This week has been the week I have been dreading for months: back to school. Initially I was dreading it because we had no idea what would happen – whether school would be virtual or some hybrid of virtual and in-person. Then, I was anxious about how to actually help a first grader and sixth grader do virtual school at the same time – all while working myself. Because this would all be new, I felt like I was staring into a black hole of knowledge, with no way to know what to really expect. On the one hand, not knowing meant I had no choice but to, “Let go, and let God.” On the other hand, I’m really terrible at letting go.
Our first day finally arrived yesterday, and some of the anxieties I had felt were founded. The first few hours were spent dashing up and down the stairs of our home, juggling one child on the second floor and the other on the first floor, or tag-teaming with my spouse. Fortunately, the two girls started school an hour apart, so I could manage the stress of one child at a time. However, there were moments when Zoom meetings started at the same time – and some of those times were times when the technology was just not working. Knowing full well that calm can produce more calm, I put on my “Zen face.” But on the inside, I kept thinking there was no way this would be sustainable.
But by midday, both girls had found a rhythm. The elder was especially becoming more independent and her usual confident self, and the younger quickly learned how to go with the flow, finding educational things to fill empty holes, and navigate new systems. I was even able to find ways to squeeze in my own work throughout the day, do a livestream set of prayers, and catch up on pastoral care calls. Despite the initial chaos, the day went so well, I felt confident we could do this!
Throughout the day, images and verses from scripture kept popping up in my mind: Jesus asking Peter why he doubted while walking across water; Jesus reminding us how if the flowers of the field and the birds of the air are cared for, how much more are we loved and valued; or angels at the tomb telling Mary Magdalene and the other women not to be afraid. Time and time again in scripture, we hear the refrain, “Do not be afraid.” We hear that phrase not because we should try to become perfect, anxiety-free humans. We hear that phrase because anxiety is normal – but so is God’s love and care for us. I do not know what anxieties you are holding today, but my hope is you can remember God’s abundant love and care for you – whether you hear those words from God, whether you feel that in your heart through the Spirit, or whether a friend, family member, or a stranger is God’s messenger of hope to you today. Wherever the reassurance comes from, do not be afraid – you are loved and cared for – and you’ve got this!!
This Saturday our parish has its Annual Fall Fair – a festive gathering with vendors, food, children’s activities, raffles, and other fall merriment. We are blessed with an 11-acre property, so the event is a wonderful way for us to welcome people to our grounds and remind the community that they are welcome here. Having done this event for so many years, most of our parishioners know what needs to be done – signs, publicity, donors, coordinating vendors, setting up the property, making baskets, bringing in donations. The list goes on. But even though we all know what needs to be done, there is usually a bit of anxiety and stress to make sure the event is a success, especially in the week leading up to the event. As someone who can become easily stressed, I totally understand the reaction. Though I am not involved in the execution of the event, I always empathize with our parishioners as the tension builds in this final week.
I have been pondering for the last ten days what to say about the experience of Hurricane Sandy. I think I felt overwhelmed because I knew that my experience was not as bad as thousands of others in our area. My experience felt superficial somehow, as if I did not earn enough credit to have something to say about all of this. But what I realized these last couple of days is that although I cannot speak for places that were utterly devastated by this horrible storm, I can speak for what life has been life for the rest of us, tied to those who are suffering more while suffering ourselves.
Finally, I have been struck by the overwhelming ways in which this storm has brought out the goodness in others. My parishioners have been running extension cords across the street to share power with others. I observed all of us talking to one another more – learning more of each others’ stories – caring more about the welfare of each other. People without power themselves have bent over backwards to make sure my family was okay. Friends and parishioners have taken us in for hot meals and for washing laundry or for simple camaraderie. People long to help others even when they are suffering. There is a sense of abundance in the face of devastation. There is joy watching a toddler find creative ways to entertain herself. And the outpouring of love from all over the region is even more overwhelming. I have felt like that wall that keeps us from sharing Christ with one another has been decimated, and Christ is found all around us as we love and care for one another.