I’ve done a fair bit of worrying this year?
What?! You, too?!
Worry over safety and politics and our country and toilet paper (no one saw that coming) and right and wrong and ALL host of things. On top of what I normally worry about, it’s been A LOT.
I have thought a good deal about how this year – this wild, crazy, unexpected and sometimes hard year – will shape and impact our kids. What sort of memories will they walk away with? What will they tell children, grandchildren, nieces and nephews someday? Will there be long term anxieties to help them work through?
Then a few weeks ago we were at Mass on Sunday morning in Spearfish. It had been an event to get there: We (and by “we” I mean ME) had left all of the mass clothes – the carefully chosen and curated wardrobe – hanging on the back of the front door. Our extended stay at the lake had included “nicer” clothes along with all of the clothes we were prepared to have Iron Creeked. But this trip was a short one and bare bones – 2 shirts, 2 shorts, chonies, a sweatshirt and a pair of pants. When I realized what I had done, panic slowly swept through the fam. “But I have NOTHING appropriate!” was everyone’s lament. We discussed waiting until Sunday evening and dashing back for the Newman Mass in Rapid. It was Rally Sunday so maybe our less-than-church-worthy duds wouldn’t be noticed? We finally decided we would attempt to make a trip to Walmart if we made it out of the Lake on time. It was just the motivation we all needed. Tess and Max and I ran in with 15 minutes to find coordinating Mass clothes for the lot and emerged in 10 minutes triumphant. Quick changes happened in the van en route to the church and we showed up with time to spare.
So there we were, in our new Walmart attire. Penny had on some antique pink gloves and was holding her “lumbrella” (a parasol in her eyes) and surveying the gathered congregation with rather a regal air. “Mom!” she whisper-shouted. “MOM!” She beckoned me closer so she could whisper shout in my ear.
“Why are they wearing masks??”
If I had any energy left, I might worry about her. I’m pretty sure I don’t need to, though.
