Grieving, Healing, & Enduring the Pandemic
I never would have imagined being here in April 2020 in the middle of a pandemic. Honestly, when the CDC named COVID-19 a pandemic, I had to look up what that word actually meant. Even still now, it feels so obscure. I know a lot of people are sick, and we are definitely missing human interaction. But, it's hard to believer that it's real. Everything feels surreal, and distant. Even knowing people who are directly impacted by this. Even still.
I'm starting to notice how much it is impacting our world. It's a little nerve-wracking to anticipate what will come of this. How will this impact our culture, our children, our future, our economy? Our health?
There are a few big things I know to be true of God in the hard... like now:
- God is near. He's near, he's near, he's near. I even wrote a short devotional on it. I know that God is WITH his people - that's his heartbeat from Genesis to Revelation, and he made it possible. So I know I'm not completely alone.
- God is sovereign. He is not surprised by any of this. I can rely on him and him alone to be unphased by all that is going on. There is a serious comfort in that, and I can rest in knowing that nothing is bigger than he is.
- This world is not as it should be. There is so much heartache that is surfacing as a result of this virus. Opinions about who is hurting more are flying around social media, and people are experiencing all levels of pain and trauma. This is not as it should be.
I also know that there are some other smaller truths that matter right now.
A nap and a shower go a long way. Outdoor time is good for the soul, and touching the earth brings me calm. Loneliness isn't good for anyone. And even the best-dreamt plans sometimes just don't come to be, and that's okay.
What I'm realizing more and more during this pandemic is that there's a nod to my experience with grief that is tied to Jacob's life and death. An anticipation that is in the air, much like what we experienced waiting for his birth - and death. A normalcy that comes, even in the midst of trauma - that life can still go on, even when there's so much else heavy going on, too. And that there are moments of joy, and moments of sorrow... and it's okay to feel both extremes and everything in between and even to feel them all at once.
I feel the heaviness and the weight and it is so familiar to me. A familiarity that I almost hate, but also one that feels sacred. There's a comfort in knowing that everyone else feels a weight, too, but there's also a twinge of sadness that everyone is affected by it. It feels almost out-of-body to hear others speak and share about how this experience is such a distinct and daunting moment for them - marking a before and after of sorts. I know that feeling, but this isn't that moment for me. That moment has already come and gone for me. Jacob marks my befores and afters. I've had this fog before. And I don't like it.
The truth is: I've experienced deep grief, and I continue to see it play out in my life. And while this is a hard and heavy time, having that deep grief in my past and present does actually impact how I handle this time. In some ways for the harder. In some ways for the easier. In all ways - it's just the reminder I hate that this is my story, and one that I will always live out and always see its rippling impacts.
There's so much else I could say and so much that has already been said by others. I don't need to fill in any of the silence with more words and thoughts.
However, if you're unsure how to make sense of any of this, and the world just seems like a fog to you, I thought I would share some suggestions of some ways to begin this process of working through this experience. The reason is because I have walked through hard waters, and continue to. And while this is my first experience in a pandemic, these are things that have been significant to me during child loss, grief, and even now. As we endure this universally altering time of a pandemic, these things may be helpful to you too. (Note: this list is clearly NOT exhaustive!)
- Ask yourself: what do I know to be true? And write it down. It could be obvious things (I know that the best pizza topping combination is...) or big things (I know that God will never leave me nor forsake me).
- Write down any of your thoughts. The other day - after days of staring at a blank page because it felt daunting - I just started writing. Writing what it has been like, what I've thought, heard, learned, etc. It'll most likely only ever be viewed by me, and I'll probably not even really look back on it. But it could be read by my kids when they grow up and want to remember what this is like... or I may want to remember it myself. I opened up a word document and started writing. Not beautifully. Not edited. Just writing to remember. I so want to remember.
- Give yourself LOTS of grace and space to not be functioning at your former capacity.
- A nap and a hot shower go a long way. Also, in the words of Minnie Paull and many others who followed her: just do the next thing. Sometimes that's all you can do.
So, friends, as I close, I want to leave you with a psalm that continues to come to mind pretty regularly. I am praying these things for you now. And for myself. I think I'll write some of it on post cards and tape them up around my house. Because I need this truth to be seared into my heart.
From the end of the earth I call to you when my heart is faint. Lead me to the rock that is higher than I, for you have been my refuge, a strong tower against the enemy. Let me dwell in your tent forever! Let me take refuge under the shelter of your wings! Selah.
Psalm 61:1-4
Share below: What's been something super practical or something helpful spiritually or emotionally for you during this time? I'd love to hear and be encouraged!
And also: may the odds be ever in your favor.