Collections of Poems and Reflections

My Easter Prayer for 2020
April 12, 2020
Shari Meindle
Rushing, Running, Leaping, Bounding
Here to there to everywhere
Seething, grinning, barely breathing
Poor expressions of our feelings
Yelling, hitting, no one sleeping
Separation slowly creeping,
Breakdown of our family unit
Why do we even try to do it?
Squeezing drops of laughter into
Tiny moments between the minutia
Thinking all the while I’m scoring
Major points in life but ignoring
The smallest moments truly pouring
From the quiet times and mourning
An invisible loss I didn’t see
Hiding right in front of me
Buried in the rush, the noise, and toys
Lay a gift unrecognized
Then STOP
Just STOP
The whole wide world just STOP
For a time we grieved
What we thought we lost
But a silver lining formed
Amidst the frost
Time
Time
Nothing but Time.
To sleep and eat and even rhyme
About God’s change, a sly conversion
Of our hearts toward another version
Of daily life that moves much slower
And allow our hearts and minds to flow more
Naturally, to calm down and see
The precious gifts right in front of me.
The world was hurting, and so was I
When I needed a break, about to cry
Pushed to the limit, I hate to admit it
I couldn’t endure just one more minute
Then God hit “pause”, down dropped our jaws
Within the deep silence I hear the applause
The impossible unfolding right outside our doors
The unthinkable making you think some more
The Earth and the animals sending us gratitude
For clearing the skies and the seas and our attitude
That saving our planet is not just a platitude
We need to do better for generations new
Prolonged societal forced seclusion
Prime opportunity to shatter illusion
That copious goods and structured activities
Were requisite elements for the American Dream
Now....
No more rushing, running, leaping, bounding,
Hold the seething, allow deep breathing
Stop all those communication misses
Bring on the hugs, and love, and kisses
Now...
I hear playing, shaking, and dream-making
Crafts and games, cue the imaginary flames
The infant suckles as my toddler chuckles
Reading, prayers, and quiet cuddles
accompany calmer bedtime snuggles
I sit and contemplate
Humanity permeated with hate
Suddenly turned toward love,
And set to a slower pace
Let us learn from this experience
To live in love and mindfulness
Let us value our short time here
and fight for what is best
For our family, for ourselves,
For the whole wide world around us.
Let us praise God in heaven
for veiled blessings, love, and Jesus
Amen.
A midnight tribute to racial injustice inspired by George Floyd

June 2, 2020
Shari Meindle
Eyes wide open
But too busy to see
The pain, anger, injustice
Running right beside me
A smoldering pile of embers
Just ready to ignite
Awaiting a day to fight
in the open daylight
From my cozy couch I watched
Others march and make the effort
Too far drowning in my own life
To take up the torch myself
And now I know I am not alone
For the march has taken hold
of almost everyone
to get this story told
No longer can we hide
In our living rooms and wonder
If mere thoughts and prayers
Are enough to drown the thunder
Hear that roar coming closer?
It’s the sound of social change
For peace won’t be restored
Until you chant his name
And he’s not only the name
Many others came before him
Lighting up this forward path
For all of us to walk on
We hear you loud and clear
For your voices, they will echo
Future generations will learn
This point in history when we let go
Of the days where we could watch
From the safety of our home
While others fight for freedom,
Equality, but got none
Now is the time to stand
With fellow humans hand-in-hand
So that peace can be restored,
But not as it was before
We need big changes in the system
That failed far too many
With a virus holding us still
Now’s as good a time as any
Mobilize our new talent
So young thus undiscovered
Rise up to meet the challenge
Of rebuilding a new America
No longer are we too busy
Newly opened eyes see plenty
To now ignore the call to justice
Would be neglecting civic duty
God help us as we navigate
Murky waters that run deep
Ignited embers please burn bright
With Christ as our guiding light.

Journal Entry September 2, 2020
Shari Meindle
It is now September and I am taking the smallest moment to reflect and document this most
transitional and transformative time of my life.
