Pandemic.
I'm sick of this word, and to be quite frank, have wished at times that I could just pretend like nothing was happening. For me, it's the isolation. Sure, I have been around people. I have continued to work. The Ministry Center continues to feed the hungry and care for people's needs, but the isolation I speak of comes when I am at home. When my kids and I, after months of being in close quarters for the last five months, have retreated. The little guy has taken over the living room, the teenager stays shut in his room, and my bedroom, which served as my work office for three months, has become my own apartment. We see each other, sure. I still cook meals. I still do the laundry. I am, after all, mom. But after so long, I have looked up to find that separation from one another has happened. Apparently, twenty-four hours of being around each other, at seven days a week no less, is a constraint. So the natural thing to do is get comfortable. We settled. They do them. I do me. And once every blue moon, we come out of our comfort zones to play Jenga or something. Or go to the pool together. Or play music together. Still, isolation is apparent.
Something has happened during that time. To all of us. Our routines have been disrupted. There is no rise and shine and get kids off to school. My prayer time was disrupted, my devotional time was disrupted, all because all I did have, was time. Kinda ironic, isn't it? I lost time because I had too much of it. And when the slightest thing came up in my schedule and I needed to be somewhere or do something, I would get nervous thinking about how I could squeeze one more thing into my day when truth be told, time was all I had. Sure, there was a time when I was working twelve hours a day and since it was all from home for a period, there was that added feeling that I was always behind and that catching back up was impossible. I now see how unhealthy things began to manifest when I found myself checking voicemails from midnight to four am, just waiting for the next emergency to strike. I began to live in fear of leaving, what was coming next, and all of the things that creep into a mama's head when she is left to her own vices. I was streaming the news 24/7 as well, and watching youtube videos that were producing a less than fruitful harvest in my life. I was seeking my peace from the world, and the world had none to give.
Last weekend, my family was going to start going back to the church in person. We have been watching online pretty much since April, but I felt checked in my spirit to let go of the fear that I was holding on to, and go. Not turn on my screen at home and tune in, but rather, go. Unfortunately, my husband had some work issues come up and we pushed our start backdate to today. A stomach bug hit our house over the weekend and just to play it safe, I went to church alone today. However, it wasn't before I battled demons all night, Saturday night. I was exhausted this morning, was cranky and unsupportive to my husband who already wasn't feeling good, and by the time I made it to church, I just sat and cried.
But, I worshipped. Somehow.
Then and there, I threw myself at the foot of the cross where I barely had the words to cry out to God how sorry I was. How much I had missed him. How I had put my relationship with him in a tiny box that I could control based on my routine, instead of inviting him into every heartbreaking moment that had happened over the course of the last five months. The people I had lost. The internal struggle I had felt. The fear that hung over me. Fear that started off small, but would have reduced me to the shell of a person that God had saved me to be. Not because of who I was, but because of who he was. Yet, he beautifully reminded me that as I sank further to the floor, separated on that socially distanced altar, that he was right there beside me. That he had never left me, but that when I was weak and lacked the words to say to him, he knew my heart and still offered peace in the pandemic.
There's so much more, and I plan to share it, but for now, I think I'll just leave this here.
My God, how He loves us so.
