All the Things I've Missed in Quarantine

Hi friend. We're going on week ten of quarantine. Or eleven, or nine. Who's counting? I came back to Washington. I missed the mountains. I wish I could move my entire family to Washington, because I love both them and the mountains. I have to be honest. Tonight, I'm mad, and I'm sad. And I'm going to be okay with that, because I know tomorrow I'll be better. But tonight - I hate this virus. I hate that it's taken lives. I hate that it's taken jobs. I hate that it's divisive. I hate that it's threatened civil liberties that the Constitution taught me are unalienable rights. I hate that it's taken my power to choose. So I will apologize in advance that I'm not going to discuss all the great things about quarantine and how I'm being productive, learning a new skill, really getting in tune with my inner self and feeling ultra-centered, becoming a yogi, master chef, or mixologist. Tonight, I'm going to talk about all the things I miss. And let's be honest, I'm doing it as I drink wine.

I miss sports. Man, how good was The Last Dance? I didn't like the Bulls. I hate dynasties. But it's undeniable. What Michael Jordan did for the city of Chicago and the game of basketball was legendary. Sports are heroic. They're pure and a beacon of hope in hardship. Not only to towns, cities, or countries, but to the athletes who play. They give life.

I miss concerts. O, how I miss the power of live music. Walking over the hill at the Gorge, beckoned by the call of Birmingham by Shovels and Rope. "Rock of ages, cleave for me, let me hide myself in thee." I had just moved to Seattle, and it was hard. I hate transition. I hate loneliness. But in those moments, I hid in the transcendent power of music, and it lifted me. I danced my heart out for hours, and was reminded of the beauty in the world and in me. It gave me life.

I miss tennis. I mean, let's be honest, the only reason I was successful at tennis is because it's a naturally social distanced sport. We all know if I'm within six feet of someone, I'm compelled to speak. Yet, wires are on every court. Apparently now you are able to play tennis as long as you only touch your own balls. Lord, I never thought that would be a statement I would type. Quite frankly, I'm considering licking my own balls in protest. I miss the weight room. Because nothing else matters on the tennis court. Or in the weight room. You can leave your stressful job, your disappointments, your shame, your anger at that guy who was a total jerk, that fight you had with your friend, at the door. And for however long you're on the court, or in the weight room, the only thing that matters is that next point, or that next lift. And when you win a match, or nail a PR - there is life in that.

I miss restaurants. Having a beer after a hard day of work. Enjoying an intricately prepared dish with a glass of wine over good conversation and laughter. Crying to a dear friend over a brownie sundae because life's just been hard lately. There is life in that.

I miss travel. The world holds so much of God's beauty to be explored that clearly displays his magnificence. I climbed Mount Baker last year. Sitting at base camp, watching the sunset over the mountain ranges for 360 degrees, I was at peace. I had just completed my first year at Amazon, through all the highs and lows, and summiting provided a warm sense of accomplishment, a strength to tackle another year and new challenges. It gave me life.

I miss my friends. Everyone has a varying level of comfort in all of this. And indeed, much of it stems from a strong sense of social responsibility, which I understand. It is thoughtful. At the same time, it's freakin weird, and I think it's fair to acknowledge that. I don't know what the rules are. If I go on a date, will my other friends see me? Can I go on a walk with two different people at the same time or should I go at two different times? If I sneeze because of allergies, should I sequester myself for weeks? If I hang out with three people outside, can I also hang out with them inside? If I run into a friend, can I hug them? Should I talk at a safe distance? Or am I only allowed to go on walks by myself? And maybe casually run into someone, talk for no more than five minutes, then continue on my own? What are the rules? No one knows. And I get it. We're all just figuring this out and trying to do it in the best way possible based on our personal values, but it's freakin hard, because I like spending time with humans. Humans give me life.

I miss eye contact. You don't get that on conference calls. You get scattered eyes and broken voices. I miss having a two minute drive by in the hallway before a meeting. I miss the energy derived from a quality brainstorm. Work from home is doable, and for some, it is ideal. For others, including myself, it is exhausting. I live in an 800 square foot apartment, and my job entails daily arguments with multiple stakeholders. And it involves expectation. High expectation to deliver. I feed off of other people's energy. I feed off of a smile in the elevator, a casual conversation in the hallway, a meeting where we get to laugh. Now, I speak once a week to a meeting of thirty people, and every time, it is impossible to read the room. Because there is no room. I don't know who's listening, who's engaged, who's sleeping on the call.* There's no natural back and forth discussion, though of course, I've implemented all the key success tactics for "leading a quality video conference call." Shoot. I don't get to bring them cookies. I love bringing them cookies. Those moments give me life.

