2020 Did Not Suck
If you read the title and called me a name, I completely understand. So, this is not me preaching to you, this is me reminding myself. If it feels helpful to you as well, then even better.
Yesterday, I spent time in one of my favorite places, Lutheridge. Of course, I was there as part of my day job, but I also love just being there, outside on the campus. The sun was warm, and the air was cool. It was a perfect day to be outside in God’s creation. Lutheridge is a place of fond memories, strong relationships, and time when I felt and continue to feel God’s constant closeness.
Yesterday though, I was in a significant amount of pain while I was there. My symptoms from my neurological disorder were exceptionally present. I have trained myself to actively focus on hearing what others say and smiling through the pain, because otherwise I would damage my ability to work and play. I am quite used to this, though some days are worse than others and yesterday was one of them.
While there, I had an opportunity to catch up with a good friend and colleague that I served on summer camp staff with years ago. We were lamenting about virtual school and how it feels to be constantly bombarded with the noise and chatter of children at home all the time while trying to work. Seems both sets of our children regressed and their need to be with us, whether in high school or elementary school, elevated. While we are socially distancing from so many, we are also NEVER alone, and we never leave!
This conversation was the 3rd time this week I was reminded of a foster care conference I attended about 5 years ago. I apologize that I cannot remember her name, but the presenter talked about our choice of language for describing a “bad day.”
Today sucked. Today was a bad day. Everything about this day sucked.
She cautioned. “Don’t let yourself, or the children you care for, get into the habit of this type of generalized language to describe your lives.” Instead, she challenged us to see moments, not days or large blocks of time. She challenged us to find the heart and capacity to break down, even conversations, into moments or sentences so that we might identify joy and hope inside and among other moments we find difficult or taxing on our mental health. When transforming trauma, she suggested, we need the ability to hold tight to the moments of joy. She challenged us as foster care workers to create moments of joy for children and to help them talk through their days as individual moments.
As I shared this with my friend, she latched on immediately. She does this with her own child who has not experienced trauma. I have a child who needs this as well, which is likely why the presentation truly remained with me.
This morning, I began, as I always do with a quick look at social media, and nearly 7 posts in a row were memes that 2020 sucked. I am guilty of saying this myself, but after yesterday, this considerable number of posts hit me sideways.
I am in danger of wanting to write off 2020 as an act of self-preservation, but there are parts of 2020 that I do not want to write off. There are moments of great love and importance to me. This year, our family ate nearly every supper together. We talked and laughed and grew closer together. We were forced to support each other and hear each other. We reached the point of closeness that requires honesty about how we are doing because we could not get away from each other. I do not want to lump these beautiful moments of laughter and deep conversation into a message that 2020 sucks because that part did not suck.
The church learned to adapt. For the first time in a long time there was a reformation on the “way we have always done things,” and friends, this can only lead to good. While the act of changing was hard, and yes, the number of new skills we had to learn was taxing, the moments that came from doing that work did not suck. They were beautiful acts of inclusion and care.
In our old testament reading for Sunday, November 22, 2020, we hear a description of God as the true Shepherd. Friends, our Shepherd did not abandon us during 2020. While we may have felt lost and scattered, God knew exactly where we were and remained ever present.
As we cried out, “this sucks,” God said, “I hear ya!” In lamenting with friends, at the curbside pickup, in the unemployment line, and in the lonely hospital rooms, God was there. As we navigate these incredibly trying times, we likely shift from feeling either closer or farther away from God, but God does not leave us.
God’s presence does not waiver depending on what is happening to and around us. God is always and forever present. God is forever gathering us in, feeding us and giving us good pasture where we can find rest. As the year of 2020 comes to an end, we need memories of this closeness. We need reminders of this. When we have a God of grace, a Shepherd who finds us, a Savior who hears us when we bury our head in a pillow and scream, “this sucks,” then all is not lost.
Ezekiel 34:11-16
God, the True Shepherd
11 For thus says the Lord God: I myself will search for my sheep, and will seek them out. 12 As shepherds seek out their flocks when they are among their scattered sheep, so I will seek out my sheep. I will rescue them from all the places to which they have been scattered on a day of clouds and thick darkness. 13 I will bring them out from the peoples and gather them from the countries, and will bring them into their own land; and I will feed them on the mountains of Israel, by the watercourses, and in all the inhabited parts of the land. 14 I will feed them with good pasture, and the mountain heights of Israel shall be their pasture; there they shall lie down in good grazing land, and they shall feed on rich pasture on the mountains of Israel. 15 I myself will be the shepherd of my sheep, and I will make them lie down, says the Lord God. 16 I will seek the lost, and I will bring back the strayed, and I will bind up the injured, and I will strengthen the weak, but the fat and the strong I will destroy. I will feed them with justice.
New Revised Standard Version