I cannot bear to spend much time looking back at life before the quarantine. That would be life before masks and homeschool, yes. But further back for me—back before 30 months of isolation. Missed activities and holiday traditions. Before heart surgeries. Before Lydie. Before we were forced to turn inward and rely on ourselves and God—sometimes with others but more often alone. Before deep sacrifices were made in exchange for inexplicable understanding. Before value and love and persistence and faith were redefined. Before I met so many limits that shattered me and tested the active role of Grace in my life. Before I saw God’s open hands in the eyes of my child offering, “THIS is the life I have for you.” Before we were fired in a furnace and made into something new.
Life “before” was beautiful, but I am not that girl anymore. I could not have imagined then the experiences, emotions, or journey ahead. I remember her life like one views a movie through a screen—distant and THERE. A different house, job, family, path.
There’s a new girl in town with a dramatically altered view—pivoting on a few key points of eternal truth, but otherwise paradigm-shifted. Her life is beautiful, too; but the direction is different. She holds the past and carries it with her, but does not seek to go back—and she couldn’t if she tried. The “New Normal” has been her working reality for three years—it just keeps evolving in detail and acceptance. New friends, new jobs, new lessons, new experiences—more beauty, more love, and more witnesses of the Divine.
So no, no going back, here. Only forward, sometimes without a map and seemingly in ill-prepared shoes, but forward, nonetheless. With God, with my people, with one step at a time. Tripping, stumbling, running, seeing. Aren’t we all just learning to walk?
