Every day is the same

“Every day is the same,” one of my boys said sadly the other day. And I thought how true that must be when you’re young and the world has so much to offer. We can’t do so many of the things we would normally do. We are in this period of waiting and hoping and dreaming of what the future might hold.

My days are so full that sometimes I forget how hard it could be to be a child during this time. If not for the pandemic, our sons would be spending time with friends. They would be learning in a classroom, where there’s a whole world beyond a tiny laptop screen. They would be looking forward to seeing their cousins and extended family for Christmas.

All of that is on hold—for now. And I can’t tell them exactly when life will be back to normal. I don’t really know.

Every day is the same. Hearing my son say those words—and seeing his face as he said them—broke my heart. So, I announced that we would go on a fishing trip. Fishing in December? Why not? We made our plans, dressed warmly, and pulled all the equipment together. Our younger son was exuberant. When we were ready to leave, I started calling bait shops and found one that was open.

“I’m sorry,” said the voice that answered the phone. “We don’t have any nightcrawlers in the fridge.”

No nightcrawlers? No problem. I started googling bait options and found a page that recommended hot dogs as an alternate. Perfect. I sliced some, we loaded the boys’ rods into the car, and we were on our way.

As we were driving, I noticed our gas was running low. We could fix that! I stopped at a gas station. I fueled up and climbed back into the car. I turned the key, and nothing happened. A dozen Hail Marys later, the car still wouldn’t start.

Ugh. I had no easy solution for this. But God did.

A man across the parking lot noticed my struggle and came over and offered to jumpstart the battery. He did it expertly and efficiently, truly an angel and an answer to my prayers. But it was clear to me that my boys and I couldn’t continue on to our fishing spot. If the battery died in a state park in December, we would have no one to give us a jump.

So, we turned the car around and headed home.

Disappointment is part of life. Failed fishing trips are probably more common than successful ones—especially on chilly December afternoons. But I had really been hoping to inject some happy excitement into the day.

On the way home, I remembered that I had ordered a couple of small items for the boys for Christmas, and I knew they were ready for curbside pickup. So, I surprised my sons by swinging by the store—engine still running, of course—and picking up the toys I had ordered. They were happy about the new toys, but nothing I could do could dissolve the disappointment of the fishing trip that never happened.

Returning home felt like a defeat, especially as we settled into a routine that looked about the same as any other afternoon. Somehow, even with my most creative efforts, I couldn’t quite salvage the day. Parents just can’t fix everything. They can’t end pandemics, make remote schooling fun, ensure fishing trips happen, or make Christmas come any faster.

As it turns out, even with the best-laid plans, every day is the same, but with an extra dose of adventure and a dash of disappointment.

One day soon, I’ll find time to get a new battery for the car, and we’ll go in search of a different kind of fishing trip, one that involves water and maybe, just maybe, fish. And that is something to look forward to.

For now we will wait.

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