Every time I've posted these past few days, my blog title looks ironic. I'm not exactly a vessel of joy these days. I selected this title years ago not because I'm some happy-go-lucky, sticky-sweet optimist but because I try to cultivate joy as a spiritual discipline. For me, my joy is tied tightly up with gratitude. In other words, when I practice gratitude, I feel more centered joy. That isn't to be confused with happiness. Oh no, I'm walking through dark storms of grief sprinkled with puddles of despair on pretty much a daily basis right now. But still, I can find joy.
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I know, I know. Regrets serve no purpose. Blah, blah, blah.
Do you have any regrets you're thinking of now that we're living in the COVID-19 era? What will you try to do differently when life returns to "normal"? (I'm fully aware that life will never return to "normal" as we knew it.) During my high school years I worried about my grades, about my upcoming music and cheerleading competitions, and about my on again/off again relationship with the first boy I ever loved. I fretted about my out-of-control thick hair and why that girl never liked me. (I still don’t know.) The list of worries was lengthy.
In college I was mistakenly taught that because Jesus clearly says, “Do not worry,” I was sinning when I worried because I wasn’t following His command. So then I worried about my worrying. I didn’t want to be sinning with my frequent anxiety, but at times I felt helpless. I spent many nights awake at 2 and 3 a.m., thinking of an endless to-do list, fretting about an upcoming deadline, and feeling anxious about my on again/off again relationship with the second boy I ever loved. (Eventually I married the third boy I ever loved, so that got crossed off the list. Whew!) Being a mother led me face-to-face with my anxiety in new, more palpable ways. Now I had two more humans beings to worry about during my sleepless nights. Were they making friends? What about that geometry test on Monday? Did I remember to sign up for rec league basketball? Why won't they eat vegetables? I've come a long way since the night I didn't sleep at all as a 6th grader worried about a standardized test, but there are still nights that I will wake at 1 or 2 a.m. and struggle to get back to sleep. My faith in Christ provides a firm foundation as I remember to entrust Him with my cares. But it's not a Magic Eraser that has cured me forever of my proclivity to worry. It should come as no surprise, then, that COVID-19 has added to my list of worry. In addition to the health of my immediate family, I think about my parents and mother-in-law, all in the age category that puts them at a higher risk. My physician brother will be face-to-face with the virus, and my dear cousin is currently holed up in his apartment in New York City. As a mother, of course, my mind always turns to my kids. Are they handling this okay? How much will their academic life suffer? Again, why won't they eat vegetables? In terms of financial uncertainty, I worry for my friends who own small businesses or have been laid off from their jobs. I think about our local economy -- restaurants and breweries and museums I've come to love. What will this world look like when we come out on the other side? The uncertainty of it all steals my breath, causes my pulse to quicken. Is this shortness of breath anxiety or the first symptoms of the virus? Last night, however, when I woke and my busy mind whirled to life, I practiced some visualization. I pictured myself wrapping my worries in boxes according to category. HEALTH CONCERNS, FINANCIAL CONCERNS, KID CONCERNS. After my boxes were wrapped and sealed tight, I pushed them away to Jesus. I knew they would still be there in the morning, but I let Him hold them for the night. And just like that, I fell back to sleep. I am a work in progress. If I don't limit my intake of news and social media, I feel overwhelmed and frantic. So I breathe. And pause. And push my worries away for a time. Are you worrier? What's helping you handle this unbelievable world we find ourselves living in? I've decided to do a short series on this dusty blog. I'll be writing some vignettes about how my various roles in the world have changed during the COVID-19 pandemic. Today I'll start with the original focus of this blog: teaching. (Shout out to Allison for prompting me to write again!)
"I will show you grace. Please do the same for me." On Tuesday I made a short video on Zoom to load into my Moodle class for my Composition I students. We were exactly halfway through our semester when we parted ways for spring break, the coronavirus usually a second-place news story behind the primary election season. "Enjoy your time away!" I said as they walk about the door. And then, as we all know, things changed quickly. First we heard that the campus leaders were monitoring the situation. Then we would extend spring break for a week. Finally, we would finish classes online for the rest of the semester. On Thursday, March 19 (10 days ago? 30 days ago? a lifetime ago?), I sat in my car in the grocery store parking lot and wept as I realized that at that time I should have been packing my bag and leaving campus after a day of teaching. Instead, I was stockpiling like some kind of character in a dystopian novel, purchasing weird-shaped square spaghetti noodles and feeling guilty for taking the last container of oatmeal. I do teach online already, and I don't hate it. But I don't love it. It's difficult to convey my personality and genuine care for my students through a computer screen. Even though it's 2020, I still prefer writing comments on papers with a fine-point marker (blue or green, never red.) I look forward to talking with my students before class about Brooklyn Nine-Nine and our favorite live music. At the end of the semester, I offer a "high five, handshake, or hug" at the door. As an instructor, I think I'm better in person. And this teaching during the pandemic brings an entirely new layer, doesn't it? A student emails that an assignment will be submitted late because he had to help his sister pack up her dorm room because their parents are sick. Is it the virus? I wonder. But I don't ask. Another student wants to write a paper about the causes of the "unnecessary hype" about the pandemic. I bristle as I read his idea, thinking of the anxious texts I read that morning from my brother, a doctor in Des Moines who feels as if he's "in the boat before D-Day." So I made a video that talked about grace. Because I think that shall be the theme for the rest of my semester. My feedback might not be as thorough. You might turn in an assignment a bit late. Maybe some weeks we won't have many assignments because I just want you to take your time writing. But still, we will write. |
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September 2020
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