Re-entry

We just got back from a camping trip, our first one in two years. And re-entry is ROUGH. Anytime I travel I have a hard time transitioning both pre-departure and post-return. I look around our house, which I’d cleaned before we left, and don’t know where to put anything. Cooking anything seems beyond possibility, like I somehow forgot how to make dinner without a fire pit.

Reentry is rough. And that was after only four days of camping. We’ve been home for 15 months.

Camping, I thought, would be an epic re-set in nature. I remembered how calming and wonderful our family camping trip was two summers ago. I did not realize how different camping would be at five than it was at three.

My daughter was four when the world closed and has had sporadic outdoor playdates with one kid at a time. School has been on Zoom– in fact, the other day she did four mini puzzles and arranged the four squares into “a meeting.”

Last month she started gymnastics again, and you can tell the kids who’ve been out and about, who know about lining up on dots and holding their hands out for sanitizer and a temp check. She’s learning. We’re all learning. It’s only once a week but she’s found her own rhythm.

Most things are brand new to her, and I know that will be true for a lot of kids. Especially ones younger than her. I know we will need to carry a lot of grace into the days ahead. Reentry is ROUGH.

Sometimes I fear that our altered growth pattern from this last year will have bigger repercussions than we can imagine. The rings on a tree tell the story of each year– if the tree survived fire or drought, that is reflected in the way that ring forms. The last 15 months have certainly affected our growth, but I’m trying not to fear the change, to respect it and honor it. We don’t judge a tree for the way it reacts to its conditions, we don’t say “I think that ring could have been a bit better if the tree tried harder.”

So I try to hold grace for our little family. I remind myself and those around me that the last time she was with a group of children was March 12, 2020. And I make room for a little MORE grace.

Because one week of camping throws off my laundry rhythm and shopping schedule. Fifteen months of sheltering at home? I’ll probably be buying her kindergarten teacher a LOT of coffee in the fall.