Daily Devotion - June 5
I will send a brief message each day (except Mondays)
while we are pausing gathering in person.
- Kara
while we are pausing gathering in person.
- Kara
 |
| my view of my uncle's funeral |
On Wednesday we drove 2 1/2 hours into Wisconsin for small, family funeral for my uncle. We were told it would not be made public. They would provide seating outdoors and play the sound through speakers for those who didn't want to come inside. Masks would be worn. I imagined my grandma, and my uncle's wife and kids inside, and the rest of us outdoors.
When we pulled in the parking lot was full. The tiny church building was packed to the gills with nearly 150 unmasked people. My sisters' families and my own sat outside in our masks. My aunt and grandma were swarmed and hugged by nearly everyone there. We could hear them all singing side by side, inside, while we joined from the parking lot.
Then the entire crowd flooded out and made its way up to the cemetery, where they lingered closely around my uncle's family. I gave a long distance wave to my aunt, but didn't get any nearer. Then we got back in the car and drove 2 1/2 hours home.
I wanted so badly to grieve my uncle along with my family. I feel like I didn't get that chance. Instead of the pastor upholding safe boundaries for the rest of us, each person had to decide what they would do for themselves. And in rural Wisconsin, other than drive-through workers following their corporate policy and wearing masks, everyone from that town had already decided they'd just do life as usual as though there were no pandemic. That meant we looked like were making some kind of political statement in our masks, sitting in the parking lot like we were boycotting the funeral. It meant we felt rude, unkind, and uncaring for not hugging.
Today Maisy and I stopped at a beach on a lake with giant CLOSED signs. We stepped our feet in the water up to the ankle and watched people swimming all around us. "Why are we the only ones who have to follow the rules?" she asked. Then we got back in the car and drove home.
We are in a hard phase of this virus. While nothing has changed about the virus, except that there are more hospital beds available, things are also opening back up. We each have to make our way through, and assess what risks we are willing to take.
How do we let up the strict lockdown we've been under and start easing back into society, juggling all the variables every single choice carries?
Do I get my hair cut, finally?
Do I wait in the waiting room while they're changing my car's oil?
Everywhere we go, some people have different boundaries and are making different choices than we are. And everywhere we go, we are all judging each other for our boundaries and choices.
This, of course, accomplishes nothing. But we are wired to know how to respond to our environment by trying to match our behaviors to others of our species. So even while we are trying to make good decisions against a dangerous virus, we are still trying to gauge how we should act by the actions of those around us.
When we pulled in the parking lot was full. The tiny church building was packed to the gills with nearly 150 unmasked people. My sisters' families and my own sat outside in our masks. My aunt and grandma were swarmed and hugged by nearly everyone there. We could hear them all singing side by side, inside, while we joined from the parking lot.
Then the entire crowd flooded out and made its way up to the cemetery, where they lingered closely around my uncle's family. I gave a long distance wave to my aunt, but didn't get any nearer. Then we got back in the car and drove 2 1/2 hours home.
I wanted so badly to grieve my uncle along with my family. I feel like I didn't get that chance. Instead of the pastor upholding safe boundaries for the rest of us, each person had to decide what they would do for themselves. And in rural Wisconsin, other than drive-through workers following their corporate policy and wearing masks, everyone from that town had already decided they'd just do life as usual as though there were no pandemic. That meant we looked like were making some kind of political statement in our masks, sitting in the parking lot like we were boycotting the funeral. It meant we felt rude, unkind, and uncaring for not hugging.
Today Maisy and I stopped at a beach on a lake with giant CLOSED signs. We stepped our feet in the water up to the ankle and watched people swimming all around us. "Why are we the only ones who have to follow the rules?" she asked. Then we got back in the car and drove home.
We are in a hard phase of this virus. While nothing has changed about the virus, except that there are more hospital beds available, things are also opening back up. We each have to make our way through, and assess what risks we are willing to take.
How do we let up the strict lockdown we've been under and start easing back into society, juggling all the variables every single choice carries?
Do I get my hair cut, finally?
Do I wait in the waiting room while they're changing my car's oil?
Everywhere we go, some people have different boundaries and are making different choices than we are. And everywhere we go, we are all judging each other for our boundaries and choices.
This, of course, accomplishes nothing. But we are wired to know how to respond to our environment by trying to match our behaviors to others of our species. So even while we are trying to make good decisions against a dangerous virus, we are still trying to gauge how we should act by the actions of those around us.
But all of a sudden it is a societal free-for-all. Each family and person is making hard choices every moment, having to consider each decision, resisting our innate instincts to match behaviors.
