Why I'm serious about quarantine

Ada, circa her second birthday.

Ada, circa her first birthday, after she was released from the IV pole and oxygen tubes.

"Can't you just socialize a little?  Can't you just wear a mask in the store and wash your hands?  Can't you say a friendly hello to the delivery guy?"

Can you forget your baby struggling to heave in breath after breath in the emergency room?  Can you forget the sound of her screaming down the hall while they try to get an IV into her dehydrated arm?  Can you forget how little she looked in the hospital bed, hooked up to tubes every which way--on her arm, her leg, up her nose?

Then neither can I endanger this asthmatic child;  not if I can possibly help it.  There was no Covid when she was hospitalized at 11 months old, and again on her first and second birthdays.  

Getting ready to go home, with a nurse who had time to be kind and comforting.

Do I miss my friends?  Absolutely.  Am I losing my mind in isolation?  Yup.  

Can I think of my daughter and then let down my guard?

Nope.

Safe at home again, with a big brother who missed her.

Safe at home is where we are, and safe at home is where we will stay.  

Mad, mad world

I noticed a bit of a lag time between when the world fell and when I started dreaming in quarantine.  For the first couple weeks, I was surprised that the world in my dreams still featured normal human contact.  But my sleeping brain has caught up to the times now.  A couple nights ago I had a nightmare that I had a job as a waitress in a very busy and packed breakfast restaurant--which I did once, in real life--and I was terrible at it--as I was, in real life.  I was overwhelmed with tables and orders and couldn't remember anything beyond bringing the patrons water.  And staff was rushing about, and there was hardly any room between full tables, and there was also a crowded gift shop...and it was half a nightmare because I was reliving my unhappy incompetent waitress days, and half a nightmare because I wanted to talk to the boss about the unsafe working conditions in a pandemic situation, but I was afraid of losing my job.


Ugh.

I asked the question a month ago, kind of in jest, whether I ought to be concerned when I pass someone on the running path in the park.  And now, when I run in the park, I think grimly of how little time it took for that to go from a ridiculous question because obviously no! to a ridiculous question because obviously yes!  Now when I pass someone going the other way, it turns into a game of chicken:  who will veer 20 feet off the path first?  How far away do I need to leave the pavement and start running on the turf that will twist my ankle one of these days to politely give my neighbor free use of the path?  What if I wait too long to veer, and the other party takes the opposite side to the fence, and doesn't veer far enough for my comfort, but I'm stuck by the fence?

All the rules of civility have changed.  If a father is pitching to his son, and the son knocks it out of the fence near my feet, must I still throw it back to them?  Could I find a leaf to wrap it in before I pick it up?  Once I saw a young man climbing a barbed-wire fence to retrieve a lost ball, and for a minute I thought he was stuck on it, and I thought do I give this neighbor a hand??  At least the battered Jew or the Samaritan didn't have Covid!

Now it's polite not to shake hands, nor even get close to someone.  Now it's kindness to treat everyone as if they're spreading the dirty plague.


It's a mad world we're living in.

Palm Sunday, worshipping along with the virtual service, waving branches from our yard

Jeddy reading Oedipus the King in between shots

I've actually, finally, had second thoughts about my deserted island fantasy, which I mentioned in my terribly ironic What's-Saving-My-Life post a mere two months ago, in which I wondered why Robinson Crusoe was so antsy to get off his island of solitude. 


I think I'm starting to understand.


I'm guessing he was mostly concerned about the lack of grocery stores supplies. 

Grandma and Grandpa dropping off Jason's birthday dinner; heartbroken grandchildren inside

Social distancing birthday party

I concede that the stress of staying alive with no resources but what I personally scratch from the ground might surpass the stress of staying alive with a few empty store shelves. 

At least he didn't have the pizza guy ringing the doorbell, insisting he needs a signature, when he specifically ordered no-contact delivery.

Coronavirus cake.

Covid will make Crusoes of us all.

Links from the bunny trail

- How many times have I googled this and then tried to forget it forever, only to google it again later?  Now it can plague your life too, sorry not sorry, you're welcome.

- I love this.  I agree, "Doubting" Thomas gets such a bad rap.

- Prepare to be mesmerized.  And make sure you have the sound on.

In case you are seriously still going in public without covering your face, here is a lovely, relaxing instructional video showing how to fashion a no-sew mask in about a minute.

I don't know about you, but I haven't seen baking yeast on the shelves for six weeks.  Supposedly, through the magic of biology, you can make your own yeast at home?  I've been following these instructions for about two weeks and hope to use it for my tried-and-true, beloved biscuit recipe this Sunday brunch.  I did use it earlier this week for a sandwich bun recipe that I found online, being unable to find one around my own collection.  The buns came out.... um... not ideal.  They seemed to be some sort of magical biological fail, actually.  I baked them like three times as long as I was supposed to and they just got denser, and never turned anything beyond grayish-white, and the middles were still a little gummy.  Here's hoping it was a bad recipe...

