CHRISSY ALSPAUGH

Predictability was comforting.

Our lives had rhythms: schedules, routines, and usual places and faces. Until we didn’t.

COVID-19 became the virus that infected much more than the two million patients (as this is being written) who have tested positive. It stripped each of us of some of the things that make our lives normal. Some felt the shock far greater. No longer could we buy what we normally buy, see whom we normally see, go where we normally go, or do what we normally do. In the blink of an eye jobs were on hold, schedules became blank, finances hung in jeopardy, and churches closed their doors. Life at times felt unpredictable hour-to-hour, let alone day-to-day.

I certainly never expected this going-on-two-months-at home vacation. My family’s pre-quarantine rhythm went something like this: on weekday mornings, Mr. Handyman and I tag-teamed getting three boys ready to tackle our day. Our seven-year-old would hop on the bus by 7:15 a.m., my husband would kiss the rest of us good-bye by 7:30 a.m., we’d drop off our five-yearold at preschool by 9 a.m. three days a week, and then our two-year-old and I would spend the rest of the day cleaning, cooking, playing, and potty-training until our crew started trickling home throughout the afternoon. The evenings were always a bit of a scurry, as we tried to squeeze in every last ounce of outside playtime and projects before heading in for homework and baths. Oh, but the weekends. The weekends were sacredly unscheduled, save for church. They gave us room to breathe.

We just never expected that soon, we’d have nothing except time to breathe.

A switch flipped and suddenly, no work. No school. Trips, meetings, vacations, and holiday gatherings— cancelled. No trips to see Pop and Gram, the park to see friends, or even Rural King to “aww” at baby chicks. No first year of soccer. No zoo, no museums, no goodbyes to teachers and classes who were robbed of their last nine weeks together. No notice.

I’m guessing most of us struggled at first to figure out what the heck we were supposed to do with all of our newfound freedom. At our house, we stepped on each others’ toes a lot, literally and figuratively; we lazed away mornings way too long; we had conflicting ideas about how we should spend our days; we wore on each others’ nerves; and we definitely struggled to find something that felt normal within our new parameters.

Thankfully, we slowly began to see past all the things we’d lost and raised our eyes to see that many of the things we’ve always loved were still right there in front of us. We found ourselves with a beautiful abundance of time for fishing, hiking, biking, stomping in puddles and creeks, cleaning the woods, climbing trees, and tackling projects including painting the house. Who would’ve expected that now, every night would be family movie night, or maybe game night? We finally stop with little boys who want to smell every daffodil, feed endless handfuls of grass to the neighbor horses, and spend entire afternoons learning about the turtles and crawdads that cross our path.

Our new rhythm has become togetherness—in meals, reading, exercising, art, schoolwork, exploring the world around us, and following the lead of whomever has the most fun idea for a project. Without trying, we’ve learned the beauty of devoting each day to a few important things, rather than trying to fit in too many things.

In the first few weeks home, I remember keeping a mental list of the things I couldn’t wait to do and the places I couldn’t wait to go once life was back to normal. But now that we’ve been stripped down to the basics, it’s easier to see what’s important. I never would’ve expected that now, sometimes I can hear my heart whisper appreciation for all the unnecessary distractions that have left my life.

I still really miss our friends and family. I can’t wait for our church and library to reopen. Eating a meal that I didn’t cook will be nice someday, and playing in a park loud with children will be glorious. But most of all, what I never expected to look forward to is a new normal that feels a whole lot more like now, than then.

I hope that when I kiss my boys goodbye before work and school again someday, my eyes remain fixed on the very few things in life that truly make our hearts soar: God, each other, and the earth beneath our feet.

And for that, I’ll forever lift up an unexpected, “Thank you, COVID-19.”