We are allowed mini breaks and pauses. This business of nearly everything in our lives being cancelled has taught me this more than ever. The more we can slow down and be thoughtful and mindful about what our next move is, how we want to participate and how we want to respond, the less we might say things we will regret or do something we don’t want to do or over commit. Instead of having 100 things that we are doing at ½ effort, maybe 25 things that we can give our best.

In the beginning, we said, a few weeks? Sure. We can do a few weeks. Then it turned to months, and then they canceled school and if you listen very closely, you can hear the collective sigh and cry from students, teachers, parents, administrators, aides, lunch workers, playground monitors...so many souls with broken hearts about how we have to do school these days.

Would you rather set screen time limits or actually get some freaking work done? Would you rather cook dinner for the 23rd time in a row or put cereal boxes on the table? Would you rather settle a fight or clean up a split lip later?Would you rather sneak into your closet or into the basement for a moment of quiet and privacy?

How many times, still, am I in my kitchen of life crying over the fact that I put in ingredients in the wrong order? Messed up somehow? Made a mistake on top of another already modified adaptation and all felt helpless? This happens to me too. So walking my daughter through a very real situation of hurt and loss reminded me that I need and appreciate that too.

About half-way through I could feel him tense up and at one point, he actually spoke up and said, “Wait, I didn’t want to say that there!” I didn’t even get to finish the piece. He had began to protest his own words, and soon melted into an emotional heap.

I know this is a strange highlight. But I loooooved playing sports when I was a kid. I still remember playing shortstop when I was in 3rd grade and repeating that mantra in my head my dad taught me, knees bent, glove towards the ground, “I want the ball to come to me, I want the ball to come to me, I want the ball to come to me…” So when my son Christian said, after one of his first baseball games of the season, “Mom, I don’t want to play with toys anymore. I just like baseball now.” I knew he was trying to tell me in his 8 year old way that he loved the game as much I did. I watched my daughter streak across the soccer field, chasing down opponents like a tiny gazelle. She is so fast. And I’ve watched Gabe dribble a basketball behind his back, just like he watched Kyrie Irving do in that youTube video he’s watched dozens of times. It’s a joy to watch these kiddos love the game. Whatever game they play.