When I think back to the month of April 2020, I wish I could tell myself that this was only the beginning. At the time, I had only been working from home for about a month but it felt like an eternity. All our church events and services were cancelled and we were pre-recording everything, including Easter services. With the exception of a small few, I was not seeing people regularly in the same way we had been before, and that included our family. I was beyond weary already, not knowing how much longer this might (and would) go on.
Screen fatigue was an understatement. One day as I sat answering e-mails and submitting invoices, the headache I'd had all day suddenly gave way to nausea. Looking at my screen was physically dreadful. Over the next couple of weeks it would get to the point where I couldn't even read a text message without feeling dizzy and nauseous. Even armed with blue light glasses and anti-nausea remedies, the headaches and fatigue were unbearable. But I was pushing through, some days better than others, trying to do the best I could and not let people down.
It was during this time that both our nephews had a birthday. Levi turned three and little Ezekiel turned one...his first birthday. Virtual celebrations were had...my creative sister-in-law made t-shirts and shared cute little videos for each boy on his special day, and we got to sing "happy birthday" as a family over Zoom. I was dying to give them both cuddles and hug them tight, and Sebas was really missing being "Tío," kicking around a soccer ball and play-wrestling with energetic Levi like he normally would.
Later that month, when things started to look less crazy (or so it seemed), we had a small family picnic, outdoors with masks, to celebrate the birthdays in person. It was the first time I had gotten out of the house and been with people face-to-face for fun in a really long time. We ate pizza and cake and gave presents. We brought our dog and the boys played with Tío while the family got to chat and catch up with one another.
I didn't realize it in the moment, but that short afternoon picnic was healing me. When we got home, it dawned on me that this was the first day I hadn't felt sick in almost two weeks. It was like the feeling you get when you take a deep breath to calm anxiety, or gulp down a tall glass of water after feeling dehydrated. It was life-giving in every way.
There is something healing about the physical presence of people. Eight months in to the year 2020 and I think all of us are longing to be back with our people again, wholly present, in the flesh. The world is only getting a small percentage of us right now, in many ways. So many of us are at max capacity, unable to be fully present in any one thing at a time because the lines between work and home have blurred together. We show up, but only as a fraction, a million and one things on our plate and on our hearts. Add to that, most of the world can only get from us what they can see on a screen: the work we produce, the content we create, the Zoom meetings we show up to (and choose to actually turn the camera on and participate). We have an incredible, unprecedented ability right now to choose to hide.
I bet a lot of you are feeling more anxiety right now than ever before.
I am too.
I bet a lot of you are experiencing more isolation now than ever before.
I am too.
I bet a lot of you are battling shame in ways like never before.
I am too.
Before he was born, Jesus was called "Emmanuel" meaning "God with us." He then came in the flesh and walked among us. When he ascended back to heaven, he left us with the Holy Spirit, who dwells within us, walking with us always. Our own bodies have become the temple of God. There was no other plan...this was God's perfect way of healing broken things: in the flesh.
I think about doubting Thomas, who heard all his friends say that Jesus was back from the dead and came and spoke to them in person, but he just couldn't believe it until he could see it for himself. Jesus knew this about Thomas...in fact, the first time he appears resurrected, he doesn't allow anyone to touch him, because he knew what Thomas needed. He needed to put his hands in the wound - and it was in touching the wounds of Jesus that he finally cried "My Lord and my God!" (John 20:28, NIV).
I was reminded recently of a sermon by Matt Chandler, who described Jesus as "on the ground, in the muck and the mire with us." He says that "God With Us" is the whole story of the Bible. It's the story of our lives. By taking on flesh and walking with us he enters into the brokenness of creation. Using the Samaritan woman as an example, he says that the way to experiencing God's grace and mercy is through our wounds, not our strength. He says God doesn't ask for a better version of us, but simply asks for us...not some percentage of us that we think looks good, but all of it, wounds and muck and mire included.
The stuff we hide is often linked with the lie of shame. I can't think of a single person who hasn't at one point or another wanted to hide some percentage of who they were or what they were going through. I have especially struggled with this. I've struggled with feelings of insignificance in an age where the world is saying you are what you put out there. I've been tricked into feeling guilty for remaining relatively quiet, choosing to not over-commit and instead take care of my home and my heart. I even almost been convinced that those things are actually selfish and not healthy - that somehow I owe the world more of my attention because for us "it's not that bad" (i.e. no kids to take care of, I haven't lost my job, etc).
More and more and more though, this season of chaos and noise and "unprecedented times" and "new normal" has ushered in messages that remind me the importance of presence - first God's, then ours. God's presence because it is that reminder to breathe, to hydrate, to take care of our souls and the bodies that house them. The bodies that house Him. Our own physical presence because we don't have to be everywhere just because we can be, thanks to technology. We can still choose where to be present, and that choice can be the difference between life-giving and life-draining.
I'm trying these days to choose His presence first, and to offer my presence where He would send me. Most days this simply looks like doing the work he has put in front of me to do, to keep showing up, to keep loving people, and to keep being honest. Obedience is not always flashy or viral, but more like a daily, a quiet yes to the calling of being His...whatever that looks like and wherever it sends us.
If you're feeling the fatigue, you are not alone. We are all missing physical closeness with the ones we love outside our homes. But don't forget to stay present with whomever God is putting right in front of you today. Give yourself permission to be fully somewhere, instead of partially everywhere.
For God's glory,
Kayla
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