What was it about being adults as children that had us not able to wait until we grew up? Was it the sense of freedom? The ability to make our own choices? Wear the clothes or the styles we wanted to wear? What were we thinking??
This past week was one of those weeks I was simply done with adulting and all the responsibilities that go along with it. I had returned from vacation and continuing education tired, and exhausted. By the time I arrived home, I wanted nothing more to do than unload the car and go to bed. Never mind Bonnie and Shadow were clamoring for attention -- and food. The next morning, I learned why I was so tired and exhausted -- I tested positive for covid.
Covid was not on the post vacation to do list. It meant changing plans quickly for Sunday services. My deep gratitude to Holly Gainor and Jason Spickler for pinch hitting at the last minute Saturday morning. It meant cancelling lunch plans with friends, and it meant not being able to visit Vaughn in skilled care.
Thankfully, this second round of covid was mild. It was still miserable, but mild. I was able to talk with Vaughn, and tell him it would be a few days before I would be able to see him. A couple of hours later, the skilled care facility called, sharing they thought he had a heart attack and were sending him to the hospital. I was a little scared. OK, a lot scared. I couldn't be there with him, and both our adult children were dealing with health crises in their families as well.
God heard our prayers: symptoms were related to a uti Vaughn has.
Two days later, the microwave decided to go on the fritz while trying to cook an ear of corn (A colleague joked the microwave caught the corn-a-virus). The next day, I discovered the water heater had a leak and needed to be replaced.
This was my last straw. I needed to make decisions that seemed hard: spend money on a service call for the microwave, or buy a new microwave? A service plan for the water heater, or ignore it until it gets too worse? I wanted Vaughn's presence to make the difficult decisions, to sit home and wait for the water heater to be repaired, to remind me to breathe, and take a deep breath, that in the words of Julian of Norwich, "All will be well, and all will be well."
Only he wasn't -- and isn't. So I called home, and got my parent's voicemail. The next day my Mom called to tell me she too had tested positive for covid.
Ugh! This is it. I'm done adulting. I'm ready for a vacation in the middle of the ocean, with no internet or cell phone. I know I just returned, but I'm ready to sit under the unpredictable plant (see Eugene Peterson's book), and have an adult beverage.
Complaint and whining aside, I was reminded by several, of God's grace. Yes, there are and will be weeks where it feels as though everything is falling apart at the same time. There are weeks where it will feel as though nothing can be done correctly, that there will always be more needing time and attention than what is necessary or what can realistically be done. Even in the middle of weeks like these, where we declare to anyone who will listen our doneness with adulting, is the reminder from Romans 8 (paraphrased because of this week): I am convinced that neither fried microwaves or leaky water heaters, or the inability to visit loved ones in skilled care, or being a distance away from loved ones with covid can separate me from the love of God in Christ Jesus.
God loves me in the rough moments of life. God loves you in the rough moments of life. God loves you, me, and the entire world -- always and forever.
Maybe you're done adulting -- temporarily. Maybe life is super overwhelming at this point in time. Maybe world news is just too much to read or listen to. Whatever leads you to not want to adult anymore, please know you are not alone. You are loved. God loves you and so do I.
Pastor Traci Glover