I miss church. I miss worship. I miss gathering with a group of other Christians, lifting my hands in praise, feeling the overwhelming presence of God's love and power. There is an intimate aspect of worshiping within your home, but there is a reason churches gather corporately. It gives us life.

Of course, all of this could seem superficial and selfish. How could I be thinking about sports when people are dying? PEOPLE ARE DYING, ANNA. DO YOU HATE LIVES? I don't hate lives. I love lives, actually. Lives are my favorite. Lives and laughter. And though I sincerely don't mean to discount the deaths due to COVID, you're entitled to see it as such. And if it seems I am comparing missing a concert to dying, I have not effectively conveyed my message, because I don't mean that, either. But I promised when I started writing this blog, I would be honest and raw, and though I know my thoughts won't be popular with all, if I don't write, I would not be honoring that promise. And in this area, I feel particularly convicted**. Because sports isn't just sports. And restaurants aren't just restaurants. And friendship isn't just friendship. These non-essential things are what take us from day to day, week to week.*** They empower us to overcome hardship, to face the world a bit stronger and enthusiastically. These things are human. And it is human to touch, to hug. It is human to experience. It is human to fight. And, indeed, it is human to die.

A close coworker died suddenly the other day. He was around my age and a friend, and the thought of him dying alone with no chance to offer memorial in the way of a service is devastating. Coronavirus isn't the only source of death, nor is it the only thing we are fighting. We are fighting poverty, hunger, socioeconomic disparity, depression, anxiety, loneliness. We are fighting cancer, thousands of other diseases, hatred, the loss of freedom. In fighting this one particular disease, we have denied ourselves that which is life giving. And while we may "defeat" COVID, whatever that moving target ends up being, if it comes at the expense of all the others, then is it worth it? I'm not saying I have the answer. But I'm saying if we don't ask the question, removing the intense emotion and fear that surrounds this disease, then we're not doing our due diligence. Because it's not as simple as one fewer COVID death = victory.

Why don't I just go back to my Zoom happy hour, watch some Netflix, and shut up? I mean, honestly, what a privileged sadness I'm having. After all, my life won't change much. I'm still getting paid. I'm young and healthy. And the dust will settle. This will end. Life will go back to a semblance of normal, though for some, their lives will be forever impacted, whether by death, loss of business, extreme depression, poverty. I'll get my restaurants and concerts back. But this will happen again. It may be another virus. It may be cybersecurity. This time, it shut down restaurants, entertainment, sports. What if next time, it shuts down the entire technology industry and we're forbidden to use the Internet? We won't even have memes to save us. It may be something I haven't even heard of yet. How do we learn from this, prepare, and decide what our reaction will be when the next time comes? And if we as a country decide we want to give the government the ability to forcibly shut down any business and any natural part of human life when experts deem it necessary for the good of the people, then I will accept that decision. I may move to Antarctica, but I will accept the decision. But that's a decision that we need to confront, that we need to engage critically in, and that we need to make as free people. And, personally, I think we can do better.

I love the mountains, but valleys are beautiful as well. Seattle is nestled between the Olympic mountains to the West, the Cascades to the East, Rainier to the South, and Baker to the North. I don't think it's geographically such, but it feels like a valley. Every time I see them, I'm breath-taken with such a clear image of God's glory and steadfastness. He was here before this, He weeps with all during this, and He will be here after this. My favorite song of 2020 quotes: "From the greatest of all valleys, come the pastures we call grace." Y'all. This is a valley. You may vehemently disagree with 90% of what I just wrote (though I'd be surprised because who doesn't miss concerts and restaurants. You probably just vehemently disagreed with 60% of what I just wrote). To be honest, I vehemently disagree with so much of what I hear. That doesn't negate the need for grace. For yourself, for others and their experience. Have grace. Listen to a different viewpoint. Understand other people's reasons. And know that while we're on this earth, humanity is broken, and outside of Christ, we will continue to experience death and division, but we have a unique opportunity to fight that, enter the pasture of grace, and emerge the other side with creative solutions that are life giving rather than life taking.

* Obviously, I also use this time to test out my stand up and assume everyone is laughing.
** For those familiar with the enneagram, I am a seven, which means I define my life by the experiences I have, so this could be part of the reason my conviction is so strong.
*** And of course, they employ millions.