Community in Quarantine

Every year, homeschoolers reach the point where planning for the next year is way more fun than finishing out the current year. I suspect it’s much the same for public school teachers. Students, whether taught at home or in a classroom, develop a case of spring fever that only increases as the calendar inches toward June. Some families homeschool year-round. I confess, I don’t know how they do it. My children aren’t the only ones with spring fever; right now I’m far more interested in growing my garden than in planting seeds of knowledge.

Taking goofy photos is so much more fun than math or reading.

The situation hasn’t been made easier by COVID-19 and the stay-at-home orders issued by various governor/emperors. We’re hanging in limbo right now, somewhere between the promise of reopening and the threat of further close-downs until November.

Last Friday we got word that Her Majesty the governor approved our county’s plan for reopening. That’s great news on so many levels if it comes to pass. Many, myself included, would argue that our governor’s current dictates are unconstitutional at both the federal and state levels—and her plans aren’t even as bonkers as some of our neighbors.

I can tell in so many ways that the stay-at-home order has been getting to all of us. This past Thursday, someone erased my day and date on the whiteboard. I spent much of the day thinking it was Friday. So disappointing.

Two days before that was my son's screen day. That means it was his day to have game time on my computer. For some reason he chose to change Minecraft’s background music to a really rocking version of Jingle Bells. I've never been the biggest fan of Jingle Bells to begin with, but that day I felt like Meg Ryan in Sleepless in Seattle, in that scene where she's listening to the radio and can't find anything except Jingle Bells. "And now, Jingle Bells backward!"

Meanwhile, I was in the kitchen trying to make stuffed cabbage. I’m not sure why, but I really dislike making stuffed cabbage. It seems like so much work even though it’s not. However, it was part of my attempt to keep meals interesting—even though I know none of my children really like cabbage. By that I include reactions that vary from a polite, “No, thank you,” to elaborate gagging sounds and pantomimes of death. So, being the loving mother I am, I try to incorporate cabbage into our meals at least once a week. All that to say, it’s difficult to make holishkes with Jingle Bells at full volume in the background.

I’m so grateful in so many ways for the technology that allows us to stay connected while separated. I’ve mentioned before that we are able to watch a livestream worship service. There are many excellent non-live recorded services out there, but I love the feeling of connection I get from knowing that others in my church family are worshiping with me at the exact same time even if in different places. I also love the ability it gives us to receive communion together. I would feel bereft if I had to go two or more months without the Lord’s Supper.

Even taking the bread and wine at home, it's amazing the
sense of community--communion--our family has

It’s also so good to be able to have Bible study via Zoom, or piano lessons through Facebook. Simply seeing those familiar faces and hearing their voices gives my spirit a boost.

Yet it’s not quite enough. I think I’ve been lulled into a kind of stupor by all the isolation—or should I say, forced confinement with my children. Going out hasn’t been fun. The tension, instead of dissipating, seems to be getting thicker by the day, and places like Walmart feel a little like…well, war zone is overstating it, but it’s definitely not a comfortable place to be. So I’ve felt that it’s okay, I really don’t need to see people in person.

I was pulled out of that haze last Saturday when I had not one, but two in-person, adult conversations with women outside my family. The effect was almost euphoric. I got giddy when a friend came by to borrow our tiller.

It’s sometimes difficult for an introvert like me to admit, but we really do need community. That’s how God designed us—to live in community with Him and each other. The whole time our worship services have been put on hold, I’ve been obedient to that, but I also have a verse from Hebrews echoing through my head almost constantly.

“And let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near” (Hebrews 10:24-25 ESV).

Hebrews is one of my favorite books in the Bible. I’d encourage you to read it if you haven’t recently.

Just remember, if you’ve felt lonely and isolated, if you’ve craved community through more than a computer screen, that’s okay. We’re not made to be alone. It’s good to be able to be alone if you have to, but not to live in a state of aloneness. We shouldn’t separate ourselves from the rest of humanity, we shouldn't separate ourselves from our church family, and we certainly shouldn’t separate ourselves from God. (That’s what unbelief does, by the way.)

Am I laying this on too thick? That’s because it matters. If someone or something—anyone or anything—can drive a wedge into our relationships, vertical and/or horizontal, it destroys something that’s foundational to who we are as humans. And I don’t want that. I want fellowship. In my last post I mentioned the “new normal,” but let’s not accept the new normal. Let’s cling to fellowship.

“…that which we have seen and heard we proclaim also to you, so that you too may have fellowship with us; and indeed our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son Jesus Christ. And we are writing these things so that our joy may be complete” (1 John 1:3-4 ESV).

Go get a haircut, and have a joyful day.

