As a consultant, I have been constantly worried about staying employed during our global pandemic and how I am going to care for my just-turned-seven-years-old son while his school and daycare are shut down. I’m youngish with too much self-inflation but too distracted to unpack that much past writing a blog sentence or three. These are my thoughts about work, food, and some important things I missed.

So here we are in what is a worldwide slowdown. Due to the outbreak of COVID-19, I’ve been reconsidering my existence and how I (should) interact with the world. I’m an extrovert to boot, so talking too much and in-person is my jam. And I am always doing four or five things in immediate succession or in parallel because of #everydayimhustling. Amidst the chaotic swirling in my head, here are some realities breaking through the zombie-scrolling, exhausted motherhood, and longing-for-naps reality that was my life until we all got sent to our rooms for spreading a virus.


Work actually ramped up, not down. It’s like we were going to be, only now with my son walking in my room + my team being more disconnected than usual. Work is more difficult than it was days ago. And to get a jump on maintaining the professional space I have allocated for my business, I even Amazon Primed a remote-controlled sign for my office french door to make it clear I’m ‘on air’: in a conference call, podcasting, vanity vlogging, legitimately video recording, or some variation of onlinedom. Our team is more disrupted now more than ever. But you know what? I’ve embraced that disruption with my team on-camera because my kid doesn’t stop existing because we’re in a Skype meeting. Work/life balance requires understanding and tolerance enough to keep moving. We are humans who have other humans in our steads. We have to be intentional about what we’re doing, which is a good thing.

I still have a full-time job. I realize I am in a growing minority, and I am fully conscious of the onset of a form of survivor’s guilt I’m starting to feel. I’m grateful AF, but I’m also worried AF about most of the people in my life who own small businesses, sell homes and everything in between. The people I know who aren’t able to literally dial their jobs are at risk. I know of someone headed to New York to work with COVID-19 patients. I still cannot process some of that.

My hour+ commute across town? Not sure how I’m going to resume that. See the first point above — while there are challenges, do we even need to go back to the office now that we’ve been working out our main issues in how we interact? It will be regression if we get to a place where we can work in a distributed format and optimize our time and then revert to the way we used to work. I am praying that observations are being made and we end up landing on a hybrid of in-person vs. remote interactions after we are all no longer grounded. I worry about the impact it’ll have on my son the most, who has quickly acclimated to having me within arms reach, only to ‘lose’ me again to the traffic and location of another place. I’m not processing this future-state as well as I should.


I forgot that I can actually cook and not make too much of a mess (minus sprinkles I dropped, because I was half-asleep making a cake.) I remembered to an overemotional degree I enjoyed cooking before my career took center stage. I’ve been more connected with memories of my late grandmothers and my late father, all of whom loved to cook. Would I have had these memories return to me if I hadn’t reconnected with making bread or beef stew? I don’t think I would have, which has me focused on what I should be sharing with my own child as we’re moving through life at breakneck speed. Heritage is becoming amplified more and more.

And go figure: I really don’t need to buy food someone else prepared for lunch. I can actually make and eat my own lunch and for/with my child. It’s a miracle.

I think I’ve lost weight (?) even though I’m not sure how, because we aren’t starving. I’m not eating less, I don’t think. I just know my clothes aren’t tighter, they’re looser. And speaking of clothing, (omg) I can do laundry and work at the same time. Who knew, right? (Laundry, for the record, still sucks. Even coronavirus can’t change that.) #derp


I am constantly thankful beyond measure to have blazing fast internet, a fully operational web/mic computer ‘studio’, a dedicated office, Zoom Pro, and a bunch of other tooling that allows me to virtually connect professionally and personally. I’m especially grateful for this house in this neighborhood and these neighbors. Long-term memory proves that path has stabilized us up until this moment, which is an altogether another blog/vlog/whatever. Just suffice it to say I am eversothankful to be living in an age where we all still can connect and see each other and talk and share while within the confines of our own isolation.


You don’t realize what you miss until it’s not accessible. No, not toilet paper (although I remain mystified at the hoarding while simultaneously freaking out I don’t have a backup pack.) I’m talking about the weekly gathering of categoried churchfolk — on Sundays and in our small group/home group. (Our church calls them discipleship groups, d-groups for short.)

I love Sundays and rehearsals for Sundays with my entire heart and have deepened that love intentionally as each week passes. Conversely, I must confess that d-group wasn’t really my favorite thing at first. I’m an extrovert, remember? And I sure felt like I was the *only one* in our d-group for a long time…to the point I seriously considered ditching for what felt like the forced interaction we all seemed to squirm in. I stuck it out because it was going to take too much effort to leave, but trust me — I was not all in, like “oooh, let me embrace the awkward silences that await me.” I felt like an outsider, like a bad fit. A little more time passed and a few more folks joined our group, so I decided yeah, I’m good, I’ll stick it out a while longer, this is nice, yay. After all, I serve in church and I’m good with that, you know…whatever.

I was content with what I thought it became.

I wasn’t conscious of the shift that happened until it became obvious I couldn’t see these same people a few weeks ago. Between our church going virtual and grieving the loss of being with people there, and then our d-group going virtual, I have become increasingly agitated and emotional.I have no outlet, nobody in person I can access. And the creeping reality into my consciousness is how my half-ass involvement created this unrest. I am forced to see something I missed.

Our groups didn’t even get online for a week or more, and when I finally did see them in a Zoom meeting, I all but cried. These ‘background’ folks? Somewhere between my apathetic and categorical involvement and today, they have become the backdrop to my ‘friends and family’ reality…the foundational, gentle reminder that people who aren’t like me can still love and appreciate the chaos that I am, my kid, and my partner in crime and I can do the same. I am nearly inconsolable at my inability to be with the teams and my d-group. They are the “thing” I miss the most.

I am strongly confronted with the fact that maybe what I’ve thought about what real love and friendship is all wrongAfter all, I’m used to being the host, the provider, the leader, the doer, the driver, the pioneer of all of these things and interactions. The big revelation: Am I really that self-absorbed? Am I really that shallow? Am I that scared? Have I been so caught up in the idea that doing stuff somehow made me more valuable in my own relationships? Maybe so, but I also realize I don’t have to stay that way. Is it wrong to ask, “Can we stay inside just a little longer?” Isolation in moments like these forces us to confront unfiltered truth.

Even the dog is happier with people actually staying home. My neighbors (well most of them) are practicing distancing + walking + even pranking each other by moving a statue from yard to yard and using a social media group to track it. Kids and neighbors are posting physical signs encouraging each other, drawing messages on sidewalks, putting bears in windows for a ‘social distancing neighborhood walk’ for kids to spot.

Why in TF have we not done this before now?

It begs deep questions of what it really means to be with our families and with each other and what we take for granted. Is it wrong to dread the moment when these shelter restrictions lift because we will all resume our normally scheduled programs and overloaded lives? Don’t get me wrong, I am not wanting to prolong the health and economic crises by which we are held prisoner. I long to go to a movie or have a party. But we all know this moment will fade and we’ll be back to screaming even louder about politicians we hate and forget that this moment showed us something invaluable.

I’m still processing, so I’ll end this for now. I am considering that the greatest gift of social distancing is the reframing of what we consider actual socializing and meaning. I hope with all my heart it doesn’t fade.