By the time you read this, it will be the Easter season! Through the timelessness of God’s love, I wish you a happy Easter, and I pray that you are well and celebrating the joy of Our Lord’s resurrection!

But, now, as I type, it is still an average, treat-free, Lenten day. We are going on Day Something-or-other of isolation. I woke up today and decided to stay in my pyjama pants. I know this is a sign of hopelessness, but fear not, my fellow quarantined! They just came in the mail as a birthday gift and it’s only fair to test them out. And they have pockets, so they’re really more of a lounger than pyjama-pant. Also, they match the cami I’m wearing under my grey hoodie. So it’s more of an outfit, really.

The two weeks that have gone by since my last “isolation-journal” are a blur. I close my eyes and all I see are the same faces, the same laundry piles, the same boxes of stuff piling up in every corner as we plan to move at the end of the month. But there are things worth noting.

Day 7 … or something: some of Nicolas’ orchestra met, six feet apart, of course, in the yard of a seniors’ care facility. The residents came out onto their balconies to enjoy the “isolation flash mob.” One woman started to cry, thanking me for the gift my son was sharing.

Day 8: Our first Sunday without Mass. We put out some candles with a standing crucifix by the television and logged on to watch Mass with the archbishop from the cathedral. Small plastic water bottles with “Holy Water” written in black Sharpie on the bedraggled labels made their ways to the living room. I know my children were secretly pleased to know I was now proven wrong after saying a few months ago, “When the heck are we ever going to need that much holy water?!”

Somehow, being so close to Mass, but not close enough, had its own beauty. I really had to ask myself how much I long for the Eucharist. Yes, I believe in my mind, and I profess it. But do I really care that I can’t receive Jesus for who knows how long? Things to ponder and pray about.

Day 8: What is it about boys and destruction? I have had the gift of an entire hour reading outside, lying on the trampoline in the sun. That entire time, my son Thomas has been digging holes, three feet deep, in my garden. He is very proud of himself. Madalen and I joined in on a free on-line paint night. How gracious people can be. The woman does this for a living and is now out of a job. But instead of despairing, she offers herself and her talents as a free gift, hoping to see families unite, enjoy one another, and create something beautiful. God bless her.

Day 9: Today the kids delivered newspapers. The younger ones’ route is in a seniors complex. I decided to print out notes with our phone number on it so anyone there needing anything would have someone to call. I’ve had four phone calls just to say thank you and one text message asking for Lysol wipes! Good luck with that. I told her I would keep an eye out.

Day 10: I opened a closet and found three bottles of disinfectant cleaner! One was Lysol! I don’t know where they came from. Probably my mom. Immediately I remembered the lady from the complex. I sawed a roll of paper towel in half, stuffed it into a plastic coffee canister, poured the Lysol over, and, boom! Lysol wipes! She was so grateful. 

Day 11: It’s strange. I find it hard to believe there is so much fear and dread when the sun is shining so beautifully and the birds just keep singing. People are acting strange at the stores, avoiding eye contact, whispering instead of talking. “Smiles and eye contact don’t spread germs!” I want to shout out. At the same time, others are going out of their way to connect online and make themselves available. We’ve had online lessons for music, art, ballet, and even movie nights. And many people are offering these things at no cost. It’s a sincere gift, and a sign that goodness cannot be conquered.

Day 12: The greatest gift today: confession! Father Thompson, like many others, worked so hard to make confession available, taping off the sidewalk for social distancing, one person going into the chapel at a time, using auto-entry. He was behind a partition, and there was a kneeler and crucifix. It was raining outside while we waited, but I couldn’t have cared less. Thomas took my hand to lead me to the other side of the church parking lot. “Close your eyes, Mama! ... Now turn. Open them.” And there was a monstrance with the Blessed Sacrament in the windowsill of the church, placed for all. We went on our knees and I thanked the Lord for this gift. Seek and you shall find.

Day 13: We received the Pope’s Urbi et Orbi blessing. He looked tired, and worn. But again, there is a tragic beauty in all of it: the empty St. Peter’s Square, the echo of Pope Francis’ words. “Because this is God's strength: turning to the good everything that happens to us, even the bad things. He brings serenity into our storms, because with God life never dies.”