pandemic

My father dwelt in a tent.

I recently completed and restarted my study of the Book of Mormon. Sometimes it feels a little like Groundhog Day, as if there is little possibility I could still glean new insight or wisdom, considering that I am reading the exact same book for the umpteenth time.

And yet, heeding the prophet’s call to study it again and again, I turned right back around to 1 Nephi and started reading.

When I was a teenager and someone would ask me which scripture verse was my favorite, if I was in a snarky mood, I’d respond with “And my father dwelt in a tent.” I was kidding, of course, but as I have matured and gained insight, I’ve started to wonder at why Nephi made mention of this fact not just once, but several times in his record.

Specifically, he notes on three separate occasions: “Now all these things were said and done as my father dwelt in a tent in the valley of Lemuel.”

With a limited amount of space on which to write, and the fact that it was labor-intensive, why did Nephi repeat himself over such a seemingly trivial thing? Well, for starters, he’s simply giving a point of reference, so we know when and where certain events occurred.

I’m sure the scholars could write an entire book about it, but I’ll just add my humble musings on the matter. Take a look at the stories that precede Nephi’s references to their tent-dwelling in 1 Nephi 9, 1 Nephi 10, and 1 Nephi 16.

Each of these chapters contains a vision or prophecy. An occasion where the heavens were opened and Lehi (or Nephi, as the case may be) received revelation from God. Is it any coincidence that such revelations came as they “dwelt in a tent”? I think not.

Lehi was a very wealthy man in Jerusalem. Surely the demands of a large family and estate overwhelmed him and his wife Sariah at times. They lived there prior to Babylonian captivity, when Jerusalem’s inhabitants were ripening in iniquity.

Their means probably put them in social circles where there was pressure to keep up with the Joneses, so to speak. Maybe Sariah shuttled her children to and from various activities and a frenzied pace became the norm. Perhaps she worried about her kids’ friends and the influence that a privileged life was having on their commitment to the important things in life.

It’s possible that family time was slipping away from them and that a study of the word of God took a back seat to any number of activities that pulled them in different directions. (I don’t pretend to know what those are, but I do know that a life of entertainment and hobby is not uncommon among families whose finances are secure. Surely, that applied anciently, as well.)

In any case, Lehi and Sariah and their family left it all behind to “dwell in a tent” in the wilderness. Family time was the only time now. Social engagements canceled for good. Hobbies? Who has time for those when you have to find your own food?

In this simplified existence, I’m sure that quiet time with God became more prevalent, not to mention, necessary. Removing all distraction was a gift to Lehi and his family, as they learned to navigate life with the bare minimum, not knowing where they should go or what they should do.

I can’t help but see some parallels between this experience and the 2020 pandemic. Keeping up with a family of seven before COVID hit our country was utterly exhausting. I lived life in maintenance mode, moving from one event/project to the next.

Sure, we studied the gospel regularly in our home, but sometimes only half-heartedly or in a rush to wrap it up to get kids here or there or because they had homework to complete. Half the time we were missing at least one family member.

My personal quiet time of reflection came at a great cost as I had to wake ridiculously early to fit in any sort of scripture study. I fell asleep often because my body couldn’t keep up with the pace of family life.

As the pandemic hit, we figuratively left behind Jerusalem with only the necessary provisions (toilet paper included). Our lifestyle instantly simplified, we found joy in our family relationships, in simple pleasures, in studying the gospel with greater purpose.

Without all the distraction, I have found I am more in tune with my children’s needs. I have more energy to read up on how to navigate the troubles they experience, and more time to commune with the One who has all the answers.

Aside from a few camping trips we took this summer, we have not left everything behind to dwell in a tent. But, by stripping away much of our pre-pandemic baggage, we’ve discovered a closeness to God and one another that I dare say took a back seat for far too long.

All the ways that our family’s pandemic experience was an “ideal” one.

When life was “canceled” a few months ago due to the arrival of a pandemic on our shores, I did a little happy dance. Read about it here.

I was suffering from burnout, which can easily become the norm for mothers of several children (five, in my case) who desperately feel the ticking time bomb that is my time with them at home.

It’s tricky to find a balance when trying to give our kids every opportunity in life because along with that comes a whole lot of chauffeuring, volunteering, teaching and training. All while trying to manage a semi-peaceful household.

Well, I have to say that during January through March, I was failing miserably at achieving that balance. Enter COVID-19. Devastating to most. A godsend to me.

So, while I don’t mean to minimize what others have gone through over the past few months, I would be forever ungrateful if I failed to acknowledge the countless advantages our family had during quarantine.

