Well, it’s happened.  As of noon today, we are in France on virtual house arrest for at least the next two weeks.  Our trips to London, skiing in the French Alps with friends, and our extended drive through Europe with the kids all have evaporated into thin air, and yet I am overwhelmed with a sense of peace, tranquility, and gratitude. 

My great grandfather was in France in 1918.  He was a runner in the hellacious trenches.  He held messages in a capsule in his mouth so that if he was shot he could swallow the capsule to prevent the disclosure of the message.  His wife, my great grandmother, lost her first husband to the great Spanish influenza epidemic of 1918.  My great grandparents were the first family on their street to have an electric refrigerator and an electric hair dryer.  They had a comfortable and well-appointed life.  They lost everything during the Great Depression and had to move to a remote homestead in the Appalachian Mountains.  Those were formative experiences for my grandfather who enlisted in the Army at seventeen.  My grandfather had known hunger.  I remember reading his memoirs and noting how much he talked about the food he received in the Army.  He lived through the bombardment of London as a radar bombardier and sent everything he earned home to his parents for safekeeping.  He saved enough money to buy a house with cash, only to return and discover that his father had spent it all.  My father’s generation lived through the grim lottery of draft numbers and the horrors of Vietnam.

And now, here I am, in the south of France, being asked to spend time with my family for two weeks.  I have spent my life chasing after personal and professional accomplishment that has often pulled me away from my family.  I recently started my own company and have been traveling the world serving my clients.  I often feel exhausted and stressed.  I am too often physically and emotionally distant.  And now, something comes along that requires me to rest and spend time with my wife and children.  

Three years ago, my wife and I lost our twenty-month-old son Henry.  He found a plastic bag outside of his crib, got it over his head, and suffocated.  My wife found him dead in the crib.  His death was like a firebomb in our lives.  It burned away so many of the things we thought were important and forced us to rebuild out of the ashes of our hopes and dreams.  I often say that I wouldn’t wish the death of a child on anyone, but I wish everyone could have the growth and change in perspective that it brings.  I think the same opportunity is here now if we are willing to take it.     

We spend our lives chasing things that in the end don’t really matter.  Everything is fleeting and nothing is guaranteed.  I find that my happiness is often inversely related to my feelings of entitlement.  The more entitled I feel the less happy I am and the more I practice gratitude the happier I become.  The food that we eat, our health, our friends and families, our abilities, our very lives – they are all precious and temporary gifts – gifts that we often fail to appreciate because we are too busy running after things that don’t really matter.  As I write these words, I can hear my children playing outside laughing and chasing after each other in the yard.  The blossoms on our cherry tree are just starting to emerge.  I now have a front row seat to witness a miracle that only comes for a few weeks each year.  And lucky for me, I am stuck at home for those few weeks!

Yesterday, I was going to throw a frozen pizza in the oven and park the kids in front of Netflix, while I binged on Facebook and news.  Instead, I thawed out lamb steaks from the freezer and prepared a marinade made from fresh rosemary and mint that I found in our yard.  I grilled the steaks and French green beans in the marinade and poured a local wine.   We sat outside together for more than an hour and talked about things in our life that had disappointed us. By the end of our meal we were laughing and had a new sense of closeness. It was a priceless and non-renewable day together as a family. Wasn’t that ultimately what I was seeking by planning a vacation?

This is a great time to be alive.  If, like me, you are facing the prospect of an extended time at home, be grateful for the time you have been given with your family.  Trust me, time with your kids is precious and is not guaranteed.  Be thankful.  Say a prayer for those who are sick, for those who are serving the sick, and for those who are mourning the death of a loved one.  Show grace to those around you. Be patient and kind. Maybe, if we are wise enough to learn, COVID-19 will leave us with a legacy of thankfulness, patience, grace, love, and a new appreciation for this frail and beautiful life.