Whiplash

Anyone else out there suffering from emotional whiplash?

One minute I’m enjoying springtime sunshine and a cool breeze. The next minute I’m sad for my black and brown friends who tell me they don’t feel safe when they go out (Ahmaud Arbery) *or* when they stay home (Breonna Taylor). That’s followed by anger about George Floyd and Eric Garner and Philando Castile and Tamir Rice. Then I hear Ravel’s only piece for string quartet and am transported to a magical place. And then I’m reminded of friends who tragically lost a little one in a horrific accident, and I feel heartbroken.

And behind all of it is this low-level guilt that, no matter what I’m feeling in any given moment, I’m not feeling the right thing. That I should be feeling something else. Gratitude. Grief. Joy. Relief. Rage. Peace that passes understanding.

How to live in this moment? Dear God, how to live?

What comes to mind:

1. Choose to be less productive. As a friend said we are not working from home; we are working from home in a crisis. Or as an article in the Times put it over the weekend we are quarantined, under duress, trying to do work. We don’t know the emotional or spiritual toll this season is taking on us. We need space to be, to process, to rest.

2. Use social media to pray. I scroll too much, looking for the next big thing, living under the false god FOMO. Facebook and Twitter would be life-giving if I stopped to pray for every person whose status I read. (Sadly that would probably also mean I spend less time on social media. I say “sadly” because of how quickly I tire of praying.)

3. Remember Jesus in his humanity, touched with the feeling of our infirmities, now ascended to the presence of God. In a wounded body. Remember that God cares about every wound, every injustice, every tear. Jesus knows how I feel and loves me anyway. So I can be honest with not knowing what to feel, and I can be wrong, and I can be tired, and I can live without guilt. Because Jesus.