Nothing As It Was
It's Wednesday.
And I am observing Sabbath.
Because in the COVID 19 world, nothing is as it once was. Wednesday is the day that I can afford to stop, between the administrative work, pastoral care, and what has become the weird press of creativity and production to get worship elements captured on video for Sunday while thinking about how the church will continue to serve and grow and become, about how we will continue to offer transformation.
Did I mention nothing is as it once was?
Matt works in a hospital - a teaching hospital. It is not the season to have chaplain interns in the hospital. So he works on the weekends. He works on Saturday. I work on Sunday. Maybe I could start using Monday as Sabbath to have a day off with him. But Mondays in church work are NUTS.
But maybe not so much right now. Nothing is as it once was.
There are two additional young adults living in the house. It's not what they would choose. One should be celebrating her senior year of college, bar-hopping in Adams Morgan. Her commencement exercises would be May 9. She wasn't really excited about walking, but we were going to celebrate in DC - probably at Cactus Cantina with a good margarita. Pictures in regalia. Maybe even at the campus gates. Once an Eagle...
The second one should be finishing a community service project, an outdoor environmental education space, in Guyana for the Peace Corps. She should be eating mangoes and hiking miles in the jungle on weekends. She should be helping girls discover science is for them.
But instead, both are here. Safe. Bored. Trapped. Fed. With heat, food, water, gas. The things they need for this way of being right now. But also with their grief for what was going to be. Safe? Yes. Sad? Yes.
And for my Sabbath, I've taken a run and a decadently long shower, blown out my hair and put on a dress. Because I shaved my legs and it is a treat to actually be in something pretty for a spell. My hair was due for a trim as this all started, which means my slow roll toward "growing out my hair" has taken a leap and suddenly...I just have long hair. I had to change my bitmoji and my memoji. Because my hair is long.
When keeping Sabbath, I try to stay out of church email. The break there is that I step away from how this is impacting every life. Every. Single. Life. Losses pile on. We've lost two congregants. No large gatherings to mourn and to celebrate a life well lived. We will lose more. But normally there is an escape hatch to release the pressure of pain and grief. But right now, nothing is as it once was. We have graduating seniors who are missing prom and senior picnics and all the shenanigans. And we have college students who are supposed to be sunning themselves on college green space as spring turns warm and green.
So people are dying. It is true. They are dying from the things that normally cause death, and they are dying from a mysterious disease that ravages lungs and major organ systems. Doctors and EMTs and Nurses and aids are fighting a war in hospitals. And in nursing homes.
My mom fell and broke her leg on Easter Sunday. She's bounced between the hospital and a rehab facility since that time. And that would be complicated in ordinary times. She is strong and proud and desperately wants to age in place. And her kids are not next door. And we are strong and proud and not always good at sharing life. And right now none of us can actually touch her, sit with her, watch her facial features as she describes her day, her feelings, her hopes, and her fears. So we lean in individually to listen hard and hope that we can transmit what we've heard to one another.
...through messages and emails and conference calls. Where nerves are ragged from this but also from everything else. Because this is hard on every one.
Nothing is as it once was. For every single person I know.
Vacations are being cancelled. We were supposed to be in Israel. We have a trip scheduled to Scotland. We were going to sit on Iona for a full week. To pray. To be away from people. But it looks like even that season of Sabbath and separation is slipping away from us. Because it is hard to distance on a plane or in an airport or on a ferry.
I was supposed to graduate with my doctor of ministry on May 11...just two days after my daughter's college graduation. I put this off by a year in order to transition into ministry in the local church, and then I got moved because that is what it means to be itinerant. And I worked hard and fast and planned celebrations. One for my 50th - a trip to Israel from my in-laws. One for graduation - a trip to Scotland to unplug.
There will be no commencement. We've already addressed the travel.
I guess there will still be a degree. And the Rev. Dr. Hippy Pastor Mom (my daughter's title for me).
And on both sides of graduation, I was supposed to be shuttling back and forth from here to Minneapolis observing the general conference that was going to shape the future of the denomination in which I was raised, shape the future of inclusion (or not) for ALL people. And it has been postponed. Until late in 2021. And we rest in weird limbo.
Where the church is vital, but not gathered in the way it would.
Because nothing is as it once was.
So if I look shell shocked, that is the reason.