God bless all mothers who dutifully perform the endless array of invisible work that somehow
takes the entire day and part of the night, but then vanishes before our very eyes with nothing to show
for the toil besides all the tiny humans that reside in my home are still alive. The invisible loads of
laundry quickly turn into more dirty clothes. Intentionally healthy snacks and meals are only evidenced
by a trail of crumbs spanning the recently swept floor. Frequent diaper changes and potty-training trips
to the bathroom are time consuming and tend to generate more trash that then has to be disposed of
later. Add it to “the list.” On the contrary, a quick assessment of my home easily reveals my husband’s
quarantine accomplishments including newly painted walls, recently built play room, erected above
ground pool, and bounty of produce overflowing the garden. Looking for validation of my own hard
labor, I realize that there really isn’t a tangible measure of a mother’s work. I pray that the countless
hours of unnoticed effort translate into cherished childhood memories and behaviors that generate
compassionate, intelligent, hard-working, loving human beings.
I realize the above sentiments could be written in any year in history. They are ubiquitous
observations of motherhood. But this is not just any year; this is 2020. The pandemic. The year of
Coronavirus. Over the past four weeks, I was a typical part-time working mother holding up the weight
of the world on my fingertips; spinning it so precariously that the slightest hesitation or misstep would
send it crashing down all around me. I am juggling a family of six individuals, with young children aged 8,
6, 3, and 9 months, a challenging feat in its own right. This global pandemic hurled an additional ball into
my struggling juggling act. In short, the pandemic led to remote learning for my children, job loss of my
spouse, change in health insurance, change in childcare, and change in my work duties and environment
as an essential healthcare worker.
The weight of my world was getting heavier by the minute. I was sinking, drowning, trying to
scrape my way back to the surface by achieving some semblance of normalcy and security for my
family... over and over and over again. Every day brought with it a new challenge, a change in the plan, a
need to make more decisions, a long discussion of provisions should plan A, B, or God forbid C, occur.
My employer touted flexibility, but instead felt like an iron fist pushing me to maintain my exact same
work load and schedule, all while I was simultaneously pressed to secure childcare for a school
reopening plan that deteriorated from normal to delayed full-time learning, then to hybrid learning with
my children spread across multiple locations, and ultimately, fully remote learning.
I watch helplessly as all the balls tumble. The thinning floor crumbles under the weight of the
impossible. And just like that...a working mother is sacrificed to the pandemic.
Without the luxury of time to contemplate alternate career options or the ramifications of
resignation, a hasty email contrived while concurrently pumping milk for my infant at home, a short
phone call to my spouse about the decision, and inhaled bits of lunch between patient appointments
closes an eleven year-long chapter of my life. Goodbye to the accolades of patient satisfaction,
accomplishments, and a validating salary. In a short weekend, begin preparing a learning space at home
for three children who will all need close supervision, navigate synchronous learning plans on varied
schedules while caring for an infant, and privately grieve a loss of identity imposed by a forced and rapid
transition from “working mom” to “stay at home mom.” In the span of a weekend, my personal and
professional goals drastically shifted from providing excellent patient care to simply holding my family
together the best I can while slowly learning to juggle more balls on a thinner floor.

Journal Entry October 4, 2020
Shari Meindle
In previous years, I would be racing patient to patient, thoughtfully creating physical therapy
plans of care that restore function, reduce pain, and immeasurably enhance clients’ quality of life. My
days at home would be filled to the brim with excursions to the Arboretum, Zoo, Children’s Museum,
and play dates to mold my children into well-rounded, curious, nature-loving, caring, playful humans. I
worked part-time so I can be with my children more often than I am at work, but I still could utilize my
doctorate degree to contribute financially to our family and help others outside of my immediate
household.
Now, fast-forward to the present catastrophe called 2020. I take a moment to notice that I am
sitting uncomfortably in a child-sized chair toggling between my preschooler and first grader who are
unsuccessfully navigating remote learning while crossing my fingers that my third grader is ok all on her
own in her room. I assess the deteriorating situation and determine that I am woefully unable to sustain
their attention on a screen that pales in comparison to a live teacher, unable to teach them myself
because they are supposed to “attend” school daily, unable to complete the normal household chores
that continue to accrue while I, instead, relearn my colors and addition, unable to comfortably relax to
nurse or play with my infant who stares at me from her high chair where she inevitably just falls asleep
from boredom, unable to figure out a plan to return to work because I am so desperately needed at
home, and unable to complete a full thought or action because I am concurrently listening to duel
preschool and first grade lessons in feeble attempt to enforce meager student participation.
