What a surreal time we’re living in. I’ve been feeling quite the range of emotions in the last several weeks and each one all over again through the course of a single day. My thoughts and emotions are all over the place, to put it lightly.
At first, I’ve felt deeply burdened, anxious, and upset for all of those whose lives are being directly affected by the coronavirus. People are literally dying every day all around the world; thousands upon thousands have already died. Mothers, fathers, grandparents, children; beloved, important people are gone. And now in the US, we’re facing the same fate. People have lost jobs, income, and are unsure of how they will make ends meet. Hospitals are overflowing, and healthcare employees are overworked and in demand. Schools are closed and vulnerable children are missing meals and forced to remain in less than ideal home lives.
Then I’ve grown angry. Angry for those who are not taking this seriously. People my age and younger who believe they are invincible and their social lives are more important than the health of those they come in contact with. People who are blind to their privilege and blowing up social media with captions like “quarantine isn’t so bad”, choosing a facade and a pretty filter to cover what is an inescapable reality for those whose lives are forever changed by COVID-19. I’ve grown angry for my own privilege and that of the majority of Americans who are lucky enough to be able to socially distance themselves. Social distance is not an option for a family of 15 living together in the slums of West Africa. Quarantine is not an option for those in severe poverty who’s everyday reality involves fighting for life, looking for work, starving every day without enough food to go around.
So, I write. Such is a theme in my life, putting pen to paper (or rather fingers to a keyboard) when I can’t make sense of what I’m feeling and thinking, and in the midst of so much uncertainty a hopeful familiarity. I write because it feels productive in a time when I need to be. I write because somehow, even though I struggle to find the good that outweighs the bad in social media these days, it is a community and a way to reach people. To bring a message of hope and to even find hope for myself. So, I write.
In August of this past year, I returned home from the World Race, eleven months of traveling and sharing the gospel to eleven different countries around the world. I left unsure of anything beyond my return date home, no plans for my future but eager to take a leap and trusting the Lord fully that it would all come together in His timing. I returned seven months ago completely transformed from the inside out, ready to make some big commitments and decisions I’d conveniently avoided thus far in my young adult life. The Lord gave me big, beautiful visions for my life and how He intends to use me to further the kingdom, and to my surprise, it involves teaching. So, in November, I began school online earning a degree in Early Childhood Education. In December, I moved back to the city I was born and bred in, Louisville, Kentucky, and began working in a preschool in none other than the same small community I grew up in.
August to December was a long time, something I often forget. My plans and this new season of my life didn’t magically come together overnight. When I catch up with friends from the World Race, I often hear something along the lines of “it seems like you’re doing really well!” And I am doing well. The Lord has been working so much in my life and I am so thankful for it all. But, none of it came or continues to come easily and I never want to give that impression. I spent much of those few months desperately trying to turn plans into movement. So many things fell through. I didn’t know where to begin to turn dreams and goals into reality. I was so unhappy and unable to live in the present when I so desperately craved to come right off the Race ready to roll into what was next. I wrote a couple of blogs in this time, some full of hope, some not so much, but each one packed with honesty and transparency knowing there was purpose in it all.
When it all finally came together, it actually felt like it happened overnight. From Thanksgiving, I blinked and suddenly it was Christmas, I was living in a different state, a month into college, and building a career in a job I love. I gave so much thanks in this time, praising my Father and feeling the glory of so very many answered prayers. Still, though I haven’t wanted to admit it for months now, there’s been a question in the back of my mind. Is this enough?
Eleven unbelievably hard, beautiful, rewarding, broken, trying, incredible months on the mission field delivered me to a new season of life so eager and anxious to build kingdom back at home in the States. We have a saying on the World Race: “life is ministry, ministry is life”, and I couldn’t wait to live this out here at home. I also returned home with an ache for the urgency of the gospel. I’ve seen what life is like for those who do not have access to the gospel, those who have never heard of Jesus or Christianity and the millions who may never. I think about these people every day, I think about the people all around the world who do have access, who have heard of Jesus, maybe even know him personally but are still living in darkness. And I think about every day what I can do to be a part of the global mission movement.
