The alarm clock went off and startled the living daylights out of me into a world of reality. Sitting on the edge of my bed I stretched toward the ceiling pondering my activity for the day. Slowly the thoughts started to pick up momentum.
Listening to the church bells echoing throughout the neighborhood I suddenly realized it was Sunday. The streets were quiet. Most people were inside enjoying breakfast or still sawing logs in bed.
My mom always insisted on going to church. And where would we sit?
Hoping not to disturb the crowd we weaved our way toward the center of the big room. After getting more comfortable in the pews we got ready to soak up lots of spiritual wisdom.
For any kid my age in church, my mind began to wander. Where will we go for breakfast brunch? Lots of ideas raced through my mind before I felt an arm straighten me up in the hard work chair. Kids were not allowed to wiggle around in church.
Maybe I could beg my three year older cousin to take me to a baseball game. The Chicago Cubs were playing the Cardinals at Wrigley Field. Anything beats staying at home.
But wait just a minute. We were quarantined due to the virus. No body was going anywhere. They call it wishful thinking. For millions of people home was the new paradise. It was the substitute that robbed us for the moment of all the nice things in the world. A chance to build new relationships, make other adjustments, and have fun.
And while we're at it we can thank all the people on the front lines helping to keep us healthy and safe.
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