What I’m Learning in the Change

It has been almost 5 months since I wrote about how this year would be unhurried. What an understatement! How everything has slowed, including all plans and expectations!

As we flipped the calendar page to a new year and decade, I also remarked to members of my family that this would be a year of change. A “retirement” of sorts, a graduation, a wedding, and two new babies within our extended family — those were the changes in my mind. Again, what an understatement! I had no idea that the changes to come would involve our homeschool and church gatherings, my shopping habits, how I relate to my friends, and the canceling of most of my foreseeable future.

When I sort through the large pile of disappointments and frustrations that 2020 has become, I want to look for the lessons I can carry away. Every season has it’s bad and it’s good. And every change can bring us to new understandings of ourselves and our lives.

So what are they, these lessons I’m learning? Learning, in the present tense. Because of all the things I don’t know right now, the fact that I don’t know much isn’t one of them.

Relationships are to be treasured. It was the day before quarantine, or whatever term your governor assigned it. We laughed, sitting shoulder to shoulder with family and friends at an 18th birthday party celebration. We reached into common bags of chips. A few of us even braved eating a piece of the cake after the birthday celebrant blew 18 candles out across it’s surface. We hugged hello and goodbye and left with “see you soons”. The next day, we chatted at church after a hearty handshake about this virus thing everyone was talking about. Then, it was over. We didn’t see family members for three months. Our church family cloistered in individual homes. And we made the heart-breaking decision not to return to homeschool co-op from spring break. Now we see with more clarity how important those relationships really are.

I am not in control. At all. I had my planner for 2020 filled out back in early November. All the dentist appointments lined up. The parties, conventions, camps, celebrations — all penciled in. I had a general sense that things come up, plans change. But I’ve always faced those with a quasi-flexibility. Yeah, yeah, so to which other time block can we move them? But I’ve done a lot of erasing, helplessly watching as all the big look-forward-to moments were canceled, one by one. If I look closely at my goal to be unhurried and the empty calendar blocks side by side, I can see the One Who is in control smiling gently.

The ordinary in our life is a gift. A hug just because. Looking deep into someone’s eyes. Picking up groceries. Sitting down in a restaurant. Breathing free. Driving to work and waving to a co-worker with a smile they can see. Sitting on the lawn to watch fireworks. Standing in line and chatting with someone behind you. Washing a sink-full of dishes after a dinner party. Sitting in a classroom for a boring lecture. Sharing coffee with a group of friends in a coffee shop. It has been often said you don’t know what you have until it’s gone.

Sharing opinions is not a substitute for connection. In a world paralyzed by fear and uncertainty, it seems few are afraid to share their dogmatic opinions. We exchange our thoughts on the virus, the economy, politics, social issues and religion. We label instead of listen. We vent instead of lean in. We walk away from the virtual meeting or the socially distanced conversation or the social media feed, and we think we connected. But the connection is like a verbal paintball game leaving splatters and unseen bruises. Shouldn’t we be more concerned with mixing all the different elements on a palette and creating brushstrokes together?

Nothing really belongs to us. Some of us are finding that the things of which we took ownership were never really ours to hold. We said “my job”, “my health”, “my church”, “my mother/father”, and “my school”. The next day, we were unemployed or suffering physically and unable to visit the people and places we claimed. Whatever we think we own, we are really only stewards of it.

I was made for more than this body and this world. What a bleak world this would be if a microscopic virus could actually end my life! How depressing it would be if I truly believed the next person to become President would determine the whole trajectory of my existence! No vaccine or lack of one, politician, or latest ruling from the CDC can impact my eternal existence. I’m only here temporarily. To do the good I can, to show the love I can and to walk as close to and as much like Jesus as I can.