We Are Living in History

We are living in history.

Future generations will learn about this time.
We will tell our stories. 
And our children will tell theirs. 

Images of people in masks and of social distant gatherings will become symbols of these days. 

We will talk about when the world stopped.

When suddenly families who had been running from here to there were forced into their homes together.

Children came home from school and began to learn online, as spring and summer break melted into one, and parents came home to work in makeshift offices while their kids were asked to be quiet in the adjacent rooms. 

Offices closed. Restaurant tables were without patrons. And sports arenas and concert venues went silent. 

The grocery shelves were emptied. Toilet paper, hand sanitizer and Lysol became our most precious commodities.

Zoom and FaceTime were our primary social outlets and we wondered why it took a pandemic to finally communicate this way with distant friends.

Parades took on new meaning as friends and family drove by to celebrate Birthdays and other special occasions. And teachers and students honked and waved their final goodbyes. 

Some people were kind. 
Some were angry. 
And some were a little of both.

The days were sometimes long and filled with emotion.

Families connected in ways they never had before. Babies were born. People became ill. And sadly, many died. Many more were overcome by grief. 

Strange things, that should normally be associated with a pandemic, suddenly became political issues – like whether or not you should wear a mask.

Some people were kind. 
Some were angry. 
And some were a little of both.

People lost their jobs. And some struggled with isolation, depression and anxiety.

People learned new hobbies and reignited passions that had long ago lost their spark. Guitars were played and canvases that had sat dusty in corners were finally met with color. 

Graduates hung up their gowns and mourned a ceremony that would not be. 

People went outside. And took family walks and rode on bicycles. Families began to linger at the dinner table.

Some cried out to God in anger and frustration. And many turned to God once again. 

The calendar went from full to empty. As the days were spent in homes. And some became restless and wanted out. And others were not ready and chose to stay inside.  

The end of summer came and parents were faced with challenging decisions.

Like whether or not to have their children participate in sports again. And the question of attending school online or in person was on the forefront of many minds.

Schools were opened once more and the halls were filled. Only now children ate lunch in their classrooms and wore brightly colored masks as they sat behind their desks, and visited with their friends from afar.

And in the midst of it all, people took to the streets crying for justice and mercy and racial equality.

Political tensions were high and people became quick to fight and social media became the platform where people could say things to people they would never dream of saying to their faces.

Some people were kind. 
Some were angry. 
And some were a little of both.

Cities and forests burned. And sometimes watching the news felt more like watching a movie than reality.

People began to turn the news off. They couldn’t watch anymore. It started to feel like too much.

Some cried out in frustration. And others fell to their knees and cried out to God.

And for those who believe in the promise of heaven, the reminder that this is not our home returned time and time again.

We prayed for contentment regardless of our circumstances. And began to thank God profusely for the simple things in life. Like toilet paper and open space on the calendar and the sound of our children’s laughter.

We are living in history. Future generations will learn about this time. 
We will tell our stories.
And our children will tell theirs. 

I wonder, when this is over – what will they say? How will we be remembered? Will we be commended for how we responded? Or will we be a cautionary tale? Will they remember that we were kind? Or were they remember that we were angry?

Maybe a mixture of both. 

*A form of this post originally appeared on my Truly Yours, Jen Facebook Page in May of 2020