This article corroborates the procedure in the other article, and suggests a quantity of starter to use when replacing the yeast called for in your recipe.  It also has this optimistic gem:  "What you lose in time, you may find you make up for in flavor and fun."

Wow.  This is just like the real thing!  Except it's not the same music.  I have to keep the sound off, because it's not quite the Tetris experience without the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy.

I had just said to Jason, "Imagine if we were in St. Lucia when the virus hit, and we couldn't get back in time, and we were stuck there!"  And then I came across this article about a couple for whom that pretty much exactly happened.  They were stuck there--the only two guests in the entire resort--but the entire staff was still there, waiting on them hand and foot out of sheer boredom.  They were serving them, taking them snorkeling, even putting on evening shows for them.  What an unbelievable dream!  And yet... it sounds kind of disconcerting and hollow as well.  The wife is quoted as saying, "Everyone says they want to be stuck on a tropical island, until you're actually stuck."

New Zealand Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern hasn't lost her sense of humor--or her perspective on what's important.

If you want a good laugh, and a song stuck in your head all day, look no further.




And good news, dads across America have also not lost their terrible sense of humor.  Here's the story of one who makes the whole neighborhood groan together.  (The comments at the bottom are great too!)

Happy quarantine week 6!

Quick lit

What We're Reading Lately with Modern Mrs. Darcy...


Is it only mid-April?  I thought for sure it's been two months since I did this...


All the same, it feels like I should have more to show for 33 days in quarantine.  No opera-writing, class-taking, new-skill-learning, or dramatically getting fit going on over here.


The Gospel-Centered Life by Robert H. Thune and Will Walker

I mentioned last month that I had started reading this; I finished it this month.


Job

Photo by Creedi Zhong on Unsplash

I also finished up Job this month, which seems appropriate for a world under suffering.


Our pastor has been hammering home the mysterious twin doctrines of God's absolute sovereignty and His unassailable goodness.  Does He control every virus, every cell, every outcome?  Yes.  Is He good?  Yes.  Can we humans understand that?  .... No, not really.


And Job asks all the same questions.  While he is under extreme duress, Job doubts God's goodness.  Job's friend Elihu, addressing Job's criticism of God, asks, "Do you think this is according to justice?  /  Do you say, 'My righteousness is more than God's'?"*.


Elihu shows some wisdom here.  Who are we to question the goodness of God, we who daily sin?
Should I be telling God how He ought to run the universe?


Later on, God Himself shows up and speaks directly to Job--and lucky for us, we can overhear without (yet) facing God ourselves.  "Will you really annul My judgment?  /  Will you condemn Me that you may be justified?"**  If that doesn't describe the world, in or out of pandemic, I don't know what does.  God is warning us here:  Don't say I'm wrong and you're right.  Don't think you are God's judge instead of the other way around.


Actually, this warning reminded me of Dr. Fauci.  There's a guy who's probably not the life of the party.


Pass the bean dip.   

Uh, guys?  There's a catastrophe coming, and we all need to go home and lock our doors, and it's gonna be really ugly.

Lighten up, Fauci!

And if you don't listen to me, you might die.


Do we blame Fauci?  No, we are thankful for him.  He's sounding the alarm about an unpleasant but true situation.


So is God--in Job, and in the rest of His word.  Make no mistake:  there is a Judge.  And it's not you.

I have heard of You by the hearing of the ear;

But now my eye sees You;

Therefore I retract,

And I repent in dust and ashes.

~Job 42:5-6

The Last Anniversary by Liane Moriarty

I've never read a Moriarty book I didn't like.  But it turns out that your mood makes a big difference in what you enjoy reading.  And during a pandemic, I want something that doesn't make me think hard.  After struggling with the first few chapters, I grabbed a little notebook and filled in a family tree of the characters, and kept it next to me for reference for the rest of the book.  Each chapter is told from a different character's point of view, and it keeps dropping little mysterious hints that there is some secret going on behind the scenes, in classic Moriarty style.


I didn't like it.  I appreciate the whole story arc now that I'm done with it, but it was harder than I really wanted to work right now.  I think what I'm looking for--is fluff.


Hebrews

Photo by Dave Herring on Unsplash

What a relief it is to know that we have a Great High Priest, better than all the signs and shadows, who knows our weakness, who never stops interceding for us.


Song of Solomon

Photo by Everton Vila on Unsplash

A quick readthrough of Song of Solomon was just enough to give me the vague sense of annoyance that a man with a zillion concubines is writing about true love, and for me to struggle to connect the dots between the lovers chasing each other around and Jesus.  Yes, I realize the church is the bride of Christ.  Maybe it's the incessant touching in S of S that I just can't relate to right now.


2 Timothy

Photo by Jamie Street on Unsplash

2 Timothy is beloved as Paul's last letter before his death.  I love how single-minded it is:  Christ, Christ, Christ.  Preach the word, Timothy.  The world will swirl around you in frivolity and unbelief and desertion; preach the word.

For I am already being poured out as a drink offering, and the time of my departure has come.  I have fought the good fight, I have finished the course, I have kept the faith; in the future there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day; and not only to me, but also to all who have loved His appearing.

