Today’s reflection comes from our Marketing Manager/Sales Associate, Tessa Newton. Our sun through leavesfrequent guests are likely already familiar with Tessa and her contagious smile. She continues to work through the pandemic, now safely at home, but looks forward to when we can all be back at the Center again.

Holding Onto Hope

I have always been a silver-lining person. I look for, find, and focus on any sliver of positivity I can find in an otherwise crummy circumstance. This doesn’t mean I bury my head in the sand, pretending as if everything is perfect. Rather, finding any ounce of good allows me to navigate uncertain and tumultuous waters.

As the reality of COVID-19 set in, the silver-lining was fairly easy for me to find: time with my two children (Alistair 2 and Annaliese 5 months) and my husband (whose typically rigorous work schedule has slowed greatly).

Of course, I’ve never lived through a pandemic that brought the world to a grinding halt. The negatives loom large and at times much, much larger than my silver-lining: will my family remain healthy? If my husband, a physical therapist, comes into contact with a COVID positive patient, will he have to quarantine away from us? How do we adequately care for our friends and family from afar? Will we still be social distancing and quarantining this time next year? How are we, personally and collectively, supposed to bounce back from this? As a person that plans events for a living…what does that look like post-pandemic?

It can seem so bleak and without an end in sight. So, what are we supposed to do? How do we get through each day?

I cling to just one word…hope.

As the Center has made a push to provide positive content to our friends virtually, I’ve been scouring the internet for things to share. I personally keep returning to this one piece by Hal Lindsay:

“Man can live about forty days without food, about three days without water, about eight minutes without air…but only for one second without hope.”

None of us have the answers but we do have a choice to make: can we allow space for hope? I’m not claiming that being hopeful will be easy – there will be times that it may feel downright impossible. I am choosing to find a glimmer of hope – sunny days, Springtime budding in my yard, Zoom calls with people that I don’t see nearly enough even when we aren’t in the midst of a pandemic – because just like a silver-lining, it gives me the capacity to muddle through the fear and sadness. Hope has to be a part of our lives, especially now, to keep us all afloat.