God Is In That Too

Like all of us, I’ve been riding the Corona coaster of emotions every day since this started. For me, it was Friday, March 13, 2020, when everything “hit the fan.” My two children came home from school to begin their week-long spring break and they never went back. I have cried tears of frustration and grief. I have also inhaled deep, calming breaths of peace. I have slapped on a “fake it ‘til you make it” smile and forced myself to make the best of the situation. I have also laid in bed and stared into the blackness of my bedroom, welcoming the thick, heavy blanket of depression. I have been abnormally excited over the opening of a playground or splash pad. I have also woken up countless times with a grey, dreary and bleak outlook on life. I have had days of genuine joy and gratitude for the gifts that are my children. I have also felt like I’m trapped in the movie, “Groundhog Day,” where every single day feels exactly like the one before. I have epitomized productivity- organizing every nook and cranny of my home. I have also seriously considered becoming an alcoholic. I have embraced daily exercise, healthy eating, and even joined a running club. I have also eaten cookie dough right out of the bowl in my lap while watching “Hamilton” for the tenth time.

Last week during a discussion about the challenges of being a mom in this season, a friend asked me, “What do you wish you could give your children right now that you can’t? Besides sending them back to school.” My answer was, “I wish I could show them where God is in all of this. I just wish I could show them how God’s working all this together for His good and His glory because I know He is. I just can’t prove it yet. I wish I had hindsight, but I don’t yet. There’s no end in sight.”

Last week we also began the school year, virtually, for my 3rd grader and kindergartner. Let’s just say the entire experience has been less than positive. It helps I’m not the only parent who feels this way. The camaraderie amongst the other moms at our school has been a big encouragement. The threads we have over text and Messenger have been raw, honest,aand d real. We offer each other a safe space to vent, cry, curse, and then offer assurance. These are women I barely know, except for passing on the school campus from time to time. The experience of having to manage our kids’ school from home has bonded us and brought us together in a way that never would have happened if things had been “normal.” I’ve built new relationships outside my usual circle of church friends. Now that I think about it, God is probably in that. I almost missed it, but it sounds like Him, doesn’t it? Creating opportunities to share His love and His light with people we wouldn’t otherwise interact with if not for the crisis we’re facing together.

My 8 and 5-year-olds have experienced their highs and lows, though their coping mechanisms involve less Sangria drinking and Amazon shopping like their Mom, and more immersing themselves in Lego building and tent construction. (They’re adopted, what can I say?) But they have cried tears too. Tears of disappointment when more of our plans had to change. Tears of frustration over a school assignment they’re just too tired to finish. They have also hugged me close, stroked my hair, rubbed my back, and spoken countless words of assurance and encouragement to me, their Mom, in my lowest moments. My kids have grown leaps and bounds in the compassion department since this pandemic began. While they certainly are experiencing all the feels in their little hearts, they have become incredibly gifted at lifting me up. God is probably in that too, softening the hearts of my kids to speak positivity to their Mom who is taking on far more stress and responsibility than they are. They have also cried tears of compassion over all the families in the world who have lost a loved one to the virus. Unfortunately, my kids understand what it’s like to lose a family member to a deadly disease. Their loss creates space for understanding, and it moves their hearts to pray for those who are grieving. I see now that God is in that too, using their pain for His purpose.

I often refer to my two children as “built-in best friends.” They are almost four years apart in age and they are of different genders, and even different ethnicities entirely. And yet, they have had a special bond from the beginning. While most sibling sets have experienced cabin fever during this pandemic, squabbling and fighting their way through the long hours of each day, my children, I’m grateful to say, have drawn even closer together. There are very few moments of the day in which they are not at each other’s side, pretending, playing, laughing, planning, tickling, constructing, drawing, crafting, or relaxing together. On the rare occasion, that one of them has been away for longer than an hour or so, the other is sulking and begging for them to come back. When they reunite, it’s a burst of happy emotion from them both, followed by a long embrace and extra kisses. It’s a beautiful thing. They can make each other laugh in a way no one else can. They demonstrate grace and patience with each other day in and day out. They are each other’s biggest cheerleaders, always speaking encouragement and affirmation to one another. They forgive each other quickly. Five months of no one else to play with has solidified their friendship in a way nothing else could. God is in that too, using a quarantine to lay a foundation for a sibling relationship that will withstand the tests and trials of whatever life throws at them.

Tomorrow my kids finally get to go back to school. To say we’re relieved would be a huge understatement. The excitement around here, for ALL of us, is palpable. And yet, as I think about how “normal” our days will be again, I feel a pang of grief. Yes, I’ve missed the routine of early morning drop-off, afternoon homework, and earlier bedtimes. I’ve missed packing lunches the night before and washing school uniforms on weekends. I’ve missed seeing folders full of fundraiser fliers and spirit day reminders. I’ve missed having the mornings to stay on top of housework or meet friends for coffee. But I think I’ll miss the chaos of quarantine even more. No, my house hasn’t been truly clean since March, and, no, I haven’t experienced a quiet moment longer than 45 minutes since St. Patrick’s Day. Yes, my wine budget will decrease by half. But, I’ll miss hearing giggles from down the hall. I’ll miss seeing my kids snuggle up with a popsicle and a Disney movie every afternoon at 4 pm. I’ll miss hauling them to the splash pad on a weekday morning and listening to their games of make-believe as they stand under giant fountains of water. I’ll miss the leisurely mornings we had together because there was nowhere we had to be, all day, every day. For months my kids have choked back tears whenever I’ve left the house without them (a total of maybe 5 times). By next week they’ll be hopping out of the van without so much as a “goodbye” as they run off to greet their friends in front of the school. And to think I’ve been hoping for an end to this season. The days have felt so long and so hard, yes, but something tells me they’ll feel longer and emptier when tomorrow the wait is over and we finally get what we’ve been praying for.

We will all experience equal parts relief and grief, and God will be in that too. He’ll be in my empty house when I return home from drop-off tomorrow morning. He’ll be with my kids, helping them form new friendships and adjust to the routine they’ve been out of for so long. He’ll be in the sweet reunion we’ll have at the end of the school day. He’ll be in the bedtime snuggles and storytimes, reminding us of days past when we used to just “get through it,” and He’ll help us savor the moments instead.

I know it’s tempting to wish it all away, to wish yourself back to the time before the Coronavirus existed. I know it’s hard to see God amid the disappointment, the struggle, and the mundane. I know we don’t know what to tell our kids. I know.

I also know if you look hard enough, God will make Himself known to you. He’ll show you where He is and what He’s doing, even if you're not out of the tunnel yet. He’ll show you the good that isn’t just to come, but that’s already coming from it all. This season has us surrounded by every worry and loss imaginable. But “God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the seas, though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging…. The Lord Almighty is with us.” -Psalm 46:1-3, 7. Turns out, not only will He show up when we look for Him, He never left us, to begin with. May we have eyes to see Him, now, today, not someday, when we finally have the hindsight we want so desperately.