So. Here's another gift of this time. If you were ever good at shaping what other people think of you, that option is off the table. No matter what you do, someone will disagree with that action. So, instead, how can you act with integrity? How can you choose on purpose what to do and not do, consistent with your values?
This time could be a great untraining - our unthought actions and behaviors are pulled from the deep into the light of our thinking and reflection. We are aware of each other, aware of ourselves, conscious about consequences, careful about choices. I'm curious how this will shape us in the long term. We're being tilled up and turned over. This is the kind of soil God plants seeds in.
But also, this way of living is utterly exhausting. It is going to get more exhausting as more things re-open and more behaviors become options, and we are faced with more choices.
So - grace. Grace for ourselves. Grace for one another.
Most of the time, most people are doing the best they can with what they have.
Sometimes what we have is no fight left in us.
Always, no matter what, we belong to God.
And always we belong to each other.
So. Here's another gift of this time. If you were ever good at shaping what other people think of you, that option is off the table. No matter what you do, someone will disagree with that action. So, instead, how can you act with integrity? How can you choose on purpose what to do and not do, consistent with your values?
This time could be a great untraining - our unthought actions and behaviors are pulled from the deep into the light of our thinking and reflection. We are aware of each other, aware of ourselves, conscious about consequences, careful about choices. I'm curious how this will shape us in the long term. We're being tilled up and turned over. This is the kind of soil God plants seeds in.
But also, this way of living is utterly exhausting. It is going to get more exhausting as more things re-open and more behaviors become options, and we are faced with more choices.
So - grace. Grace for ourselves. Grace for one another.
Most of the time, most people are doing the best they can with what they have.
Sometimes what we have is no fight left in us.
Always, no matter what, we belong to God.
And always we belong to each other.
I made a choice not to hug my grieving grandmother. I did this because I belong to her and she to me. It was a sacrifice I could make - the one thing in my power to protect her however I could from the virus. My not hugging her was to express my love. Even if others didn't understand or agree with my choice.
At the same time, others chose to hug her for the very same reasons - because they love her and wanted to express that belonging and love. Even if I didn't understand or agree with their choice.
This time is hard to live in.
This is a hard time.
We are tired.
We are loved.
Amen.
At the same time, others chose to hug her for the very same reasons - because they love her and wanted to express that belonging and love. Even if I didn't understand or agree with their choice.
This time is hard to live in.
This is a hard time.
We are tired.
We are loved.
Amen.
(PS - Here is my commitment to you as your pastor: Your session and I will not put you in a situation like I faced at that funeral. Because we believe we belong to each other, we take seriously our responsibility for setting and upholding boundaries that guard the most vulnerable among us. To the best of our ability, we will continue to make choices that support the health and well-being of all).
CONNECTING RITUAL:
Perhaps tonight before bed, whatever time that is in each of our homes, we and so join our souls with each other and the people of the whole earth:
God, for the ways I have forgotten my belonging to you this day, forgive me.
For the ways I've tried to justify myself,
earn my place,
hide my brokenness,
avoid my vulnerability,
and ignore your voice,
forgive me.
Restore me to my true self
as your beloved child.
God, for the ways I have forgotten my belonging to others this day, forgive me.
For the ways I have judged others,
for things I said that I regret,
for things I did not say but should have,
for the ways I disregarded my own and others' humanity
by ignoring boundaries,
or acting as though I was not theirs to care about,
or they were not mine to care about,
forgive me.
Restore me to my true self
among your beloved children.
And for all the ways I lived into my belonging
to you and others this day,
thank you.
For the moments of connection,
of sacrifice,
of seeing and being seen,
for kindness,
and shared sorrow,
and laughter,
and release,
thank you.
Help me rest this night.
Give me rest.
Amen.
God, for the ways I have forgotten my belonging to you this day, forgive me.
For the ways I've tried to justify myself,
earn my place,
hide my brokenness,
avoid my vulnerability,
and ignore your voice,
forgive me.
Restore me to my true self
as your beloved child.
God, for the ways I have forgotten my belonging to others this day, forgive me.
For the ways I have judged others,
for things I said that I regret,
for things I did not say but should have,
for the ways I disregarded my own and others' humanity
by ignoring boundaries,
or acting as though I was not theirs to care about,
or they were not mine to care about,
forgive me.
Restore me to my true self
among your beloved children.
And for all the ways I lived into my belonging
to you and others this day,
thank you.
For the moments of connection,
of sacrifice,
of seeing and being seen,
for kindness,
and shared sorrow,
and laughter,
and release,
thank you.
Help me rest this night.
Give me rest.
Amen.
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