You know, when I first ventured into the blogosphere last June, I had this whole other idea of what this blog would be about: confessions of a mentally ill, oddball, mess-of-a creative/wife of a pastor/mom of four.
Then, like I’m sure it has been for most everyone on the planet, life drastically changed, seemingly overnight.
For us it changed in ways we could never have anticipated. The virus seemed so blown out of proportion. So far off.
And then suddenly it wasn’t.
After talking to his hematologist yesterday, and researching cdc.gov, cancer.org, and this medical article, we discovered Campbell’s risk level was extremely high for dangerous (or even potentially fatal) complications should he become infected because of his CML and daily chemo meds. So we decided we would self-isolate as a family until the COVID-19 pandemic is over.
That may not be until mid-June.
Despite the new (admittedly scary) reality since the coronavirus began to shut down one thing after another across the globe, even now I keep forgetting the world has changed. Am I the only one doing that? I’ll wake up, think about that grand, grand gift from God that is coffee, realize that particular culinary morning glory isn’t enough of a carrot on a string to drag me out of bed, so I hit my snooze once (or, okay, fine, three or four times with much crotchety muttering), and then at some point between my dog licking my face and stumbling to the kitchen counter to snag that cup-o-joe…it hits me.
The coronavirus. The world is shutting down. And except for a daily walk with my dog in the neighborhood to pick up mail, and sparing trips to the grocery store, I’m not leaving the house for the next ninety days. (Yes, I googled that. It’s ninety days exactly until mid-June.)
Wow, I just thought of something. Were I to have been admitted last year into a psychiatric hospital, as I almost was twice, it would have been for ninety days.
Oh, thank God I’m here and not there.
Where else would be better than here for such a time as this?
It’s a beautiful little rental located on 3.5 acres, thirty minutes outside of San Antonio. I think of it as our hillside hideaway right in the middle of the central Texas Hill Country. It’s so gorgeous and peaceful and quiet, where the horizon rolls on and on with gentle evergreen hills, the sky is filled with stars, and the only sounds are wind in the leaves and birdsong on the air. More importantly…it’s home. We could not be in a more perfect place for solitude.
We have so much to be grateful for.
All of this to say, I’ve decided to make the blog more of a chronicling of our day-to-day life as we self-isolate to protect Campbell due to his compromised immune system. I don’t know how consistent I will be as my depression often gets in the way of writing. We’ll see.
The Lord is good! I can’t seem to stop saying that. It’s strange. An inexplicable joy.
Speaking of odd numerical connections like the ninety days thing, I realized this yesterday–
The day we first found this place and filled out an application to rent, it was December 31st, 2019. The day China first reported the coronavirus to the World Health Organization (WHO).
God’s timing is perfect, my friend, and there are no accidents.
It is a long story of what happened last year in regards to my mental health that made the move to this property such a miracle (you can read about it in this article I wrote for a local university magazine), but the point is, we felt like God had ushered us out of the crowded city, and into our own little paradise.
And now we know why.