We settled into summer. It looked like slow mornings and late summer nights, waiting for the sun to go down before anyone was tucked into bed. It looked like movie nights and pancake mornings. It looked like no one rushing out the door to get somewhere on time. We’ve learned new rhythms of being around each other. For our household of four, in a way, we have found each other again.  

Now, I look down at the pile laid out on my bedroom floor. Children’s lunch boxes and socks, school uniforms and pencils. A super-sized bottle of hand sanitizer, a box of medical masks, and wet wipes. I look down with a knot uncertainty in my stomach. I can’t help but think – it’s not supposed to be this way. 

I long for days before social distancing. The days before the anxiety and fear took a new grip on my heart. The days before video screens replaced face-to-face conversations.  The days before adaptive learning and isolated working. 

I want to tell you that it’s okay. 

Not that it’s going to be okay, but it’s okay to feel this way. 

It’s okay to feel dissatisfied and disrupted. Comfort and safety many of us have taken for granted in our everyday lives have been ripped out from under us. 

I want to tell you that real comfort is there if we look for it. But it looks different than we might think. 

Feelings of sadness and anger are playing in the backgrounds of our minds. A white noise that’s hiding in our subconscious, slowing playing an overwhelming refrain that’s steering our thoughts and actions. Its rhythm has been so constant, maybe we have forgotten it was there, leaving us driven by fear and uncertainty.

We have become frustrated and isolated. Disheartened and bitter. Overwhelmed and worried. Grieved and numb. 

It’s not supposed to be this way. 

I can’t tell you why it’s like this. I can’t tell you why this moment in our history books will be remembered by its uncertainty and upheaval. But I know this to be true – when we look to the Lord for hope and comfort, we will always find it.

God is for you. God not only rejoices with His children, but he mourns with them also. Our mourning is heard and can be turned into dancing. Our bitterness can turn into hope.

You are not alone. We are not made for isolation; we are made for community. We can find peace in the face of fear. We can find community in the midst of distance. 

The Lord’s favor looks less like the American Dream, and more like an upside down kingdom. It looks like peace in times of uncertainty. It looks like generosity in times of scarcity. It looks like opportunities to love our neighbors through tragedies. 

None of us know how long this will go on. We don’t know how long we will fight as a world to keep ourselves safe by being ‘apart.’ But I do know that we can look toward a God who desperately loves His children. We can find hope where we wouldn’t have thought possible. We can find new ways to weave community together. We can be both apart and together by making sacrifices. We can fight the fear and come face to face with our anxiety. We can search for peace in our hearts each day.  

I want to tell you that it’s okay. And it’s not supposed to be this way. 

But this is how we move forward.

We can find community in the midst of distance. We can fight for peace in our hearts each day. And we can find hope where we wouldn’t have thought possible.