Saturday I was supposed to fly to Kenya. On mission trip.
With my husband. Just us, serving together. It was going to be my first time on
the African continent. There was going to be a safari and wild animals involved
at some point. Even more exciting to me, I was going to get to hug the neck of
a missionary friend we’ve supported from afar for almost twenty years. It was
going to be the best way I could spend my fortieth birthday. The best
representation of how I want my life to be remembered and known—serving others,
loving like Jesus, always on an adventure, and of course some animal love.
Enter COVID-19.
It canceled Kenya, a camping trip, most likely my
backpacking trip with my sister to Zion National Park, probably even my mom’s
visit, and maybe more. This was my last year with some of the senior girls I’ve
been in small group with since they were freshmen. While my heart aches for my
own disappointments, it aches doubly for the disappointments they are
experiencing. It aches for all the families whose paychecks will be directly affected
by this quarantine.
And I sit at home with my family and have nothing better to do
but sit and ponder and think and whine. Oh, poor me. Oh, poor us. The pity
party can be real.
I watch people who are still refusing to social distance.
Part of me gets angry. Why should they still get to hang with their friends?
Part of me gets scared—the longer people wait to social distance, the longer
this thing goes on. I waffle between self-righteous justice and sulking defeat.
You can’t make people do what they don’t want to do. Heck, even if it came down
to a military state, I swear the surfers would still find a way to surf.
We are all innately selfish and driven toward our own
self-satisfaction and self-preservation. Considering the “greater good” does
not come naturally. It’s why we hoard toilet paper because what if I
need it? Forget everyone else. Sometimes we’re also judgmental and
self-righteous, believing our way and our words are a better source of
direction and light to a less enlightened world. Hence the public shaming and calling out over
social media. The pride at the root of either end of the spectrum makes my skin
crawl.
Sitting at home with all these thoughts, I am forced to face
the depravity and selfishness of my own mind and heart. I’m forced to consider
the fact that part of me wants to give the middle finger to the government and
the virus and board an airplane to anywhere out of pure rebellion. There are no
distractions right now to keep me from facing that ugly, rebellious heart in
the mirror of my mind. My thoughts cannot be drowned by my schedule currently,
and I’m not sure I like what’s underneath. Sin. Ugly, prideful, selfish sin. Sometimes
in my polished Christian world, I can forget that I’m included in the “all” of
Romans 3:23. Full of sin and fallen short.
Enter Jesus. Like a breath of fresh air (Ezekiel 37:5),
honey sweet to the taste (Psalm 119:103), He is transformative truth.
Because He reminds me ever so softly to look around and
appreciate (Hebrews 12:28). To open disillusioned eyes to what I do have
instead of what I don’t (Colossians 4:2). This is hard. Way harder than
wallowing and throwing a pity party.
I started to list my blessings. Each of us have things we
can be grateful for. Each of us have our own unique set of circumstances where
we can find the silver linings that mean something to us, if not to everyone. Like,
I can sleep in. Not everyone enjoys sleeping in as much as I do, but I really
do. It’s a silver lining for me. Some of my California friends may be enjoying
the sound of the rain on the rooftop, a rare sound in this part of the country.
Others may be relishing the gift of unscheduled time because their life is
always over-scheduled. We can all find silver linings.
It’s these small, miniscule blessings that can get lost in
the noise of everyday life. Like the whisper of God Himself to Elijah (1 Kings
19:12-13), life can drown out my Best Friend’s voice. The busyness can distract
from the callings my Jesus has given me. The constant need to entertain or
perform can drown creativity and innovation. Now, quite unexpectedly, we’ve all
been given a reason to throw all our excuses out the window. Lack of time is no
longer an excuse. Being too busy is no longer an excuse. I dare say, even being
too tired is no longer an excuse for some.
God, in His infinite wisdom, has created a space in time
where our excuses don’t hold up anymore. If you’re like me, you might be forced
to face the truth that there are things in life you just don’t want to do.
There are responsibilities you know you have; you don’t want to admit you’ve
been pushing to the back burner of life for all the previously listed excuses.
That currently don’t exist.
God has created a space where we can be gently confronted
with ourselves and make a choice to change, to create new habits, to prioritize
what really matters. Then, He’s given us the time to make it happen.
That conversation you’ve been meaning to have with someone,
have it.
That phone call you’ve been meaning to make, make it.
That text message you keep forgetting to send, send it.
That talk with your kids? your spouse? Make it happen.
That thing you’ve always wanted to teach yourself or your
kids, do that.
Write. Read. Sing. Talk. Listen. Play. These are all ways
we’ve forgotten how to connect because of being too busy, too tired, or not
having enough time.
Today I laid on my couch and wallowed in my disappointment,
in the loss of all the things I was looking forward to. I drowned my thoughts
in meaningless television shows, watching my kids do the same on their own
devices. I didn’t want to eat. Wasn’t tired enough to actually sleep until I
got depressed enough to nap for an hour. It was miserable, friends.
The point? It takes work and effort to find ways to connect
with others in meaningful ways. Even in my own home. Maybe especially in my own
home. But we were designed by God for relationship and for work. He knew it was
good for our souls from the very beginning (Genesis 2:15, 18). So, I’m going to
go make myself a daily schedule, and Lord-willing, I’ll keep it. But it won’t
be easy because my couch and television and cozy blankets are right there. It will
be worth it because I will be a good steward of the gift of time the Lord has
given during this season.
This is not how I wanted to spend the week of my fortieth
birthday. This is not how I want to remember this benchmark year of life. But
the hard truth is, I’ve been given an opportunity to write my own script to how
the days ahead will play out in my home. An adventure my kids will remember
being a part of instead of looking back on it in pictures. I want my family to
look back on this time and remember it the way I wanted for Kenya—we served
others, loved Jesus, made each day an adventure, and loved on some animals 😂
(We do have two dogs and two guinea pigs in this house.)
I don’t know how long this quarantine will last, but I know
my callings in life haven’t changed. My sphere of influence may shrink, but
that doesn’t matter because I’m only ever living for an audience of One anyway.
Grateful to be His, Jennifer
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