But like every hard thing, it has been a time of growth. It's been a time of testing my mettle in a dozen little ways, and revealing what was already true about me.
As I said, sheltering in place has initially been a blessing. As the world has been told to slow down and stay home, I have relaxed and allowed myself a little less worry that we "aren't doing enough"- because all kids are at home now, no one is rushing around from place-to-place. So I don't feel like we are the strange minority that lives a quiet life at home.
Comparison is a constant, even in quarantine. As people's lives are turned upside down, I am prone to compare the struggles. And I have felt considerable guilt that, for us, this hasn't changed life much. Josh is still working and getting his pay check direct deposited every two weeks. Our kids are still plowing through their school work, despite the governor's forgiveness of the mandated 175 days of school. Our pantry and freezer are stocked, we have a huge yard to play in, we have Netflix and Disney+. But while I feel guilty that financially we are okay and others are not, I learn that this is a struggle for everyone, even me. I have deep concerns for the welfare of children who are not in school and people who are out of work, for our crashing economy, for our freedom, for those who are quarantined alone- and I carry these as heavy burdens sometimes, with this terrible feeling that I have absolutely no control over it. The veritable "weight of the world" on my shoulders that I am unable to bear. While our personal circumstances are just fine at the moment, I feel deeply for those who cannot say the same.
In this feeling of helplessness, though, I am also learning daily that what we have been given is enough. I continue to think of the little boy who offered his fishes and loaves to Jesus as a way to help feed the multitudes. Only the faith of a child, the ignorance of what is realistic, would prompt this offering. It could not possibly be enough. And yet, when offered to Jesus, it was. It was more than enough. It was multiplied and there were leftovers. So as I struggle with my feelings of helplessness to make any difference during this time, I am reminded that whatever I have is enough. Just offer it. The day before the official shelter-in-place order began, the kids and I made deliveries to our friends of homemade whoopie pies, jars of our own maple syrup and boxes of pancake mix, cards, letters, drawings, and other little random gifts of things we already had in the house. We called them our "Anne Frank gifts", as we did what Anne did when creating gifts to give at Hannukah while hiding in an attic from the Nazis- we just took what we had and made gifts out of it. It seemed so paltry and yet all our friends were overjoyed. I have loved the offerings of quarantine karaoke videos, the sharing of encouraging stories, verses, and poems, the live streamed church services, all the teachers teaching online. Everyone feels helpless right now. But God asks only for what we have, not what we don't. For me, that is baked goods and meals and offering encouraging Bible verses and praying for people. It is continuing to give to our church and praying for eyes to see needs we can help with. It doesn't have to feel like enough or look like enough for God to bless it.
Another revelation in this time is that my default mode continues to be self-reliance. I have been married almost twenty years and would say that the hardest thing about marriage, for me, has been learning not to rely on myself anymore. I went from only needing to worry about myself and take care of myself. When I faced hard things, I could dig in and do the work to fix it without worrying about how anyone else felt. I lived on my own strengths, fought my weaknesses with action, and did what I had to do to control my life. There is no place for that in marriage- two become one. And as we have added four children over the years, I am less and less able to do the more simple work of digging just one person out of difficulty. Now there are six of us and I just can't. But I still try! My natural reaction is to try to figure out how to fix and control things by doing something. Being still and remembering I'm not alone in this- how is this still a struggle after twenty years?
What I am really called to do is rest and take shelter in the shadow of the Lord's wings. Psalm 91 seems to be the chapter of the Bible most quoted during this strange season.
He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.
I will say of the Lord, "He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust."
Surely he will save you from the fowlers snare and from the deadly pestilence.
He will cover you with his feathers
and under his wings you will find refuge;
His faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.
Psalms 91:1,2
I am being called- maybe even forced- into a new level of trust. I am being beckoned to find my real shelter and safe place under the Lord's care, not in my own abilities to cope and make things better. Not in a government that offers me a stimulus check or unemployement if my husband is out of work. Of course I have opinions on how this Covid-19 virus is being dealt with. I have contacted our governor and my state representative. I do not stick my head in the sand and frankly I REALLY REALLY REALLY WANT TO DO SOMETHING ABOUT THIS- something that feels better than just sending a letter that I know won't be read, something that gives proof of its effectiveness. But what I am being asked to do is... shelter. Chill. Find refuge, find rest, trust in the Almighty. I do not have to see that He is at work to know He is. And whatever He is working, his Word says it is exceedingly, abundantly above all I can ask or think. So I face the fact that probably what I think is best... isn't as good as what He has planned.
And I can shelter in that.
From day one, the year 2020 has thrown me for a loop, and frankly I won't mind saying goodbye to it (is it really only May 1st?). But in the midst of this, the Lord is asking me, "Will you trust me? Will you put your faith in my Word, not in what you can see? When it all seems to blow apart, will you continue to believe me for miracles? Will you continue to hope? Will you get to know me even better, even after all these years?"
And my heart responds, "Yes, Lord. I will."
It. Is. Hard. There are numerous times a day that I feel like I'm dragging myself under those sheltering wings, and then once I'm there, I still start to poke my head out. I heard another voice! Who is it? Maybe they know something I can do! (Doing is what I do!) But when I fall under His wings with abandon, when I cease striving and just rest, the relief is immense. I don't have to do anything.
Just find shelter in the shadow of the Almighty. He looms over me with his protection, provision, and compassion.
Just take shelter.
