“Do you really think it will go over?” A question posed as I was chatting to someone over coffee this week (with distance of course). My immediate response was that yes, I really do think it will go over, but I don’t know when or what it will look like. I don’t know when we’ll be back to “normal.” But to be honest, I am not sure I really want things to go back to being as they were before...
The past seven weeks have been so very different. Social distancing, staying one meter away from others, having permanently dry hands from antibac and washing hands a lot, and having to limit most interaction with others to a screen, have become part of everyday life. And of course the distance and isolating part of this “normal” I have no desire of seeing become part of the after. But at the same time I see good growing in this time of crisis; good that I do want to bring into the after, and what will become my normal when this crisis comes to an end.
Time. Whether we like it or not, our time has been redistributed by this crisis. For me the weeks and months before were so stressful. There was a constant trying to catch up with added challenges, and reality was one of those unhealthy cycles of knowing there was a need to stop or slow down, yet seeing no way of doing it. And then the Corona virus hit, and everything stopped. The first week of Norway shutting down was very strange. I felt a restlessness and insecurity in not understanding what we were really facing (having only seen reports from Italy and China, where people were dying so quickly, and wondering if that reality was what we were entering into). And I had a slight concern of what would happen now with work and life. But as I got the hang of it, I entered into this new rhythm of no working evenings, no activities, no social events; a rhythm of going to work and then coming home, and I realised that this time is a gift. A gift which allowed me to catch up on what had piled up, and a gift which forced me to stop and slow down, not being able to rush as there was nothing to rush for. And time which allowed me to rest.
Rest. Rest can be found in so many expressions. In this time there’s been a physical rest in that I haven’t been physically rushing around so much. But there’s also been a rest from busyness and an opportunity to slow down. Resting from comparing life to the lives of others, and realising that when crisis hits we are all in a similar situation. Rest for the soul, because there has been time to reflect and ponder and pray, instead of having to push things in front of me to be reflected on later. Rest because there has been less “traffic” fighting for attention in my thoughts and heart, and even when things have seemed to start to pile up, there’s been space to deal with them, and that brings rest. Rest that comes from not only realising you are not in control, but giving up the fight to have control, and trusting that God is in control, and that “all will be well” and “this too shall pass”, because it will.
Relationships. Even if it’s been a time of isolation and staying away from meeting people, there’s been a new intentionality in relationships. Where our busyness kept us from reaching out to each other and having time, people are now connecting digitally, and in some ways relationships are growing deeper because they are chosen rather than circumstantial. This of course doesn’t help those who have no-one, but maybe the awareness of the importance of “seeing” each other and being “seen” ourselves, will cause us to see those who are unseen more as our paths cross theirs again. And maybe the lack of interaction will cause us to value each other even more when we can meet. And instead of sitting together staring at our phones, we will look at each other, and appreciate the person in front of us.
Simplicity. Life has become less cluttered. For many it has practically meant time to tidy and sort and declutter their homes (there were long queues when our recycling stations reopened), but I think it’s also an opportunity to declutter in other ways. I don’t want life to become too busy and stressful again, and so I want to use the gift of this time to look at life and decide. Decide what I want to pick up again and include in the after, what I want to take with me from this time, and what I want to leave as part of the before. I think part of keeping life simple is about focusing on the now. We can’t change what has been, and we don’t know what lies ahead, so there is a value in looking for the good in today, and appreciating what we do have. And when we only have to focus on now, it becomes less complicated.
Finding life in living. I watched a film some years ago called “About Time”. Basically the main character could travel back in time, and live each day again (a bit weird I know, but it’s a lovely film). Anyway, he would live one day, and then re-live it and be intentional about smiling at the person he passed on the street, and taking time to encourage his friend, and thank the cashier at the supermarket. But then he stopped re-living the days, and decided to be intentional and live the day fully from the start. All that to say that there is life in living, and life in being present instead of constantly looking and longing for something yet to come. (Although dreaming and longing and looking ahead is also a great source of life, as long as it doesn’t steal the capacity to live right now).
So I suppose the answer to the question I was asked is still: “Yes, I think it will go over, but I hope and think it will be different.” I know it will be different because we have been changed by this time. And I hope that the after will be marked by a greater value on relationships, and using time differently. That we will create rhythms in our lives where we live from a place of rest, so that everything we live and do is done from a place of having capacity to be intentional, and to value the little things in the now. And I hope that the after includes fellowship where we can sit close together, and be able to give a hug to express that we care for someone or to bring comfort, and be able to shake someone’s hand in greeting and validation.
The sun is shining on my veranda, with spring flowers bringing colour against the newly painted floor. I just finished a lovely cup of Earl Grey, and I am about to move the table in my kitchen to make space for a session of BodyCombat with the assistance of YouTube. It is a surreal and strange time, and where the media tends to focus on bad news, we always have the invitation to look for beauty and glimpses of good in every season. And so this morning I am thankful for sunshine and Earl Grey, knowing that in a few months or however long, life will be different and there will be an after, but hopefully it will not be the same as before, but better.