coronavirus

Waves Are Only Waves

Waves Are Only Waves

I was listening to the song “Peace, Be Still” sung by Hope Darst the other day, and thinking about when Jesus calmed the storm in Mark 4. The world right now often feels like we are in the middle of a storm, as it rages around us with all its fury and confusion. We can begin to feel as though everything is out of control, and we are just floating over each wave as we are pelted with rain.

Many of the disciples who were with Jesus were fisherman, so the sea was not a foreign place to them. They spent a large part of their lives understanding the weather, knowing when fishing was best and dealing with boats on the sea. This storm sent them all into a fright, which made me consider a couple of things.

Groundhog Day

Groundhog Day

I have heard from many people during this pandemic season that they feel like they are living in the movie Groundhog Day, where the main character relives the same day over and over again. Sometimes these days can seem to stretch on forever with little change, and we don’t have big plans to look forward to or answers to the questions of when we can do things we have hoped to do. I feel especially for those who are in nursing homes and care facilities, sometimes limited to just their room for months on end with no visitors to break up the monotony.

In some ways, it is similar with grieving a loved one. It’s like someone hit a giant pause button, and life doesn’t go anywhere for a bit. Even so, there are signals of change all around us, albeit small ones. The flowers bloom. The trees leaf out. The kids keep growing. My hair keeps turning more gray.

I am a person who loves making milestones a big deal. We celebrate birthdays, holidays, last days of school, any sort of milestone. I want to throw a party and invite everyone to participate in some way of acknowledging what has passed. But now the celebrations have changed, and they are much smaller and less populated.

We can believe that with nothing to look forward to, we are stuck. We feel like we are living the same day over and over. But this morning God reminded me that this time can be a gift.

Walking in Dependence

Walking in Dependence

My son and I were talking yesterday and I watched him finally confront the sadness that he had kept at bay for the last couple of weeks. He was sad he wasn’t going back to school for the foreseeable future, that he wouldn’t get to enjoy days with his great teacher and friends. And he asked me how long the sickness was going to last. And I don’t know. So, we talked about how we do hard things, and find the joy in them. And we talked about how it’s okay to be sad and miss things, and then also okay to enjoy the day in the way we could.

The reactions from many of the people I work with in counseling have been similar—how do we do this season when everything has been uprooted and made raw?

I was thinking through practical tools I’ve been giving people, which I will talk about later in this post. But first, God reminded me this morning we do this season of life just like we do every other season--in dependence on Jesus. Every morning we can wake up knowing that the day is too big for us, and ask Him to be all we need for it. That hasn’t changed with the magnitude of the situation, or the radical difference many of us feel in our lives. God hasn’t changed. He is still more than enough for all the pieces of our lives, even the ones that look like pandemic, shelter-at-home and remote everything.