Everything in between is a gift.
The other day Jeff quoted something that has resonated with me. “We arrive with nothing and leave with nothing. Everything in between is a gift.“ Truly, this seems like the only attitude that allows you to appreciate the highs and lows of life with humility and gratitude. Otherwise, there is the chronic, crushing anxiety of loss. Even good things can be contaminated with the anxiety that they cannot remain that way forever.
As someone very prone to anxiety - to a degree that often interferes with my ability to experience joy and peace - I really think I need to hold this truth close to my heart. It is all a gift! If I were to die today, I would already have been the undeserving recipient of an inconceivable number of gifts. My parents, siblings, husband, children, and in-laws are gifts beyond measure. The health and safety and home that I have always enjoyed - gifts. The thousands of tiny, unremembered joys of being a parent, falling in love, laughing with friends, walking in the woods, welcoming each new season....
Brene Brown reiterates the same idea in her own way. The only way to accept losses and endings in life as it inevitably marches forward is to practice gratitude for the good times, however long they last.
Can I hold my gratitude for these things close enough to drown out the anxious voices screaming about all there is to lose?
COVID 19 is sweeping through the US. There has been an ominous feeling as we count each new case, each new state. But that was last week. This week they are not announcing every case and every death because the numbers are getting too high, changing too quickly. The first documented case in our community was announced in Harrisonburg last night, only a few hours after we told our kids that we will be staying home from school next week and for the indefinite future. The anxiety of this inevitable march, of this last “normal” week, has been building, and I have been struggling to turn my mind off. Starting Sunday, Jeff will be back on duty at the hospital, and our vigil will begin in earnest.
There is so much we don’t know. So much to lose. Perhaps our self-isolation is already too late. There are possible scenarios that are unthinkably bad. Italy is living that hell right now, and I fear for what the next weeks hold for Jeff. Lord have mercy...
Can I choose gratitude? Can I remember that every good thing is a gift? Can I practice doing and saying things that accurately represent my love and joy, rather than getting lost in the negatives? Can I be proud and supportive of my brave physician husband instead of increasing his worry?
I will try. Everything in between is a gift. We are still so blessed.
As someone very prone to anxiety - to a degree that often interferes with my ability to experience joy and peace - I really think I need to hold this truth close to my heart. It is all a gift! If I were to die today, I would already have been the undeserving recipient of an inconceivable number of gifts. My parents, siblings, husband, children, and in-laws are gifts beyond measure. The health and safety and home that I have always enjoyed - gifts. The thousands of tiny, unremembered joys of being a parent, falling in love, laughing with friends, walking in the woods, welcoming each new season....
Brene Brown reiterates the same idea in her own way. The only way to accept losses and endings in life as it inevitably marches forward is to practice gratitude for the good times, however long they last.
Can I hold my gratitude for these things close enough to drown out the anxious voices screaming about all there is to lose?
COVID 19 is sweeping through the US. There has been an ominous feeling as we count each new case, each new state. But that was last week. This week they are not announcing every case and every death because the numbers are getting too high, changing too quickly. The first documented case in our community was announced in Harrisonburg last night, only a few hours after we told our kids that we will be staying home from school next week and for the indefinite future. The anxiety of this inevitable march, of this last “normal” week, has been building, and I have been struggling to turn my mind off. Starting Sunday, Jeff will be back on duty at the hospital, and our vigil will begin in earnest.
There is so much we don’t know. So much to lose. Perhaps our self-isolation is already too late. There are possible scenarios that are unthinkably bad. Italy is living that hell right now, and I fear for what the next weeks hold for Jeff. Lord have mercy...
Can I choose gratitude? Can I remember that every good thing is a gift? Can I practice doing and saying things that accurately represent my love and joy, rather than getting lost in the negatives? Can I be proud and supportive of my brave physician husband instead of increasing his worry?
I will try. Everything in between is a gift. We are still so blessed.