Interesting times.
Unprecedented times.
In late January during a team meeting, my boss and one of my closest colleagues (the director of infection prevention) were talking about coronavirus and whether or not we should begin preparing. Earlier this year, our system had a case of Measles and it had taken over all our lives for several weeks and we were just now starting to feel recovered. He said, "we can start worrying about it when it makes its way to this hemisphere." And the next day it did. Rapidly, since then, the disease has spread around the world and crept into the USA in February. The system I work for has had an incident command system open for about 2 weeks now, and we publicized our first positive cases today. I've been at the command center assisting for most of that time and it's been a mixture of emotions, as is usually true with my work as director of patient safety. There's no doubt that this and other safety catastrophes provide a wonderful career opportunity for me from a professional development standpoint; and I'm thankful for that. But, there's also a mixture of sadness, anxiety and even disbelief, all of which can be exhausting. Scientifically, the spread of a novel virus is also fascinating. As is always the case, we are not in control. We aren't in control of this virus, or its spread, or the toll that it will undoubtedly take on our communities. And the challenge of predicting how it will spread, when it will spike, and when we ought to deploy which tactics to slow and mitigate it's impact are also both fascinating and exhausting. I'm not usually the type to overthink things but even I have to admit that during these times it's easier said than done.
Being the year 2020 and all, I had been thinking about a mantra for the year and had decided on "be bright." This came to me in early January and I really liked the idea. To me, it meant both be bright as in smart, clever, engaging; use my talents to the best of my ability. Read, be intellectual, be bright. And also be bright as in shine the light, be a force for good in a world that seems so complex and scary so much of the time. Optimism has always come easy for me and I thought I could really make a difference in my sphere by "being bright." That sounded like a good plan.
Only a few weeks into the year, I began thinking while out on my walks with the dogs or drives to work that although I wanted this year to be the year of "being bright," that I wasn't going to get my way. Instead, this would be the year of "leaning into hard things." "Ugh, God, this is not what I had planned," I told him. I don't really know if I want to do this. Leaning into hard things, for me, was becoming more and more apparently necessary at work and in other ways too. At work, I'd been nominated to lead the Health Equity sub-council and again, this was a wonderful opportunity for professional development, but one that would take a tremendous amount of energy, both tangible and emotional. Not having a degree in sociology or public health, in addition to being a upper class white woman left me feeling under-qualified. Currently "reading" White Fragility has brought clarity to how I feel and is certainly educating me quickly in this arena.
Leaning into hard things also means pulling my head out of the sand on politics. I still don't like them and don't think I ever will, but I've been waking up to the fact that by denying things or staying out of the discussion, I'm taking advantage of my privilege and not advocating for those who need and deserve support. For me, leaning into hard things meant changing my political party from republican to democrat because I've become so disgusted for what the republican party seems to stand for these days. In my opinion, they've deeply damaged what it means to be a Christian and a conservative in the public eye. I won't be one of those Christians; and that means I can't keep my head in the sand and stay quiet. As someone who loves to be liked, there will be lots of leaning into hard things here.
Finally, leaning into hard things means choosing bravery in uncertainty with our family planning, once again. I'm not sure if this will come as a surprise or not, but for now, this is the easiest of the hard things I'm leaning into. This one, I fully welcome while also recognizing it will be hard.
So back to the coronavirus; now that it is here in Central PA, it is crystal clear to me that this year will be ALL about leaning into hard things. Because this pandemic is going to be hard; but not just on/for me, it will be hard for everyone.
Nevertheless, I have to say that I have actually been impressed with the leadership from many people both in my local circles as well as more publicly, and I'm thankful for that. One of the strategies to "flatten the curve" is called social distancing and for this reason many states have closed all schools, as is true in Pennsylvania as of this past Monday. Mike and I were hoping that our government would take this bold step and are praying that it has the effect we hope for, and slows the progression of the disease through our communities. There are a lot of questions about how long we will have to keep social distance, and my opinion is that it will be for at least 8 weeks.
In an effort to "be bright," I suggested a virtual small group in light of the church cancellations.
So far, the kids don't really seem to mind the time away from school. Although initially when they found out that there would be no playdates (this week anyway) they were pretty bummed, they have not been complaining and just seem to be enjoying the relative simplicity of staying home for now. Of course, we've told them about the pandemic, as we have a pretty strict rule about honesty around here and are big on explaining things in a way our kids can understand. As usual, they seem to digest it well and so far as I can tell, have a pretty good understanding.
Of course I am my mother's daughter so, first thing Monday, I gave them some homework and was delighted when they didn't moan a bit. In fact, Nick wanted to be sure that I didn't just give Lukas homework but that he "got some too!" I loved it. At any rate, I kept it pretty simple giving him a few assignments and then one thing that fell into the "kindness" category. When I got home, what I found left me proud, and honestly, speechless:
Unprecedented times.
In late January during a team meeting, my boss and one of my closest colleagues (the director of infection prevention) were talking about coronavirus and whether or not we should begin preparing. Earlier this year, our system had a case of Measles and it had taken over all our lives for several weeks and we were just now starting to feel recovered. He said, "we can start worrying about it when it makes its way to this hemisphere." And the next day it did. Rapidly, since then, the disease has spread around the world and crept into the USA in February. The system I work for has had an incident command system open for about 2 weeks now, and we publicized our first positive cases today. I've been at the command center assisting for most of that time and it's been a mixture of emotions, as is usually true with my work as director of patient safety. There's no doubt that this and other safety catastrophes provide a wonderful career opportunity for me from a professional development standpoint; and I'm thankful for that. But, there's also a mixture of sadness, anxiety and even disbelief, all of which can be exhausting. Scientifically, the spread of a novel virus is also fascinating. As is always the case, we are not in control. We aren't in control of this virus, or its spread, or the toll that it will undoubtedly take on our communities. And the challenge of predicting how it will spread, when it will spike, and when we ought to deploy which tactics to slow and mitigate it's impact are also both fascinating and exhausting. I'm not usually the type to overthink things but even I have to admit that during these times it's easier said than done.
