We're Privileged and We Know It // Greenville, SC Birth Photographer // Lifestyle Photographer

While I’m all for finding the silver lining and being positive, the fact is, this whole thing sucks.

It feels very “first world problems” to grieve the loss of being with friends that we voluntarily stopped seeing, but that’s our reality. My kids miss playdates and the park and the zoo and the museums. I miss taking them on fun outings and walks through Asheville. I hate that our state parks are closed and that we can’t use these gorgeous spring days to hike and to walk the gardens of Biltmore. I hate that we can’t go get ice cream or meander down Main Street during Saturday Morning Market. I’m sad that we can’t take them to see the ducks in Falls Park or go with friends to the Swamp Rabbit Cafe for pizza.

I’m grieving things that seem too privileged to grieve, yet here we are. The extreme privilege of being born into a loving, two parent family in the US is not lost on me. Owning my own home that has a fenced-in backyard where I live with my loving husband and two children is not lost on me. But yet, I grieve what we’ve lost.

I’m just here today to say that yes, we are privileged. And yes, it’s ok to grieve what we’ve lost. The two can coexist. We can live in air conditioned houses and sleep in bedrooms with doors that close and blackout curtains and still feel exhausted each morning from the loads we’ve suddenly been handed.

I just want to leave you with three things:

1) It’s ok to grieve what we’ve lost. Change is change, sadness is sadness, grief is grief. There’s no shame in feeling loss, even if our loss doesn’t seem the same as other people’s loss.

2) “Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.” Matthew 11:28-30, The Message 

3) It’s important to look up from our grief and find new rhythms. Not more productivity, not a new work out, but new rhythms. Taking an extra 20 minutes to savor that cup of coffee in the morning while the kids play with chalk outside or draw at the table, taking a nap each day at noon, going to bed early, picking up that book you’ve been wanting to read, these are new rhythms that can be folded into our lives gently and without demands. My hope is that this time of grief won’t sink us into depression, rather, that it will spur us on to new, slow, thoughtful ways of living that heal our minds, bodies, and souls.