The things we’ve learned

Asynchronous vs. synchronous, virtual learning, online school, social distance, contact-traced, covid positive, quarantine … These are just a few examples of words we have added to our vocabulary this year. At the beginning of March 2020, I had never said or even thought about any of these words. They did not impact my daily life in any way, shape, or form. In fact, I didn’t even know they were actual words. But now? Well now, life ebbs and flows with the rhythm of these words. And I’m kinda over it.

And no, this is not a post complaining about how long this pandemic has lasted or all of the ways it has impacted our lives. I wrote that one first and deleted it because I’d like you to all stick around. And you already know that. You know that it’s been a hard and complicated year. You know that normal feels far away and even as we try to edge our way out of this thing nothing feels like it used to. And you know that our lives have forever been altered by these days. No, this is a post about what to do with the broken things this year has handed us. Way more exciting, right? Hang with me and I promise you’ll be encouraged.

Look, I feel like I am living Ground Hog Day here again as we have been contact- traced and quarantined to our house, yet again. See, I even used all of my new vocabulary words in the same sentence. Be impressed. My kids have been in virtual school for the past two days, and I haven’t driven my car or used my hairdryer in a week. Weren’t we doing this exact same thing this week last year? Have we gone nowhere?

And once again the wi-fi is broken. Cue the screaming.“Mom! I got kicked out of my class! Mom! Can you fix it?!”

This has been a year full of broken things. So many things for all of us. And no matter what we do, we can’t fix or retrieve or get back any of it for our kids or for ourselves. And in the circular motion of it all, I am unsure of how to move forward.

As a mom, I am hardwired to fix things. It’s in my job description: And she will fix remote control cars that crash into trees, Lego men with broken heads, and stuffed animals who lose their limbs. She will clean up shards of glass at the speed of lightning and patch holes in any wall. And they will call her mother of boys.

Because such is life. Things break. And you’d think that after all of these years I would be used to it. But the breaking still undoes me. Especially in a year where it seems to be relentless. We are all tired of trying to fix broken things, or set right sad days, or overcome heartbreak at canceled events. We are tired of smiling and acting like it will all be ok when we don’t know if that is true or not.

And, I am the one in charge. Armed with superglue, Lysol wipes, and hand sanitizer my hope is built on nothing less than my ability to put all things back together again and keep a smile on everyone’s face.

But this year? Well, it has stolen my fixing super-power, and I’m not quite sure how to get it back.

“The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God you will not despise.” David’s words from the book of Psalms whisper in the back of my head as if to challenge my despair. Does God require me to always be able to fix what is broken?

A boy calls for me in the other room, “Mom! Mom! The wheel came off my chair!“

And I hear another Old Testament verse wind its way through my brain. “Rend your hearts; not your garments. Return to the Lord your God, for he is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.“

And rend is a strange word. It means to break and to tear apart. Broken hearts? Broken spirits? I don’t want to give God broken things. I don’t want to come before my Creator with evidence of things gone wrong. I want to show him the good, the shiny, the display of how amazing I am at holding things together.

I follow the voice of the agitated child. He’s leaned too far back and busted the wheel off his chair. I help him up, and he simply hands me all the broken pieces of the chair.

Like that. Jesus whispers over the chaos of the synchronous 6th grade math class playing out on the computer. Hand it over just like that. Your broken heart, your broken day, your busted up choices and confusion. Lift it up and let me see it. Seek me. Ask me. A Savior is what you need not your own strength.

“Those who cling to worthless idols forfeit the grace that could be theirs.” (Jonah 2:8). I might be able to fix the broken chair, but I am not the fixer of all the things. And neither are you. What if we could learn that grace is found when we simply loosen our grip and hand over what is broken? What if we could trust that Jesus can handle it?

We might be shocked at how life is much better lived broken in his presence than perfectly held together and hidden in the shadows.

Eugene Peterson writes in his book Leap Over a Wall, “There is nothing. Absolutely nothing that God can’t and doesn’t use to work his salvation and holiness into our lives.”

Even a whole year full of broken things. Making things new is what the Lord does best of all; he is in the business of redeeming. But, we have to be willing to hand it all over. It might be the best lesson this year of asynchronous, contact- traced, quarantined, socially-distanced living has taught me. I am not required to fix it all. And neither are you.

I don’t know what good God will bring from this year of hardship. I don’t know what redemption will look like in the end. But I believe with all my heart that it will all be set right.

After I fix the boy’s chair and set him back up at the computer, his teacher sees him reappear on the screen and says, “Well, it sure is good you know what to do when you break your chair, Wesley. Glad you have someone there to help you fix it. Good job, mom!”

Yeah. It’s good to know who to call on when things break and we start to lose our balance.

“I cried out, “I’m slipping!” but your unfailing love, O Lord, supported me. When doubts filled my mind your comfort gave me renewed hope and joy” (Psalm 94:18-19).

So, good job, moms. Good job, dads. Good job, people who have gotten up and done hard things every single day of this weird year. We have survived over 365 days of walking through the unknown. May we keep going. And may we learn who to call on when we start to slip. His unfailing love will indeed hold us up and renew our hope and our joy again, every morning.

“And God is able to make every grace abound to you, so that in all things, at all times having everything you need, you will abound in every good work” (2 Corinthians 9:8).