What Was To What Is

When the coronavirus spread like wildfire around the world, communities were quarantined, people advised to stay home, and travel restrictions quickly became the most practical solution to mitigate the havoc it has caused thus far. In one fell swoop, Covid-19 held hostage an important facet of our lives: freedom.

I missed my friends and some of my colleagues during the first few days of this lockdown. I missed hugs, impromptu coffee dates, and Sunday brunches; but I quickly got over that. I'm really not much of a social butterfly. I can go for months without attending a single party or get-together. I don't mind being by myself to read a book, write, binge-watch TV shows, or catch up on movies I haven't seen. I don't even mind that plans need to be put on hold; such is life. But I do mind that I can't do certain things whenever I want and could no longer come and go as I please to wherever I choose: the beach, the mountains, the woods, or even a quick walk to the river.

This crisis has certainly given me a deeper appreciation for the liberties I used to enjoy. But as much as we mourn the normal that we've gotten used to, maybe we should also learn to be thankful for the normal we now have. Gratitude, we've often heard said, is an attitude that puts us in a state of contentment, a humble stance that acknowledges everything we have is a gift from a generous God who did not begrudge us His own Son so we could have a hope and a future.

But a thankful heart is not always our default. I needed to go down a dark and treacherous valley to discover that about myself. Prior to my move to New York, I had a comfortable and sheltered existence, by God's grace. When you live in abundance (or when the world is not threatened by a silent killer) it's easy to be thankful. But there's also a danger of taking things for granted. And if it were not for a particularly difficult season that taught me to cherish all that I've been given without holding on too tightly to temporary things like money, status, job security, or even certain relationships, I would've persisted in the error of my ways and be none the wiser. But God intervened and showed me the real condition of my heart (and He's doing the same thing to all of us during this critical period).

For an entire year, a decade and a half ago, I struggled to find something to be thankful for. When you're barely making ends meet and are in constant fear of losing your job, disappointing your family, and having your dream crushed before your very eyes, you only see stormy, threatening clouds. You look for silver linings but none could be found. You want to be grateful for your life but can't because you simply want out: out of the despair that terrorizes your days, the anxieties that plague your nights, and the extreme sadness that no one can grasp.

It is, indeed, easy to sing praises, raise our voices in jubilant shouts, and lift our arms in victory when our cupboards are full, our bank account balances are way north of zero, and our health (physical, mental, emotional, and psychological) is not endangered by a crisis of pandemic proportions. In challenging and uncertain times, however, gratitude becomes a choice, a decision we make daily, an intentional act of faith. 

I'd like to say that I breezed through that yearlong turmoil with flying colors. But I was weak and my flesh only felt the paralyzing fear that gripped it. Hope was always there and heaven's light usually shines brightest in those hellish moments. But I didn't see it amidst the tears that won't stop flowing, the desolation that put blinders on my eyes, and the depression that kept me from noticing anything but the hole I was in. Nevertheless, the light was there. It was there for me, especially one fateful night when, in a fit of utter desperation, I renounced God. But it stayed with me, HE stayed with me, until I saw HIM shine through my pain, my anger, my hopelessness. And no matter how dire the circumstances: the loss of a job, a loved one, or suffering from the effects of the virus, God is faithful and He is for us. And even if that's the only thing we have, the only thing we can hold, we can be grateful.

We could bemoan the fact that we now have to think twice before we go outside and have to maximize our time to reduce our risk of exposure to the virus. But if we choose to focus on WHAT WAS, we would miss the delights of WHAT IS: a lesser workload, more occasions to rest, study God's word and linger in His presence, and more opportunities to learn new skills and hone the ones we possess. The things we take for granted this season, might be the same ones we'll long for when all this is over. Then our lives would be a constant cycle of pining for things we lost rather than celebrating the ones we have.

A sense of nostalgia for our joys a few months ago is understandable. But let's not forget that though we miss certain things, we still have the ones that really matter. It varies for each of us but here are some of mine: sisters who send me funny, adorable, and sweet videos of my niece and nephews because they know that would make my day, parents who check up on me and make sure that I'm okay, a fiancé who prays with me, takes time to listen to my musings, and encourages my wild dreams, and a God Who fights my battles, provides, protects, and Whose purposes and will for my life prevails.

Forgive me if I sound too hopeful and if my confessions are not resonating well. For people who are in the thick of it, those battling more than the loss of simple pleasures, these words would ring hollow at best. I wish I could offer more, but right now they're all I have plus a firm belief that the God who parted the Red Sea so His people can cross over unharmed is the same God we serve today. And we can put our trust and hope in Him. It may not appear so, but this too shall pass because God is still in control.

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