There is, Was, and will Always be Both

There is a defiant daffodil in full bloom at the end of my driveway telling winter and despair to stand down.

There is a baby, growing and forming in the womb of my niece, unaware of anything other than the reassuring beat of her mama’s heart and the fluid that protects and sustains her life.

There is a pandemic threatening the world.

There are people setting alarm clocks, knowing in the morning they will stand in their showers afraid, and then they will dry off and don clothes and go to jobs that will risk their lives –  and they’ll do it again and again, for as long as it takes.

There are families sleeping in and waking up in a never ending Saturday – doing chores, watching movies, coloring pictures and learning things about one another that they otherwise would not have known.

There are extraordinary souls emerging from ordinary lives.

There are husbands and wives with nowhere to run from a relationship that had flatlined while they were too busy and distracted to attempt CPR.

There are lovers rediscovering why they love who they love.

There is too much quiet and too much noise.

There are helpers spending endless hours sewing and researching and cooking and  experimenting and discovering like their lives depended on it….for people whose lives really do.

There are workers who have worn the same uniform their entire career and are only now hearing others say, I see what you do and it matters. Thank you. 

There are people getting married in the street, playing sports out the window, creating art and sharing music and finally learning the names of their long time neighbours.

There are moms and dads who no longer have the answers, watching their children sleep; the fear and prayers for these precious lives rising to heaven on each small breath.

There are bodies of water running clear and skies whose stars are suddenly, noticeably, brilliant.

There are people fevered and sick, gasping for air and dying alone.

There are loved ones unable to reach, to hold, to say goodbye.

There are plans being cancelled, milestones uncelebrated,  funerals unattended, lessons untaught, businesses going under;  bills, 

                                                    bills

                                                                                       bills 

                                                                                                         and no cheque.

There are triumphant people recovering, surviving.

There is time to dream and plan and wonder. 

There is an opportunity to reminisce and regret.

There are lives to honour, appreciate, and remember.

There is heartache, heartbreak and hearts that are listening for the first time in a long time.

There is fear, there is love, there are hands outstretched in need, in greed, in abundant giving.

There is uncertainty –  and choices to be made about who we will be in the moment, in the aftermath and in the hereafter.

There will be lasting trauma for exhausted heroes who made desperate decisions about the lives and deaths of their patients.

There will be a season of transition.

There will be miracles.

There will be grace.

There will be fear and doubt and bitterness that lasts.

There will be ferocious faith.

There is light, there is darkness.

It has always been so.