New Normal

Myriads of quotes exist on change—the meaning of it, the need for it, the inevitability of it. It’s the nature of life that, just when it settles into some kind of normal, something tips it over and we have to adjust all over again to a new normal. The hurdles keep coming. Like any good steeplechaser, we have to jump them or land on our faces in the mud.

Life has leveled into a new normal for us. Sitting here and interacting with the outside world through a computer screen, it begins to feel as if the outside world is an illusion. I wonder if it will be something of a shock for me when we’re again immersed in the community around us. Or will that also be a new normal?

In some ways the new normal is nice. I’ve gotten a lot, and I mean a lot, of work done in the yard and garden. I don’t have the rushed feeling of getting it all done so we can dash out the door to 4-H…or music lessons…or sports…or homeschool co-op. It has given most of my days a relaxed and lazy feeling, like drifting down a slow creek in an inner tube. My family has also had the opportunity to take part in distance learning opportunities we’ve never had before, like a four-week History and Government Crash Course from Patriot Academy. It has opened up so much knowledge to both myself and my oldest. (The other two really won't sit still for it.)

Then there are the ways the new normal is not so nice. When I do venture out, there’s a feeling of tentativity. There are sidelong glances when I walk near others (no nearer than six feet, of course). We’re blessed to live in a place that hasn’t been hard-hit by COVID-19, where people retain most of their sanity and humanity. Even here, though, stores where customers used to be able to linger at the counter and talk about the weather now have visible barriers to maintain distance. Tape on the floor demonstrates the proper distance to keep. My children, whom I will never claim to be angels in the first place, pick at each other constantly. My nerves are frayed. My patience is running thin.

I am saddened by the sickness and death throughout the world right now. Despite what you may be hearing, there are parts of the world, especially developing countries, that have suffered far more than we have. Most people in America have simply experienced…inconvenience. Yet I still see rampant panic. However bad COVID-19 is right now, fear is by far the worst pandemic we’re facing. (That, and those who are taking advantage of the situation to gain greater control, but I won’t go into that now.)

I do admit to an initial surge of fear when COVID-19 started spreading, but it didn’t last long. Now I may be impatient, irritated—certainly irritable—but I am not panicked. Why not?

Some of it is probably because I’m normally a pretty practical person. Like I said, I experienced initial fear, but when I paused to survey the situation, the outright panic around me didn’t match the facts of what we are facing. I was actually far more concerned with the Constitutional violations I was seeing than with the virus itself, but that’s again off topic. Even at that, I wasn’t panic-stricken. Why not?

I think it has a lot to do with control. So many of us spend so much of our lives seeking control. We desire to control ourselves, our income, our families, our friends, our surroundings. We build grand illusions of control in the form of good jobs, nice things, or an outward veneer of perfection so at least other people will think we’re in control. But that’s all they are—illusions. Smokescreens to make us feel better. When a sweeping panic like coronavirus thrusts itself into our lives, those smokescreens are wiped away by the hurricane winds around us. And we crumble.

I’m no less guilty of this than anyone. I still struggle with feelings of despair when faced with things beyond my control—which is everything. I’ve come to realize more and more in the last few years how little control I actually have. That in itself wouldn’t bring peace. Far from it. But while I know I am not in control, I have peace because I know who is.

Yes, this is that kind of post.

I haven’t talked about my faith much in the past several posts. It doesn’t seem to work in naturally when I’m talking about sourdough or chickens. Maybe that’s a flaw in me. I don’t know. For me, faith is like the foundation of a house—you don’t always talk about it, but it’s crucial that it be there. You really, really miss it when it’s not. When it is….

“…for God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control” (2 Tim. 1:7 ESV).

That, right there. I’m not frightened because I know who’s in control. No. Matter. What.

“There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love” (1 John 4:18 ESV).

I certainly don’t love perfectly. Not even close. However, God has enough love to cover us all. He is love. It's His amazing grace that allows me to weather storms--and to get up and keep going when I didn't weather them all that well. Perfection not required. My illusion of control, definitely not required.

Going back to the Patriot Academy class I mentioned above, today we were blessed to have Dr. Alveda King attend our class. Imagine, in this time of isolation, we were able to see Dr. King live via Zoom as she talked about her life and her uncle, Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr. It was amazing to hear her speak about living a life without fear, whether in the fight for civil rights or in the current COVID-19 crisis. Out of the many inspiring things she said, I remember these words:

“No matter where you live, no matter what time in history, God is greater.”

Wow. And that’s why I’m not afraid of this virus. That knowledge is my always normal. It doesn't change. I hope you have the same peace as we try to navigate this unknown territory. If you don’t, drop me a line. I’d love to tell you how it works.

Have a blessed weekend.