Another Monday in COVID time and we’re all still holding our breath a little—or a lot, depending on the hour or the day. It’s the last one in July and how in the world did we get here already?
How’r you holding up?
In other times (BP: before the pandemic), when someone we knew was going through a trial we rallied round. We sent cards, flowers, text messages, delivered meals, ran errands, or just sat with them. It’s harder now because we’re all going through a trial.
We’re all staggering around wondering what’s happening; tallying up losses and carrying grief; tossed to and fro while trying to remain solid on ground that’s continually shaking.
Is the weight you’re carrying feeling heavier?
I’ve been thinking about community and hungering for deep connection, while at the same time finding it easier and more comfortable to remain in solitude. A little off balance. Know what I mean?
Self care. Community care. Creation care. Where does it fit? What does it look like?
I pose a question: Where did you see the hand of God today? I challenge myself to pay attention. To the sky, to the earth, to the whispers, to the ordinary.
I think I should do more. Or less. Or something different.
I turn off the news.
I check my heart.
Speaking of hearts, how’s yours?
Mine’s feeling more than a little constricted.
Here, in the interior of British Columbia we’re in for a heat wave this week. A good measure of dry Kamloops summer heat is just what I need. I’ll spend a good portion of the day on my deck with books, ice water, a notebook, and my thoughts, trying to make sense of it all but knowing I won’t.
I’m hungry. Starving, actually.
In need of a feast in the midst of this famine.
And the week begins, and the month winds down, and we sweep away a little more of the chaff.
Breathe deep. Pay attention. Begin again.
But God. And God. Still God.