I never thought I would buy face masks at Old Navy. Or sneak a side-eye at the current supply of toilet paper at Target. Or gravitate toward only drive-thru restaurants. I never expected to wonder if my kids will go to school or play sports. Or if my family will need to retreat into our home again. What reality is this? ⠀
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Then these slow, summer days happen, when we don’t go anywhere, and I walk with my friend, and the boys swim, and we grill hamburgers, and for a short time, I forget about the pandemic. Those days are familiar, reminding me of the days that came before March. ⠀
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That comfort and familiarity of those days shines a light on something: I believe that there was a “normal” and that right now, it’s missing. Without even knowing it, I was placing hope in this world. ⠀
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When I see those “x’s” on the floor at Target and the plexiglass at the orthodontist and the “we’re closed” sign at my favorite local coffee place, I still feel that pit of grief. I never realized how much I accepted—and clung to—this world’s comfort and security. ⠀
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What I long for (our pre-March normal) and what I’m reacting to (this ever-changing new reality) were never meant to give me peace. I must detach from the charade of certainty that I thought routine and ritual offered. Our world, shrouded in darkness and uncertainty and fear, is not meant to be my comfort.⠀
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Even though I’m in this world, I’m not of it. This may be where I live, but it’s not where I find my hope. My security lies not in any ritual or routine here, but in being a beloved Daughter of the King, living in the peace only He offers. To live in this world, I must make living in that perfect peace my normal, to stand firm as these sands shift.
Read the rest at The Joyful Life Magazine.