There’s just too many words right now. As the days wear on (we’re now in week 10 of quarantine in Maine), there’s an endless stream of advice, opinions, theological arguments… there’s no shortage of diatribes about isolation or quarantine, reopening and reintegrating, making the best of these days or feeling desperate, about the end of days and heresies. It’s exhausting. It seems to be a distracting swirl of contradiction. While I grapple to make sense of most things, I just can’t right now. And I am generally a lover words and reason.
Mary Oliver said: “Poetry is a life-cherishing force. For poems are not words, after all, but fires for the cold, ropes let down to the lost, something as necessary as bread in the pockets of the hungry.”
So instead of lofty thoughts and wordy ideas, I’ve returned to my first & most elementary form of writing- poetry. It’s my loaves & fishes in this time, where survival & grief coexist.
Hope- by Jessica Briggs Hope is a whisper- God is here.
Near. With. In grief In confusion In failure
He’s not in some lofty place Full of choirs Gilded with worship
Immanuel lives in my grief For the thing I can’t even Speak about Think about Understand
I see so much anger and finger-pointing in the midst of the Covid-19 pandemic right now. I believe blame requires less effort than looking in the mirror. I remain resolute to not entangle myself in politics and arguments, choosing not to parse or judge people’s thoughts or opinions, actions or inaction. I have thoughts of course, yet I know all those pursuits lead to is division. So instead I’m focusing my efforts within. I’m doing the hard work of looking in the mirror during these days of isolation. Yet the most glaring thing I face during this pandemic is myself.
I see my physical limitations in ways I didn’t recognize only weeks ago. I once boasted about how much I could handle- the many hats I could wear without letting things fall to the wayside. I once considered myself to be a decent and striving wife, Mom, friend, daughter, Pastor, writer, home educator, leader… and here I am, barely holding daily life together.
Somewhere, in the midst of COVID-19, I misplaced my bootstraps. My courage has diminished and my capacity seems to have been drained, as if someone pulled the plug on the pool of busy-ness that kept me afloat. These endless days “safe at home” are hard. I’m floating now, but in a new reality, one that seems to be above the shallow waters, where I am privy to observe my life, without actively participating.
As I gaze down into the telling waters, I see my fears staring me in my face. I find my self-worth threatened unlike other days and find insurmountable doubt arise. Questions come through my thoughts like: Am I really good enough? Am I worthy of love? I have no feedback coming from others, like I normally do. I’m left to mull these things over… alone.
I’ve had to ask hard questions like: Who am I when I’m exhausted? Who am I when I am afraid? Who am I when I cannot serve others? Who am I when I can’t seem to string words together to write? Who am I when I can only seem to take care of my immediate family, and have low capacity to shepherd and care for others?
I don’t like the answer to most of those thoughts. I find myself impatient, restless in ways I cannot describe. It’s not for lack of purpose or motivation, either. I’ve had to face the fact that I’m not superwoman or super special in any way. Things I would’ve described myself as seem to fall away indiscriminately.
“The Homeschool Mom” Today, it’s taken all my energy to ensure my children gained education. I love the ability and journey that homeschool has given our family. I love the literature we share, the languages and beauty we study in art and music and nature. We are arithmetic-ing, language arts-ing, reading, and learning, but it feels so much like drudgery instead of freedom these days.
“The Home Chef” It takes all my energy to feed my family these days. I’ve never made so many “easy meals” as I am right now, and I normally love to cook. I don’t even seem hellbent on organic, GMO free products. I’m just happy to get some food in my pantry each time I head to the grocery store.
“The Neat Freak” It takes all my energy to tidy up a room in the house…again. It takes all my energy to keep up with the washing and folding, the scrubbing and cleaning, even though I’ve always liked and maintained an orderly home environment. I see myself turn away from the mess and clutter, writing it off as no big deal and that I’ll get to it when I get to it. I would normally love these stay-at-home moments to reorganize a closet or redo my pantry or some other Pinterest-led project, but I just can’t.
“The Engaged Mom” It takes all my energy to find creative ways to keep my children happy, even with the countless spreadsheets and resources available. My inbox overflows daily with ideas. Normally, I’d delight in playing a game of cards or snagging some snuggles and a story. I love putting together projects or activities my children can do to grow their mind and hearts, but these days I’m letting them do things I’d normally say were off limits, like video gaming. The hours just drag on and on and I can’t seem to fill them without our library visits, museum days, beach walks or hikes.
“The Family Planner” It takes all my energy to cook another meal, light another candle at the dinner table, have another tea time together- usually, uplifting moments in my daily life, but seemingly laborious these days.
“The Serving Shepherd” It takes all my energy to host a few weekly online gatherings to check on the relational and spiritual well-being of many people whom I truly love and care about. I normally love to support and walk with people through hard circumstances. I have many good ideas of ways to show love to others, yet my ability to execute seems null. Prayer is the only thing that seems a companion during these days, an outlet for the daily list of sadness, bad news and sorrow so many of us are feeling.
“The Confidante” It takes all my energy to have conversations laden with talk of quarantine, disease or what the future holds after this. It takes all my energy to check in with those dear to me, to say “let me know if you need anything,” when I doubt I can really step-up in the ways I normally could. Dropping everything to come alongside a friend seems much more difficult when there is no “everything” to drop any more.
I think this time has shown me that *this* is it; this is reality when everything is stripped away. Who I am when everything is stripped away is not who I thought I was. I am not as strong as I thought I was. I am not as brave and courageous as I thought I was. I am not as needed as I thought I was. I am not as gifted or called as I thought I was. I am not as spiritual as I thought I was.
