“Project Night has been cancelled.”

Project Night—The big spring event at Lydia’s school. It’s the culmination of a school year focused on research, presentation, and project-based collaborative learning. It’s a beloved event by students, teachers, parents, and alumni. The announcement was heart-breaking.

It was the first of many heart-breaking announcements that came in waves, one right after the other. Schools were closed down, businesses, particularly restaurants, “non-essential” businesses. I had a particular frown for that one, “every business is essential…to someone,” I muttered, as another critical vendor’s market for Annie’s business was cancelled.

“Well, maybe we can take the girls to the pool?” Annie asked.

As if on cue, “All public pools have been closed.” (seriously? Is our Home bugged?)

My phone chimed, it was an email from the School District, “Please be patient, we are working very hard at putting together an online program for the students during this lockdown.”

I rubbed my temples. “Okay.” I thought. “This is going to officially suck. We’re going to need to keep our moods in check.”

We didn’t.

After a week of uncertainty and stress and a parade of bad news, we snapped. Annie and I don’t really fight. We’ll have a handful of micro-disagreements throughout the week. We’ll have a couple of intense discussions a year. Every couple years, we’ll have an all-out argument. This was one of them. We shouted at each other for about one minute. Then it was over. The fight wasn’t over, but we got past the explosion and could return to civility. We’re pretty good like that.

Unfortunately, the girls overheard it. Annie marched back to her kitchen to aggressively make lunch. I went back to aggressively folding laundry. Lydia came downstairs and tentatively approached me. “Daddy? Are you and Mommy okay?”

I looked over at her and took a deep breath while framing my words. “We’re fine Sweetie. You have nothing to be scared of. I’m mad at Mommy, and she’s mad at me right now. We won’t be mad at each other forever. In fact, I think we’re becoming less mad with every minute. We still Love each other.”

“What happened?”

Ugh, I don’t feel like talking about it. This will bug her for the rest of the day. Where’s Annie? Still making lunch. Here goes, “We’re both stressed-out over this lockdown. Mommy wasn’t thinking about my stress, and I wasn’t thinking about her stress. Now, we’re both a little more aware…or something like that.” (Maybe the entire country can consider something like this)

“Is the fight over?”

“Not really, but the ugly part is over.”

“I’m stressed too.”

“Yeah?”

“I miss school. I miss my teachers; I miss my friends. I hate it! I hate Covid! I hate the quarantine! I hate this lockdown! Sorry!”

“Sorry for what Hun?”

“For hating those things. I know what you and Mommy think about hate.”

I chuckled and gave her a hug, “We don’t hate persons or people! You are allowed to hate the Lockdown! I hate it too!”

“When will it end?”

“I wish I knew Hun.”

Annie and I managed to keep ourselves mostly in check from there on in. Lydia, didn’t. Nor should she, she’s ten! She’s still learning emotional control. We held her tight at least once a week as she cried it out.

She has been intensely lonely.

Like I said a moment ago, I hate this pandemic, I hate these lockdowns, I hate the uncertainty. I especially hate that the only ones being heard are the ones who are shouting the loudest. I just want all the edges to shut up for one minute so we can hear what the center has to say.

But that isn’t what I’m writing about today. If I stay on that subject, I might put a finger through my keyboard!

What I am thinking about is an unexpected blessing, a blessing that has opened my eyes to other blessings.

Before I get to that, I would like to address cell phones. Have you ever truly thought about what a personal item the cell phone has become? My lock screen is an image of Lyd and Reg smiling together. My Home screen is of Annie. Every time I unlock my phone, I see her big brown eyes looking back at me, I see her beautiful face. I think many also have this—images of those they Love and cherish on the Home screens of their phones.

Last week. four months into this Covid uncertainty, I happened to notice Lydia’s cell phone. Here was the image:

There they were, having a genuine moment together, laying down next to each other, both laughing and smiling as Lyd snapped a selfie. Do you know who takes selfies with others? Friends take selfies together.

This lockdown has denied my daughters the company of their friends. They have had nothing else but each other. They are sisters, they have no choice there, it cannot be denied. This lockdown has forced them to become more than sisters, they have become best friends. They have made huge strides in forging a more complete and meaningful relationship with the other. I pray that the friendship that has developed will carry them through the rest of their lives; God willing, long after Annie and I are gone.

Don’t get me wrong, I have watched them have some spectacular, possibly ridiculous fights. But they have witnessed Annie and I have a spectacular fight that felt a little ridiculous afterward. Somehow, we have always returned from the conflict, and so do they.

Love, like life, needs a little ugly to make the pretty, prettier.

I have watched them grow together through the last few months with warm delight. They have grown closer, and they’ve learned to communicate better, to express their feelings better, including Love.

Their disagreements tend to get more attention, but when I step back, they have actually been getting along wonderfully. When I remove all the fights from the spectrum, I see them laughing together, playing, snuggling and sometimes, falling asleep on the other. I have heard snippets of hushed conversations that Annie and I are not privy to. The world is a scary place these days, but they are finding safety and solace with each other. They may not yet realize it, but their first inklings of a more mature sense of Love is growing.

I have read that for the disabled, remaining senses become more refined in the face of the lost sense. It’s like the other senses are all stepping up to fill the void.

We are all, in a way, suffering a disability these days. Humans are a social species and our ability to socialize has been hobbled.

When I realized how meaningful that image on Lydia’s Home screen is, I began to have a better appreciation of how my own longing for family and friends has made my Love of them much, much deeper. If a weed can push past concrete, Love can push through a quarantine.

Blessings—blessings everywhere. In the face of misery, loneliness, mental, emotional, and financial stress; like a weed and a sidewalk, a better and deeper sense of Love is emerging.

The news these days is not happy. Every morning I wonder, “What’s today’s discouraging misery?” as I pick up the TV remote. These lockdowns are doing their best to separate us, to make us feel hopeless, lonely, and isolated. Even when out of the house, we’re denied the chance to see the faces, the potential smiles of others. It makes me wonder, what are the health benefits of seeing the smiles of others? I need to remind myself that the smile is still there, it’s hidden behind a mask. The blessings are still there, they are just hidden behind the onslaught of discouraging news. The Love is still there, just look past the lockdown.

You don’t need to hug a Loved one to hold them close.

(but given the choice, I think I’ll choose the hug)

Despite all that’s happening out there, take a lesson from my daughters, Love your Loved ones, and be Loved by those who Love you.