Quarantine Diary: Minutes

Give it a minute. Before this is over, you’ll be changed.

I’m reading the words all over the place: What are you excited to do when this is over? What do you miss since being quarantined? 

My first thought was how excited I am to hug the people I love. All of them. And hugging people is not my first instinct. I think when this is over, it will be.

That’s a change, isn’t it?

I haven’t been able to go on walks with my family because I’m recovering still from surgery. However, like the rest of us, I have had an inordinate amount of time to look outside my window. Many people go on walks by our house every day. In fact, some go by every day, and I have begun to recognize them. My introversion keeps me from bounding out the door to wave hello, but I am quickly becoming familiar with the people that live around me.

That’s a change, isn’t it?

It has been an interesting phenomenon to see in my own life how convinced I become that being the Church means going. It often means leaving, being neighborly with people who are geographically not my neighbors (yet still are, don’t get me wrong). I am conveniently blinded because often I am not here.

Quarantine is an eye-opener. And that is changing me.

I know we are longing for the world to return to normal. Who knows how long it will take for normalcy to return. When it does, I don’t think it will be the normal we remember. It will be scarred by the memories of all of us secluding ourselves, washing our hands, seeing so many without jobs. Normal will be different. As much I want a return to what was, I think is significantly important to recognize that the change this has on our lives is probably one that can be for the better of our souls.

What a discomfort it is to change ourselves. Against the nature of our commonly held routines, we have been asked to step inside for the sake of others. If it doesn’t change you, I’m sorry. It should. We are far too self-absorbed to hope for the world to return to the way it once was. To forget that we are learning to care for others? What a tragedy.

Before this is over, something new has been started. And frankly, this all might be too much change for any of us to bear. The grief of it weighs on me daily. But if we never change, never learn? It would be a loss to not soak in this gaping seclusion and find an opportunity to learn new ways to be. New ways to see others. New ways to be the Church without ever leaving our doorstep. What might seem like a hindrance in your purpose or mission given to you is meant to provide you the opportunity to creatively live out exactly who you’ve always been.

That’s a change, isn’t it?