There are days when the only thing that I can do is write… so tonight, I write.
For the last several weeks, my heart has been heavy.
It holds within it people who are hurting because of loss or illness and a town that I love and people that I care about so deeply who have experienced a great deal of pain, loss, and heartache. When I heard about the tornado, I began texting the people that I knew were in the path. I had learned early in the day that the people that I knew were safe, some lost things, but their families were ok. While I worked that day, my heart was with them, because I knew that other families were not so lucky, and many of the families that I knew were connected to those that were lost. That week was a hard week for so many, and many there are still trying to figure out what comes next. But if I learned anything about Cookeville, it is that it IS a place that is strong and will rebuild.
Then this week, this virus, this COVID-19, that has been coming upon us, came quicker than we would have liked. When I began to hear about a quarantine, I immediately responded in anger- which is really a response that is fear, just appearing as anger. I was angry because I knew it could hurt a lot of people. I was angry because it was scary. There was a part of me that wanted to deny it. But reading the CDC reports, hearing reports from doctors and political leaders, I have come to realize that we must take this seriously, and that yes, it can be scary. It is scary. When I heard that we should be practicing “social distancing” and avoiding touch, my anger doubled, because that is about as appealing as a banana is to me, meaning not appealing at all.
As I have had time to think about all of this, to read, to research, to talk through and now to work through what it means to move worship services to completely online with amazing pastors and staff, my heart has softened, my mind has cleared, and my anger has dissipated. I realized that this isn’t about me. This quarantine is not meant to hurt us; it’s meant to help us in the long run. This is about protecting other people, specifically those who are older, or whose immune systems are compromised. This is about taking care of our nurses and doctors so that the hospital doesn’t become overwhelmed. This is really about loving one another. It just looks a little different that it normally would, but its love none the less.
This is about community. This is about unity. In fact, in the midst of the fear that seems so present, it is community that has always come through in the worst moments. And I have a feeling it will be community that will get us through this hard moment.
Over the last two weeks, I have watched the communities that I love: Cookeville, Nashville, Murfreesboro, come together and be embraced. I watched as people gathered to clean up and to love people by offering their hands, bobcats, and compassionate hearts. I have taken part in conversations about how to best serve and love our community when we can’t actually see each other face to face. I have experienced great moments of joy and peace. I have watched these communities show the world just how strong they are together. I have listened to sermons, prayers, and worship services where the word isn’t just about what has happened, but about the HOPE that still exists in the midst of the chaos and even in the midst of the quiet.
Hope can be found when someone helps you dig through the rubble to help you find those pictures from your wedding day, or someone who will bring you groceries or a meal, because you don’t cook anymore. Sometimes hope comes directly from scripture reminding us of the radical hospitality, mercy, forgiveness and grace of a God who loves us, and sometimes it’s a child who puts a smile on your face with a video that he made about how to put Legos together to make a car.
HOPE can be found, if we will just look for it.
The problem is that sometimes we miss hope, because we live in fear. It seems often times, fear really shows its ugly and lying ways when there is a change, when something comes up that we have yet to face that causes our foundation to be rocked. And sometimes rather than facing that fear head on, it’s easier to just buckle under the pressure and give in to the fear. To live in fear and forget to hope.
Over the last several weeks, fear has been ever present. Fear that weather will come again, fear of a virus that seems inevitable in this moment. Fear of people because they may give us this virus. Fear of what we do not understand and do not know how to stop. Fear is rampant. I know that because in my own bones these last several weeks, I have lived it more times than I care to admit. I have been afraid and truthfully there have been moments when I have buckled under the pressure that fear causes and given in to that fear. Yet, I was reminded this week as I sat in worship on Thursday night that there is HOPE. Fear does not have the last word, even when our whole being has given into fear, it’s not the end. There is still God who is speaking to our hearts, “do not be afraid, do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.” While the circumstances for Joshua were different, I believe God is saying that to us now. Do not be afraid. Take precaution, do what you have to do to be safe. But know that this quarantine will only last for a while, though we don’t know what that means or even how long. There will come a time when hugs, handshakes, and visits will be ok again, but for now, keep your distance. Call people rather than visiting in person. Facetime. Sit on your front porch talking across the lawn to your neighbors. Cook a meal. Take time to be. Take time to love.
I realize that it’s easy to say these words, and its much harder to live them. I guarantee you over the next little bit, I will have my own moments where I forget to live in hope because of everything going on. Because it can be heavy. It will be hard.
As I laid down in my bed last night, I found these words from Bread for the Journey written by Henri Nouwen, “Sometimes it’s good to say, “You don’t have to talk. Just close your eyes. I am here with you, thinking of you, praying for you, loving you.” All I could think of were the people that God has placed in my life for the moments when it is heavy, who may not have said these exact words of Nouwen’s but who have said words like these.
So my prayer for you in the coming days and weeks is that in the moments when we hit our walls, when we begin to fear more than hope, or when being isolated gets the best of us may we have courage to reach out to the people that God has gifted us with. Even though we may not be able to see one another face to face, may you hear and know these words: “You don’t have to talk. Just close your eyes. I am here with you, thinking of you, praying for you, loving you.” And know that even in moments when we feel most alone, God is there saying, “Do not be afraid… for I am with you.”
