Crisis

We think we live in a time of crisis and maybe we do. But we’re not the first. Americans have
been here before. Not exactly like this, but we have been afraid before.
We’ve faced unknown futures, unknown tomorrows. But we survived. I don’t know how we
did, but we found joy in our days and we moved on.
In every crisis of the past, American women carved some kind of fulfillment out of the days and weeks and years. They lay their heads on their pillows each night without wine or TV or cell phones with Facebook or games to distract and comfort them. And they declared the day to be good. And wondered what crisis the next day would bring and if they could do it all over again.
And again. And they knew they would.
They did not say, “I am strong!” They just were.
They did not say, “I can do this!” They just got out of bed every day and did it.
I am from a family of strong women. They stared poverty in the face and made each day worth living. They made little parties in their living rooms during the Great Depression. They watched their men get on buses and trains, off to army camps. Not knowing if those men would ever come home to sit at the kitchen table to have coffee with them again. That was WW2.
In the next few weeks I will give to you a few stories, short bios of these women. The stories I heard growing up. Stories told of “the way it was”. Just the way it was. As a young girl, I loved sitting around with my elderly aunts as they reminisced about their younger days.
I had to pay attention, to sift through their laughter to find the underneath story, to hear of
hunger, of poverty, of absent husbands, of drunken husbands.
I wanted to be like those women. These older ladies with their shiny silver hair and sparkly
eyes. Never a frown. Never complaining. Holding families together.
How did they do it? I’m not sure. But they stuck together, not just my aunties, but all women.
They never heard of ‘community.’ But they had it! They really had it!
Not sure where I’m going with this, but am compelled to tell their stories.
Maybe we can put them all together and become problem solvers, not complainers.
Maybe we can find joy in living life well in the midst of sacrifice.
Maybe we can do this in the midst of crisis, whatever that crisis may look like to us.
Because in my own almost 77 years of life I’ve found that there will always be crisis. After this one, there will be another.
So it’s not about the crisis, it’s about me! About how I meet the challenge of crisis with my soul (and my humor) intact.