**Note: Half of this was written two weeks ago, and half within the last week. I couldn’t finish my thoughts when I started this, but I finally was able to over the last few days.
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This is the post I promised myself I wouldn’t write.
I said I wouldn’t talk about Covid-19 and everything that is happening right now. I said there were already too many voices, too much noise, too much craziness.
But my heart is overflow to spilling and writing is the best tool I have for letting all my emotions out.
It’s sunny here today at school. Quiet, as has become the new normal. Eventually, there will be shrieks and shouts as all the teacher’s kids start water-sliding down the metal playground slide onto foam pads. The toddlers will soak in a blow-up pool. Parents and teachers and teacher-parents will stand around, talking, trying to make sense of it all.
I spend my days making videos, creating assignments, trying to find a moment to write and breathe and read among all the chaos.
I try to find the words to pray. A lot of times, they don’t come.
It says in Romans 8 that the Holy Spirit intercedes for us. That He knows what our groanings mean. I like to think He also knows what our silence means, and our tears.
I learned they just closed school for the rest of the year in my home state Virginia. I don’t know what will happen here in Thailand. Everything is on a “soft lockdown”. People can still go out, but sit down restaurants, movie theaters, bowling, swimming pools, bars…everything is closed except the grocery stores and basic convenience stores.
(If they close 7-11 here, we are truly in the apocalypse.)
My heart aches for all the high school and college seniors who have worked so hard, and now won’t get their public celebration of success. It breaks for all the families and friends that have to hold each other at arms length (or 6 ft). It hurts for all the nurses and doctors who have to watch cases come in, day after day.
Everyone is desperate and worried and yes, afraid.
I said on a Facebook post that I wasn’t afraid. I don’t quite know if that’s true anymore. I’m not really afraid, but I’m tired and sad and stressed and worried, and a million other emotions that are the equivalent of staring at a black hole, wondering what it is going to come out.
Right now, the only sound is the hum of my air conditioning unit. A mostly eaten banana sits on my desk. I check SeeSaw in vain to see if my kids have done an assignment. Nope.
I miss them. I’ve poured my heart and soul into most of these kids for two years straight. Tried to teach them everything I could. Seen their ups and downs.
The world is holding its breath.
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It’s two weeks later. Almost Easter. Everything is still “softly” locked down, but more restrictions. In some ways, the streets are still so full of life. But that life is tempered by the fact that everyone is wearing a mask. Literally.
They closed the playground. No more random shrieks in the middle of the day, at least from there. They have a “kids’ club” to make sure teacher’s kids have help and space to do school work.
I work with a few of my kids twice a week. I didn’t realize how much I would miss them. Empty classrooms are eerie places, haunted by the strangeness of silence. I complained about how loud my kids were. I forgot that no noise is just as deafening.
The government has forbade all schools from opening until July 1st. I won’t have my students all together in my classroom ever again. This coming week is our school Spring Break.
Tomorrow, we celebrate Easter. The triumph of God over sin, light over darkness, death over life.
I’ve been doing a lot of quiet thinking about the significance of it all.
God was not surprised by Covid-19. And He is not mocked by it, either.
Everything about this situation is less than ideal. It’s hard. It’s draining. Every day feels like a war, fighting an enemy we can’t even see. Oftentimes the enemy is our own minds.
But it’s Easter.
And the tomb is still empty.
I was blessed to be able to go to Israel my sophomore year of college. I’ve stood in both contested spots of where Jesus died, was buried, and rose again.
Because Jesus killed death, I can look into a world where everything has gone wrong, and know that God is greater.
This has been a weird couple of months. The whole world has turned upside-down. Tomorrow, I won’t be in church, like every other Easter of my life. This week, I won’t be going anywhere exciting like I had planned to do in January.
It’s hard not to know what tomorrow is going to bring.
All of this has made for an Easter that feels like it’s snuck up on me.
But I guess that’s part of the point. There is a Dietrich Bonhoeffer quote which states that Christmas always comes, no matter what our personal emotions are on the subject. The same is true for Easter. It is here, even in the midst of this global pandemic and panic.
God is still worthy of worship; not because life is good, but because He is.
When we were still sinners, THOUGH we are still sinners, though we choose trivial, frivolous, meaningless things over Him, Christ died for us, and rose again in power.
This will eventually pass. Everything bad always eventually does. And we will grieve for the things we lost, but also look around at the things we have gained. New skills, time for reflections, time with family, time learning new technology for my classroom. This time may not feel like a gift, but I don’t want to waste it.
Happy Easter, everyone. No matter what, Christ is risen. Take your emotions and fears and failings of this moment to Him. I promise He will deal gently with them. He does it every day with me.
“Though the fig tree does not bud
and there are no grapes on the vines,
though the olive crop fails
and the fields produce no food,
though there are no sheep in the pen
and no cattle in the stalls,
yet I will rejoice in the Lord,
I will be joyful in God my Savior.” –Habakkuk 3:17-18
Teach; Think; Write. 