Brave, Anyway

Tag: quarantine

  • It’s Not Me, It’s You

    It’s Not Me, It’s You

    What if the one to blame is actually me? Or us? What if what we think is the fault of others is actually the fault of ours?

    We and us are Christians. Me, and maybe you.

    I’ve spent a lot of my adult life retraining my brain to not first think of God as the Old Testament punishment guy. He is the Old Testament angry guy, but He is also the New Testament love and peace and turn-the-other-cheek guy – and perhaps most importantly the forgiveness guy.

    We are in a crazy time right now in the United States. COVID, racial injustice, unemployment, hurricanes, fires. It seems like our nation is under attack. And, indeed, it may be.

    How’d we get here, and who’s to blame? Is it the radical left? The radical right? The looters or the KKK? Most of us live somewhere in the middle, and yet it seems like all of our talk is only about the folks on the fringe.

    We can’t ever allow ourselves to forget that the folks on the fringe are not and will not ever be in control unless we have allowed them to be. That’s the power of the middle, especially when it’s the size that it is. And perhaps our main issue right now is that many of us don’t see each other as fellow citizens, or as comrades, in that powerful force that is the middle.

    I am so very tired of hearing Christians say we need to turn back or we need to change our ways or we need to focus on values – with the implication or even the clear and intentional statement that if we don’t, our country is doomed to fall or fail.

    Maybe that’s correct, actually. But here’s the thing: when Christians say that, they are always pointing the finger at others. The implication in the statement is that others who sin need to turn from their way. Others who don’t go to church or don’t go to a church like ours need to get with the actual God program. Others need to have politics like ours. Others who are gay need to be straight. Others who have abortions need to stop. Others who commit adultery need to not do that. Others who protest need to be thankful for what they do have and love their country more.

    What about us? The Christians. Perhaps we should turn that pointing finger back at ourselves. What if the reason this nation is struggling is because we – the Christians – have set a very bad example in this supposed Christian nation.

    What if the issue is our failure to show Christ to the world? That we haven’t been the hands and feet. That we have failed to love our neighbor as ourselves. That we have failed to lead with love. That we have failed to be the light. That we have failed to forgive and have empathy and show compassion. That we have failed to live by the ten commandments. That we have put other gods before Him. That we have made idols. That we have supported and elected leaders who live in ways very contrary to the tenets of Christianity. That we have failed to preach and live the actual gospel. That we have been disobedient. That we have failed to take a stand when we should. That we have failed to recognize and act when some of our fellow citizens, including our fellow Christians, have not been treated fairly.

    Tweet that moved me most this week:
    Stop using Dr. King as an example of a peaceful protest…you shot him, too.

    What if WE are the issue? What if what we’re doing or not doing is to blame? Because as Christians, we have a responsibility that’s clearly outlined in Luke 12:48. To whom much is given, much will be required. We are and will be held responsible for what we have been given.

    We’ve been acting like the sinners are always the others. The sinners are us, too.

    We’ve been acting like we are above reproach because we are believers, when actually we’re more accountable because we know better.

    We’ve been acting like everyone should believe and behave like we do because we’re better, when the reality is that we’re not behaving very well at all. And worse, everyone sees it.

    I believe Jesus, if He were walking on two human legs in America today, might be found walking amongst that big crowd in the middle, in the group made up of most of us. There are differences in how we believe and look and think and act, but we commonly seek a place of peace and safety and healing. And perhaps he’d be speaking words like these, appropriate two thousand years ago and still today: “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God. Blessed are you who hunger now, for you will be satisfied. Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh.”

    There is surely Jesus in many Republicans and in many Democrats and in many Libertarians and in many Green supporters and in many people who don’t vote at all. Any suggestion that Jesus would side with a certain political party in America is simply a lie. Any suggestion that the fault for where we are lies with the others is a half-truth. The truth is always somewhere in the middle.

    Seeing God in America is one of my favorite devotionals right now. From a reflection on Maroon Bells, Colorado: “A murky, weed-choked pond won’t give back a reflection of even the mightiest mountains that tower nearby. But a clean, calm lake surface will shine out with the image of the majesty that surrounds it.”
  • Quarantine Work-at-Home Learnings

    Quarantine Work-at-Home Learnings

    Every single work blouse I have can be paired with jeans that are old and ripped. Work pants are unnecessary BS in my closet and in my life, taking up space where more cute and comfy tops could be.

