The new year is a time to look back and sift through what we want to keep and what we wish we could discard. One way in which I cope with throwing away the detritus of life is by highlighting the stories of hope.
I was reading an article in the Washington Post that compiled nurse interviews from ICU and ER units in hospitals across the country. The quote that jumped out at me was “there is no room left, essentially, and I think that’s really what people don’t understand.”
The news is daily warning us of the impending spike in COVID cases. We have COVID positive family members, so we did not gather at my sister’s as is the norm for Thanksgiving. The after Thanksgiving spike forebodings sent me barreling back to old, old memories of my first Thanksgiving after divorce twenty plus years ago.
How can we bring rejuvenating hope back into our lives during these dark, confining days of quarantine? My youngest granddaughter has reminded me how!
Why is fear spread exponentially faster than love?
How does a contagion spread?
I’m at the tail-end of making Christmas quilts for my grandchildren. This project started last January when Christmas themed material was on clearance.