because the gospel is important and ministry is important, but as a mom, that needs to happen first at home before it can extend out. I’m not in the position to minister to others when I’m drowning or barely holding on. So, right now, I’m going to continue to relish what I’ve been given – this white space, this breath – and worry not for the future. And we’ll follow God’s leading as far as where to go with our calendar when the world opens back up.