I am as guilty as anyone of posting only curated photos--choosing the "best" ones for my online presence. On Facebook, I created a photo album for our COVID-19 quarantine pictures, entitled "My House is Mud Pies." I'm trying to be better at showing the daily mess, the surprising moments, more candid photos.
But that photo album--even with its stacks of papers, cluttered countertops, pajama-ed, uncoiffed family members, and literal mud pies--is an
inaccurate portrayal of our quarantine experience.
Because it's not all crafts and projects and unfettered creativity.
Kids are fighting. Homework is, if not left undone, soundly and daily cursed. The computer and the TV are "needed" by all six of us. Motivation is at a low ebb. We miss our friends, our activities, our business out in the world. AND IT KEEPS SNOWING AND RAINING.
In short, along with the fun things we are doing, the games we are playing, the "slowing-down" we
are truly enjoying . . . there is real stress, difficult conflict, and an underlying sense of anxiousness about all the repercussions of this pandemic.
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Home school is Calvin's favorite thing . . .
except for the "school" part. |
Those kinds of things don't make for pretty Facebook posts (also, it would not be fair to my family members to write about or post pictures displaying their worst behaviors) . . . it's hard to strike the right level of transparency on social media: to be real and honest, but to also maintain familial privacy and respect for others.
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| They were NOT excited to shovel snow in April... |
Aside from everything I wrote above, I
want to share what is going
well: what we are doing to stay safe and sane, what the "positives" of quarantine are! So many blessings, which I have either taken for granted or perhaps never even acknowledged, have risen to the top and continue to surprise and delight. I am by nature an optimist, and about 75% of the time, I am feeling happy, safe, peaceful. It makes sense for me to share things that bring me joy or make me laugh. Truly, the goal of most of my Facebook posts (as was the case with this photo of Calvin) is to bring
others joy or make
others laugh.
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I walked into the kitchen to find THIS. Calvin, "roasting" a hot dog
on dishwasher steam. I promise I am feeding my kids. In fact, I feel
like all I do is feed them ALL. DAY. LONG. |
BUT . . . there is still some serious, personal anxiety: a sort of constant, background presence that I don't fully realize I am carrying around. The COVID-19 news has come so thick and fast, like Dolores Umbridge's Educational Decrees--only
not fictional. Most of the time, I don't even realize I am feeling worried, but then it comes in a sudden wave that almost chokes me.
It is a time of widespread concern and very real fear. And though hopeful, uplifting, inspiring stories abound . . . New York City's hospital situation (which is only beginning to replicate itself across the nation) is alarming; it's terrifying. Doctors and caregivers are not immune from either coronavirus or its most feared consequences. There are shortages of necessary supplies, failing global markets, and job loss in every city, state, and country. People are
dying--so many more people than otherwise would.
Am I unintentionally compounding the anxious feelings of others by presenting only a seemingly happy-go-lucky quarantine experience?
I realized the other day that I was having a constant inner dialogue: noticing the blessings and expressing gratitude, and then feeling guilty for simultaneously struggling with worry (not to mention that nefarious, ironic sense of guilt-for-feeling-"blessed"). I caught myself thinking things like, "I am so grateful that Allen still has solid employment . . . but why do I feel my heart pounding so fast?" "I am incredibly glad we live in a small town, in a rural area, with so many close neighbors and friends, but why am I on the verge of tears all the time?" "I am deeply thankful for my healthy kids and our warm, safe, little house, but why are my thoughts racing?"
My stress is a little compounded when I think of quotes like "Fear and faith cannot co-exist in our hearts at the same time" (
Neil L. Andersen, 2008) because it feels like I flip-flop constantly between the two. I have to step back a little and remember that I
really do believe what Elder Andersen declared: my most faith-filled moments
are devoid of fear.
The problem is, I haven't yet mastered the knack of staying fully immersed in
Faithe Moste Deepe.
At the same moment I was having my inner-dialogue-realization-crisis, a very timely thought came to my mind:
"Reverse your but's." It's a pretty homely saying, I admit. It's something I learned from a
John Bytheway talk about strengthening marriage. The example he used has always stuck with me. Instead of saying, "I love you, but you're driving me crazy," you need to
reverse your but and say, "You're driving me crazy . . .
but I love you."
Part of the reason this silly saying has stayed with me (aside from its slightly irreverent bent) is because it appeals to my inner high school English teacher. In a sentence like this, with the conjunction "but" acting as a hinge, the second clause often negates what was said in the first clause. So don't subsume your positive statement with a negative one following it: REVERSE YOUR BUT and let the negative feelings be swallowed up by the positive ones.
I can't even describe how much lighter I felt from receiving this impression. I
immediately felt better when I said to myself,
"My heart is pounding . . . but we have secure employment."
"I feel like crying . . . but I am surrounded by loving friends."
"My thoughts are racing . . . but my children are safe and healthy."
It's a mental exercise, and it's slightly corny, BUT it totally works for me! (See what I did there?)
It turns out that, though a single person
can feel faith or fear from one moment to the next, faith
really can replace fear. My anxious thoughts still intrude, but I try to do what many a counselor recommends: Notice the thought. Maybe even speak it aloud. Let myself recognize that thought as it comes . . . then
let it keep on going. I should not hide from my anxious thoughts or panicky feelings when they loom: I should try to face them head on and recognize them, so that they're
not constantly in the background.
The thing about anxiety is this: I can reverse-my-but's-and-notice-my-thoughts-and-try-to-envision-them-floating-away-like-helium-balloons-and-take-my-St-John's-Wort-every-day-and-employ-sundry-other-helpful-tactics . . . but I am not left to only
my own devices. I can have additional, divine help to deal with these very real challenges--that help comes from my Savior, through His atoning sacrifice.
The biggest and best faith-filled event of the year (one of two, actually) concluded yesterday: the annual
General Conference of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Every message was centered in and focused on our Savior, Jesus Christ. Though the pandemic was mentioned and its challenges were compassionately and soberly acknowledged--it was NOT the focus of the conference. Because, I realized as I listened, the focus was on solutions to trials--never the trials themselves. And so, things like scripture study and temple service and recording spiritual events and personal revelation and the power of hope were (just a few of!) the subjects that speakers addressed.
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| Being together in one room for two days? That's nothing We've been doing it for three weeks... |
Acting on promptings I received in conference, and acting on promptings I receive daily (including the simple, silly thought to "reverse my but's") are the
best ways to draw upon the Savior's healing, soothing power. He wants me to feel peace--he assures me my heart can be untroubled.
Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid. (John 14:27)
President Nelson asked members of our church to have another day of worldwide fasting on Good Friday, April 10th. I loved when he said this day of united faith has potential to be "the BEST Friday."
One theme I saw in this general conference was the theme of continuing revelation--both personal and for the church as a whole. Following my own personal thoughts, to shift my inner dialogue and even to share how I am trying to manage my conflicting feelings here on my blog, is evidence that the heavens are not closed. The Holy Spirit can speak to
all of us. And following the prophet's counsel to unitedly fast in faith is another witness that God will lead His children on the earth--through His prophets.
Life is never easy--especially not right now.
But revelation, acted upon,
always brings peace.
