It’s been an interesting last few days: projects on hold, words unwritten, days slipping past. Our household was hit by some sort of stomach bug that claimed all four of us in succession. Us adults are better but the kids are still struggling. We’re doing our best.
I struggle with this stop-and-start in life. I make forward progress only to be paused mid-step, unable to finish my stride. I should be used to it by now, and in some ways I am. If anything has been repetitive in the last two years of a pandemic word it’s a start-and stop situation. I’ve also dealt with pauses that have lasted years. This is not new to me.
But familiarity does not equal ease. It creates a discomfort within, a tension. I have to often step back and reorient myself and my perspective to see that yes, I have still made progress. No, it’s not backwards. One step was still one step.
So as we all recover from (yet another) illness, and as I recover my strength after a previous week of fatigue, I am letting myself be paused. The next step will come.
I just have to be patient. And rest.