Being the year 2020 and all, I had been thinking about a mantra for the year and had decided on "be bright." This came to me in early January and I really liked the idea. To me, it meant both be bright as in smart, clever, engaging; use my talents to the best of my ability. Read, be intellectual, be bright. And also be bright as in shine the light, be a force for good in a world that seems so complex and scary so much of the time. Optimism has always come easy for me and I thought I could really make a difference in my sphere by "being bright." That sounded like a good plan.
Only a few weeks into the year, I began thinking while out on my walks with the dogs or drives to work that although I wanted this year to be the year of "being bright," that I wasn't going to get my way. Instead, this would be the year of "leaning into hard things." "Ugh, God, this is not what I had planned," I told him. I don't really know if I want to do this. Leaning into hard things, for me, was becoming more and more apparently necessary at work and in other ways too. At work, I'd been nominated to lead the Health Equity sub-council and again, this was a wonderful opportunity for professional development, but one that would take a tremendous amount of energy, both tangible and emotional. Not having a degree in sociology or public health, in addition to being a upper class white woman left me feeling under-qualified. Currently "reading" White Fragility has brought clarity to how I feel and is certainly educating me quickly in this arena.
Leaning into hard things also means pulling my head out of the sand on politics. I still don't like them and don't think I ever will, but I've been waking up to the fact that by denying things or staying out of the discussion, I'm taking advantage of my privilege and not advocating for those who need and deserve support. For me, leaning into hard things meant changing my political party from republican to democrat because I've become so disgusted for what the republican party seems to stand for these days. In my opinion, they've deeply damaged what it means to be a Christian and a conservative in the public eye. I won't be one of those Christians; and that means I can't keep my head in the sand and stay quiet. As someone who loves to be liked, there will be lots of leaning into hard things here.
Finally, leaning into hard things means choosing bravery in uncertainty with our family planning, once again. I'm not sure if this will come as a surprise or not, but for now, this is the easiest of the hard things I'm leaning into. This one, I fully welcome while also recognizing it will be hard.
So back to the coronavirus; now that it is here in Central PA, it is crystal clear to me that this year will be ALL about leaning into hard things. Because this pandemic is going to be hard; but not just on/for me, it will be hard for everyone.
Nevertheless, I have to say that I have actually been impressed with the leadership from many people both in my local circles as well as more publicly, and I'm thankful for that. One of the strategies to "flatten the curve" is called social distancing and for this reason many states have closed all schools, as is true in Pennsylvania as of this past Monday. Mike and I were hoping that our government would take this bold step and are praying that it has the effect we hope for, and slows the progression of the disease through our communities. There are a lot of questions about how long we will have to keep social distance, and my opinion is that it will be for at least 8 weeks.
In an effort to "be bright," I suggested a virtual small group in light of the church cancellations.
So far, the kids don't really seem to mind the time away from school. Although initially when they found out that there would be no playdates (this week anyway) they were pretty bummed, they have not been complaining and just seem to be enjoying the relative simplicity of staying home for now. Of course, we've told them about the pandemic, as we have a pretty strict rule about honesty around here and are big on explaining things in a way our kids can understand. As usual, they seem to digest it well and so far as I can tell, have a pretty good understanding.
Of course I am my mother's daughter so, first thing Monday, I gave them some homework and was delighted when they didn't moan a bit. In fact, Nick wanted to be sure that I didn't just give Lukas homework but that he "got some too!" I loved it. At any rate, I kept it pretty simple giving him a few assignments and then one thing that fell into the "kindness" category. When I got home, what I found left me proud, and honestly, speechless:
As you might expect, this has a prominent spot on the refrigerator now. Mike and I both told him how proud we were and how much we appreciated his letter. He was beaming. I've said it before and I'll say it again: that kid has more emotional intelligence than a lot of the adults I deal with on a day to day basis. I am so proud!
So, the next day I figured I would keep the kindness in there and asked them each to tell me what their favorite 2 things about their brothers were. Lukas wrote:
~ Nick likes my big surprises.
~ Nick likes Jacob because he is cute.
~ Jacob likes me because I am silly.
~ Jacob likes Nick's mad face.
~ I like Jacob (1) because he is silly, (2) because he is creative.
~ I like Nick because (1) he is always ready to play, (2) because of your stories.
On Facebook, a friend of mine said about journaling during these historic times and I realized she was right. This is a perfect time to store down my thoughts, feelings, fears and hopes. So, here I am.
I'm not sure what will happen, how it will go, who will get sick or when. I'm not sure if my kids will go back to school this year. I know Mike and I will work through most of this thing and I'm thankful for the incredible privilege that we have to serve our community through one of the toughest things we've faced in quite some time. What a sacred privilege.
I'm praying the older folks in our families are spared from serious illness.
I'm praying the courts in southern California don't shut down.
Uncertain times.
Unprecedented times.
What does God have planned for all of us? None of us knows.
What I do know is that out on my walk this morning with the dogs, the sun was coming up and the pinks, oranges and blues were breathtaking. I was reminded that the sun will rise and the sun will set like it always does. The sunrise struck a chord of peace for me. Although it passed quickly thereafter and I've been edgy and anxious most of the rest of the day, it was a beautiful reminder to slow down and have faith.
No comments:
Post a Comment