I almost hate to admit it:
how happy I am to be at home.
No errands to run.
No running late for pick-up.
The only running right now is running out of napkins.
(Who knew those would be such a hot commodity?)

But people are dying.
More people are going to die.
It’s not that I’m happy about that.
I’m not.
But I am conflicted.
The world is falling apart
– more than ever in my lifetime –
and it’s tempting to watch the news
and stay online
and read all the things
in the name of being informed.

But my heart and my soul both know
that for me, for me
I have to stop.
I have to set limits.
I have to close my eyes
and stick my fingers in my ears a bit
And focus on the only things that I can do right now.

Stay home.
Wash my hands.
Love my family.

And that?
That I can do well.

These moments with my children
are filling my heart.
Laughing with them.
Talking with them.
Just being with them.
Without practices and lessons and games.
Without rushing from here to there.
It’s more than I ever expected
in so many ways.