By Michelle Collins
The firsts of this pandemic were hard enough. The first time we had to move worship online. The first time I had to delay a family trip. The first time my parents had to use Zoom. The first time my kid’s birthday plans were changed. The first group of high school students who had to reimagine prom and graduation. So many firsts. And they were tough, but there was also some energy behind them because this whole thing was a temporary response to the ‘novel coronavirus’—or at least that’s what we kept telling ourselves.
But then we’re getting around to the seconds, and there’s nothing exciting about seconds. The second time my kid won’t get a birthday party with friends. The second graduation ceremony that will be online—for a senior class that has spent their ENTIRE SENIOR YEAR stumbling through virtual school. The second time our family trip won’t happen. The second time my parents will miss their usual visit. The second time we’ll try to find the energy and emotion to mean it when we say, “Christ is Risen!” into a blinking ‘record’ light or “Christ is risen indeed” back to a screen.
God, I don’t know if I have it in me to put on another drive-by birthday parade. I don’t want to host another “happy hour” with my friends. On Zoom. With kids and dogs in the background. Sort of destroys the point of happy hour. I don’t know if I have the energy to come up with a creative family ‘experience’ in the name of vacation.
I’m tired enough of the firsts, God, and now we’re going into the seconds. I’m going to need you to stay close, Lord, because I don’t think I can do this on my own.