Unfolding Grace in Difficult Times

I read an article the other day. A professional blogger in my little corner of the world was expressing her relief at the gradual re-opening of the world in these uncertain, post-pandemic times. As she ended her blog, she said something to the effect that she was glad to see the end to the “worst year” of her life.

That caught me up short: the worst year? Seriously? Mind you, this person lives in a very up-scale, affluent town along the Shoreline of Connecticut, runs several businesses, has a loving husband (who’s been around since the beginning), a lovely daughter, and is well-known in our area as one who will help you to curate the best restaurant, interior decorator, clothing store (super-nice clothes, by the way), and spas, B&Bs and inns with good food, wonderful service, and personal attention.

I am not daft; I know it’s been a difficult year, and we’ve faced difficulties as Americans in nearly every venue of our lives, from the broad issues of political unrest in our county and the growing realization of our ingrained insensitivity to others who are different from us, to the nitty-gritty of disrupted food-supply, schooling for our children, disrupted social processes (such as attending church services, weddings, funerals, and holiday celebrations), and economic hardships with disrupted or closed businesses, not to mention the ongoing issues with public health. Yes, it’s been a hard year, one that has stretched us in ways we’ve not known for the past 60-70 years. But the worst year? Good grief - are we that spoiled?

Not to put too fine a point on it - even in the midst of these overwhelming difficulties, as well as the tradegies of lives lost, and ongoing health issues, there remain so many things in our privileged corner of the world that we can remain thankful for. Yes, it’s been a difficult year indeed- and yet. I believe that each of us can point to some things we’ve learned during this past year that have made us better people: better parents, better spouses, better citizens with a broadening understanding of social inequality, of our world’s ecological fragility. Simply stated, I think we can be thankful - and hopeful - that we’ve become better human beings. Perhaps our adversities as a nation have brought us some wisdom, some perspective, some much-needed grace.

The thoughts below are from my journal, penned in May of last year as we were coming to grips with quarantines and the numerous issues that seemed to pop up continually due to the pandemic. I think these thoughts continue to resonate through to today. I believe they can inspire us to greater understanding of some of the things in life that are more important than going where we want, when we want, or having to “make do” with a different brand of cereal, or bread or rice. Even in times when there are limitations to what we can do and where we can go, we can remain thankful that the beautiful things in life persevere. Even when we are in mourning for the loss of a friend, a spouse, a colleague, we can remain thankful that the sun still shines, the rain still falls, and the flowers continue to bloom. Perhaps these thoughts from last year will resonate with some of you; if not, ah, well. Tomorrow is a new day.

Thoughts from Spring, 2020:
“• I am learning anew the beauty of morning’s unveiling; that sense of holy anticipation as the sun slowly peaks up through hills of rocks and trees, the birds’ wake-up hymn of thanksgiving to a new dawn, a new day. With no office to rush to, no schedule imposed, I breathe in the morning’s dewy peace, and I am learning to settle into a slower, more measured rhythm.

• I am learning to focus on the good in my immediate small-world: the spring green of the unfolding leaves, the crystal blue of a mid-morning sky; the quiet drizzled hush of rain upon new grass; the gentle swaying of newly-sprung flowers, the heady shout of the lilacs and lilies of the valley run amuck in my little slice of heaven.  Focusing on what is good here strengthens me to embrace the difficulties that lie outside the perimeter of my home.

• I am learning to be careful with the resources I have. Paper towels and flour have earned new status as treasures in my home. I have gained a new respect for my mother’s conserving of all manner of things, knowing that nothing is of infinite supply.  Conserving and care of what we have helps me to remember to be a good steward of all I own; and thus - I hope - become a better steward of the earth and its particular resources.  And in being a better steward, I am learning to be thankful for the most mundane of things.  It’s a simplification that I hadn’t anticipated.

• I am learning that there is a sanctity in reaching out and connecting with those with whom we had once gathered casually, without thought - those very same people we cannot now feel skin to skin.  The ability to touch, to hug - I’ve learned it is a holy and loving thing I used to take for granted, and I long for the day that I’ll be able to hug my daughters and grandchildren deep and long. 

• I am learning that grace is hard to come by, sometimes, in this time of crisis. There is anxiety and fear, misinformation and innuendo, hype and hysteria. It takes effort - and yes, courage - to rise above the negative speak of the news and social media. I am learning that I must intend grace; that my giving of grace, regardless of the times, must be intentional, and above all - honest. This giving of grace requires my full attention and focus, and I am learning that sometimes it is a most difficult lesson, but nonetheless, a most valuable one.

• I am learning that to survive this time, I cannot look at the weeks or months - or God forbid - at the years.  I must look at each day as it unfolds, hour by hour, with its own particular blessings and difficulties.  I cannot let the weight of time distract me from the blessing of this moment.  God alone directs my days, my hours, my moments.  It is in each day that I will find His love and grace that will uncover the blessing of the present.  I am learning that I do not have the strength to cope with next week or next month: but I have all that I need to deal with today.  With now. I am learning that is enough. I am learning it needs to be enough.”

If you will note, my lessons were not learned - they were unfolding. I am still learning them, and the lessons continue to provide me with the understanding that life is a process, with unfolding grace given for new and difficult days. Even in my mid-sixties, I am learning that life-lessons continue and evolve, and for that, I am ever grateful. I pray that I will continue to learn until my last breath.