Rollercoaster Days

It has been three weeks (more or less) since my last post. Much has happened since then, and I won’t belabor the changes we have seen in our towns, cities, nation, in our world. Some predict the world will never be the same.  I certainly can’t say that - I have no way of knowing.  But I do know that, even while standing solidly in my faith, in my normal, unchanging optimism, I am often sad of late. Tears float just beneath the surface, unsteady, unshed, but nonetheless present. I feel deeply these changes that have been wrought, and I want to say to those who choose to read this blog that I believe it is ok to be sad and mourn the losses we see around the world, while still knowing with a bone-deep certainty that ultimately, God is good, and He reigns over all.

It is in the past week that I have become more emotional, more sad, more caught up in the tide-swell of the changes all around me. And often, I feel out of control (as if ever were!). I careen through the wild switchbacks of my emotions as if I am strapped in a rollercoaster car, pitching wildly down a steep bend from the pinnacle of love for my God, and gratitude for my continued health and a steady job where I can work from home, into an emotional morass of missing my kids and grandkids, of not gathering my friends and family around a dinner table of food and wine and simple conversation.  Then suddenly, I head around the steep curve of mourning, grieving the loss of routine, of the simple grocery store run for a few supplies, of the sheer normalcy of wandering the hardware store or the quilting shop to see what’s new. And I mourn the far more sober things - the deaths of fathers and brothers, of mothers and friends, the illness of thousands.  And then, without warning, I pitch down another steep hill of anxiety as I head to the grocery store.  Although I refuse to hoard, and I declare that God will provide, the nurturer-gatherer in me wants to be sure my household is taken care of - even though we are a simple home of two.  Just as in a rollercoaster ride, I am conflicted between fear and reassurance that all will be well. And so I breathe deep, put on my big-girl pants, and step forth into the outdoor world of masks and gloves and curb-side pickup, and do what must be done. 

And then there are the twists and turns of worrying about my daughters and their kids.  Although they are strong women, I can only imagine the emotional and physical toll of home-schooling and entertaining young children while allaying their fears, being honest while being age-appropriate, and all while maintaining their own jobs and being a wife.  And it breaks my heart that these times will doubtless leave a scar on my grandchildren’s hearts and minds.  How they will remember these times of cancelled school, sports, birthday parties and play dates; of restricted access to so much of what life has to offer, I can’t say.  But I am confident, too, that much like when a broken bone heals, it is stronger than before, so too, these days will make the children stronger and wiser adults. It’s my prayer for them.

And so each evening, I slow my emotional car to a crawl, heading back to my beginning place of prayer and reconnection; of centering my soul into silence, into peace.  I get out of the rollercoaster for rest, and resolve to do better the next day.

I struggled with all this until I realized a few days ago that sadness and grief are normal in such times of dizzying turmoil and heartbreaking loss. We are human beings with hearts, and the more we love, the more we’ll feel these losses, the more it will hurt. The more it should hurt. And, it is good to acknowledge that I can believe with my whole heart that God is good - and yet still mourn the losses that surround us all. I can affirm that He is the God of all, the all-powerful and Almighty Creator, and still be sad for what cannot be. I can grieve the loss of what was without taking away the sanctity of what will come. I can reconcile that I don’t understand anything about this, with relying upon His wisdom and goodness, regardless of the outcome.

I believe that God will bless our emotional honesty; that He accepts us where we are, sometimes imperfect, emotional messes; other times,  strong, peaceful and beautifully put together.  And in times such as these, we shouldn’t be too concerned when we are emotional rollercoasters, but perhaps we can simply ask Him along for the ride.