In the interest of complete vulnerability and honesty (the only things I really know how to do anymore), thinking about these things and people every day probably makes me sound really great, but has actually turned unhealthy. Somewhere along the way, I developed a mental checklist and scale for what I believe is “enough”. I know that nothing can ever really be enough for the Lord, and the wonderful thing about His character and heart is that He doesn’t expect or even ask for anything but a relationship with His children. Still, I’ve put a burden on my shoulders and told myself I have to do and be more because I don’t believe that I’m enough.
So I sit here listening to playlists I made on the Race, struggling to remember what I felt a year ago, in the best year of my life. Struggling to make sense of my intense feelings and the chaos of our current world. People fail. Everyday time and time again. We’re seeing it a lot now, fingers are being pointed, opinions shoved in every direction, and people are looking to place blame. Who failed us? Who is responsible for COVID-19? We want someone to take responsibility for wrecking so many lives. But the reality is that we all failed in one way or another. There is not a single person who can claim responsibility for a global pandemic because it wasn’t one single person’s fault. People fail every day, in a million different ways, a million different times, and it affects a million different others. But God doesn’t fail. There is hope, there is rejoicing in such a statement. In the sovereignty, in the perfection, in the powerful message of a King who in all things works for the good of those who love Him.
The other morning the Lord pointed me towards Ecclesiastes 3:1-8:
"There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under the heavens:
a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing, a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away, a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak, a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace."
We have all found ourselves in unexpected seasons. For me, I’ve found myself with an indefinite amount of time off work, stuck at home, every day fighting my type four temptation to close myself off from the world completely and retreat inward. I’ve found myself really feeling this word “failure” lately. I’m off the Race, I’m no longer going to work every day or even interacting with people face to face. So who am I when it’s all stripped back? Do I really believe that I’m enough when my new normal is isolation, when there is no noise and nothing else in my life that I’m physically going and doing? When there’s nothing left but my relationship with the Lord, do I believe that’s enough? The answer is yes and no. I know that it is, that I am enough. That head knowledge is unshakeable truth. But I don’t always believe it 100% of the time.
It’s now April, and I’ve spent four months in this new season of my life, waiting for things to slow down so I can reevaluate and weigh my internal scale to determine if I’m really doing this right. I work full-time, I’m in school full-time, I have many other commitments and obligations that don’t leave me with much free time. Still, I try to fit more hours in the day, comparing myself to those around me and constantly telling myself I’m failing because I should be doing more, and my life should look like those that I admire.
Life has finally slowed down, in fact, it's come to a screeching halt, and it's brought up a lot more anxiety than I could have anticipated. I’m reminding myself every day that this is just a season, and it will soon end. The world will go back to normal, I will return to my busy life—we all will—and these few weeks will one day be a distant memory and the subject of memes and jokes we will enjoy revisiting for a long time to come. This strange time we’re living in is also an opportunity to slow down, sit, and be still. An opportunity to dig deep, to ask the Lord to move and refine our hearts and minds. To come, speak, heal, and restore the things we’ve buried, the unhealthy habits, mindsets, and beliefs we’ve built up since the last time we took a break from our busy lives (which for some may be never before).
I pray you're finding hope in whatever state you are in today.
What’s giving me hope these days:
Lots and lots of prayer
Peopled with Dreams - John Mark McMillan
Forever Amen - Steffany Gretzinger
House on a Hill - Amanda Lindsey Cook
Gilmore Girls, a heavy contender for one of my favorite shows of all time
Quiet mornings
Walking my dog, running in my neighborhood
Some Good News with John Krasinski, episodes 1 & 2
Facetime dates, Zoom calls, Marco Polos checking in with those that I love
Cooking and baking new recipes
Ah you are back! I have missed your blogs! (And I have missed your blogs… any written between the World race and now.) I love your wisdom and I appreciate your working things out through writing. Thank you!