It is now August, 2020, meaning Covid-19 hit over five months ago. I remember my perspective back in March, a convoluted combination of anxiety and apprehension toward the uncertainty of the virus and the future and excitement at the prospect of the extra time to learn French, practice the guitar, revamp this platform and write more. I look back and, of course, only see the ways I fall short.

Words have been hard. I find them the most powerful agents of change, meaning, expression and reconciliation, yet I struggle with my own. I struggle with the line between vulnerability and sounding whiny on the internet. I shy away from sharing my voice, even on a platform that I created for that very purpose, because I can’t stand the sound of it most days.

I fear producing unoriginal thought and facing the reality of my reflections: revealing that I must not have grown much as a person if my take on the small sliver of the world that I inhabit has not changed very much.

I crave humility: a closeness with creation and Creator, yet I so often choose a facade. I crave stability: release from the unhelpful systems I create in order to maintain the image of control, yet I find it impossible to surrender the comfort I find in complete chaos. I crave being known, yet I will always prefer the safety of hiddenness.

I am stubborn, prideful and, far too often, allow bitterness to be my guide.

I desire to return to my dreams and goals paved at the start of this season of quarantine and allow myself a fresh start, a new beginning and the grace to proceed imperfectly as we all navigate these, as we are frequently reminded, unprecedented times.

This is definitely an unoriginal reflection. I will choose to be okay with it.