We’re all walking a path we’ve never walked before. However, the uncertainty of when this will end and the overwhelming feeling that Covid-19 has crept its way into every crevice of our lives is unfortunately an unwelcomed, familiar feeling for me.
We’re all grieving right now. Grieving the plans made that will never be. Grieving the missed hugs and last-minute get togethers. Grieving the communities in which we live that may be forever changed by a worldwide shutdown. Grieving the schedules that have changed. The graduations. The celebrations. The concerts. The memories supposed to be made in Spring.
And I’m grieving my mom.
My counselor and I have talked at length about the importance of stability and schedules in my life. I need things that I can absolutely count on to give me some piece of sanity and certainty as my emotions are unpredictable and all-encompassing. I’m still recovering from the damage that’s been done throughout the last two and a half years.
My whole world is different. It’s different in ways that words will never do justice. I miss being fully seen and fully known. I miss someone looking at me and knowing exactly what I need. I miss the loving comfort of a mom- unique and abundantly gracious. I miss our hours-long phone calls over anything and everything: the most recent sermon, the episode of “A Million Little Things”, the funny thing Annie did, and the prayers prayed for protection and peace. I miss the ease at which we fully understood each other. I miss the way people would mistake us when picking up the phone. I’ll never receive a text from “Mom” and hear the “Strum” ringtone, because she loves the guitar. I’ll never run to her for a hug with good news or bad news. I’ll never get to ask her an opinion on which dress to wear. I miss a million more things about my mom and about being Jane’s daughter. That gap will never be filled on this side of Heaven.
Now, the whole world is different. My jobs are different. My finances are different. My daily schedule is different. I’m losing sleep. I’m staying active to curb the anxiety, but it’s still showing in the nervous hives that appear because the fear won’t go unanswered. As a population, there’s a new rule to follow every day that will probably change the next. Our parks are closed. Our businesses are struggling to survive. And I’m praying and hoping this will be for a limited season, but we’re all experiencing deep loss. And there’s no end in sight. It feels eerily familiar and overwhelming to my mom’s battle with cancer.
This time at home is forcing me to do the impossible work of deep grief. To feel every single ounce of missing my mom and best friend. To sit in the feelings of wishing that staying at home meant sitting on the couch, my head in her lap, asking all of the scary questions, and hearing her encourage me that “He’s still on the throne.” Or watching our favorite movies for the 457th time, so I can laugh, yet again, at the under-appreciated scene of the paper delivery boy slipping and falling off of his book in “While You Were Sleeping”. Or being in the walls of our house as a complete family, not missing our center.
It’s forcing me to wrestle through the deep heart questions I have for God: “Are you really good? Do you heal? Do you still perform miracles?” Knowing deep in my heart that He does and feeling the shame of even asking those questions as a genuine follower of Jesus for the majority of my life. All while the echoes in my head grow louder “He is. His word says He is. So why wasn’t He for my mom? Why didn’t He do that for me and my family?” I’m looking for ways to see Him in the midst of this crisis while wondering, “will I ever come up for air? Will I know what it feels like to experience a season of abundance and favor?”
I’m doing my best. And isn’t that all we can do? Do our best and give ourselves grace with the rest.
I’m really asking Him to fill in the rest. To meet me where I am- sad, weary, confused. To help me in my unbelief. To heal me and to heal this world from the inside out. To bring relief like only He can.
These times are reminding me of something the Lord taught me over these last few years. I call it the Spectrum of Awe. As humans, we experience the awful and the awesome on opposite ends of the line. We also experience all of the space in between. I believe He is the line that makes up the spectrum. That He is present in the awful and the awesome. The moments so freeing and beautiful that they make you pause out of gratitude. The traumas and losses that make you feel as though you can barely breathe. We can, and in these days, we do, experience all of it, sometimes in the midst of an hour. He’s there through it all.
I’m giving myself the permission to look for and feel both: the awful and the awesome.
I’m remembering the amount of times over the last year that I’ve felt so busy that I can barely come up for air, much less allow myself to feel the weight of watching my mom die. This time allows me to ask those hard questions. To close my door in my room at 2 pm on a Tuesday and feel exactly what I’m feeling.
This time allows me to open my Bible and start reading through these timeless words again without a time limit. I can process the Promises that are written and look for everlasting Hope when the world feels grim.
I have the unbelievable privilege of spending so much quality time with my sister. I’m so excited for her future and love her adventurous spirit, but I am also selfishly sad that it most likely means we won’t be living in the same city. Now, I have the opportunity to be a kid with her again. We play tennis in the middle of the road, we ride bikes, and we spend lots of time in the kitchen. Quality time with her is a gift.
I’m feeling the pain of missing my mom and the way we would verbally process this together. (Most likely over a dessert) But I am thankful for the way we’ve come together as a family. My sister, my dad, Annie, and I spend time in the front yard, talk to neighbors, and watch movies. We have growing pains, but I am watching all of us learn to be better communicators and much more compassionate towards one another.
I’m feeling the sadness of missing celebrations, nights out at Grape and Grain, and enjoying food from a kitchen that’s not my own! I’m worried that some of my favorites won’t recover, but I’m also witnessing the way we’re all going out of our way to stay connected and serve those who have served us.
I’m learning to love my new schedule and flexibility while working from home. Inspired by Annie F. Downs, Kelsey and I have a Coronavirus Bucket List with daily goals and projects we’d like to accomplish while we stay home. I love working out twice a day. I love finding a way to support a local business. I love the peace of watching the sunset any chance we get. I love cooking new meals and spending time in our kitchen in the afternoon. I’m enjoying checking off cleaning projects, putting together puzzles, and all of the quality time that comes with it. (Can you tell that’s high on my Love Languages?)
On any given hour of any given day of this unprecedented time, I am all over the spectrum between awful and awesome.
I’m anxious. I’m hopeless. I’m grateful. I’m rejuvenated. I’m accomplished. I’m defeated.
So dear friend, I encourage you to feel it all. Feel the awful and feel the awesome. Feel everything in between. But, remember the line on which all of it stands. God is still the one in control. And I know His Purpose is always to bring freedom and life eternal with Him.
The Word tells us in Genesis 5:20 “You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives.” Although Joseph was talking about his brothers’ betrayal, I know this to be true of the enemy and of God.
That’s impossible to comprehend when that means living a life without your mom. That’s not helpful when a global pandemic takes the life of someone you love or takes away the celebrations, the school functions, or your business. I’m not able to see it now. You’re probably not able to either. But I know that my perspective is finite, and I serve an infinite God.
An infinite God that’s ever-present in the awful and the awesome. Jesus, who wants to walk with me through it all.
xox
ellie
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