As I began to thaw out at the end of The Big Chill of ’21, I started thinking about the fact that this was one more hurdle that seems to be keeping me from getting on with my life. There is a next chapter awaiting me. Lines I need to start writing in the story that will go on.
“Have you noticed that only in time of illness or disaster or death are people real?” ― The Moviegoer
I don’t think the hurdles in my way are really all that personal. My wife passed away to heaven after a four year battle with stage 4 breast cancer. It ultimately traveled to her brain. That’s what finally stopped her. People deal with struggle and loss every single day. This happened in the Fall – in the Spring, the COVID-19 virus arrived.
At Spring Break ’20, college students across the country were sent home and learning was converted to a remote model. That took a lot of fancy footwork on the part of instructors and students, all the while trying to learn difficult subjects. Undergraduate students struggle with online learning, period. We continue to work hard to try and figure out the best ways to make this work for everyone involved. It’s now a year later.
I spent the summer doing a lot of baby-sitting. My daughter was doing much of her work remotely from home. That’s tough with a two-year old on the loose. I was able to spend much more time with them, keeping him busy. Little did I know then how precious those days would become. They told me in July that careers were forcing a move to Dallas at the end of that Summer.
Losing part of your support system can be a monumental obstacle that slows down the move forward. It will be done – but at a different speed. Without people near, it’s hard to always know for certain which direction is the right one. Loved ones give us reinforcement and feedback, most of the time without even realizing it.
“Give feedforward not feedback.” ―
Once this Fall of 2020 arrived, college life was following a full pandemic script. Everyone was learning their lines as best they could. It was still reasonably new territory for students, faculty and administrators alike. The delivery of instruction was still being reinvented, learning from mistakes and fixing as we plunged forward. Helping students figure out all the pitfalls was a significant priority.
Spring arrived and we kept learning what works better and what doesn’t. The Christmas break had been spent making major adjustments to courses and getting new ones ready. And then the fifth week came and with it a brutal winter storm. We closed up shop for the whole week. Who would have thought the most advanced civilization in the history of the world couldn’t turn their heaters on when it got cold outside?
All of these twists and turns in the road have kept me busy. Notice I am using the word “busy.” I keep learning and try to help others stay ahead of the tidal waves. When I think about it all (and I’m not really doing that enough), what’s got me frustrated is not knowing how to start working on my next chapter – because there seems to be something new on fire to put out every time I turn around.
After each tumultuous event arrives and we all figure out a way to ride it out – something else seems to be arriving on the next flight. I don’t want to admit that this is my new normal.
“So it’s true, when all is said and done, grief is the price we pay for love.” ―
I also wonder if I’ve spent enough time resting in a normal flow of life so that I could grieve. Then I think about the bigger picture and how people have always had to deal with death and disaster, mostly without the luxury of time to process it all. When the barbarians invade, there’s no time to see a counselor.
Is this just impatience? Fear always scratching at my door about so many uncertainties, especially when I start doing the math and counting the number of arrows left in my quiver. I’m starting to fall apart. Will I really be able to make it into this next chapter, whatever that’s going to look like?
“And I realized that there’s a big difference between deciding to leave and knowing where to go.” ―
To be perfectly honest, God has been carrying me along, it’s been clear to me, during all of this year (and even way back, as I reflect). It makes me think about my worries and how unfounded they really are. Maybe I need to think bigger about all of this?
I started to think about all of these obstacles to my moving forward a few weeks before the great freeze last week. As Texas thaws out from the great Valentine’s Day Ice Storm, I’m also experiencing some clearing in the weather between my ears. Right now, halfway through the writing of this post, I have changed my view and my frustration.
What if waiting for life to get back to normal isn’t realistic?
What’s normal supposed to be?
What if today is all that’s for certain?
Teach us how short our lives really are so that we may be wise. – Psalm 90:12
So, instead of focusing my attention (and frustration) on waiting for all of these obstacles to go away so I can start to figure out how I’m going to live my new normal life – the real life I should be trying to live is the one that’s right here in front of me. There is no tomorrow. There is just today. Sorry to sound like a hippie. But I can honestly report, I am missing out on too much here and now because I’m waiting for an imaginary bus to arrive.
“You must live in the present, launch yourself on every wave, find your eternity in each moment. Fools stand on their island of opportunities and look toward another land. There is no other land; there is no other life but this.” ― Henry David Thoreau
I’m going to start turning the pages right now, instead of waiting. I’m going to invent my routines so that they lead me through the current semester. The main objective is to be as people focused as I can. The one thing I am more acutely aware of is that there is much more uncertainty, pain and struggle. I need to do what I can to help – just today, with who is in my path, as little or as much.
“In magic – and in life – there is only the present moment, the now. You can’t measure time the way you measure the distance between two points. ‘Time’ doesn’t pass. We human beings have enormous difficulty in focusing on the present; we’re always thinking about what we did, about how we could have done it better, about the consequences of our actions, and about why we didn’t act as we should have. Or else we think about the future, about what we’re going to do tomorrow, what precautions we should take, what dangers await us around the next corner, how to avoid what we don’t want and how to get what we have always dreamed of.” ― Paulo Coelho
2 thoughts on “After the Thaw”
I read your blog because my wife may be in the same situation as your was. So, no pressure, but I sort of think of you as my forerunner. I like the moves you are making. Be encouraged, and go back and read the story of the Ebenezer monument. “Thus far has the Lord brought me”
A permanent reminder – what do we do these days that’s similar? The human condition of forgetfulness remains – got any ideas? This reference is a great reminder, thank you!