Sometimes, or rather, frequently, I get frustrated that I am unable to work because I feel that I
am falling short of accomplishing my lofty goals that I placed upon myself when I transitioned to the role
of “stay at home mom.” If I can’t bring in a paycheck, I at least wanted to ensure stellar academic
success and provide unwavering emotional support for my children through this transitional period that
happens to be occurring during their most formative years. But in reality, I mostly encounter resistance
to remote-learning, I watch helplessly as my children explode into tears when the technology misfires,
or they run screaming away into the other room as I lamely concur that this is really super-duper
difficult (which offers only mild consolation).
But...if these unprecedented times are going to be super-duper difficult, at least I am trying my
best and that has to count for something. When they burst into tears and I don’t really have quality
solutions to offer, at least my arms can be around them. When they run away from the computer, at
least I can come and snuggle them and play hand puppets until I hear giggles again.
2020 drastically reprioritized my life and molded me into a modern mother superhero. I keep
the household running by sifting through copious amounts of information to ensure that we still have
health insurance, money, and food. I dream up ways to have fun and create some positive childhood
memories for my kids in the same scenery day after day. I frequently reorganize the calendar to adapt to
the everchanging new school plan. And I do all of this while simultaneously absorbing the news like it’s
the newest hit reality TV show. I also have been absorbing books to better understand the dramatic
social and political movements that are unfolding in our country before my eyes.
Without anywhere to escape, sometimes I just dodge reality entirely by delving into the pages of
a fictional universe that makes reality a bit more palatable. Although it feels like we are living The
Hunger Games, I do find solace that my plight is slightly better than that of Katniss Everdeen. The lift of
my spirits by that previously unlikely comparison is how you know the bar has been substantially
lowered this year.

Journal Entry October 23, 2020
Shari Meindle
I cried today. I was driving home from the free Covid-test site with my four children after finding
it was closed due to maximum capacity. Yesterday it was closed due to inclimate weather. We have
already missed two days of school, which started in-person learning just this week. My young learners,
who are at the precious ages where they actually love school, want so desperately to be with their
friends again.
Their little brother got a runny nose, and per school policy, all siblings require a negative Covid
test or doctor’s note to return to school. This is completely appropriate and a safe provision to allow
schools to teach in-person. I fully support the policy. Our family, however, has experienced so much
transition this year with job loss that we don’t have insurance for a couple more weeks. So, I
optimistically thought we would just get a free test and get these kids right back to school. Wrong. It
isn’t that easy for the general uninsured population. Defeated, we came back home only to reassess the
options. I have free tests scheduled Sunday, but then the test may take 3-5 days to come back negative
and the kids have Girl Scouts, picture day, and academic testing scheduled this week. So, do I self-pay
out of pocket for faster results or save the money when money is tight? Why is every decision so hard?
This is literally my life right now. Everyday. There is some new problem to solve every single day.
My head wants to explode, but not in a painful headache sort of way, more like I am having trouble
making any decisions at all. I have read about decision fatigue and understand that I am not alone. But
that doesn’t make making decisions any easier. I can’t even figure out what I want to eat for dinner. I
am navigating new school policy information, scrolling through websites to track locations of test sites,
hours of operation without any contact information so I could check to see if the test side is closed
before I packed up four kids and drove far away. Lots of information. Too many decisions.
I realize more and more how limited my control is over really anything right now, which can be
maddening in its own right. I share deeply in my children’s distress with remote learning and it literally
pains me to keep them home unnecessarily because I am currently lacking the resources needed to
supply them with a clean bill of health. It angers me that there are many people in this country that are
prioritized above others and have access to exquisite medical care and frequent testing. And then there
are the rest of us who are struggling with the day-to-day difficulties imparted by remote learning and
barriers to testing. What if the resources allocated to athletic programs and government personnel were
afforded to working families who could then reliably send students to school and, therefore, more
reliably work?
