March 15, 2020 was the first day the COVID-19 virus had been detected in my community. My life dramatically changed directions that day. I saw my clients only through telehealth and eventually closed my brick and mortar office. I stopped worshipping in person with my faith community. I stopped feeding the hungry and homeless. Family and friend connections were by phone, FaceTime, or outdoor conversations only. Eating out or even getting take out food became a thing of the past. I ordered my groceries online and had them delivered to our home. Frequent travel had morphed into no travel.

The world became very small to me. And yet by contrast, my awareness of the events unfolding around the world left me feeling so connected to others from every corner of the planet. I saw that people from other countries were experiencing the same thing I witnessed in my own backyard. Suffering. Resiliency. Coming together in community. Coming apart in discord and conflict.

In the past week, the early news of the Omicron variant seems ominous to our recovery as a human race. And I fear, that my world will continue to be small or even get smaller in the near future. My well-planned trips to the store will be replaced by Instacart again. The flames of anticipation for seeing my beloved cousins over the holidays have been doused.

A part of me feels distressed at limiting my life again. And it is important to say my life is restricted by my choice. Fighting to survive cancer and to regain the limited physical strength I have, has made me very protective. I so desperately want to live. And the desire to be as healthy as I can be is a driving force in my life.

So how am I navigating this time of feeling like my world is shrinking? One essential ingredient is that I am active outside every day. The movement reminds me of why I am being so cautious with my choices. When I walk or bike in nature, I feel a connection to God, to the earth, and to the greater human family. And fresh air revitalizes me. I also spend time in gratitude. I’m grateful for my time with Brandi, especially all the Christmas movies we have been cuddling up on the couch to watch. I’m grateful I still get to do therapy and be careful with my health simultaneously. I’m grateful I have a virtual family meeting with my daughters every Tuesday night, where I get an opportunity to be a part of their life in ways I was not prior to COVID. Much like my first year of cancer, I am using this time to do some inside work. I am more reflective of emotional issues that continue to hang on my coat tails and explore them in and out of my own therapy.

It is not simple. It is not perfect. But it is my somewhat small world for right now. And for that world, I am grateful.