They took palms and went out to meet Him

Hosanna, Lord save us,

Hosanna, our Savior

Burress McCombe, “Hosanna, Lord Save Us”

Photo by Syd Sujuaan on Unsplash

Everything’s a touchy subject these days, right?  Which is why we can unite in collectively laughing at a giant boat stuck in the Suez Canal, because it’s a relief to fixate on something that isn’t actively hurting anyone.  

Clumsy and non-life-threatening maritime disasters aside, though, we’re learning to tread carefully on many subjects so as to preserve precious friendships.  

This is good for us.

Relationship is like the Suez, and you can’t go in there jerking the wheel around and expect to sail smoothly.

We can agree giant boats aren’t supposed to be stuck in canals.  

We can pretty much agree we don’t like covid.

We can probably agree that this lamb named Oreo is adorable.

Surely we can agree the world isn’t as it should be.

It seems obvious to me that *I* am not as I should be.  And you are not as you should be.

Jeddy helping Caleb with his math

So, in a way, is it good for me to be enveloped with events that put me in the exhausting state of unceasing yearning?

Jeddy, Caleb, Ada working hard

Currently—I know this is a controversial stance—I am yearning for my covid vaccine.

Lizzy working hard

In past seasons, I have yearned to go off to college; for my wedding day to arrive; for my babies to be born; to move into new houses; for vacations; over and over for school breaks.  I have yearned for restored health, both mine and my kids’; for restored relationships; for the end of various challenging stages of child rearing (ahem, potty training).  Every year I yearn for spring to arrive.  

Buck working hard

Yearning is exhausting.  It is consuming.  Sometimes I feel it in the pit of my stomach.  And these are for things that will last, what, 80 years, max, in the grand scheme of things?  Or less, if it’s the arrival of spring break I’m waiting for.

What if God gave me a season of pleasant, easy relationships, good health all around, a spiffy house, and a vacation with charming children?  For how long would I be satisfied?

Ada felted me a penguin!

Being made by the finger of God in the image of God, I wouldn’t be satisfied.  Because I wasn’t made for a world with merely functioning bodies and the ebb and flow of novel things that never quite hit the mark. The best moments of my life, in fact, are bittersweet and arouse some of my heart’s deepest longings.  The better the vacation, the more bitter the departure.  Good times make me desperate to hold onto them, to savor the moment, because we know they are fleeting.  Even in the greatest moment of my life, I spoke of my inevitable demise:  til death do us part.

We are perpetually either longing for better or longing to hold on to the good.

And she made me garden signs!

I am convinced that God gives us these painful seasons of longing to hone our desire for that land where the cries of our heart will be answered.

The kids and I checked out the local school’s playground, which we’ve never been to, despite living next to it for six years.

I have big plans for after I’m vaccinated.  I’m going to go back to my favorite thrift store and touch all the things.  I’m going to reunite with neglected friends.  I’m going to switch from my N95 to pretty masks that coordinate with my outfit.  I’m going to hug my mom.

But one day, in 80 years or less, I’m gonna see the hand that took the nails for me.  One day, I’ll take a walk with Jesus.*  I will see Him—He of Whom the prophets wrote, He on Whom all the hopes of God’s people past, present and future rest, the One they correctly identified on Palm Sunday as the hope of nations.

I’ll be with the saints without having to tiptoe around offensive subjects. 

It won’t get old, it won’t get worn out, it won’t give way to a different set of problems.

It won’t be fleeting, but it will last.  The world will be as it should be.  *I* will be as I should be.  My heart will wait, and yearn, and cry out—no more.  

Hosanna—Lord save us.

We will stand as children of the promise;

We will fix our eyes on Him...

We’ll walk by faith and not by sight.

Keith Getty, Kristyn Getty, & Stuart Townend, “By Faith”

*FFH, “One of These Days”; Aaron Shust, “One Day”  

 

 

Endurance

Jason received an invitation to schedule a covid vaccine this week and I can’t decide whether I’m more happy for him or frustrated that I’m left out.  Or if I should take up smoking.  I mean, how many cigarettes do I have to actually finish before I can claim I’m a smoker?  Can I just hold a lit one?

Or if I should just give in to despair and the conviction that I’ll never get an invitation and the whole world is moving on without me.  

I haven’t been this anxious for an invitation since high school prom season.   

