It's good to be here

On Sunday I celebrated an important anniversary. Last August 16 I was run over by an SUV while crossing a busy downtown street. It was not an experience I’d wish on anyone. When I see a character get hit by a car on tv, I still have a reaction that is all at once physical, psychological, and emotional. I scream, hold up my hands, and brace for impact. I expect that response will never fully go away.

I am incredibly grateful to have survived such a horrific event. I occasionally wondered in the early stages of the pandemic, though, “I stuck around for this?” It was always a fleeting thought, but it was also an honest one, acknowledging how much has changed since March and how a lot of that change sucks.

Not everything is terrible, though. My son and I were talking recently about what is different for him after these past five months at home. In that time he has learned to ride a scooter, play Minecraft, use Google Docs to write his short stories, and make stop motion videos. He has discovered new favorite book series. He has improved his drawing skills in ways he’s really proud of. There’s more, but you get the idea. This space has allowed him to experiment and explore, largely at his own initiative.

I started thinking along the same lines for myself. I realized that I’ve done some new things I’m happy with too - webinars, writing, small group coaching sessions around focused topics, cohorts - but I didn’t want to focus on the productivity pieces. It didn’t seem particularly helpful to tie my satisfaction to these kinds of measurable outcomes, because what if I’m less productive when school starts? How will I feel about myself then? Instead, I honed in on how I as a person have grown. (I share all of what follows with gratitude for my spouse, who is my sounding board, co-parent, and constant support. I try to be the same for him.)

I am more adaptable. I like to have and work a plan, and I usually like to work big chunks of that plan in silence. [Hello, raging introvert here.] Well, good luck with any of that sheltering at home for an unknown period of time, particularly with an extroverted seven-year-old. I was forced to be more nimble, and after a while it started to come a bit more naturally to me.

I am more resilient. There were points during the first couple of months when I was nearly incapacitated by stress. I was tired all the time but didn’t sleep well. Everything felt out of control. As I re-oriented to my purpose (see below), took a few minutes each day for more right-brained activity (paint by numbers!), and power-walked daily around my neighborhood, though, I found myself more grounded and ready to deal with what came.

I am more deeply-rooted in my call. As I listened to coachees and colleagues during the early weeks of the pandemic, I began to hear patterns and themes: how do I deal with this change or that? How do I tend to my well-being in the midst of it? Helping ministers and churches navigate transitions well is where my heart is. I recognized I had something to offer, whether it was coaching or information or connections to others going through similar circumstances. I needed and leaned into that re-affirmation of niche.

I am a better parent. Before March I was worried about how to get through the summer when our small town has few childcare options. [Insert maniacal laughter here.] I thought I had to compartmentalize work and family to do either well. As it turns out, I don’t. (A lot of this, for sure, has to do with my kid finding his own initiative during this time.) I take time to switch mentally between the two, then I can do science experiments and read to my son or help him find Lego pieces and generally be present with him while I do it. Not perfectly, for sure, but much better than before. And I get and give many more snuggles now, which I’ll take all day long.

Things remain hard, but they are definitely not all bad. I’m glad I stuck around for this.

Photo by John Baker on Unsplash.