Today, hunkering down in my apartment in my paradise of Veracruz, Mexico during my 90-day retreat that– due to the coronavirus– has turned into a 5-month retreat; I’m not sure why, but I’m feeling unusually sad. Maybe because it’s Sunday and church of course is still canceled. No church, no family all under one roof to draw close and be one during these uncertain, scary days.
The kids are grown with their own homes; they are one with their own families. I’m on the outside looking in and it’s not anything like the same. It used to be them, one by one, gradually growing up and separating themselves from the family unit. Now it’s me separating myself, trying to decide where to live independently and be happy.
As much as I love my children and grandchildren and wish them well and pray over them and rejoice in their successes and happiness and growth as individuals and families, I can’t keep on living in their homes. I think it’s time to get out on my own.
But I have enjoyed staying with Nathan’s family, who made such a loving and welcoming place for me.
This morning I kind of wish I were back with them.
But what I really wish for I can’t have– that would be going back in time, to when everything was beautiful and perfect for a moment.