Anchors

It goes without saying that we are all living with massive amounts of upheaval.  Our daily routines, our jobs (or lack thereof), all the stuff we have to juggle… look quite different than they did just a week or so ago.  To make matters worse, we might feel cut off from many of our support systems or coping mechanisms. 

No longer can you simply go out and have a coffee with a friend.  Places of worship, yoga studios, your local YMCA, a favorite local taproom, all those places shuttered up.  I know many of us are finding innovative ways to “virtually gather” (hello Zoom!), and for that I am deeply grateful.  A side-effect coming out of this crisis is that we are thinking in new and creative ways, and that is awesome. 

Yet I still miss the simple walk with a friend, without worrying if we are at least 6 feet apart.  I miss being able to focus on certain tasks without the never-ending chorus of kids needing something from me.  Yet this is something I am beginning to adapt to.  I realize that this won’t be forever, and that is some measure of comfort. 

But what about those with an aggressive cancer, or a grim diagnosis, who might already be living on borrowed time?  Living in Covid-19 World, they no longer have the freedom to go out and do all those things that they’d like to do before they die. 

Sometimes there are just no words.  There is so much we are lamenting.  And before we can try to see “the jar as half full,” or “just keep swimming…” we need to lament.  Lament is not the same as wallowing in self-pity, but rather being honest with ourselves and others that this is really hard.  Before we can try to comfort one another, we need to know the sources of pain.

In the Bible we have the book of Job, the story of a good man who suffers many hardships.  We hear the full, detailed story of struggle.  In fact there are a full 37 chapters until we begin to see any inklings of “resolution.”  Then we have lament psalms.  And we see Jesus’ own struggle with suffering.  In the Garden of Gethsemane, we hear Jesus say, “Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me.”  And on the cross, Jesus cries out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”   

Far from glossing over pain, the Bible is full of people expressing their pain.  Not stuffing down their very real emotions, but expressing them.  From these stories we learn that God can handle the full range of our emotions.  From these stories we learn that expressing pain is part of the process of healing and restoration. 

So if you’re feeling crappy, or afraid, overwhelmed, if your heart is full of lament…  know that you are not alone.  I feel it too.  I do my best to maintain a positive attitude.  I’m trying to utilize all the tools in my toolbox of self-care.  And I also know that it’s okay to feel not okay.  This world, this moment in time we are all living through… I like to say, “It is a lot of things.”  A lot of ups and downs.   

In some ways, “we’re all in the same boat” as the entire world community seeks ways to navigate this global pandemic.  And yet we each are situated in our own little life rafts, presented with different circumstances and challenges.  Regardless of what life raft we find ourselves in, I believe we are all trying to find the anchors.

What are your anchors?  What are those things, people, places, experiences, that will help you weather this storm?  What are those things, people, places, experiences that give you hope and keep you from drowning in despair? 

If you’re like me, you might find yourself oscillating between unbounded hope and anxiety-laden dread.  Some days I am able to take the “long view” and realize that the hardships, inconveniences and sacrifices we’re all making will only last for a season.  Then other days the challenges and frustrations seem more than I can bear. 

Which is why I need to keep coming back to my anchors.  Those people, places, things and experiences that keep me rooted in hope.  Those people, places, things and experiences that keep my little life raft anchored in a stormy sea. 

We all have our anchors, and this is a time to remember them more than ever.  For me it’s been helpful to even write them down on an index card.  When I start to feel out of sorts, I have a handy checklist of things that might be helpful. 

I think of these things as a sort of “menu of self-care.”  I like the imagery of a menu, because it gives me grace to know that I don’t have to do “all the things,” every day, to reach a better state. 

Some days the menu item that is most appealing is a walk or a run or “makeshift tennis” on the driveway with my son.  Some days the menu item is having a “Zoom Happy Hour” with family or friends.  Other days the soup de jour is savoring the music and lyrics of favorite songs.  Sometime the sweetest dessert is simply being outside and hearing a variety of peaceful birdsongs.

There are no easy answers or simple solutions for the living of these days.  But it is my prayer that you will find your anchors, and that they will ground you in hope and peace amidst these storms.  Stay safe and well my friends!