There are no "good" days

Daily Devotion - April 3

I will send a brief message each day (except Mondays) while we are pausing gathering in person.
- Kara

Today I woke up to the announcement that Minneapolis beaches and outdoor pools will be closed through the summer.
Through. The. Summer.
The City Pages headline read, "Summer is Cancelled."

It feels like too much to take in.
This thing is going to go on and on.

I am angry.
I am sad.

I have seen friends share, "I had a bad day yesterday."  And by "bad" they mean they had hard feelings to live with - sadness, anxiety, fear, anger.  By this measure, a "good" day is when we feel the easier feelings to live with, like happy, or grateful, or peaceful.

We tell ourselves we are supposed to be feeling the "good" feelings, at least most of the time.  And if we are feeling the "bad" ones, we should keep it to ourselves for the time being, and try to get over them quickly.  Once we move out of the discomfort and vulnerability, like maybe tomorrow, we can admit that we had those feelings today.

We used to measure our days by what we got accomplished. Did we get a lot of work done? Do we have a lot to show for our time? By that measure, right now every day is a "bad" day for many of us.  So we have shifted all the pressure of judging our days onto our emotions. But feelings aren't "good" or "bad."  Nor are they designed to be barometers of whether life is "good" or "bad" at the moment, or whether we are "doing good" or "bad," or our even whether our day has been "good" or "bad."

I have to keep remembering this: feelings are merely indicators that our needs are being met or unmet in the moment.  And right now is a weird, volatile, intense, rapidly changing and utterly standing still time, like nothing any of us have ever been through.  So it makes complete sense that our feelings would shift rapidly throughout the day, up and down, back and forth. And in the midst of all this, there are feelings I enjoy having, and those I'd prefer not to feel.  But they are all helpful. They are all informative.

My informative feelings are telling me that:
Right now, my needs for shelter and love are being met; my needs for hope and space are not being met.  That's happening at the same time. It's not "good" or "bad" - it just is.

Perhaps, if we insist on reaching a conclusion about how our day has been, "hard" or "easy" might be a more helpful way to label it. Or maybe we can begin to learn to inhabit our days as they are, resisting tallying them up on team "win" or "lose."  Just meet ourselves with gentleness and acceptance of the one life we are living in right now.

Just now, when I looked at the needs list to see what I might be needing, the one that screamed off the page at me was mourning.
So here I go again. 
I am sad.
I am angry.
I have a need to mourn what I wanted summer to be.
I have a need to mourn, again, all that this virus is taking from us all.
I can't receive the gifts in what life actually is, if I judge my feelings and don't recognize my needs.
The good news for me is, mourning is a need I can meet.

Circling back today to the Rumi poem is helping me.
So, here it is again:

The Guest House by Rumi
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice.
meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.
Be grateful for whatever comes.
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

CONNECTING RITUAL:

Perhaps, tonight before we go to bed, whatever time that is in each of our homes, we might pray this Psalm, and so join our hearts:

Prayer of Lament, (Psalm 130 paraphrased)
Out of the depths of my being I cry to you, my God;
Come near, hear my voice.
Listen to me! Turn your heart to hear
my cry for mercy.

If you, my God, kept a record
of the times we turn away from you
and reject your love,
God, who could stand?
But you restore us to our belonging in you,
so that we can, with clarity of purpose,
serve you and care for each other.

I wait for the Lord, my whole being waits,
 and in God's word I put my hope.
I wait for the One who comes in,
more than those who watch for the morning,
more than those who watch for the morning.

O beloved children,
put your hope in God,
for with our Source of being is unfailing love
and with Love incarnate is full redemption.
God who enters in, will redeem God's children,
from all that destroys.

This week, we are reading through the Gospel of John.  In my house, it is at the dinner table. Maybe for you, it will be when you wake up, or before bed, or over lunch.  It can be read in about 20 minutes a day, or by reading three chapters each day.  If this is your approach, today, we are reading Chapters 16-18.