So as I face myself in the mirror, it boils down to this: I am human. All these mantras I’ve chewed on to find meaning and purpose in life have simply come up to mean absolutely nothing in these days. All the personality tests, spiritual inventories, memory verses, theology… it just doesn’t fill my heart in this time of sorrow.
What I really need is grace. To know that despite my shortcomings, or the fact that every hat I once wore proudly has fallen off, grace makes a way for belovedness. Grace marches me into the truth that I am loved for just being a human. God doesn’t shy away from my mess; instead, He gives me His Presence as a companion. In my need and desperation, in my exhaustion and scaled-down efforts, Jesus reassures me just as He did the doubting Thomas. He gently opens his cloak and shows me his wounds- his humanity.
You see, Jesus was God in flesh and he was stripped down, too. He was shamed. He couldn’t pull himself up by his bootstraps, either. He didn’t rise up in power and show his ability or divinity. He couldn’t put on a happy face and be a stoic hero in the last days of His lives. He wept. He mourned. He felt things in his soul. And while I’m still sorting out what this all means about me, I find immense comfort in knowing He is with me. He’s been here before, and the grace I find is helping me survive moment by moment.
You see, grace isn’t something you “get.” There’s no spiritual practice that gives you the outcome of grace. Grace is the person of Jesus, in all His humanity and divinity. It’s both the mess and the beauty. Life isn’t categorized neatly in black and white, good and bad, right or wrong. There are no dichotomies, but rather it’s both. So when I ask for grace in all my glorious weakness, He gives himself to me freely.
God’s grace is the only thing that redeems our past and gives hope for the future. It’s the hope that in all my mess and failure and doubt, there’s still more to come. Grace leads us to love, but we only get there when we look in the mirror and acknowledge our suffering.
Maybe you need a new heart to live with during these days, too. <3
We find ourselves in anxious times. COVID-19, Social Distancing, empty shelves in our grocery stores… We are left wondering if there’s any end in sight, if things will return to “normal.” As the thoughts surmount, the anxiety increases. But let me reassure you: anxiety is human and natural. It’s a response to change. Anxiety is about the “what mights” of life, not the what IS.
How do we manage anxiety? I think the key to helping us manage our anxiety in this time is to focus on the “what is” of life in the form of spiritual, life-giving practices. Below are four ways to bring our thoughts into the present, and stop the spiral of thinking too much about the “what mights” of life.
NAME YOUR ANXIETIES
What is your #1 anxiety right now?
We cannot cope with our anxieties unless we name them. Whether you do this privately through journaling, in prayer form, or share your concerns with another person, identifying and discussing our anxieties is usually a great place to begin.
Naming our anxiety brings our thoughts and fears into the present moment. It anchors us to see that the things we may be anxious about are “what mights” and not “what is.”
RELATIONSHIPS
Yes, relationships are a spiritual practice. We cannot share our anxieties and vulnerabilities alone. We say a life centered in Christ- in Love- is the pinnacle of being a Christian. After all, GOD IS LOVE. But love is a lived experience and has to be lived through relationships. We are in a time where we must learn to live love, to BE LOVE, instead of trying to prove our worth through doing. We simply cannot be very productive right now. This is a time of learning to lean into love and relationship. The noise of life may have protected you up to this point from your anxieties, feelings and thoughts. But Love doesn’t allow hiding when the feelings seem overwhelming.
I see this time of social isolation as an invitation from God- a time to come out from hiding. A time to deal with our relationships. Love isn’t scary; instead, it gently covers and encourages us. Love doesn’t leave people alone in their anxiety. Love invites whole selves and whole stories into the light.
God created community to partner with us in love. As we support each other in relationships, I want to remind you healthy relationships come with good boundaries. Relationships that emulate authentic love should be mutual and reciprocal places of encouragement. One-sided relationships lead to further anxiety.
Ask yourself during this time: who do have that can carry the anxiety with me? Who can I support similarly?
STORYTELLING
Storytelling can be a wonderful spiritual practice that keeps us tethered to the present. The Bible itself is a collection of stories, a place of great comfort to many during anxious times. We have many biblical stories and examples that help us mitigate the “what mights” we currently face. The unknowns we face in life can be mirrored often in these stories. In trying times, we don’t have to “get in our Bibles” for answers- it’s not a fortune teller. Instead, we just need to read stories of comfort and hope.
If you’re not into reading passages of scripture, then many other stories can be comforting while you’re coping with anxiety. Pick up an easy-to-read devotional, a favorite fictional book, read a picture book to your children or listen to other people tell stories.
Stories help us focus on the reality of now. C.S. Lewis said that stories help to “not retreat from reality, but to rediscover it.” A hero’s tale, fairy tale, Bible story or fictional read is really an ordinary tale of humanness. We try and fail and try again. We face defeat and disappointment, but can emerge stronger and ready to choose bravery. We are always being invited to adventure and change, to challenges and triumphs. Stories help us assess where we are on the story arch right now.
GRATITUDE
The practice of gratitude is shown even in mental health and non spiritual practices to be life giving. Gratitude help us to usher in peace, stillness and calm. Gratitude is the echo of grace pulsating through the human heart.
There are innumerable ways to practice gratitude, whether it’s listing a few things daily in your journal, having your family say a gratitude around the dinner table, or using thanksgiving as a part of your prayer life. Regardless, gratitude anchors us to see the realities already present in our life, and to name them and be grateful for them, instead of being focused on our fear of lack.
I hope these four practices can be sources of strength and comfort during this time. For more ideas of staying in the what is, and for spiritual encouragement, please follow me on Instagram: @eyestoseeblog.