God appointed a worm when dawn came the next day and it attacked the plant and it withered.  When the sun came up God appointed a scorching east wind, and the sun beat down on Jonah’s head so that he became faint...”

Jonah 4:7-8

You speak as one of the foolish women speaks.  Shall we indeed accept good from God and not accept adversity?

Job 2:10

Do not despise the discipline of the Almighty.

Job 5:17

Consider it all joy, my brethren, when you encounter various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance.

James 1:2-3

Pros and cons

Jason gets disproportionately excited about St. Patrick’s Day every year, so I’m observing the occasion by cooking ostensibly Irish dishes all week.  Corned beef and cabbage did remind me that the Irish are primarily known in culinary circles for their famines, but on shepherd’s pie night I had to admit the Irish have given a great gift to the world.  Although if you subtract potatoes from Irish cuisine...well, I can see why they all moved overseas when that happened.

Dear handsome Israel.

When we visited dear friends of a numerous household last week, I intended to bring them asparagus with the gigantic casserole I offered to a sickly pregnant mama, but my food box didn’t arrive in time.  It came two days later, with enough to feed a horde, so we’ve been eating extra green veggies this week—“spagaragus” with every meal, as Caleb says.  His amusing pronunciation led Jeddy to also tease him about how he says “electricery” (as in, “The electricery went out”), although I had to point out, in fairness, that not only did Jeddy pronounce it “ekeltricity,” but for years called the stuff you eat with a spoon “yogret,” leading all his younger siblings to do the same.

Anyhoo, our numerous-family friends having suffered through a documented bout of covid already this year (not recommended while pregnant, I hear), we figure they’re safe enough now to hang out with, especially outdoors.  Which is where we all want to be when there’s nice weather, and horses, and puppies, and hiking, and big sticks, and friends.

A number of our family members, if not our peers, have gotten vaccinated.  Meanwhile we wait, with varying levels of patience, for our turn.  After 370 days, our thoughts can reasonably contemplate a functional end of covid on the horizon.

And as much as I grouse about being last in line for the coveted shot, in my more honest moments, it occurs to me that the end of the pandemic will be a mixed bag.

Namely, I’ll have to change out of my quarantine pants back into (ugh!) jeans.  And I’ll have to drive places.

Jeddy, in complete and utter control of the horse upon which he’s riding, definitely purposely veering way off the path.

On the other hand, I’ll get to see various loved ones I’ve been missing for a year.  And I can go shopping, and actually buy clothes, not that shopping is my favorite thing, but at some point, even staying home, clothes do wear thin and get holes and when was the last time I bought new underwear? 🤔

Jeddy, still in complete control of the horse, which is now wandering off into the woods.

...and is now wading into a pond...just as Jeddy told it to.

Sadly, we’ll have to reintroduce the stress of actually making decisions about what potential events to attend, since everything under the sun will be back on the table.

But, the fear of proximity to other humans will subside, which will make necessary things like grocery shopping less stressful, and fun things like...whatever we used to do for fun....emotionally manageable.

On the other hand again:  no more free pass for failing at things.  Like not being a slob—getting dressed—being productive—logging obscene amounts of screen time for every member of the family—losing touch with friends and family.  Expectations for doing life will probably rise above zero at some point.  And we won’t be able to keep putting off those annoying things like non-urgent medical appointments or in-person tutoring.

Maybe, maybe, the end of covid will mean one less subject of political divisiveness?  That would be nice.  The kids could go back to Bible study and youth group and Sunday school.  I’ll have a less frustrated teenager on my back.  

But the exhaustion of doing things.  Just the thought is overwhelming.  Where did I get the energy to Do Things before?  Sitting under a fuzzy blanket in fuzzy pants is enough to send me yawning off to bed at 9pm.

But hugs!  We can give, and receive hugs.  And have real birthday parties.

But social anxiety.  I’ll have to talk to people!  And exercise my social skills, which were unexceptional even before atrophying for over a year.

On the other hand, at least there (eventually) won’t be the awkward dance of trying to distance from people who aren’t trying to distance from you, or not knowing what rules the other person is following in any given situation.

Regrettably, after covid I’ll have to find something new to complain about.

Oh, but the end will also alleviate the untold financial, mental, and physical suffering of millions.  

Yes, all things considered, I guess I’ll continue to pray for the end of the pandemic to come.  

And maybe a miracle for my regressed social skills.