I am not a consistent churchgoer, but this has been the lent-iest Lent of my lifetime. We all were faced with opportunities to sacrifice, reflect, and give back–almost on a daily basis. Our yearning for rebirth and renewal was more than spiritual or metaphorical this year.

We couldn’t host our almost annual Holy Saturday celebration with friends, but my family was determined to make the best out of a strange situation and celebrate.

Light a Candle for Peace

At Bambino’s school, they sing this song:

Light a candle for peace

Light a candle for love

Light a candle that shines all the way around the world

Light a candle for me

Light a candle for you

That our wish for world peace will one day come true

One of our neighbors suggested that we decorate our homes with luminaries on Good Friday. Ours were a family art project, with Bambino and me punching holes and decorating paper bags. He covered our luminaries with phrases like “i love you,” “peace,” and “happy easter.”

After dinner, we lit our candles and took a walk. We looked at all the flickering little lights that hung from trees and dotted stoops and driveways. Each one seemed like a prayer being sent into the heavens. “There’s so much love here,” Bambino commented, as we waved to our neighbors and shouted our well-wishes from afar.

Sunshine!

My child’s natural state is wiggling. I’ve never been more thankful for our spacious backyard than during the past month. Whether he’s running drills his soccer coach sent him via email, shooting baskets, or just running laps with the dog, the backyard has become Bambino’s place of refuge and silliness.

We’ve jokingly started referring to it as the sportsplex, due to the remarkable uptick in gear and activities that it holds. On most days, you’ll find soccer goals, a basketball hoop, cones set up for drills, golf clubs, and il Cane’s favorite bocce ball peppering the yard and patio.

Thankfully, Easter weekend felt like Spring (which isn’t always guaranteed in Michigan). We spent most of our time basking in the sun, playing countless yard games, and testing out our new badminton set that he received as a gift.

Outside, we laughed and played. Bambino said hello to his next-door friends through the fence. Things almost felt normal.

Video Conferencing and Easter Brunch

All that silliness worked up some appetites. Luckily, food is my love language. Thanks to curbside grocery pickups and our farm-to-table delivery service, we’ve taken the lockdown as an opportunity to cook more, limit food waste, and experiment with recipes. (I’m also painfully aware that access to fresh food and the ability to “play around” in the kitchen is a privilege.)

We spent chunks of the weekend making sugar cookies, slow-roasting ribs, and kneading pizza dough. On one of our many, many walks, we left a basket of sweets and mimosa ingredients on our dear friends’ doorstep, along with an invitation to a video conference brunch. They returned the favor and gave us a sinfully good blueberry coffeecake from their curbside order from a local bakery.

Easter morning, we logged into Zoom in our pajamas, popped bottles of Prosecco, and shared a meal. The kids showed off their Easter baskets. We told stories, commiserated, and toasted each other. It wasn’t our old normal, but it felt good.

Stay safe, stay healthy. Here’s to brighter days.

 

Yesterday was spectacularly beautiful. The sun was shining; Mother Nature was begging us to get out and bask. (Il Cane was also begging us for a chance to get out and sniff all the things.) We decided that hike was very overdue.

We got to our selected hiking spot, which has a tiny parking lot and is relatively off the grid. There were a few cars there, but we decided to give it a try. It was nice for a while, but we kept encountering people. The trail felt narrow, and we decided that we needed to find a new location.

En route to Location #2, we decided to swing by the house and grab our masks. Suddenly, Bambino no longer wanted to hike. “Please,” I pleaded, noting that the dog desperately needed to channel his inner wolf. Bambino reluctantly obliged.

I told him he didn’t have to start out wearing his mask, but that we all needed to put them on if we saw people approaching. Everything was fine until we saw our first group of hikers.

As soon as they passed, he burst into tears. “Mom, it’s too much! I can’t wear it. People will think I’m sick. Or weird.” He crumpled into my arms.

I couldn’t convince him that he was doing the right thing. At that moment, Bambino couldn’t have cared less about flattening the curve. He was a little boy who was scared, embarrassed, and really confused.

Life seemed pretty normal until his mommy made him wear a mask. Then it wasn’t.

We wrapped up our hike, made him an extra-extra-large “kiddy cocktail,” and let him get his (mask-free) wiggles out in our backyard. He’s doing just fine now– and he says he’ll wear his mask again. “We have to be warriors, Mama. I’ll be strong.”

Wearing a mask isn’t the end of the world, but it sure feels like it sometimes. We’ll get used to this new normal, friends. In the meantime, let’s be kind to each other (and provide extra Maraschino cherries).