time to refuel
Maybe because I don’t drive a lot these days and didn’t notice, or maybe because I am looking for a little excitement in an otherwise quiet life, but I have been operating my car with very little gas. The gentle, soothing reminder light that went on twenty miles ago has now become a loud, angry strobe light that is screaming at me, “Fill up the car, stupid!”
And living on fumes can be exhausting, disheartening, and even scary, and it feels like we are living on fumes. It’s the dead of winter (now there’s a depressing phrase), it’s gray and cold and we are desperately in need of connection and a good, rib-breaking, loving, bear hug.
My car’s problems are easy to solve, but personally I am not always sure how to get back to living life with a full tank.
Early in the pandemic, I was given good advice: take it one day at a time. Don’t dream about the finish line…by summer we will be back to normal… by Thanksgiving we will be crowded around a table full of family and friends.
As much as I tried, I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to know the end so that I could tell myself - I can make it. I have been disappointed more than once. So now I try a little harder to consider just today, this day.
And how I fill the day.
The pandemic has robbed us of those spontaneous connections with people we once had, making our world feel smaller. I guess I never really realized how important those interactions are. So I check in with someone beyond my close-knit circle every day.
The pandemic has also stolen from us the ability to participate in some activities that make us happy. Some are not safe, and some require protective gear. For a while I chose to take a pass. Lately, however, I have jumped back in, playing my beloved squash from behind a mask and a shield. It’s not the same, it’s hard, but it’s something.
We have today. We can take this pandemic on, even in the dead of winter, even from behind a mask and shield, and win.
That throbbing light is a needed thorn in my side - time to refuel.