I was talking to a work colleague recently about the cultural moment we find ourselves in, yes, but also the personal moment many of us are willing to admit we are experiencing: one of endurance...occasionally coupled with hope.
This past September, the San Francisco church I am a member at hosted a space to connect with God and one another, a conference called Encountering God. The guest speaker flew in from Melbourne, Australia, and as he faced hundreds of driven San Francisco Bay Area-ites following Jesus in one of the most liberal of cities, he made an admission.
"You look tired," he confessed. No, correction, the word he used was exhausted. From the moment he got off the plane, he admitted, he could see clearly the exhaustion so many are facing.
When I think about people I know: colleagues, friends, family members, neighbors, brothers and sisters in Christ, there are any number of challenges people are facing. Those I am in relationship with are caring for elderly parents, navigating health challenges, grieving losses, addressing trauma in therapy, dealing with unemployment, navigating modern dating...the list of challenges being faced is a long one. All of this, coming out of the social isolation and stressors of the COVID-19 pandemic. And all of that on top of the divisive political climate and impending change of administration that the United States is facing. It's no wonder that a colleague of mine has some stomach issues he has been navigating the last several months. Stress and exhaustion has a way of wearing ones body and spirit down.
It has not been the easiest season of my life, either. Rather one of the hardest, I'd say. The past two years have consisted of losing the man I believed to be my soulmate, grieving his loss, having surgery, navigating family health issues, and seeking employment as the center I have worked at for the past four and a half years reduced my position to half time. This season of life has been exhausting, to be honest.
As I move my body towards the second anniversary of the death of the man I believed to be a soulmate, I have learned to do incredibly hard things. Losing him was not a lesson I wanted, but rather one I was in denial of, resisted, fought against, and finally, accepted. I have embraced the acceptance of the fact my beloved is whole and alive, but alas, not in this world.
I don't know about most of us, but I don't like suffering or building endurance. I didn't want to embrace the grief and mourning I got hurtled into two years ago. I wouldn't wish the pain of grieving someone you are deeply connected to on anyone. And yet, I realized talking to a good friend of mine, that I feel...exhausted, yes, but also stronger than I have ever been in my life.
I survived the very worst of what life had to throw at me, and have allowed my heart to remain open to joy, and to love. It has taken time, grief groups, healing, wrestling with God, laps swum, tears cried, and more prayer than I'll fully know this side of heaven. But I am beginning to feel like I am coming through.
My body is strong, my blood pressure is steady, my heart is healing. And I am seeing God move. And the miraculous thing, is that I could have become bitter and sour and defeated and stayed there. No one would have blamed me. But in partnering with beloved community, keeping up a steady exercise regime, and facing what has come with the tenacity and the grit and joy the Spirit put in me...more life is coming out of me. More light is emanating from the cracked edges.
A friend in grief support group asked a question. "What (healthy) measures have we found to get through?"
I shared one with her in the moment, but I want to expand on what I shared here, for those who are persevering through their own seasons of endurance.
Four things have saved me as I have learned to endure and begin to emerge from traumatic loss over the past two years.
Community
I can't express how much we need other people, and I am so grateful for those whom I get to call mine. I truly feel this season was made survivable because of the community cultivated before this tragedy struck. Friends who are vulnerable, real, and doing their own work. Family who show up. Grief support groups. Volunteering within community. Realizing you can still serve others. People need people, especially when we are going through.
Therapeutic Exercise
The pool has been my refuge, and I am so thankful to be able to cultivate a swim practice. Certain forms of cardiovascular movement help move our bodies and brains through trauma. Running, swimming, cycling, dancing, and even brisk walking help because they increase blood flow to the brain, release endorphins, and provide a way to physically express pent-up emotions.
(At least one) Source of Pure Joy
This will be different for everyone, but when navigating prolonged seasons of grief, pain, or endurance, we need regular exposure to (at least one) thing that brings pure joy. For me, it was my dogs. Their silly, stubborn shenanigans make me laugh every day, and their active dispositions force me to take frequent walks (aka potty breaks).
Honesty before God
Many of you know I am a believer in Jesus. But I was not thrilled with Jesus after Brandon was killed. I needed to rant, scream, rave, be angry, be cynical, and learn how to move through those emotions with God. I still move through them. Grief is not a thing that is solved. Grief is love with no place to go.
Leaning into community, therapeutic exercise, sources of pure joy, and honesty before God. These things have allowed me to move forward through a prolonged season of endurance. The truth is, I would never have chosen the past two years of what I have been through. The truth is also that I feel stronger now, having taken my world's hardest hit, than I have ever felt before.
Sometimes, when I least expect it, light emanates from around all of my edges, and shines out from all the shaken and broken parts of my story. And that light produces something glittery and bubbly in me, something that refuses not to rise up. I think it's called hope.
"3 And not only that, but we[a] also boast in our afflictions, knowing that affliction produces endurance, 4 and endurance produces character, and character produces hope."
Romans 5: 3-4
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