Parenting with a Pastor: Sobbing Joy
Well, I had an entire blog post written last night about our second Covid quarantine, the consequences of too much togetherness, and the complete chaos that is our three year old. Said three year old then crawled up beside me and managed to click the one key that deleted the entire post with no hope of retrieval. She’s good, really good.
And now I’m wondering, do I rewrite the same post? Maybe it was Kelsea’s own brand of evil genius, but it could also have been one of those serendipitous moments that the universe throws your way to remind you to laugh. If it’s more the latter than the former (and let’s be honest, it has to be a little bit of the former), then was it God? Does God make the tiny things happen in our lives to send us down new paths? I always have a hard time with that. I know God loves us each. I don’t know if God manipulates tiny things in our individual lives to direct us each into new decisions or paths. So, let's talk about maybes.
Maybe my daughter is an evil genius with a long future of evil geniusness ahead of her. If she is and if she does, than I pray that she uses her evil genius in the same way she did last night, to give people the time to pause, sigh, and then laugh and pick a new way. And maybe God doesn’t make tiny individual things happen in our lives to direct our paths. Maybe God gives us to each other so that we live our lives noticing the things that matter, so that we can choose the path that God laid out in the life of Jesus and live our lives finding joy in the moments of chaos.
Right now, life is a tad more chaotic for most of us and a LOT more chaotic for, well, most of us. But we get to choose how we live through the moments of chaos. I’m not a fan of saying happiness is a choice. I live with depression and anxiety and it is not always a choice for a lot of people. Additionally, there are positions in life where making that choice is easier, like from a position of privilege and financial stability.
So, acknowledging that, I’ll tell you a bit about yesterday morning. I was watching Station 19 (to preface Grey’s Anatomy, because I am that person) and at the end of the episode I was sobbing. Some SPOILER ALERT (everybody feel appropriately warned? Yes? I’ll move on), an incredibly difficult episode full of all of the tragedy that comes with being a first responder in a global pandemic ended with a firefighter saying, “alright, let’s bring the people some joy” (It might not be verbatim, please don’t skewer me) before driving the fire trucks down a street. It was empty at the start, but mask-wearing people came out of their houses and waved signs of support. One said “We have hope”. I saw that and I sobbed shamelessly. My kids got worried. Sure, maybe the sobbing had something to do with quarantine and stress and the fact that I’m a little sick, but that’s not what I told my kids. I said, “they’re joy tears and grief tears. Sometimes, joy and grief come hand in hand. Maybe I’m crying because I see all of the grief and pain that’s happened and yet, people can come out in hope. We pick ourselves and each other up, and we keep hoping. That gives me a whole lot of joy. So, I’m crying because grief and joy.