Lent 2020, Week 3: Jealousy

I'm here.  "Here" looks and feels very, very differently than it did 1 week ago.  I'm having a difficult time believing Lent will end this year.  I'm having a REALLY difficult time replacing jealousy with abundance.  The sight of empty store shelves sends me into a panic attack.  After one week of running a small business, teaching 1st & 4th grade, canceling numerous vacations & work trips, I am tired and scared and sad.

I debated even posting, wondering if this was a relevant enough topic for "Living in a Pandemic."  Turns out, it is.  At least I think so.

Jealousy stems from comparison & scarcity.  Two things we have in abundance during a pandemic.  The fear of scarcity has been a constant hum for the last week- scarcity of toilet paper, income, sleep, sanity........And it's been a nearly constant practice of feeling scarcity & searching for security. I have not been able to trust abundance of the toilet paper, financial, or canned food variety this week.  I have looked HARD for abundance and found it in:
--The amount of time my dog will spend walking with me.
--The number of jigsaw puzzles waiting to be done in my family room.
--The encouragement & compassion from a small village that helped me pull off a 10 year old's birthday on Wednesday.

There's still more panic than peace.  But I'm trying. And when it's too hard to ditch the scarcity, I've tried to ditch the comparison.

One way I search for security is through connection.  The Truth that is connection is more than a hum....it's an energy that runs through my work and my parenting and my partnering.  Connection has gotten, ahem, complicated these days.  In the moments I do find meaningful connection, I'm quickly slipping into comparison.

Crystal, comparing to Person A:
"Person A has a job with paid leave & a supervisor to make all of these decisions. Person A took their vacation last month."  I feel jealous just typing this.

Crystal, comparing to Person B:
"Person B lost their job & was evicted last week, before the eviction ban happened.  Person B can't visit their family member in the hospital."  I feel deep, deep shame for being worried or jealous or angry compared to person B.

So on top of a pandemic, I am alternating between Jealous and Ashamed.  After a few days of this, it quickly became unsustainable and I began to engage option C: me.

Crystal, comparing to Person C(rystal):
"There are no plans or answers that are sticking right now.  You are tired and sad and scared.  And you are worthy of rest and joy and peace."  I feel a bit more steady as I type this.  I used to believe this thought process was selfish.  But, the thing is, Person A and Person B are no worse off because of my dialogue with Person C.  I actually believe they are better.

My February self thought it'd be a good idea to spend the next week meditating on the idea of letting go of resentment & replacing it with gratitude.  I may or may not be posting next week.  In the meantime, a meme & music:



Just today, Jason Gray launched the "Disorder" series of his latest album.  I postponed family movie night to listen to the live concert & cry.  I still can't really even talk about it.  But I encourage you to check it out!

Lent 2020, Week 2: Fear

Well, isn't that timely.  Not sure about where you live, but in my town, the only way to currently get toilet paper at Costco is to line up an hour before they open.  Because an abundance of toilet paper in your basement will prevent you and your loved ones from contracting COVID-19.

Wait. What?!

Fear is a beast.  I'm not an infectious disease doctor, but I am, by a lot of definitions, an expert on pediatric anxiety.  And I know that fear is convincing, contagious, and catastrophic.  It's a big barrier to my relationship with God.  And, apparently, getting toilet paper.

I've heard that "do not be afraid" can be found 365 different places in the Bible.  And I find something oddly reassuring about that.  Matthew 3:34 asks us to not worry about tomorrow because today has enough worries of it's own.  And, turns out, today also has it's very own Bible verse for not worrying.  I'd love to have a journal that has the "Do not be afraid" bible verse of the day across the top.  Maybe not a journal, because I don't actually get to the opening or writing part of keep a journal.  Maybe a flip chart?

Something that makes fear particularly difficult for me is that (1) when fear is driving, scarcity is riding shotgun and (2) there are very, very real scary things out there.  Kate Bowler reminded me on social media this week that we do no cling to the "do not be afraid" scripture when we are healthy, snuggled in bed with a whole weekend in front of us.  No.  We cling when there is a diagnosis or a scary person or risky decision.

At the end of the day, I refuse to believe Truth starts with scarcity and ends with fear.  Instead, I believe that there are enough "do not be afraids" to cover me the whole dang-a-lang year.  I believe God creates and loves from secure abundance.  When I started throwing my fear into faith, I started to notice security, not scarcity.  There's the time I was audited for improper documentation & had to pay back HUNDREDS of dollars.  While I was crying and raging at this news, I received an email that offered me a contract to teach at a conference for an amount within $1.00 of my "fine." 

My prayer for me, and you, over the last week is that God can open our eyes to security instead of scarcity.  Faith instead of fear.

My songs for the week are "The Wound is Where the Light Gets In" (Jason Gray-you are turning into the soundtrack of my Lent) and "confidence" by Sanctus Real.


PS-I recognize it is a Leap Year & so I do not technically have a verse for day 366.  I can do hard things but I cannot do math. That is all.

Lent 2020, Week 1: Grief

I used to rush from grieving to forgiving to resurrection in the space between Good Friday & Easter Sunday. I'm learning that grieving and forgiving is much, much bigger than that space. So this year I'm going to try and dig into the areas in my life that I feel farthest from God. This week is Grief. 

The scene is Ash Wednesday service.  The organist plays Canon in D while I walk down the aisle, get anointed with ashes, and receive communion from Husband. The last time I walked down an aisle to Canon in D was at my wedding. The last time Husband officiated an Ash Wednesday Service, he did so knowing a precious family member was transitioned to Hospice earlier that week. 

Weddings and Ashes. Communion and Hospice. Broken and Blessed. 

That precious family member passed away two days later. A year ago this week, actually. Despite grief being a constant companion, I am really grappling with it is, exactly.  While walking my dog, I thought about how maybe grieving is about showing up in the space where something precious is missing. The empty space where a person's laugh and phone calls were. Or the empty space where a job title and business cards were. Or the empty space where healthy scans or graduation dreams or ________________ were. My heart gets tight just thinking about it because that empty space is so lonely and sad and quiet. 

But it's also so, so precious. It's like when Pooh Bear said: “How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard." How lucky I am to have empty spaces that are shaped like laughter and accomplishments and delicious memories and _________________.  My heart gets light just thinking about it because the space is so precious and joyful and warm.  

Throughout this study, I'm going to share quotes & music that speak to the journey better than I can.  I'd love to hear the soundtracks and quotes of your grief journeys in the comments. 

"Not Right Now" by Jason Gray

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ullv_XN2d8M

"Laughing with God" by Regina Spektor

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-pxRXP3w-sQ