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.