Behavior problems I don't know how to solve.
Balancing the different emotional needs of my children.
Finding out James' one friend from Co-op won't be coming back this year and walking him through that.
The world is on fire.
Then another shooting.
And another one.
The hateful arguments and accusations that follow.
The blindness.
The division.
No one is listening. No one is asking questions. Everyone has the answers.
And all this while I'm trying to raise and educate three kids at home in a world that looks more unfamiliar and scary to me every day.
I've never had a panic attack before. But I think I was very close to one yesterday as I drove my kids to co-op. I was legitimately struggling to breathe and keep it all together and I was on the verge of tears all morning. Listening to songs from Planning Center, trying desperately to hear God. To tap into something bigger than myself. Give myself some perspective. Remind myself that He is still in control.
It was a struggle. Holding on to my faith is a struggle right now. So many people I know have left the faith. Not just the church, but Christianity. They no longer call themselves Christian. Part of me understands why and it still breaks my heart.
I'm standing in the middle of two extremes, and I hate this place. On the one side are the people who have left. Many of their reasons make sense. I see the hurt. I feel the betrayal. I understand why many have left the church...But I don't understand the hostility towards the faith as a whole and how they can't also see that there are good people still living out their faith the best they know how.
On the other side are the people who continue living their Christian existence business as usual...but deny a lot of hurt and pain that has been caused by people who wear His name. And I'm not just talking about church-hurt. I'm talking about rhetoric and policies and lack of care for people who are hurting and a lack of willingness to engage with the problems of the world. They display hypocritical behaviors that have driven others away. And I don't think they're even aware of the part they've played.
The problem is that many of these same people, who think and vote differently than me, who support people who I believe to be doing real actual harm to this country...they are also my lifeline in so many other ways. I have seen them make sacrifices for others. I have watched as they gave very intentional language to students about how to be a good friend and witness to the world. I have been on the receiving end of their love and grace and support so many times. They have shaped my faith. They have raised me. They have prayed for me. These are good people.
And...their votes have supported people doing harm.
And reading the posts on Facebook this week, and the ensuing comments, was a mistake because I don't recognize anyone right now. I'm talking about the people who respond to posts and comments with sarcasm. I'm talking about people, whatever their persuasion, with whom I have broken bread, shared life with, gone on mission trips with, taught with who immediately assume the worst about someone because of the stance they take. Who demand understanding and grace and nuance but don't grant it. It breaks my heart and it makes me feel alone.
Yesterday morning, as I was trying to avoid a panic attack and get ready for my Social Studies class (another thing....teaching social studies in this climate....when I have almost completely lost faith in this country's ability to live out the ideals it was founded on...feels a little bit like teaching fairytales. So I stick to geography and historical fiction where people stand up for what's right and are rewarded by seeing the change they strive for.... that's a WHOLE other post by itself.) I made my copies...and then I just sat down on the floor and stared into space.
I wasn't there long before someone met me and asked me how I was doing. I told her I was functioning, because I just didn't have the energy for a mask that morning. She said she was sorry and she hoped my day got better...and then she sat down on the floor with me and told me that she has a son that is very much like mine...high impulsivity, big feelings, very smart...and also very exhausting. And she knows it's hard, and it's easy to feel like everyone else has their act together and are looking down on me for not...but with time and maturity it will get better and nobody thinks I'm not doing my job.
So much for holding the tears back. But you know what? They needed to be released. And I needed to let this one thing go. For once, this wasn't even the thing in the forefront of my mind, though it is always, ALWAYS on the periphery somewhere and it is frequently overwhelming, and I think she knew that. But it gave me the calm I was so desperate for on the drive over.
It didn't change much. I didn't suddenly feel happy. The world is still on fire. Parenting is still hard. I still don't know what to do or how to live with this tension every day. But something shifted. I felt seen. I was seen. God used someone who understands a big part of my experience as a parent to remind me I was not alone, by taking the time to sit with me and let me cry over it. I don't know if she thought this was the reason I was on the floor or if she just knew it was a burden she could speak to. It didn't matter. It gave me what I needed to go teach my Kindergarten class about Social Studies.... The study of people. Where they live. How they live. And share a book about circles and drawing bigger circles as we learn more about the world around us and welcome other people in. And then teach my 1st and 2nd grade class about cooperation and being on the same team and encouraging each other as we played games together.
I am aware that I am very different from a lot of the people I go to church with and co-op with. We vote differently, we parent differently, we educate differently, we enjoy different movies and different books.
Whatever the difference is. And I don't pretend to know them all, they exist. That might not ever change. And right now it's easy to feel isolated by differences, no matter what they are. And...while it might be discouraging and lonely sometimes, it's not always bad either.
Because these moments on the floor of the workroom can still be possible and it doesn't require that we agree with each other on everything. I have no idea where this person is on every issue that I care about. But she still took the time to see herself in me and sit with me. It may not have seemed like much, but it was enough to enable me get off the floor and do something small that hopefully will plant seeds of kindness for the next generation.
It sounds cheesy. It sounds simple. It sounds like not enough.
But you never know the powerful impact it can have.
