Saying that the past week has been surreal would be an understatement. A week ago, I was attending choir rehearsals as usual, preparing for a guest lecturer that I was really excited about, and making plans to see a concert at the National Concert Hall. A week ago, I wouldn’t have thought that returning home to the United States was even a possibility.
Everything has moved so quickly recently that I haven’t had much time to process. Plans have shifted each day, and sometimes, each hour. It has been an incredible exercise in letting go of the control I so desperately want to cling to in times of crisis. It has also been an exercise in finding joy in the most mundane or unexpected of places. We continued to crack jokes and to smile, even when the outlook became progressively more bleak. We went and got donuts for everyone at work (twice), recorded an episode of our podcast that was just 45 minutes of us goofing off together, and practiced the beautiful music planned for our Holy Week liturgies.
On Thursday night, when we received an email telling us that for our safety we were being sent home, my housemates and I spent the evening on the couch upstairs, watching stupid YouTube videos, drinking wine, and goofing off. There were no tears (those had all been shed when we first heard the news), but there was a lot of laughter. I had a moment where I realized that somewhere during this year, these two people had become family to me, and that I wasn’t ready to leave them. It was a bittersweet realization. My housemate Katherine regularly quotes something she learned after her time with NET Ministries: “That’s how you know you really loved. That when you have to leave, it breaks your heart.” Yes, my heart is breaking, but wow do I love the people here so much.
We have to seek out joy in the next few weeks and to look out for one another. This past week has taught me how deeply loved I am and how deeply I have loved. It has taught me to appreciate everything, from a hug from a friend to receiving the Eucharist. We aren’t guaranteed the permanence of anything in this world, and that is a difficult truth to learn. But we have laughter, and we have love, and those two things are enough to assure me that I’m going to be okay.
