This is a somber time for us all, as we adjust to what we all hope will be a temporary hiatus from our normal lifestyles. I am not a fear monger, nor do I wish to stick my head in the sand and naively pretend it will all go away. Few of us lived through the Great Depression or World War II, but we know as students of history that each left permanent scars and valuable lessons on those who did.
This event will do the same for yet another generation.
My daily routine is very routine. I wake up early, I write, and then we feed our pets and horses before Leigh Ann heads off to her veterinary clinic and I walk over to the office I built above our detached, two-car garage. Trips into Asheville have always been minimized to take care of three or four errands and meetings at a time. Kate arrives mid-morning and together we work on our websites, one of my books, or the next Arts and Crafts Conference.
This morning, as I walked down the hill to our horse barn, I did push aside for a few moments the depressing headlines from the morning news. I looked around and could see that the spring grass was still growing, the wrens were blithely singing away, and the flowering jonquils were determined to shake off the effects of last week’s late freeze.
And so will we.
The sacrifices we are making in this war against the virus are no greater than those our parents made in the Great Depression and World War II. And they went on to be known as The Greatest Generation, a generation of parents, aunts, uncles, and grandparents who taught us by example the values we continue to use as daily guideposts.
I don’t pretend for a moment to have any more insight or advice to offer than you do. We will all continue to get up each day and make good decisions, decisions that will make life safer for those around us.
And we will persist.
Until next week,
“Life is ten percent what happens to you and ninety percent how you respond to it.” — Charles Swindoll