I have noticed during this pandemic, more than ever in my life, the glaring inequities among the
people of this country. It is humbling to be among those struggling when I never thought I would. I
developed a new appreciation for navigating the health systems that can be tricky, to say the least. And I
dearly hope these social disparities that are creeping into the light can be addressed by those with the
power to do just that. I am taking life day by day, solving problems as they come, and trying to manage
the mental and emotional load of living as a mom during this historically tragic time in our history.

Journal Entry November 16, 2020
Shari Meindle
I just realized how much I like to plan. Amidst this crazy year, we were able to safely Trick-or-
Treat and see abbreviated family for a birthday party. I was even planning Girl Scout activities, which we
chose to offer in person in accordance with the Girl Scouts organization and Department of Health
safety guidelines. With the kids attending some school in person, getting together for regular Girl Scout
meetings, and celebrating holidays, this mirage of normalcy surfaced. Modifications of masking and
social distancing aside, these small treasures really offered the hope of an eventual return to our pre-
pandemic normalcy.
And then the Covid numbers spiraled out of control once again. We are heading into a “dark
winter” that has nothing to do with Game of Thrones. Having to cancel engagements and further restrict
our social bubble to the single household made me keenly aware of how much we as a society take for
granted the basic ability to plan ahead. Making dates, planning events, checking the calendar were
regular activities. Now, we return to taking one day at a time mode, which was somewhat difficult to
swallow earlier in the Spring, and is regretfully making a comeback this fall as we head into the holiday
season.
The realities of this pandemic are so often described as number of deaths, rising cases,
unemployment rate, and economic collapse. These are obviously the main headlines that characterize
this moment in history. The excessive and unnecessary loss of life remains above all other measures of
loss, although that seemed to be disputed by some parties when weighed against economic loss, as if
the value of money could ever equate to loss of life. I digress. What I wanted to highlight, for those so
inclined to read my thoughts, are the smaller daily losses the mothers and children bare from this
pandemic.
I previously wrote about my loss of career and internal struggle with re-establishing purpose and
identity during this transitional time. Although that struggle remains ongoing, I am finding peace in my
newly established daily routines. The children, however, continue to experience loss daily. Missing
school or a Girl Scout meeting due to quarantine, rescheduling a simple nature hike with smores, trading
a cozy warm dinner at Grandma and Grandpa’s house for outside play in the windy, frigid air while
wearing masks are all inconvenient. Zoom birthday parties that cut off before you say an official
goodbye, tantrums when remote learning applications are on the fritz, and feeling anxious instead of
excited at the zoo because too many people are roaming too close without their masks are small but still
profound upheavals to our daily life. Activities that used to bring joy now bring general anxiety and/or
literal physical discomfort.
Small moments and rewards are what make the day-to-day fun and exciting for children, and
admittedly myself as well. We obviously try to embrace our new normal. And as a mother who strives to
please her family, I can whip out a game of Charades or Telestrations in a moment’s notice and design
some crazy hair for school spirit week to keep making positive memories. But there is almost a daily loss
or small trauma that I am powerless to stop and I fear that the loss accumulates with time. I am not yet
sure how that will shape my young children. I am therefore sad for their loss to put it lightly, and a bit
fearful of the unknown immediate and distant consequences of a pandemic. The toll on the children’s
mental and physical health has yet to be revealed.
On the other hand, adversity breeds resilience, strength, creativity, and gratitude. So maybe I
could be less fearful that his pandemic is ruining my children’s childhood, and instead, feel honored and
privileged to possibly be raising and molding the next “Greatest Generation.” It is my sincerest hope that
this cohort of youngsters, newly coined the “pandemic kids,” recover quickly and move mountains to
rebuild a society better than the one into which they were born.

Journal Entry December 6, 2021
Sharon Meindle, Shari, Mom, Physical Therapist, Girl Scout leader, Cookie Baker, Birthday Coordinator,
Photographer, Tutor for remote learning, Household Coordinator and Scheduler.
