Most years on Palm Sunday I go to church at home with my family and we walk a few blocks with our branches with neighboring churches and hear a message outside. I spend the weekend with my family. Sometimes we dye Easter eggs, and it's usually just beginning to warm up outside, so sometimes we have a fire outside or we grill and eat outside. Even the years I have missed Palm Sunday at home, I participated in whatever my local church was doing and then went home the following weekend for Easter. There has been exactly one Sunday in my entire life I was not with my family for Easter church, and it was because I had to work, so I drove straight from work to our family dinner. I still got to wear my Easter dress, and see my little cousins, and hug my parents, and rejoice with family.
This year, it's 4:25 on Palm Sunday and I haven't taken a shower. I'm not wearing makeup. I haven't worn anything besides leggings at home in days. I haven't been to church in three weeks, I've been watching online. I haven't seen my best friends in several weeks. I've been having more time in my bible than ever - but I can't tell you it's because I'm dedicated, it's because I just can't do anything else. I've finished two puzzles, and I think I've watched every episode of Fixer Upper that has ever aired. I can't see my friends, or attend events, or plan anything. Because I'm supposed to stay away from people. Next Sunday, for the first time in my life, I won't see my family on Easter. I definitely could drive an hour to my parent's house, but I don't want to risk it. Watching Easter service online in my apartment just won't have the same feel to it.
Last year around this time, after much prayer, I realized God was calling me back to Manhattan, Kansas, for a job (much to my despair). I never wanted to live in Kansas, but I knew this is where He wanted me. When I officially accepted the job, I was amped. I might be biased, but Manhattan is an exciting place almost all year round. There's the excitement of a new semester each fall, interspersed with tailgating and football, there's the snow and ice where the college students take advantage of dining hall trays and the hills, and there's days like today - some of the first warm spring days where people can, basically, come out of hibernation. It doesn't matter if the students are studying or not studying, they are outside. Games of frisbee are going in the quad and in any open space campus has, there are hammocks in every tree, people laying on blankets in the sun, and of course, the few brave souls who get out their toddler sized inflatable pool and drink PBR in their front yards, just begging summer to come as quickly as it can. The sonic drive through line is wrapped around the building. In a town the size of Manhattan, whatever vibe the students have seems to give way to the rest of the town, mostly because they basically are the town.
Today I went running around City Park, which is usually packed on a Sunday in the spring. I passed many runners and bikers, but few people in groups. The baseball fields were empty. The frat house across the street that usually has students pouring out of it was vacant. There were places to park in Aggieville. Like something I had never seen before, truly. With all that, a haze hung in the air from the burning of nearby fields - so even though the sun was out, it just didn't seem quite as bright. There are only two times that Manhattan smells like fire (or we hope) and it's during the burning of the fields in the spring, and during tailgate season. Both are very good things. But today, it seemed empty.
Manhattan, a city that usually is filled to the brim with people, seems like bones. It feels desolate and sad right now. There is no sitting and socializing on the patio at Lucha now that it's warm, or hanging out at Tuttle for a fire, or going to a friend's party on a warm evening. There is only leaving the house to grocery shop, and for some, work. There is no sitting outside at Bluestem enjoying coffee on a warm day, or enjoying the view and sunshine on Manhattan hill. There is wearing masks, and there is lots and lots of avoiding people. I was at the grocery store yesterday where people were wearing masks. No one talked except the workers. There are markers in the checkout lines to show how close you can stand to people. Essentials like bread and milk, and hand soaps, sanitizers, and cleaners, have signs on their aisles limiting so many per customer - which doesn't matter because so many of those shelves are empty anyway.
I have felt stressed about my future many times in my life, partly because I have anxiety, and partly because I'm human. Whether or not I would get into OT school, my fieldwork plans, friends or family who were very sick, etc. Never, until this week, have I had to wonder if there will be groceries at the store the next time I need them. Never has my mom had to remind me that everything will be fine from the respect of having enough food. I'm experiencing stress about my job for the first time in my life (or in the 8 months I've been a working adult), knowing how many of my kids are absent right now with the current county stay at home orders, and how that affects our clinic. I then stress about my certain kiddos I know who NEED school and therapy because of the positive relationships, structure, learning, and good examples of adults it allows them to have - not all kids have that at home. I see weddings being cancelled and moved, and I hear about funerals that have 3 people in attendance because of the social distancing. I wonder to myself over and over, where is God in this? Not only is He calling me to trust him with the unknown, which I have had plenty of in life, but He is calling me to trust him that the grocery stores will be stocked, He will watch out for the health of those I love (even if it's not in the way I want) and He's got this.... right?
Running through the haze today reminded me of one of our trips to Hong Kong where we had the opportunity to visit the Sik Sik Wong Sai Tin temple. I remember a haze that day, too. Part of it might have been sweat, as it was about 100 degrees with about 110% humidity and overcast, but a lot of that haze was just a darkness I can't explain. It was like the second you entered the temple the darkness just wrapped itself around you. We stayed respectful of those around us worshipping and tried not to talk too much or ask offensive questions, but the whole time I just kept thinking People worship like this? This is exhausting. It feels so empty. And then I went to I am so glad my God does not work like this.
Although all the elements of spring are out in Manhattan, the contagious joy that comes from having people out and about after being cold for so many months just isn't. The haze that fills the air is literal from the smoke and figurative from the lack of people, and those that are out, cannot be near each other. In this difficult time, I have to wonder how this feeling compares (it doesn't, I know) to how Jesus' followers must have felt between Good Friday and Easter. Did they look at the statistics? The reports from local epidemiologists and physicians? Did they look at the curve, or the death toll, or what history said about every person who had died before them? Did they doubt? Did they feel lost with no idea where to even go from there? The fear of the unknown has gotten to me these last few days and it has taken A LOT for me to continue to stay in the word and trusting that God will take care of this - especially not being around others. This has, unintentionally, been the "realest" Lent of my life, and I didn't even give anything up - or I didn't plan to. But I've given up so many things and spent so much more time with my bible and journal, which I'm sure is exactly how God intended.
One cool thing I have enjoyed watching over the last few weeks is the way that people have used technology to not allow these circumstances to steal the joy. Watching church online and being able to comment. Group facetiming with my friends. Having a virtual happy hour via Facetime with my family last weekend. More than that, the time to do things I generally wouldn't do near as much of - read my bible, enjoy time outside, catch up with my long distance friends.
Next weekend will be the first Easter in my life I haven't seen my family, worn an Easter dress, held my newest baby cousin, or had pie. I might watch church in my pajamas. I definitely won't wear makeup, and I will likely be alone. Thankfully, I am being humbled and realizing that doesn't matter. Even more thankfully, I have (with much discipline and prayer over my doubt) the greatest Hope in the world that the haze will, eventually, lift.
