That’s Not How Any of This Works

I retired on December 31, 2020 with the hopes that 2021 would not suck nearly as much as 2020.

Bam. Mom was diagnosed with Covid. She is recovering slowly and, so far, doesn’t seem to have the nasty strain of the virus. Because of the Covid outbreak in her residence, we’ve not seen her in person since the Tuesday before Christmas. We covet your prayers for her recovery.

Bam. Saturday I woke up to find out four people I knew died on the same day. Three were from Covid. Please pray peace and comfort for their families.

Bam. The internet in general, and certain companies in particular, lost their ever-lovin’ minds. Pray for discernment in all corners.

Bam. The Ministry of Truth is in full voice, and there hasn’t even been a regime change yet. Pray for the safety of all, regardless of their political leanings.

Going forward, I’ll be leaning on prayer and Adminal Ackbar’s prophetic warning: “It’s a trap!”


2020, NahNahNahNah, NahNahNahNah, HeyHeyHey, Goodbye

As I sit here, admiring my tree on our quiet Christmas Eve of the Suddenly Altered Plans, I ponder on what 2021 will bring.

2020 was the Year of Suck for so many. So much loss. Mind-boggling, stupefying loss. Lives, jobs, businesses, churches, relationships, live music, moral compasses, respect for one another. Even humor took a beating.

To get you caught up – The blog has been quiet for a few years as my work responsibilities grew unreasonable for most mortals, and my other jobs (wife/daughter/mother) changed in many ways. Young ones moved on with their lives, but my mother’s dementia continued to advance to the point where she could no longer live by herself. Moving her into Assisted Living, and all the worries that went along with it, quickly overtook the Worry about Mama portion of my brain that should have calmed somewhat, knowing she’d be looked after.

Then in March, every one was sent home due the fear of that virus from China that we’d all been watching on the crazy map with the big red circles. “Flatten the Curve,” they said. “Only two weeks,” they said. Mom’s home closed to visitors. “Just for a few weeks,” they said. Summer came and went. Beaches closed. Restaurants closed. Finally a few visits allowed, masked and outside. Fall came and went. Vacations canceled. More restaurants closed. Visits limited to a tiny room with a plexiglass partition that she doesn’t understand. Thanksgiving came and went. Now Christmas is here. Her center is on lockdown, two residents tested positive on Tuesday. There are no words for my state of mind right now.

My workplace offered an early retirement. I signed up. New Year’s Eve is my last day. Before the woke culture ruined our workplace, I’d been assigned additional responsibilities leftover from someone who’d previously left, and then lead analyst for a new project that quickly careened out of control. So basically 2.75 FTE worth of work for little ol’ me. The volume of work was overwhelming, but I was getting good reviews, good raises (for higher ed), was considered an expert in my field and a great team member. It’s all so different now; it’s unrecognizable. And that’s with everyone being 100% remote since March. I wonder how many people would have been burned in effigy if we’d all been face-to-face. Surely I’d be one of them.

In the weeks to come, you’ll be hearing more from me.

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