I Never Planned on This

It has been twelve days since this song came on and I pulled over in my car and wept. It had begun to sink in that life was going to get hard and I would not be able to fix it. Nothing I could say or do would change this for me or anyone else.

This is the wilderness, Greg Meyer reminded us of this week. And by wilderness he didn’t mean the kind with campfires and s’mores. This is that wilderness place where we are tested. That one that feels awful and we don’t know who we are or what we are doing anymore. We are off balance. Everything feels wobbly. (I love the salty language Brene Brown gives these “FFTs” as she calls them in her new, well-timed podcast!)

We didn’t plan to go here to this wilderness. But here we are. Here I am. And right here, as wobbly as it is, is turning out to be surprisingly okay. Even potent. Even good. Sometimes. What does it mean to be here?

First, being here means seeing and naming what sucks: my disappointment about the cancelled trips, family graduations, March Madness and my son’s baseball season; my struggle to know how to parent in this and my constant low burn worry for our own parents; my sense of regret and responsibility around the cracks being exposed in the “normal” that it is so tempting to want to go back to. It worked pretty “great” for me, after all. Or did it? If others have to lose so that I can win, is that really a win? I didn’t know that I could be this blind. Who was I to think I could fix it all or that I had any answers? But hold on…

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Melissa’s latest sketch of her circle of influence versus the stuff outside it that she can’t control.

Being here also means asking and naming what I can control (and what I can’t). I had a moment to wrestle with that distinction for myself this week with my Fabric Group of women. We each drew our circles and held them up to the camera over zoom. All these dear-to-me, amazing women were also struggling with the complete discombobulation, disappointment and fear of this Covid-19 moment. And they were all finding ways to show up for themselves and others with courage, delight and kindness.

Staying present to both the impotency and the power in and around me has been my practice this week. That word practice is important. I have wobbled, a lot, but I have tried. And I keep trying because being here means realizing that I am not alone. My women’s group, my family, friends and neighbors this week have all reminded me that I am not wobbling through this wilderness alone. Within us and between us is something steady, unchanging and true. I think this might be what God is. And I believe we can bring each other back to it by being together right here where we are.

So here I am. Realizing for a holy moment at least, that it was never about me fixing the world or even myself. It is about us, together, right here, holding on to the plumb line.

The Plumb Line by Carrie Newcomer The Point of Arrival

Thanks to Carrie Newcomer for your music and work with Parker J, Palmer. Thank you Brene Brown for the FFT naming! Thank you Fabric Minneapolis for people and conversations that matter!