where waves grow sweet

For the first time in at least three weeks, I’m sitting in my sweet little shed, with free time to write. The sun is in and out today, infusing the humidity with its stuffy warmth when it breaks through the thick clouds. Next door, there is a pickleball match going on, filling the air with the hollow smack of the ball off the racquet and wild bursts of enthusiasm after what was presumably a great shot. John continues to build a chicken coop behind the shed, the humming and buzzing of his power tools broken up by gaps of silence as he lays out materials or studies his plans. Chase is inside, happily playing Legos via facetime with his cousin in Washington. From the feel of things this peaceful day, you’d never know there was a global pandemic going on. 

But make no mistake, life has gotten turned upside down. Some are enduring sickness, exhaustion, financial devastation or even the death of someone they love; this virus leaving a mark they won’t soon forget. For us, it has been an inconvenience. Nothing more. So far, anyway. I need to remember that when I’m feeling squeezed; entitled to things I used to enjoy; yearning for space and freedom I don’t currently possess. It’s not that I disagree with boundaries set for the greater good. It just doesn’t mean it’s easy.

And yet there are things I know to savor that have come as a direct result of this plague; things I know I will miss when life goes back to normal and time starts again… extra time to bond with Chase as we push through schoolwork or find yet more objects to race down the slide at recess, seeing if they can beat the current champ (can’t remember if it’s the gray rock or the green hot wheels)… having John around, a presence I love; getting to witness and more deeply appreciate the work he does for the nonprofit that employs him… our time together as a family, taking walks and bike rides amidst more families than I’ve ever seen out together, performing this strange choreography of distancing from others as we draw ever closer to each other.. and yet a greater sense of community blossoming as we all walk through this together. It is almost as if we are remembering something, like a sweet dream from long ago, that was lost or maybe just forgotten. 

I don’t know exactly what you are going through right now, but I pray with all my heart that hope would rise up in the very place you stand. That fear would flee as light floods the darkness. That healing grace would overcome all sickness. That joy would rise up and declare through every cell in your being that this is a new day for you. A day not determined by a virus, the news or any assumptions of what the future holds, but one formed by the hand of a God who loves you with unfathomable passion and longs to establish you in these hard places until trust grows so strong, fear and hopelessness lose their grip. So I pray we can rejoice in this day. Not because of what we see going on in the world or what we feel, but because of who He is. Much love, Kara