2 Timothy 4:6-8

Prince Caspian by C. S. Lewis

I finished reading this to Caleb and started straight on to the even better...

The Voyage of the Dawn Treader by C. S. Lewis

This one was always my favorite Narnia as a kid.

Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro

I've never read anything by Ishiguro before; this was really good.  Not entirely cheerful, it is true.  But I read this right after The Last Anniversary, and right away I appreciated the straightforward storytelling.  One narrator, more or less sequential events.  To illustrate how low my tolerance for difficulty is right now, I got annoyed on the very first page by what I assumed were British terms, like "carer," that I had to try to figure out.  Later in the story you realize that "carer" is a term unique to this story, not one of those confounding British words.  (Apparently "rounders" is, though.  I had to look that up after I finished the book and it was never explained.  It's basically baseball.)

Here's to Us by Elin Hilderbrand

I just started this, after finishing The Last Anniversary and Never Let Me Go.  Not for nothing is Elin Hilderbrand called "the queen of summer beach read."  I hope this will be the fluff I seek.

Ruth

Photo by Karl Magnuson on Unsplash

I guess we can add this to my list of "portions of God's holy word that rubbed me the wrong way this month."


Mostly what I was annoyed by, though, is thinking of how often the book of Ruth is held up as a romantic love story--mostly by nonfiction chick lit in mainstream Christian bookstores.  It reads like nothing of the sort.  The point is God grafted the Gentile Ruth in to Jesus's family tree; God was faithful to His covenant to His own people and the nations.


What are we to make of Ruth uncovering Boaz's feet in dead of night on the deserted threshing floor, under instruction from her mother-in-law that "he will tell you what you shall do" (3:4)?  Not to mention that it sounds like Boaz is probably old enough to be her father.  This is hardly a swoony, chaste love story that I'd like all my daughters to emulate in every particular.  Ruth's virtue--admirable or questionable--isn't really the point.  This is not the "how to get a husband" manual it's too often treated as.


The Young Carthaginian by G. A. Henty

I read the first chapter of this to Lizzy and Caleb ages ago, back in the Before Times, when I had it from the library.  After all these weeks, I finally bought it so we can finish it.



What's on your pandemic reading list?



* Job 35:2
** Job 40:8

Quarantine day 29: baby quilt

Here we continue quietly at home, as Jane Bennet wrote to Elizabeth--in the miniseries, if not the book. 

You know what quarantine is good for?  Finishing a quilt.  Here, I have it laid out before Christmas, knowing that dear Jo was due in the spring. 

Today is Day 29 of quarantine for us, and as usual, Saturday is the upsetting day of the week.  Most of the time I can cozy up at home, with a hot drink under a fuzzy blanket in front of a picture window as often as not, and laugh at the week's funniest tweets or get lost in a novel, almost forgetting that the world is amiss. 


But Saturdays. 

Saturday is grocery day, which used to mean a sometimes-slightly-inconvenient-but-usually-peaceful solitary wander through the aisles, contentedly stocking up for my planned menu that week. 

Now it means a restless night of dread the night before, dressing up like a bank robber, and pumping adrenaline all morning.  Not to mention the research and planning that begins early in the week, searching to procure necessities from some establishment that takes my safety seriously and isn't hopelessly overwhelmed.  Two weeks ago I snagged a curbside pickup time from Martin's, but last week they were booked solid, so I managed to find a time from Walmart--which was booked solid this week, so I found a locally-owned grocery with a low-tech but very friendly curbside service.

I told the children who were soooo boooored: "I don't know, write a song about quarantine or something."  They actually did it.  The lyrics were essentially about wishing they had more donuts.  Truly we are all under trial in these dark days.

This week the farmer's market also reopened--for online order and curbside pickup only.  Farmers are in the business of growing vegetables, not necessarily building websites, but they managed to put together an impressive system in double-quick time, thanks, I believe, to some philanthropic out-of-class college students. 

The quilt a couple weeks ago, nearly finished except for the unknown name.

This farmer's market has previously been voted "Best Place to Spend a Saturday" by the locals.  It features a bustling pavilion with people from all walks; popcorn; coffee; live music; crafts; and piles and piles of colorful fresh crops for sale by wholesome, smiling farm families.

Caleb, delighted about a few books I ordered him on his reading level (this one about a bunny).

Hooray for the announcement of baby Jackson's safe arrival!

Today all that neighborhood goodness was replaced by a few tables lined with labelled paper grocery bags and a crew of masked, gloved workers loading up the trunks of cars that filed past in a strict line. 


Humanity has been clubbed by this stupid virus.

After another quick stop at the local grocery to receive my bags from another covered face, I headed home with my trunk of mystery items (It's not so much "placing an order" as "making a request," as you never know what items will be in stock or whether alternatives will be available.  We've repeated "we will be thankful for whatever we get" many times around our house.  And I'm so thankful for my skills honed in the last few years of cooking creatively with what I have on hand.  Menu planning?  You wish.) with the heavy heart that's becoming regular whenever I'm faced with the tangible ways the world has changed.