Be where you are. Otherwise you will miss your life. – Buddha

Someone recently told me that you know you have accepted something when it is okay if it doesn’t change. 

We are not accepting the Coronavirus. In fact, many of us know that we may eventually contract it. Some doctors recommend that we act as if we have COVID-19, so we don’t infect others. Responsible citizens accept and follow the guidelines put forth by the CDC. I assume that those that don’t must be oblivious or think they are smarter than the world’s most brilliant researchers and doctors. Or they don’t trust experts. Or they don’t care. Apathy is plain scary, especially today.   

How tough is it to adopt frequent hand washing?  It’s not a big challenge for someone like me with a comfy home, bathroom, and kitchen sink. I know we are in the early stages of this crisis in Indiana, but for now, I’m grateful that I have my books, wifi, laptop, Netflix, iphone, FaceTime, relaible news sources, Podcasts, online inspiration (thank you, Richard Rhor), YouTube, Zoom classes, and yoga mat. 

I am reminded daily that I am loved by informative, encouraging, and witty texts from friends and family. I have my faith, my curiosity, my empathy, and my health. I’m blessed to be educated enough to understand the severity of what is happening, and I am surrounded in spirit by smart friends and loved ones. Most of my children check in regularly, and I am filled with gratitude for them. I choose to look past the fact that they are starting to treat me like I am old. Brendan said, “Mom, you and Dad are at risk.” I thought, “Who me? Couldn’t be.” I think I am thirty.

I am not frightened because I trust that people are doing the best they can, and I trust in God. And I have common sense and do what I can. I follow the CDC recommendations. Period. 

What about those on the street? Those that are uninformed? Those without phones? Without loved ones? Without a place to walk safely? Without a sink nearby? Without assurance of their next meal? What about those quarantined, alone and confused in hospitals? The list goes on and on. 

What about my 93-year-old mother who doesn’t know why she isn’t getting visitors? For the first time in my life, I see the teeny tiny itty bitty benefit of dementia. She is present in the now. She knows who she is talking to on the phone, but she doesn’t recall all that I’ve told her about  the recent changes in the world. She can’t seem to grasp it. She latches on to what matters – the moment she is in.  

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