We are rapidly approaching Christmas 2020, a year to be remembered and most notably
characterized by toilet paper on the annual ornaments and stocking stuffers. Santa just paraded in a car
down the street roaming the neighborhood instead of us visiting Santa in the typical crowded store or
town celebration. I also just cut my son’s, husband’s, and my own hair to prepare for an outdoor
photography session so we could more safely preserve family memories. Instead of wandering the
stores and wasting time in endless lines, I simply scroll Amazon and the presents for under the tree are
currently residing in huge boxes all throughout my house. Instead of strolling through the Arboretum on
foot, we enjoyed the modified drive through Illumination light show experience from our warm and cozy
vehicle.
All in all, not all Covid-19 changes were bad. Some of these modifications were brilliant
improvements to our previous routine that, I hope, persist post-Covid. My calendar is certainly more
open for family quality time. The ways that neighbors have banded together to keep the magic of
Christmas alive for these precious littles during the pandemic is innovative and heart-warming. And
bonus, I learned how to cook wholesome meals and cut hair for my family, thus saving money and
adding to my set of gained skills during my stay-at-home mom experience.
I received some Christmas cards already, which prompted me to think what I would write if I
wrote the year-in-summary letter that so many families include in their annual holiday cards. The typical
vacation spots and school accolades are absent. The major job changes weren’t really planned or
necessarily positive. The daily quarantine life is not particularly noteworthy for other readers who are
living through the same reality. So, I think to stay positive I will forego a letter and instead write a
personal message to friends and family, hoping to share the holiday cheer now that we all appreciate
social connection more than ever before.
I see the excitement from my kiddos as the gifts come sailing onto the porch, but I also see
anxiety about how this year with be different. We may zoom with our extended family rather than meet
together. We may stay in our pajamas all day long. I might just make cake instead of pie; It is 2020, I’m
sure I get a pass on the traditional holiday fare. We shall see how everything plays out, but I think there
will be some positive aspects of this pandemic holiday season.
This holiday season has been like no other. The kids loved Halloween Trick-or-Treating, even in
their masks with socially distanced tables and chutes projecting from windows or garages. The kids
basked in beautiful weather, a true gift for this northern part of the country that is typically sleeting with
cut-right-through-your-puffy-costume wind. Thanksgiving turned superspeed, like only 15 minutes long!
We gathered for prayer, gratitude, and good food around our own small table. So now, we dive into the
Christmas season and reflect on a most challenging year. Rather than dwell on the losses of this past
year, I choose to turn forward, looking to the new opportunities and possibilities of the New Year 2021.
Sending my peace, love, and gratitude to all who read this entry.

Journal Entry January 7, 2021
Sharon Meindle
9/11 just happened...again. I still find myself processing what happened yesterday. My head
hurts. I am binge-watching the news. I am short on sleep because I stayed up late into the night to hear
the senators speak after the insurrection at the capitol led by President Trump. Rioters stormed,
breached, and desecrated the U.S. Capital building with Congress still inside, certifying the Presidential
election results.
I woke up yesterday, January 6th , (my grandmother’s birthday, God rest her soul), elated,
overjoyed, and relieved that two democratic senators won the Senate race from Georgia (no easy feat).
This turn of events means that Democrats won the House, Senate, and Presidency. Stacy Abrams almost
single-handedly gave the previously silent, suppressed people of Georgia a voice and opportunity to join
the electorate... and they finally spoke! Wow! Halleluiah! Georgia turned blue.
And then Trump has the audacity to hold a protest to contest the free and lawful election results
of winner President-elect Biden. Trump spews lies like gasoline all over the crowd of ignorant followers
holding confederate flags, and then lights the match, encouraging these white supremacists and militia
men breach the Capital to “Stop the Steal.”
Trump is yelling a fight song as they march down Pennsylvania avenue, instructing them to fight,
be strong, and to take back the country that was “stolen” from him because he didn’t win! Then, after
congress evacuates in gas masks under threat of gunfire, the rioters take their sweet time occupying the
capital building, proudly displaying flags loyal to Trump.
Those rioters stole more than documents and computers that day. They stole confidence in our
democracy. They flouted law and order. They stole our feelings of safety and instead sowed unrest and
fear. Trump was dangerous before. The loss of hundreds of thousands of people to Covid was only his
latest failure. But now he goes out with a bang, directly and purposely damaging our democratic process
by resisting the peaceful transition of power with violence and lies and manipulation.
