The holes in our ceiling have been repaired–mostly. We have some touch-up paint left to do in a few rooms. But our carpet is in, our kids are back in the right bedrooms, and all seven places where pipes burst have been fully replaced. This past month has been exhausting. With all of the contractors coming in and out of our home, I am pretty sure we’ve had more people in our house over the past month than we did for the entire year before the ice-pocalypse. And while most of our yard has been this sad yellow color for the past few weeks, some green is finally starting to peek through! More than anything, I think the green outside has really made me think about something that has been on my mind a LOT lately: recovery.
What does it look like to recover?
I think it looks different for everyone. And I think that’s how it’s supposed to be. Since our weeklong freeze without electricity or water, I’ve woken up more than once in the middle of the night shivering. Each time I woke up, I would feel so confused because it wasn’t cold in our room, yet I was shivering. I’m pretty sure my brain knew it was 2:30am: the time when our electricity went out that first night for 33 hours and for subsequent nights during “rolling blackouts.” Those shivering episodes are happening less frequently now and I actually wore shorts to bed one night last week. So, maybe I am finally done being cold. I’m pretty sure I’m not alone in my strange post-ice-pocalypse symptoms, but I’m also pretty sure some of my neighbors never woke up shivering and once their water and electricity were restored, they never looked back.
In our front yard right now, our red oak tree has shed its lovely red leaves of February and is mostly lush with green leaves. Our sago palm tree is rooted only a few feet away from the red oak tree and its leaves are a sickly yellow color. The two trees are about the same age, faced the same frigid temperatures, and yet, they are at two totally different stages of recovery.
And do you know what? Nobody has knocked on my door and said, “What’s wrong with your sago palm? It should be over this by now!” It sounds silly to say that about plants, right? Because it’s easy to see that they are different and that they grow differently. Sure, they all need water, good soil, and sunlight. But beyond that, they are vastly different plants. And it stands to reason that they will recover differently, too.
A few weeks ago, I listened to someone talk about returning to “normal.” And if I’m being totally honest, my initial reaction wasn’t positive. I didn’t feel quite ready to go back to “normal” life. I felt overwhelmed by the thought and wished for simpler times when I knew that the best thing I could do for my family was to keep us all safe and sound at home. But the following week, I had an opportunity to sit in church–still socially distant with masks on and sanitizing measures in place–and I realized that we all really do need each other. And I began the recovery process. And while I hope I will be a better editor of my life and the activities and obligations and appointments and stuff that will pile up on my schedule, I know that I can’t remain in isolation forever. I’m pretty sure this year has driven me deeper into introversion than I may have ever been. And more importantly, I realize that even though I might think isolation would be the easiest or most ideal thing, it isn’t. I have so much to learn from the people around me. I need to serve other people. I need to be a contributing member of a community.
So as we are all beginning the process of recovery from an unforgettable year, let’s keep in mind that we’re not all red oak trees. Some of us are sago palms. And still others of us are like boxwood shrubs that are a mix of green and yellow in inconsistent patterns. This recovery will look different for each and every one of us and what will be easy for one will be a mountain to climb for someone else. Let’s keep that in mind as we recover from living a year in a global pandemic and all of the other incredible challenges this year and future years have–and will–throw at us.
I love your tree analogy, very insightful! I think I’m a boxwood! 😊
Thanks! ❤️❤️❤️
Amazing as always ! I love how you compared to everyone as trees and to realize we’re all recovering from something different in our lives or even the same things as other but we all recover at our own pace.
Recovery is hard no matter what stage were in. Thank you for pointing out the fact that we can’t compare our recovery to others I always try to remember this but it’s hard, thank you for sharing !
Thanks, Mandielee!