Apart from the surprising breath of fresher air we got over the weekend, we’ve been cooped up at home because of the haze.
Like most people, we’ve tried to make the best of it.
We’ve taken the opportunity to spring-clean our home, since we need to get it ready for my godmother, helper, and new baby to move in (yes, in that order.)
We’ve been digging out weapons to fight this war for fresh air – air purifiers (with electrostatic technology and HEPA filters), N95 masks, and diffusers for essential oils. (Heck, I heard that even humidifiers have been flying off the shelves.)
We’ve been cooking a lot, to minimise unnecessary movements outdoors.
In the midst of all these tiring and emotionally-charged haze-fighting measures, news of my boy getting hit by Herpangina (a disease related to HFMD) has left me feeling rather defeated.
It was tough to feel thankful. And I’ve slipped into complaining mode.
Like most people living in Singapore, I’ve been spoilt with clean air, fresh food, and drinkable water on tap. I’ve taken them as entitlement, not as privilege.
I’ve taken for granted the simple essential-ness of the thousand breaths of clean air I take in daily.
But when the air started to clear on Saturday, and we ventured outdoors to soak in the sun, I realised how important these simple things are. The things that we don’t even see or notice.
We didn’t even need to venture far away, just downstairs for a bite and a cup of tea. Yet the kids’ moods were lifted considerably, and even JJ was back in cheerful mode.
So, I’m learning to give thanks for the surprising moments of beauty that have up sprung up like flowers in the desert.
Vera’s been putting her hands to good use…
And practising her ABCs.
The simple joy of taking a walk outdoors.
Getting a hot cup of tea made by the trusty coffeeshop aunty who is there, haze or shine.
Having friends call from overseas to check on how we’re doing.
These little things remind me of how deep, how wide, how long, and how tall is God’s love for us.
Motherhood (and life) constantly brings me to my knees.
But I guess that’s also the best position by which I’m able to receive grace, at my time of need.
Breathe out haze.
Breathe in grace.
Regardless of how long the haze is going to linger, and regardless of the pain and inconvenience it brings, let’s choose to count our blessings and make the best of what we have, each day. (And oh, remember to stop and smell the roses no matter how hazy life gets…Well, figuratively at least.)
How have you been coping with the haze / being cooped up indoors?