First, my husband had a job that could easily be done remotely. Not only did this guarantee us a stable income but it meant that we could take daily walks during his lunch hour. (And I had backup with child-rearing if I really needed it).

Second, unlike so many couples, who both had to work from home, as well and single parents who go at it alone every day, we had the luxury of a stay-at-home parent. That meant I could minimize interruptions to Tim’s many Zoom calls, keep the kids from killing each other and help with schoolwork without taking a hit to work productivity.

That is a position few families found themselves in and it was not lost on me. Or Tim, for that matter.

Third, we live in a neighborhood with numerous walking paths and enjoy a wonderful fenced backyard where we can be outside while social distancing. Watching videos of Italians serenading one another from their balconies was both heartwarming and heartrending. The thought of the only access to the outside world being from a balcony sure made me feel spoiled in my single-family suburban home.

Fourth. There are seven people in my family. No loneliness in these parts. Want to play a board game? Great! There’s plenty of people to join you. A round of badminton? Doubles? Easily accomplished. Need a shoulder to cry on? Not a problem.

The annoyances that come along with large families are not few, but you can bet we were all glad to have plenty of options for a partner in crime during our quarantine.

Fifth, I finally found myself grateful for the extra 750 square feet we added onto our abode almost two years ago. The process was a terrible headache but you can bet that seven people (most of whom are now adult-sized) crammed into 3200 square feet around the clock is a whole lot better than those same people fighting over 2500 square feet of territory.

Sixth, after evaluating our food storage, I was delighted to find that we could probably last about 6 months without going to the grocery store. Aside from fresh milk, produce and eggs, we were in good shape! And I even had canned varieties of all three if we really got desperate. (But…yuck!)

And on that note, I got my hands on a cow from a local friend (we’ve done this before) just before meat processing plant outbreaks and the price of beef shot up. Our freezer is jam-packed with locally-butchered beef that will last us two years, easy.

Lastly, I can’t say enough about how much my faith sustains me in daily life.

When all this pandemic crap hit the fan, church was canceled indefinitely. Being able to meet in our home for Sunday worship and daily scripture study has been a tender experience. As our family has refocused on the things that matter most, we’ve gained an added measure of peace that things are gonna be all right in the end. It is our faith in Christ that grounds us in that soul-sustaining belief.

So, while I can’t say my first pandemic has been ALL fun and games, I CAN show gratitude for the fact that, in our case, we were dealt a much softer blow than so many. My personal hope is to ease the burden on others for whom this has not been the case. I’m trying anyway.

The summer of the best friend.

When my kids were younger I cringed a little at the term “best friend”. Anytime I’d catch one of my kids and a friend call each other “besties” it just didn’t sit well with me. I’ve always found the term to be a bit exclusive. As most superlatives are.

Though it never evolved into a formal sit-down discussion, my girls knew how I felt on the subject. “It’s just a good idea to surround yourself with lots of great people without unintentionally excluding others by claiming a “bestie” for oneself.”

“It’s better to not put all your eggs in one basket and instead have several good friends that you can count on equally.”

“You might want to include so-and-so in this particular gathering/outing. Otherwise she might feel left out.”

These are the types of things I’d say that likely bred an aversion to “best friends” in my children. Mostly to help them be a little more other-centered and inclusive-also to ensure that they don’t get too complacent in their relationships.

Fast forward to 2020.

After a couple of months of “you can see no one outside your family”, we graduated to “pick a small group of friends and limit yourself to hanging out only with those few this summer.” Huge paradigm shift. But necessary in a pandemic.

So while I am still a huge advocate for casting one’s net wide when it comes to friendships under normal circumstances, it appears that during the pandemic we will be a little bit more choosy about with whom we hang out. “Summer of the best friend”, I’m calling it.

Desperate times call for desperate measures, I suppose.

Spring in quarantine.

April and May were characterized by lots of walks around the neighborhood(to prevent going stir-crazy), playing badminton in the backyard almost every day, more baking, church at home, and a brand-new subscription to Disney Plus.

 

Jack broke his collarbone when his sister crashed into him on the swings.  Collarbone fractures hurt terribly for the first two days.  Bouncing back is surprisingly quick.  He was as good as new within three days.  At least he thought so.

 

Jack also got an infusion in May.  He’s grinning from ear to ear in this shot because it was OVER.

 

The kids limped to the end of the school year.

Rachel had her first socially-distanced piano recital.

 

We are so grateful to have endured the remodel fiasco of 2018 so that there was room enough for the seven of us to spread out as needed.  Despite the loss of interacting with friends regularly, we cherished the time it allowed us to focus on our most important relationships within our family.

