One year ago, I made a new friend. But not the kind you’d expect, I met my new Target store.
I sat in this Target shopping center while my mama braved a calcium drip at twice the speed. (Although, I told her not to do it.) We were becoming regulars at dropping her off at hospital doors. But due to the unexpected news of an eight hour wait, we were caught off guard. “Where would I go for that length of time” she asked. “Not to worry” I told her.
So, I headed down the highway a few exits to the Target I longed to know. It was my only hope for a restroom in a ghost town of pandemic retail. But she opened her arms wide open offering me much needed refuge. And later, a large empty space to wander… to feel normal… to feel back home. Like an oasis in a desert, over the weeks and months, I revisited her.
It’s hard not to look at the calendar and remember back—one year ago. Not just for me, but for the whole world. And as the world shuns its covid skin to breath normalcy, I must confess, I avoid the reminders as much as possible. It’s all too hard still to process. So, I focus on the future rather than looking back. Looking back smells of regret. And thankfully, I have very few.
And my new Target? Oh, she doesn’t know my wants and needs like my Nashville Target did. Instead, she caters to a much younger, university crowd. But just the same, she’s mine. And as the closest location to Hometown, Ok, she continues to greet me time and time again with her arms wide open.
And because my mama was so selfless and brave that day, my wait was much less than eight hours…
Maybe like me, you’re grieving a loved one or a lost way of life? For me, it comes in waves. If so, honor the moment; breathe in the grief. And then, release it back into the world. We’re not meant to carry it. We’re only meant to hold it for a moment. Shalom.
“Now may the Lord of peace Himself give you peace at all times in every way. The Lord be with you all.”
2 Thessalonians 3:16