The Surprising Gift Coronavirus Brought California on Lockdown

Last weekend when reading the headlines it felt like the apocalypse was looming, but when I ventured out of the house to buy groceries the streets, shops, and restaurants full of people seemed to assert that life was continuing normally.

This weekend we find ourselves confined to our homes, streets barren, favorite spots shuttered. We have woken up in a dystopian dream but the headlines ask us not to panic, reassuring that we can still buy groceries, visit the doctor, go for a walk – they say we can do the essentials.

A few days ago California was one of only three states asked to shelter in place, but as of this morning twenty percent of the country, ten states, have now been asked to come to a hard stop. This glimpse of our new normal is most likely a peek at your not-too-distant future.

Turns out what is considered essential are the things that we as Americans most often abandon in the hurry to get to all of our now defined nonessential exploits. What paring back to the essentials looks like…

• Entire neighborhoods do not wake up until well past 9am since there is nowhere to go. Snuggling in bed and catching up on sleep is essential.

• When families do wake, not a car budges from the driveway. Pancake parties, making the perfect cup of coffee, and sitting down to breakfast together is essential.

• In the late morning strollers and bicycles start rolling down streets in family-groups, soaking in sunlight and staying at least six feet away from others. Walks, jogs, and bicycle rides are essential.

• In the afternoon neighbors wipe down books, puzzles, and games with Clorox wipes and set them on the curb to swap with others. The streets grow quiet again as families eat their mid-day meals together and then find that… Naps, board games, good books, puzzles, arts and crafts time, favorite movies, gardening, quiet time, and other old and new hobbies are essential.

• In the evening the smell of grilling meat and backyard campfires rolls across the neighborhood, people sit on front porches, wineglasses in hand, and chat across their property lines. Conversation is essential.

• The streets grow silent as families sit down together for dinner. There are no revolving eating times as children run off to practices or youth group or parents come home late from work. Sitting down to dinner together is essential. Families are essential.

• The sun sets and we linger in our backyard, there is nothing to prep for the next day. Looking down the line of fencing we see family after family tossing a ball, running and laughing, staring at the one rhythm that can’t be thrown into confusion by the insidious reach of this virus. Tomorrow that same rhythm will wake and anchor us, because sunrises and sunsets are essential.

When I left my house to drive a few miles to drop some supplies off with a friend the streets were deserted. The only people around were those grabbing takeout or the homeless sitting block after block. A reminder that there are many without families or homes during this time. A reminder that every essential is a privilege, a gift.

Anxiety and grief underly every aspect of life right now. Will those who are vulnerable be ok? What will life look like after this? The questions go on…

There is disappointment, uncertainty, and concern, but in the midst there are the essentials and when we slow down long enough, when we are forced to do only them – we learn that they are good enough to give us all the strength we need.

Maybe after the pandemic of 2020 is over, we won’t ever let anyone take those essentials away from us again.