At the end of last week, I patted myself on the back for surviving. I managed to teach my children a few things, work got done, everyone was fed, I learned to make sourdough bread, and I even got some exercise. It was a good week—hard but good.
This week has been the opposite. On Monday, our Governor, Jay Inslee, invoked a Stay at Home order that begins tonight. Yesterday, the parks in the City of Puyallup were closed. Then last night, Bishop Elaine Stanovsky sent a letter to the Greater Northwest Episcopal Area saying that she was suspending all in-person worship through April 30th. This is all on top of some unexpected personal items, hyper children, and everyday struggles. Because of all these things, I feel overwhelmed.
Lenten disciplines like fasting help us to discover discipline and reduce our sense of being overwhelmed in the modern world. Because I am in the high risk category for COVID-19, rather than simply fasting from bread as I anticipated, I feel like I’ve given up my community, my ability to go to the store whenever I want, to help out friends in need, and my instinctual pastoral skills. When I can no longer rely on these everyday things, I begin to feel like I’ve lost my anchor.
One of my spiritual practices that I’ve continued during this season of social isolation is my daily morning walk. Some times I will listen to the news, a podcast, or an audio book while a circle my neighborhood. One day last week, I decided instead to listen to my playlist of Taize music. At the top of the playlist is a piece of music that is not from Taize at all. It was written by Marty Haugen and is called “Shepherd Me, O God.” The song is based on Psalm 23 and the chorus goes like this:
Shepherd me, O God
beyond my wants,
beyond my fears,
from death into life
Since that day, I’ve listen to this song hundreds of times as it reminds me that God is with me even though I walk through the darkest valley. Even in the midst of the chaos and uncertainty of this pandemic, God is guiding me along the “quiet waters of peace”. These words bring a sense of reassurance. A sense that I am not alone. A sense of being anchored to something larger than myself.
If you are feeling overwhelmed, lonely, unanchored, or like you are blowing in the wind, I invite you to pray the Psalms with me either in written poems found in Scripture or in song. The psalms are a natural place for us to turn to when life gets complicated. You may even challenge yourself to learn a Psalm, that speaks to you, by heart!
May you find yourself besides still waters this week.
Peace,
Pastor Cara