Everything is fine. Work hard and keep your chin up. It was an unspoken motto in my home growing up. But today, working hard won’t keep the world from collapsing into chaos, and my chin is quivering as I let the tears fall. I’m lonely. I’m tired. And my soul feels a little thin.
One day last week Chris experienced, minor, but noticeable, chest congestion all day; that evening my temperature was slightly elevated—for an hour (how does that happen?). I’ve noticed every cough and wheeze of my sons who have allergies. I thought I wasn’t going to worry about us getting coronavirus, but apparently I am. We gave up our spring break trip plans for last week. This week we’re starting full time homeschool, and I’ve been feeling pretty overwhelmed about that. I wonder whether Chris will go back to work tomorrow, when I will see my parents again, and whether the grocery store will have milk and PullUps when I need them.
And then Chris opens Twitter and tells me the number of confirmed cases in Oklahoma and how many people have died in Italy in the last 24 hours. I know I wouldn’t have to move very many doors down the street before I would find people losing paychecks or jobs or businesses, not to mention the relentless reach of illness and death that will touch our neighborhoods and families unless God intervenes. All of these are burdens that I am not used to carrying, and it’s leaving me weary.
I wonder how each of you are doing. I wonder what particular fears and worries and losses these uncertain times have brought you. I wish I could hug your necks and whisper comfort in your ear. But even if I could do that I couldn’t take the pain or uncertainty away. Where will we find hope? What practices will ground us?
You all probably don’t need any more advice, but let me share a few of things I’ve been doing to strengthen my soul this week.
• Beginning my day in the Word. I know you hear that all the time. And I know from experience that sometimes the ways we’ve read scripture before don’t work for us now. Do something new if you need to. Try Lectio Divina. Tape a verse to your kitchen window, or breathe one phrase over and over while you clear the table. Listen to scripture set to music. Say Psalm 23 every time you wash your hands.
• Processing what I’m feeling. Speak it, write it, or pray it. Don’t hide from yourself. God meets us where we are, not where we wish we were. For me that means being honest that I am a little depressed right now and I cry for reasons that I don’t understand. God is in the dark places as well as the beauty. He loves you right now.
• Choosing what I put into my mind. You get to decide how many news articles to read and who you follow on social media. And don’t only let go of voices that burden you, find people who speak truth and goodness. I follow one person on Instagram who daily reads poems and psalms and it’s a breath calm for me every time. Return to a book that has been meaningful to you, or reach out to a mentor.
• Being a friend. Call someone. Send flowers. Drop off books on a front porch. Ask how you can pray. Share honestly your own grief and your gratitude.
• Making something beautiful. Art, food, or connection. Create beauty in the face of chaos, whether it’s the chaos of Coronavirus in the world or the chaos of three kids in one house for a whole week straight.
• Practicing being relentlessly kind. Be as kind as possible, both to yourself and to others. Remember that our Father in heaven is kind.
Stay soft, stay brave. We have not been abandoned.