 

A stay-at-home induction.

She wondered why I was taking pictures. She and Tim and I were just parked on a bean bag chair in front of her laptop after all.

But that’s what you do when school’s gone online for the rest of the year. Your National Honor Society induction ceremony is gonna look a little different, you know?

But that doesn’t mean a proud mama can’t post a picture or two of the moment just because we aren’t all dressed up and the honoree isn’t called up on stage to accept the accolade.

She earned it. Her initial application rejected likely because of the rushed manner in which she submitted it. (I suppose she figured that academic excellence carried the most weight and failed to mention a few service and leadership roles on her resume). Her appeal reflected more accurately the numerous bits of service she has contributed to the community in the last year.

She’s lucky they let her appeal. But I’m glad she had to put in a little extra for something for which she’s an obvious shoo-in. Things won too easily are seldom truly appreciated.

So there we sat staring at her laptop as they read her name and that of many friends, our hearts swelling with pride. Not just for the honor of her acceptance into an elite group. But even more for the humble appeal she submitted as evidence that she really wanted it.

What parent wouldn’t want to take a picture of that?

Ordered to stay-at-home. Oh, can I?

Just over three weeks ago was a typical Thursday. I’d attended an after-school volleyball game (Rachel’s first). I dropped Eve off at soccer practice then headed straight to drop Rachel off at hers. That bought me two hours to drop off donations at the local thrift store and make my weekly grocery trip to Winco.

COVID-19 had been marching its way slowly across the country for over a month, beginning with Washington (with whom we share a border). Idaho was one of the last holdouts, so I wasn’t concerned. And frankly, though I’d heard about people hoarding toilet paper, I’d had no issues securing what I needed in the previous few weeks.

But Winco that night was a disaster. Still well-stocked. But completely unprepared for the crowd that descended at the exact same time I did. Holy cow. I waited in line for over 45 minutes to check out, making me 10 minutes late to pick up Rachel from practice. (Tim picked up Eve, since her practice was closer to his work).

While waiting in line I discovered that our church (a global organization) had canceled all Sunday meetings until further notice. Huge deal. Dominoes from there on out. Soccer game canceled. Then all games/practices for the next two weeks. After that-after-school activities/sports canceled. Not long after that – school was canceled.

Suddenly my schedule was completely clear. No running kids to extracurriculars. No art lessons in the near future. No church obligations to fulfill. No waking up at 5:30 to make breakfast before Lily leaves for seminary. No Joy School lessons, no teaching piano, no drivers ed.

Granted, I actually enjoy most of the things I do as a stay-at-home mom. But the term stay-at-home has sort of become a misnomer. And I won’t lie when I say that parenting five kids and all that entails occasionally leads to serious burnout.

It turns out that canceling everything is all I’ve ever wanted.

It means that family dinner happens every single night now. It means my gas tank has been sitting on full for longer than 5 days straight. It means my to-do list is shrinking instead of growing longer under a cloud of obligations I haven’t ever been able to shake. It means my work-from-home husband gets to take a walk with me daily during his lunch break. It means family movie night is every night. And so much more.

So here are a few things I’ve caught on camera the past two weeks:

Home church – complete with Jack giving his first on-camera talk and a few families (including ours) providing singing time for our ward family.

Tim making a Toney family special for Pi Day.

Green pancakes for St. Patty’s Day.

Planting our spring garden.

Sunday outing along the Boise River. Lots of rock-skipping (or, in Jack’s case, throwing).

Breaking in the fire pit for the season.

Pinterest-fail donuts for Anna’s birthday breakfast. (They were tasty – but the hack I’d secured to compensate for the lack of a donut pan misfired, in a major way.)

Hours of fun playing with rice.

Brand new throw pillows for the couches (I bought the fabric last summer so this to-do list item was long overdue).

Matching piano bench re-cover.

A deep appreciation for a full-container of eggs.

Starting on a recipe book of family favorites for my soon-to-be-college-bound daughters. Beginning with banana chocolate chip muffins.

Game night with the fam.

A complete inventory of our food storage. Spring cleaning – 5 boxes destined for Deseret Industries (that will unfortunately languish in our house until it reopens after the pandemic dies down). A freshly cleaned (and painted) pantry.

We even resurrected the butterfly garden we used years ago and ordered some painted lady caterpillars.

Right after they arrived.
They grow a lot in ten days.

Plus a whole lot of reading, binging on TV, video gaming and overall laziness.

I’m living my best life, peeps.