During a time when social distancing has been extended, perhaps indefinitely, due to the worldwide outbreak of the novel coronavirus, we find ourselves choosing to hunker down for the sake of ourselves and our communities. Facing newly allocated mandates of time at home, our nation (and perhaps the world at large) finds we finally have time to begin to clean house.
Old keepsakes are pulled out of the attic and sorted into “keep”, “toss”, and “throw.” Floors are swept and mopped. Overgrown lawns are mowed. Even the weeds in the garden have been dug out upon our discovery that our confinement will not be something which lasts merely weeks, but more likely months, if we are realistic about the crisis we’re facing.
We have been instructed by our government to remain indoors, with ourselves, our family members, and our housemates, in order to quell the numbers of people affected by the novel coronavirus. We do this with the hope that the numbers of those to whom the disease is transmitted will begin to dwindle; with the hope that the tenacious virus will die out. We find ourselves anxiously watching news reports and downloading meditation apps. For some of us with young children at home, life is much the same as it was. For others, every aspect of our lives has changed. Many have lost their jobs, let go in the face of the uncertain economy. Some are sick and facing the uncertainty of an intelligent disease. Most remain home, battling the desire to return to places and spaces not yet open for business, and the relationships we share with other people, which make us feel seen, known, and alive.
While we are “stuck” inside homeschooling our kids or working from home, looking for work or working out, I believe we are faced with an opportunity to clean house. And this is no simple “tidying up.”
This is an invitation to move into the deeper conversations of life, where we sit down with the people who live in our homes, our most intimate arenas. We now have time to engage those from whom we often hide behind the screens of our smartphones. This is a time to engage in the hidden things, the most difficult areas, the parts of our relationships we normally choose to disengage from. In the midst of this crisis, we are presented with an opportunity to actually see our families, our friends, and the people with whom we live, and engage them with love amidst the currents of deep fear and anxiety which currently blow over our society, and our world.
There are two realities we are faced with, and they run concurrently. There is fear, the ever-present adversary, which seems like it is winning at times like this. There is love, which is quieter, more subtle, and yet, always more potent and truth-telling.
Love is uncomfortable. Love calls out hurt and pain. Love invokes us to tell the truth in kindness and honesty. Love challenges us to ask for what we need and what we desire. To reach out to others when they present to us their disappointment and hope deferred. Despite everything that has happened, love inspires us to say, “I see you, and I am here.” Even if we don’t know the answer, or don’t know how to resolve the problem, love engages the needs of our selves and the needs of others, truthfully.
As a former anxiety sufferer, I have found myself faced with feelings of dread and impending doom as of late, as we face this world-wide health crisis. All the CBT (Cognitive Behavioral Therapy) in the world cannot contain or shut down the anxiety which permeates the news casts and the reality of a virus which is beyond anyone’s control. I have found myself tempted to spiral down into fear, as many of my coping mechanisms, such as swimming at the gym or sharing weekly meals with friends, have been stripped away. Life has changed. Life is hard-er than usual. The future is uncertain.
Having recently relocated from Seattle, Washington, back to my native SF Bay Area after graduate school, much of my life had already changed. I left behind a community, a church, a grad school, and a neighborhood; essentially a life, built over three and a half years. I made the best decision I could with the information I had, and when a lucrative role refused to present itself in Washington, I chose to move in with my parents for the short term while I figured things out in the long.
What I did not know upon making this decision was that a month after I moved out of my apartment and in with my folks two states south, the job market would shift drastically. Nor was I aware that movement around our state and our cities would be greatly limited, and people would begin dying from a virus beyond anyone’s control. These circumstances are anxiety-inducing, for sure.
What is not in my control is this virus none of us saw coming. What is not in my control is what the government chooses to do about it, or whether it will impact someone I love. What is in my control is continuing to do the work I know I am created to do, which is to bring hope and light to people through my words and artwork. What is in my control to do is partner with the words God has spoken over me. What is in my control is the decision to engage with the people who live in my home, despite past hurt, or pain, or misunderstanding. What is in my control is to continue to put myself in the way of beauty every single day, and to continue to hope for that which I do not see even when I find myself surrounded by the threat of darkness.
We are all surrounded by despair and uncertainty during these times, but I challenge us to engage the light. What would happen, if instead of simply channeling our nervous energy into sweeping and cutting and organizing, we actually sit down with those we loved and engaged the things we so often sweep “under the rugs” of our emotional lives? We can disengage, or we can engage. We can’t control what goes on in the world, but we can impact what goes on in our own homes. We can choose to be vulnerable, when we’d rather isolate. We can choose to reveal rather than hide. We can choose to laugh amidst the imperfection. We can choose to take a breath when surrounded by fear. We can choose to meet the other with honesty and love. Maybe, house-ridden citizens, it’s time to clean.