    Breaks are way more important than I thought and I need to take them regardless of my work location. It takes me 12 minutes to ride my bike around the neighborhood with my 9-year old. That 12 minutes changes the way I think about or dismiss a lot of things that happen each day.

    When there’s no one around to judge and make snarky comments, a spoon in a jar of peanut butter is lunch.

    For the first few weeks of quarantine, I thought I missed lunch with friends. But once we started having Zoom lunches, I realized that what I actually miss is lunch with friends where someone makes us fresh tacos and guacamole.

    I want afternoon chocolate no matter the location of my office.

    Commutes take precious time away from family. However, they also provide a transition between work and home, and I surprisingly miss that 30 minutes where I was regularly yelling at slow drivers to get out of the fast lane.

    I hate decorating, mostly. The whole idea of it is weird – using stuff to distract from the reality of what is or what’s there. But I have realized that I like to surround myself with positive affirmations no matter where I am, and that positive affirmations have a big impact on my attitude. They’re not only a good reminder for us about who we want to be, but a signal for others about who we aspire to be and what they should expect of us.

    A bald eagle flies high up in the sky outside my home office window every now and then. She is regal and fierce and graceful. When I worked in the office, even though two of my “walls” are floor to ceiling windows, I rarely took the time to look outside for rejuvenation or inspiration. I watch for my eagle each day now, eagerly awaiting her appearance. She reminds me of the words of Isaiah: But those who trust in the LORD will find new strength. They will soar high on wings like eagles. They will run and not grow weary. They will walk and not faint.

    I look rough by 3 pm, which I’ve always suspected but now know with certainty as I stare back at myself in Zoom.

    Zoom me throughout the day.

    My body and brain need the same amount of caffeine whether I get up at 5:30 to get a high schooler off for the day or I sleep until 7:30 because my first Zoom isn’t until 8:30.

    Whether at home with two dozen mugs to select from or in the office with two mugs to select from, I’m going to drink from the same mug every day.

    If I’m stuck on the side of the road and my cell phone is dead and a passerby offers me their phone to call a friend for help, I’m not going to remember the phone number of any one of my contacts. I will, however, be able to enter the Zoom ID for any one of my daily meetings.

    It used to be taboo for children and pets to make noise on the occasional day someone, or we, worked from home. But I am convinced now that we know our colleagues on another level – we know and understand them better – because we’ve seen the smiles they have only with family.

    I miss those moments when I make eye contact with one of my peeps across a conference room or an aisle or a hallway, and we each roll our eyes (or know that we want to roll our eyes but should not and will not). I also miss those moments when I make eye contact with one of my peeps and neither one of us speaks but we know that we’re each thinking “that’s what she said.”

    I’m not ever going to be the mom that makes dinner 5 nights a week, even when we don’t have activities and even when my commute is just a walk downstairs.

    Whether it’s the stairs in my office building or the stairs in my house, I will go to great lengths and make up detailed excuses to avoid taking them.

    I’m always cold, whether I’m working from home or working in the office. Air conditioning is necessary for me and yet never at the right temperature for me.

    When I was a kid, I loved school supplies. When I became an adult that transitioned to office supplies. Even though we do everything electronically, and even though I don’t use any of this stuff in my daily work at home, I still love to be surrounded by paper and post-it’s and pens and pencils and markers. Also, I need highlighters on my desk and in my life even though I never ever highlight anything – and I’m not sure why.

    I have not worn real shoes since March 13. No sneakers, no flats, no heels, no boots, no sandals. Only flip flops. Even for bike riding, even on the early chillier days, and even though I haven’t been getting pedicures. I am not sure my feet will embrace the eventual boomerang back to coverage.

    My favorite part of every workday starts with Audrey waiting in the hallway just outside my office at about 5pm. She knows my daily wrap-up may be 5 minutes or 25 minutes, so she often waits with a device. But as soon as she hears everyone say have a good night, she comes running in for what she calls end-of-the-day hugs and jumps into my arms or lap. It’s the absolute best, and I never would have experienced it if not for quarantine.

  • Honeysuckle

    Honeysuckle

    I have little-to-no sense of smell. Years of allergies will do that. Very few scents register for me, but among those I can always detect are garlic, an old drugstore perfume called Charlie, and honeysuckle.

