This Isn’t the Season We Expected—But We’re Actually Okay
I’m sitting here listening to the deafening silence of our house. Our world, really. Because this year, our house is basically our world. This year our family doesn’t visit practice. We don’t attend contests. We aren’t braving games. We’re at home.
Back in March, we thought to ourselves, “Surely, the summer will bring respite.”
We bonded as a family, both husband and child finished their school year at home, and I made a temporary home office. We settled into a novel routine. It was nice wearing pajama pants to work. It was funny hearing the music auditions for band from the front room—my office clan even giggled about hearing a trombone in the background of my conference calls.
Summer came, and we saw numbers rise, and fall, along with hopes of a normal season. I saw him hustle to alter plans as guidance changed. I watched as he took care with each student, each situation, each new “thing” that came down.
But….but…there’s still a season, we’re still planning, there’s hope.
As August crept on, we realized this year would, at least for our family, be the Seas-Un.
Unnerving challenges that we’ve not experienced before.
Unable to be together as we normally would have.
Uncertain about what the future would hold.
Uneasy days of missed memory making.
Unruly moments where grace was absent.
But here we are, in the fall, and we’re okay. It’s not perfect, but let’s be honest, when is it ever perfect?
We have found a new footing—making new traditions as great as possible. Staying up late eating popcorn instead of a football game. Drawing Daddy pictures and cards so he knows we are thinking of him always.
Okay, so there’s less concession food and more broccoli, but remember, I said, it’s imperfect!
This Seas-Un, I have unearthed a unique unity.
I have grown closer to God who has faithfully promised me that He will keep us safe and sane during these times. Where I am unclear, He is definite. When my heart is unhappy, He is glorious.
There will be a moment, when the clip of the first snare drum and blaring of a trumpet pierces my world again.
There will be that moment my foot touches turf and my soul is filled with the thunderous cry of music.
That moment isn’t right now, and it may not be for a while, but He has promised mercy, honor, and favor to those who have faith—and we must continue to have faith that our season will return.
Lesley Ann Jones is a band director’s wife in Katy, TX. She has one future tuba-playing son who just turned three. She works full-time as a business analyst in the Oil & Gas industry. When she’s not toddler-wrangling, she serves as the photography chair for the band and volunteers at church. In her spare time…wait….nevermind. Catch her snaps of band wife life at @crhsbandwife on Instagram.