I am going to be ok. But...
Nothing is as it once was.
And I am observing Sabbath.
Did I mention nothing is as it once was?
Matt works in a hospital - a teaching hospital. It is not the season to have chaplain interns in the hospital. So he works on the weekends. He works on Saturday. I work on Sunday. Maybe I could start using Monday as Sabbath to have a day off with him. But Mondays in church work are NUTS.
But maybe not so much right now. Nothing is as it once was.
The second one should be finishing a community service project, an outdoor environmental education space, in Guyana for the Peace Corps. She should be eating mangoes and hiking miles in the jungle on weekends. She should be helping girls discover science is for them.
But instead, both are here. Safe. Bored. Trapped. Fed. With heat, food, water, gas. The things they need for this way of being right now. But also with their grief for what was going to be. Safe? Yes. Sad? Yes.
And for my Sabbath, I've taken a run and a decadently long shower, blown out my hair and put on a dress. Because I shaved my legs and it is a treat to actually be in something pretty for a spell. My hair was due for a trim as this all started, which means my slow roll toward "growing out my hair" has taken a leap and suddenly...I just have long hair. I had to change my bitmoji and my memoji. Because my hair is long.
When keeping Sabbath, I try to stay out of church email. The break there is that I step away from how this is impacting every life. Every. Single. Life. Losses pile on. We've lost two congregants. No large gatherings to mourn and to celebrate a life well lived. We will lose more. But normally there is an escape hatch to release the pressure of pain and grief. But right now, nothing is as it once was. We have graduating seniors who are missing prom and senior picnics and all the shenanigans. And we have college students who are supposed to be sunning themselves on college green space as spring turns warm and green.
So people are dying. It is true. They are dying from the things that normally cause death, and they are dying from a mysterious disease that ravages lungs and major organ systems. Doctors and EMTs and Nurses and aids are fighting a war in hospitals. And in nursing homes.
My mom fell and broke her leg on Easter Sunday. She's bounced between the hospital and a rehab facility since that time. And that would be complicated in ordinary times. She is strong and proud and desperately wants to age in place. And her kids are not next door. And we are strong and proud and not always good at sharing life. And right now none of us can actually touch her, sit with her, watch her facial features as she describes her day, her feelings, her hopes, and her fears. So we lean in individually to listen hard and hope that we can transmit what we've heard to one another.
...through messages and emails and conference calls. Where nerves are ragged from this but also from everything else. Because this is hard on every one.
Nothing is as it once was. For every single person I know.
Vacations are being cancelled. We were supposed to be in Israel. We have a trip scheduled to Scotland. We were going to sit on Iona for a full week. To pray. To be away from people. But it looks like even that season of Sabbath and separation is slipping away from us. Because it is hard to distance on a plane or in an airport or on a ferry.
I was supposed to graduate with my doctor of ministry on May 11...just two days after my daughter's college graduation. I put this off by a year in order to transition into ministry in the local church, and then I got moved because that is what it means to be itinerant. And I worked hard and fast and planned celebrations. One for my 50th - a trip to Israel from my in-laws. One for graduation - a trip to Scotland to unplug.
There will be no commencement. We've already addressed the travel.
I guess there will still be a degree. And the Rev. Dr. Hippy Pastor Mom (my daughter's title for me).
And on both sides of graduation, I was supposed to be shuttling back and forth from here to Minneapolis observing the general conference that was going to shape the future of the denomination in which I was raised, shape the future of inclusion (or not) for ALL people. And it has been postponed. Until late in 2021. And we rest in weird limbo.
Where the church is vital, but not gathered in the way it would.
Because nothing is as it once was.
So if I look shell shocked, that is the reason.
I am going to be ok. But...
Nothing is as it once was.
Dear Rev. Dr. Hippy Pastor Mom: Thank you. For all you do, and will do to help us get through this. See ya Sunday!
ReplyDeleteI love you! I am blessed to call you Sister❤️
ReplyDeleteThank you for taking the time to share your most inner thoughts and feelings. I am sorry to hear about your Mom and how difficult that must have been for you. I am praying for you and your family.
ReplyDeleteI've been trying to put into words the feelings I've been having about all the changes, big and small, that I and others are experiencing as a result of this pandemic. Thank you for sharing yours.
ReplyDelete