    Honeysuckle makes me smile wherever I am, whatever I’m doing, every single time. It’s the smell of summer. The smell of simpler times, when kids – me – pulled on the stems and licked the tiny drop of nectar.

    In many ways, for millions of people, this is a very tough time. A time of sickness, anxiety, and fear. Death, unemployment, and hunger.

    In many ways, this is a complex time for me – although not in any of the scary ways it is for others. It’s a time of work at home and school at home and not going out to do anything at home, which is outside the comfort zone of everyone sheltering in this little corner of the culdesac.

    And yet, in so many more ways this is a simpler time. Walks and bike rides at night. Hanging around on the porch. Time to make dinner – meat and starch and veggie – on a week night, because my commute to home life is a short walk down the stairs.

    Although it seems like forever ago now, just a few short weeks ago in the office, I told one of my colleagues to practice the pause. Don’t be so quick to respond to everything. Don’t be so quick to make a selection without considering all options. Don’t be so quick to do *something.* Sometimes it’s better to do nothing and just give everyone a minute, because if we pause we often find that we – and others – will behave or react differently than if we rush to do.

    As it turns out, I needed to maybe give myself my own lecture. I think the main lesson of shelter-in-place for me is that I need to practice the pause more. I am very capable of doing that in my professional life but I’m not as good at boundaries like that in my personal life, even though the same principles apply.

    • I don’t have to respond to everything.
    • I don’t have to be the one to do everything.
    • I don’t have to attend all events or discussions I’m invited to.
    • The only timetable that’s really important is the one that’s best for me and the girls.

    Maybe the lesson of this unique time is that if we just practice the pause we can once again see the path to simple. Maybe even get back on it, so we can focus all our energy on what’s really important. Family. Faith. Presence. Giving. Our purpose and our calling.

    It’s very hard to see the road we’re traveling and the path we’re on when we’re going 90 miles an hour. At that speed, we see some of what’s ahead and maybe we look back and see some of what’s behind us, but we definitely miss much of the view right now. It’s when we make progress at a reasonable speed and remember to practice the pause that we can really be present for the important things. Skipping competitions. An extra long and silly grace before a Cadbury Egg. Sisters snuggled up working on math together. Friends laughing and racing bikes to the end of the street. The sweet taste of a honeysuckle stem.

  • Cloud-Clearing

    Cloud-Clearing

    A handful of realizations, some new and some just reminders, changed how the world looked on this cloudy day.

    This morning I listened as a third-grade teacher made Audrey feel incredibly special in a one-on-one call, scheduled on her own time just to encourage Audrey in her reading and acknowledge her hard work and progress. Distance learning is hard, and it’s especially hard for children that don’t love school. I could hear Audrey’s smile as they talked – about guinea pig names and video updates in flip grid and synonyms – and it brought tears to my eyes and just made my heart want to burst with happiness and gratitude.

    I also remembered, and it really solidified in my brain as I listened to them, that I’m not an educator. Ms. J is an educator, and I’m an emergency substitute. I’m not failing; I wasn’t designed to be an educator and I have no experience at being an educator. It takes a village of caring people of all different strengths and gifts to raise a child, and I’m just one part of that village. I am not the whole village, I cannot be the whole village, and I should not be the whole village.

    In my last meeting of the day one of my colleagues expressed this gratitude and even more dots connected for me: working from home is such a blessing because my children have a whole different Momma. This is true in so many ways. Of course I have time to cook more, but we also have time for daily walks or bike rides together. We work in the yard. We watch shows together. My girls are seeing a me that is less relaxed in a couple of ways, but ridiculously more relaxed overall. I can’t help but think of all my female colleagues who have children, especially little girls. Those children are all seeing for the first time how hard their moms work all day before they do all the Mom-stuff at night. What an opportunity we have in this unique time to show our children and talk to our children about realistic expectations they should have of us, and realistic expectations and boundaries they should have for their grown-up selves and their future partners.

    Which brings me to this gem: As parents, our job is to walk the talk, not just walk what’s convenient. We can’t expect our children to set realistic expectations of themselves and others if we don’t teach them how to do it and show them how we do it. We can’t expect our children to work hard if the example they see in us is laziness. We can’t expect them to know what’s right if we can’t do what’s right. We can’t expect them to do what’s right if we can’t do what’s right.

