Uncertainty clouds these present days…times unprecedented for many generations. Few of us could have foreseen our entire nation on high alert due to a dangerous new pandemic virus. The citizens of many states have orders to shelter in place, everything from schools to salons to government offices are shut down, and the majority of those who still have employment work from home. It’s easy to see that if nothing else, the economic ripples will be far-reaching. In all likelihood, far more will be affected.

It’s no wonder why the natural response of many is to panic. Reactions range from everything like hoarding toilet paper and Tylenol to becoming agoraphobic. Though I’m feeling increased anxiety these days, I’m also continually reminded, more than anything else, to breathe. Author Brené Brown says that according to her research, the majority of those who live wholeheartedly are “obnoxious breathers.” Though stated comically, I believe it’s true. Regulating our nervous systems often takes so much intentionality that it can come across that way. But the more we can keep ourselves from reacting emotionally, even naturally, in difficult situations by stopping to take a few deep breaths, the better chance we have of responding with equanimity.

 

In the first episode of her new podcast, “Unlocking Us,” Brené also discusses that when transitioning into difficult new seasons, experienced adults know that as hard as it is, the only way to get to the other side is to push through. As we do this, however, it’s crucial we take the time to name the difficulty of what we’re doing. Only then can we get to the place where we can embrace where we’re at without burying resentment and frustration.

 

For example, while sheltering in place and working from home, screens seem to await me at every turn. Work requires being on my computer eight hours a day, something my spine finds very difficult. Everything from church to medical visit to most shopping now come online. Connecting socially most often means texting, phoning, or Facebooking. Although I initially felt grateful to have these opportunities, I must admit, I’m finding tele-connecting difficult and far from authentic. 

 

But on a cool windy day this week, it dawned on me that spring arrived with the equinox earlier this week. The birds arrived weeks ago, baby calves play on a neighboring field, and neither seems to realize we’re in the midst of a pandemic. On a whim, I grabbed my gardening gloves, a spad, a bag of potting soil, and a few plants that needed repotting. We all went out into the sun embracing it along with the bitter wind. I closed my eyes and decided, as Father Thomas Keating once wrote, I would, “Welcome It All:”

“Welcome, welcome, welcome [it all]…I welcome everything that comes my way today because I know it’s for my healing….I let go of my desire to change any situation, condition, person, or myself. I open to the love and presence of God and God’s action within it.”

 

For an hour or so, I immersed my hands in earthy soil and attempted to give the beautiful living plants I’ve been given more space to stretch their roots and GROW. ITs was a wonderful reminder of BEAUTY and LIFE, a gentle nudge to get off all the screens as much as I can and nurture the things that provide me with sustenance and rest. I love Eugene Peterson’s translation of Matthew 11:28-30 in The Message: “Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.”

 

Jill also sings this invitation in her song, “I AM:” 

 

“The tide can change so fast, but I will stay the same through past, the same in future, the same today

I am constant, I am near, I am peace that shatters all your secret fears…

Oh weary, tired, and worn, let out your sighs, and drop that heavy load you hold, ’cause mine is light.”