I feel angry. I’m tired. I am already trying my best to care for my family and now I have to
process an assault on our country amid a pandemic, just as we were so joyful and hopeful for a better
2021 with vaccines rolling out and Democrats taking the Senate merely hours before.
So here we stand, just hoping to just make it through this transition of power that already
claimed one life and may take more before this is all over. Fear of the unknown right now is unsettling
with the inauguration looming in the next couple weeks. I did my part as a mother to the next
generation, though. I allowed them to watch the news unfold, listen to the story, and remember this
day so it does not happen again. It cannot happen again. The next generation cannot repeat this
mistake...ever. The stakes are simply too high.

Journal Entry January 20, 2021
Sharon Meindle
My prayers have been answered. It’s inauguration day. I finally can breathe a sigh of relief,
ending one chapter of a failed presidency and beginning a new chapter. I have hope. Hope that the
vaccine rollout will go more smoothly and my family might just survive this horror movie. I have hope
that my kids can return to school in person. I see my preschooler’s backpack that has never been worn
this year and yearn for him to safely socialize with peers his own age again. I hope that I can help clients
again by working on weekends as a physical therapist in this new year. I hope that we could make
vacation plans for next year, saving money for some much-deserved respite. I hope that the death rate
will start to slow and the terror will end soon. Thank God for new beginnings. Thank God for answered
prayers. The past four years was a wake-up call for Democracy. I hope people listened.
In my house, I hear frustration, but a lot of giggles, too. I feel angst, but a lot of love, too. I feel
isolated, but my arms are overflowing with babies. I feel fearful, but my spirit has been lifted with
renewed hope.
I keep busy and fruitful with household chores. I try to make Girl Scouts fun with zoom
meetings. I try my best to assist my kiddos with their schoolwork. I do worry that my kids are falling
behind, but we are all triaging and managing our own adversities.
Survival and hardship can mold us into stronger, wiser, more grateful human beings; and for
that, I feel honored. May we forge ahead into the new year with fortitude, optimism, love, faith,
tolerance, and compassion for one another. These attributes are what I want to teach my children and
what we all should likewise extend to one another. We are all a work in progress, so my hope is that we
learn from the harsh lessons of the previous year and actively work together to move in the right
direction as a family, and on a bigger scale, society as well.

Journal Entry February 22, 2021
Sharon Meindle
Thank you for reading my thoughts and insights as I experienced the events of 2020. My goal
was to submit my entries after the holidays, but I strongly felt that I should comment on the historical
events that transpired on January 6th, 2021 and again today after the nation’s political atmosphere has
calmed.
I now find myself settling into a joyful and peaceful daily routine. The three older children are
playing beautifully together as the baby naps and allows to me to write my thoughts in the light of day, a
luxury for a mother. My house is more organized and I can provide daily structure and a sense of
consistency in our new routines. I have started working on weekends to keep up my skills. And my
children are a year older, each demonstrating remarkable improvements in social development,
maturity, and independence due in part to age-related factors and also their shared experiences and
adversities over the past year.
Therefore, my present circumstance is an extraordinary improvement compared to this same
time last year when I had a newborn infant and three other children who were far less independent nor
inclined to play well with one another. We were over-extended in extra-curricular activities, barely
recovered from the whirlwind of the previous holidays, and then unexpectantly reeling from a death in
the family unrelated to Covid. In hindsight, we were lucky to be able to gather together for the funeral,
and I am grateful for the time spent with family not knowing at the time how precious a gift that was.
Science has elevated our knowledge of the virus and provided the golden ticket out of this pandemic, a
vaccine, which I am so fortunate to have already received as a healthcare provider. The sense of relief
from vaccination was overwhelming; I wish we could magically speed up the vaccination program in this
race against the virus.
All in all, I remain optimistic. I am proud of what I have accomplished over the past year. Upon
reflection, nothing was easy about it. It seemed as if the universe kept hurling obstacles from every
direction with barely a moment to recover between the stressors. My kids kept praying for this “dumb
virus” to be over so they could go to school. And yet, I count my blessings and carry on, intact, and
appreciate my good fortunate and that of my own family as we all grieve the 500,000+ Americans and
their families who were not as fortunate this past year. God bless.