    I have a tendency to want to manage or fix things all by myself and then turn to God when I’m all out of information or tries or patience. I have a tendency to think I can juggle all the village responsibilities and then turn to God when I’m exhausted. I have a tendency to expect people to do the right thing because it’s the right thing, and then I turn to God when I’m exasperated and disappointed in people in whom I never should have had any faith. I pray, but I don’t always pray first. When I pray isn’t when God enters the scene – it’s when I’ve finally decided to stop and pay attention and remember He’s on the scene. It’s when I realize His presence that always was and is. That presence that is the game-changer and the peace-bringer and the cloud-clearer.

    Maybe a prayer isn’t where God shows up. God’s always there. Maybe a prayer is where I show up.

    It’s dark now, but only because it’s late not because it’s cloudy. The clouds cleared several hours ago, when I took a moment to show up.

    P.S. Krispy Kreme now delivers. To your doorstep. In under an hour. Proving that God really does listen to all of our prayers, no matter how ridiculous they may be.

  • Right-Side Up

    Right-Side Up

    I started a note in my phone a few weeks ago, on a day that I was particularly grumpy and at my max. A note of things to be thankful for, particularly in this day and in this moment and in this circumstance. I did the same thing a few years ago in the year that Audrey was not yet cancer-free, to help steer me away from negativity and nervousness, and to guide my focus toward the positives in each day.

    This morning I sat down in my yard with this handsome guy, who I’m thinking might be the father of an addition to our family, and opened up the note to add something – and I realized how long the note had gotten and for the first time reread many of the entries.

    Sometimes I hear Audrey talking to someone in her room and I get annoyed wondering who she could be talking to at such an early hour, and I start to grumble at her. And then I discover she was just bored because no one else was awake, and she’d called my Mom who she knows gets up at dawn each day. I love hearing those voices together, laughing, to begin my day.

    Audrey waits in the hallway upstairs, just outside the room where I work, for my daily 5 pm meeting to end. When it does end, she runs in and says Is it time for end-of-the-day hugs?! And she jumps into my arms and squeezes really tight.

    Ella, at midnight, stopping in my doorway to see if I’ve fallen asleep yet. Nite, Mommy. Love you. My 15-year-old still calls me Mommy, even in front of her friends.

    My sister, who I can always count on to give it to me straight, available during a moment of irritation to make me laugh by saying “slow your roll.”

    Covid keeping us home isn’t a terrible thing for a child that is a little more easily maxed out on people and noise. For the first time my child asked if I could help her remember a scripture about fear so she could say it out loud to help her focus/meditate. Many days I wonder if my kids just think I’m crazy and roll their eyes at me, and tonight was one of those times I got to see that they’re listening and it makes a difference.

    Neighbors who soothingly guide and encourage a frightened child about riding her bike. Ella patiently trying to encourage Audrey to look up at where she’s going while riding, so she’s less likely to lose her balance.

    It took a village but Audrey is riding her bike like a champ, and it’s awesome to see the growth in her confidence in the last 2 days.

    Being present to see the moment she “gets” a lesson. Being present to see the moment she finds her balance. Being present to see the moment of pride when someone loves her creation. Being present in the moment of excitement about a boy. Being present to see the moment of wonder at how a science experiment turned out. Being present to see the big smile when she got to see and hear her teacher for the first time in weeks. Being present in the moments of silliness between girls, and in the moments of laughing over stupid things with friends who are all on a group call. Thankful for presence.

    My friend of over two decades, another straight-shooter, who brought clarity to all my confusion and conflict with one sentence: “Sweep the leg of anyone that threatens (the peace of) Audrey. No mercy.”

    Time to sit and be still under my favorite tree. To listen to the soft sounds of my Dad’s bamboo wind chimes, currently in residence at my place. God’s prompt for me to look up at just the right time, to see my bald eagle soaring way above me, on the same day as my Facebook memories featured a conversation from 2 years ago about how eagles embrace the storm and adjust themselves to ride out storms.

    Thankful for Joy and joy.

    A glass of wine after a long week, sitting with my neighbor who listens and understands, and who allows me to tear up for a moment.

    What a hard and yet wonderful few weeks it has been. Everything seems like it’s been upside down, but after rereading my notes I’m starting to think that maybe it’s actually right-side up.