Hope

Masks are coming off, the sun is beginning to come out more, the geese are honking, the birds are chirping, and while it’s still cold outside, the air carries a louder buzz than ever of spring’s renewal and joy in it. Warmth and hope are on the horizon in a way unlike anything we’ve ever felt before!

For two long years, there was no horizon. We set our patience on overdrive, hoping we wouldn’t lose our minds as we closed ourselves up in our individual houses. It isn’t natural to spend all your time with the same few family members, day in and day out, without the peppering of dozens or hundreds of other people. It isn’t normal for kids to forego school and swirl downward in loneliness and boredom. It is highly unusual for the big event of the day to be cooking dinner once again. But we did what we had to do to stay safe.

I’ve never felt so stifled. So numb. So indifferent. So detached from enthusiasm. The charm of Orcas Island has always been its endless gatherings, its community, its attentiveness to each other. All of that was completely wiped from the slate for way too long. The cheer, the laughter, and the sparkle of this island was replaced with blah. Absolute blah.

It looks like things are about to change in a BIG way!

Do you remember what our calendars used to look like every day before the pandemic? For those of you who have forgotten or didn’t live here before, they were absolutely packed with every kind of event you can imagine – talent shows for kids, adults, and seniors; fabulous musical and theatrical performances at Orcas Center; summer Farmers’ Markets at the Village Green; artisan markets; workshops from apple-grafting to calendula lotion-making; pop-up wood-fired pizza nights in old barns; movies and SeaDoc’s “Ocean Nights” at Sea View Theatre; Orcas Christian School’s free community dinners; Bill Gincig’s free dance classes at the Odd Fellows Hall – basically any and every excuse to get together with each other and have a ball. When there wasn’t a planned event, all you had to do was come into town and see what people were up to, and voila! – you’d be swept up into some sort of spontaneous fun that you didn’t imagine.

I now have two years of wall calendars with absolutely nothing on them. I keep each year’s calendar so that I can be reminded of what life was like in any given month or year. It’s a quick way to jump back in time and reminisce about things I may have forgotten or neglected to put in our family photo albums. When I set all the calendars from the eight previous years we lived here next to those from the last two pandemic years, it’s astonishing to see the difference. The squares for each day in normal times are full – I mean there is no space for one more word of chicken scratch, with events from morning to night. I remember our family actually having to take days off to intentionally sit down, be home, and rest from all the fun. The calendar squares during the last two years are empty. Totally empty. Except for a doctor’s appointment here and there.

How exciting it felt to walk into Island Market unmasked yesterday – the first day we have been allowed to show our faces inside – and see all the smiles and expressions of checkers and customers. Island Market has consistently been one of the only places to go every few days to see other people since March of 2020. Oh, what joy filled my soul in those moments. I could’ve applied right then and there to be a market greeter so that I could stand at the front of the store and welcome every person who entered! Well, I can’t say that after two years of masking I felt like being unmasked for a long time inside. But we’ll see what happens over time.

Some of you may like to continue with masks and distancing for personal safety reasons (and perhaps comfortability). Some of you may feel a little sheepish, not for safety reasons but because pandemic times have changed you, made you more introverted, or caused you to forget how to socialize. That’s understandable. As the temperatures warm we can begin gathering out safely in the open air. You can move into it slowly.

On the other hand, if you’re anything like me – and I have been all for safety all along but now I’m about to lose my crackers – you need an immediate snapping-back into community activity. If many of you resonate with that, I ask you to begin rekindling the Orcas Island life that we all know and love. I ask you to remember how to plan get-togethers, as we’re all rusty. I ask that we be gracious with each other’s oddities and differences, as being one with each other has never meant being like-minded. Grace and variety is what characterizes this island’s people. If we can safely do it, I ask that we get back into enjoying community events as soon as possible. Many of us need the daily proposition of gathering, laughing, hugging, and seeing each other’s beaming smiles. Not just seeing a few people. You all are missed. You all are important. I don’t want to see a few people I know. I want to see all of you who are ready to be seen. Your you is needed in this little island world.

I never knew how important other people were to me until we had to remove ourselves from each other. I just thought I liked to observe people on my own terms and then retreat back to my predictable family life and personal thought life for balance. The pandemic’s isolation has taught me that other people do not just “pepper” my life with a little spice. They are essential to my mental health. They are what keeps our family relationships in balance. They are vital to my daily level of enthusiasm and joy. While I have always loved quiet solitude and personal introversion for thinking time, I learned that there is no balance to it if you can’t have times of extroversion. You can’t balance introversion with more introversion.

I’m not sure if our hearts are like gas tanks. Can they be filled immediately? Must they fill slowly? Is your gas tank permanently cracked if it’s been empty too long? I’m interested in seeing how this all works, since the pandemic has changed me on the inside. Will my heart fill up and will the person I used to be return quickly? Or will it take some time for the joy of gathering again with others to slowly seep into my cracks and mend them? Hopefully the parts of you and me that carry heartache will experience healing over time, whether gradual or immediate. Hopefully someday we’ll wake up and realize they are no longer there.

Orcas Island, may we begin gathering again together, safely and joyously!

While the world begins to climb out of the pit of the pandemic toward the promise of hope, it feels frivolous to write about heartache when the people of Ukraine are experiencing horror unlike anything we can imagine. I couldn’t leave this article on a note of ignoring the elephant in the room. May all our hearts lean into the Ukrainian people, may our prayers bring about change, and may our money, resources, and efforts bring love their way. What can you do today to help someone there?

You can also find this on the March 13th Sun Days column on The Orcasonian here.