Sarah Bessey wrote this week in her newsletter about the “Kin-dom of God…or what theologians call the ‘Now and Not Yet’ of God’s goodness at this moment in time and space.”
I was thinking about that “Now and Not Yet” part the next day, except I’d bastardized it to “Almost but Not Yet.” Until I looked up her post to refresh my memory because “Almost but Not Yet” didn’t sound quite right.
Then I realized it sounded exactly right. Because my life now feels like nothing but Almost but Not Yet.
We’re almost to summer and a major change in our schedule, but not yet.
Nolan is almost in school full-time, but not yet.
I’m almost to a new stage in life, but not yet.
It’s not exactly the middle, but it’s also not quite the end, and it’s definitely not the beginning. It’s like the end of the middle? Or the beginning of the end? (Well, that sounds terrifying.)
I guess we’re all living in a version of the Almost but Not Yet.
The Almost but Not Yet of vaccinations, or of second vaccinations, or of reaching herd immunity.
The Almost but Not Yet of summer, of warm weather that lasts, of the possibility of taking vacations, of playdates and restaurants and gatherings with our people.
The Almost but Not Yet of taking meaningful action on climate change, on healthcare for all, on paid family leave, on racial justice. (I mean, I hope these are Almosts but Not Yets.)
I suppose a pandemic’s worth of Almost but Not Yets piled on top of launching my youngest into the elementary school world only adds, enormously, to this feeling. It’s a restless kind of feeling. I’m tired of feeling restless. Staying in this Almost place so often feels impossible. I feel it most in the afternoon before it’s time to pick Caden and Brooklyn up from school when there’s not much to do around the house. When the laundry is done and the dishes are clean and there’s not quite enough time to tackle anything meaningful and I’m in this limbo—its own Almost but Not Yet—where a good chunk of the day is done and the after-school marathon of activities and dinner and bedtime is on the horizon, but we’re not quite there. When it’s 3:00 pm and Nolan asks to play another game of Sequence, or for a snack, or to read another book and I could scream at this day, just another in a long string of days.
Everything will be different this summer. And again, in a big way in the fall.
Almost. But not yet.
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Action Item
I’ve been looking for a way to recycle old clothes for years. Especially kids’ clothes—it’s one thing to donate old shirts or jeans that are still in good shape, but what about the ones that are stained or ripped or worn beyond reasonable use? I can’t in good conscience donate those items.
Enter: the For Days Take Back Bag. I ordered the large bag, filled it up (EASILY. There will be more Take Back Bags in my future FOR SURE.), scheduled a USPS pick up, and will receive a $20 credit to their website once they receive it. Easy-peasy.
For Days doesn't take undergarments, but NEVER FEAR because I’ve figured that out for you, too. Please see the Knickey Recycling Program. They take your old undies, bras, tights, and socks and give you a free pair of underwear with your next order as soon as the post office picks up your package. Their underwear are my new favorites-comfortable and they stay in place. Be forewarned that the high rise briefs are prettttyyy high, even for me, a self-proclaimed high-rise enthusiast. I still recommend a couple of pairs of those and a couple of mid-rise hipsters, though my sweet spot seems to be the mid-rise briefs.
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Around the Internet
The title of this satire piece: As a Republican, I Believe White Men Are Boys, Boys of Color Are Men, and Underage Girls are Consenting Adults says it all and also where’s the lie?
AHP preaching: “Stick with me here, but what if people weren’t lazy — and instead, for the first time in a long time, were able to say no to exploitative working conditions and poverty-level wages? And what if business owners are scandalized, dismayed, frustrated, or bewildered by this scenario because their pre-pandemic business models were predicated on a steady stream of non-unionized labor with no other options? It’s not the labor force that’s breaking. It’s the economic model.”
This essay, on names and blackness and parenting, gutted me.
Another thing that gutted me? This poem.
I didn’t know I was nostalgic for the flamboyant movie theater carpet we all grew up with, but here we are.
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Eating
These noodles remind me so much of the lo mein my family ordered on a weekly basis from our favorite Chinese restaurant growing up. (RIP Tai Pan.) The texture of these noodles is perfection. (I use four packets of noodles for our family of five, so the box gives us two dinners + some lunch leftovers.) I omit the bean sprouts but add in one diced chicken breast and some snow peas, seared in some oil over very high heat.
I picked up a box of these chocolate-covered Greek yogurt bars from Costco and they are the best midday treat.
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Fun Things
I’m loving this Vitamin C serum. Love the bottle, love the price, and love that it’s faded some old acne scars within a matter of weeks.
I bought this mirror for our living room. Now looking for the perfect little succulent to place on its shelf.
How cute is this shirt? I feel like spring when I put it on, even when the weather is 38 degrees and cloudy. (Of which we endured far too much this past month.)
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I’m supposed to say, I think, that we should embrace our Almost but Not Yets. It’s just a season! I’ve got this! We’ve got this! Lean into it! Rah-rah-rah.
And I do feel that. At least, to a certain extent I do. But to completely dismiss and try to paper over the Almost but Not Yet limbo feelings doesn’t sit well with me.
I think a lot of the Almost but Not Yet ties into the feeling of languishing which Adam Grant so geniously introduced us all to this month:
It wasn’t burnout — we still had energy. It wasn’t depression — we didn’t feel hopeless. We just felt somewhat joyless and aimless. It turns out there’s a name for that: languishing.
Languishing is a sense of stagnation and emptiness. It feels as if you’re muddling through your days, looking at your life through a foggy windshield.
Grant goes on to say that “Psychologists find that one of the best strategies for managing emotions is to name them.” This makes sense to me, even though I might have said one of the best strategies is to sip on a good margarita. I think it’s why my entire Internet bubble seemed to grasp onto the label of “languishing” over the past couple of weeks—a name for that thing we’ve all been feeling!
Honestly, realizing that a lot of what I’ve been feeling lately is being in this place of Almost but Not Yet helps me feel at least a bit more content with where I am now. Not to dismiss where I am, but to name it. This Almost but Not Yet place. We’re all dealing with it, the best we can these days. Feel free to join me. We might be languishing but at least we can name it. And I can mix us up a mean batch of margaritas.