Tough Love + Self Care: Lighten Up

Complete transparency, I didn't have any idea what I was going to write about until about an hour ago.

I had been praying (whining in God's ear) that I would be inspired, and the words would suddenly start writing themselves in my mind faster than I could write them down. I wanted to write, I wanted to feel the fullness of putting something more than a selfie out into the world. I craved the subtle rush of exposing a vulnerable part of myself to a world that doesn't always welcome it with open arms. Writing being my first love, I never want it to feel forced. I don't want to put myself in a position where I revert to the girl I was in my college composition class: writing in circles just to put words on the page. I want my words to mean something to me, and hopefully someone else. That, however, is easier said than done. I can make myself do a lot of things. I make myself get up at 5am to hit the gym. I made myself take finance class after finance class to get that major I wanted. I make myself drive responsibly and do my laundry and pay my bills on time. Easy peasy. I can make myself do just about anything that needs to be done.

Except writing. Believe me, I've tried. I've had those days where the motivation is there, the perfect latte is steaming next to my laptop, and the whole afternoon is free. So I sit there. I sit there some more. I sip my coffee... and I keep sitting. The occasional sentence will start, only to meet an untimely demise at the hands of the delete button. I could have the perfect playlist for brain flow humming in the background, the perfect mood lighting, the soft breeze flowing through the open window, all of that poetic nonsense. Still nothing. If the words aren't ready to come, they simply don't.

I've gotten frustrated with myself. My brain basically narrates my days as a novel while I live my oh so interesting life. You're telling me my inner dialogue is akin to an excerpt of Anne of Green Gables yet I can't even come up with the words to write a few paragraphs on the spot? How does that happen? I am as wordy as they come. A natural thesaurusizer (and connoisseur of new words), fabricator, and teller of tales.

But time and time again I find myself sitting here, fingers dancing over my keyboard, with nothing but elevator music playing in my brain.

All that to say, when inspiration strikes me, it's a small cause for celebration. Sometimes panic, if I can't find a pen. I've quite recently learned not to consider myself a writer. For that to be the case, I'd have to be the one responsible for the ideas I put out into the world.

I am a vessel.

I am the fingers that type the words that the Lord places on my heart. Let me rephrase: I am the girl who screeches her car into a parking lot and scribbles an idea down on a Sonic drink napkin because the Holy Spirit drove an idea into her skull like a flash of lightening.

These words aren't mine. I simply write them down.

That's why an hour ago, when I was six feet underwater, I nearly choked on chlorinated water as I burst through the surface trying to get to my phone and open the notes app. The lightening bolt had struck.

Let me paint a picture: I had just finished a long, sweaty summer workout. I was drenched like a middle linebacker during training camp (putting that analogy in so my boyfriend knows I listen when he speaks). The sight of the empty apartment pool, in all its' artificial blue glory, was calling my name.

Keep in mind, I am a college graduate, a semi-professional adult working in the life-draining field of finance. You'd think I wouldn't revert to being an eight year old the second I saw the opportunity for a cannonball. You would, however, be quite wrong.

Fast forward and I shamelessly leapt into the deep end. You know the feeling, the rush of wind, the sun-warmed water swallowing you up, the world suddenly going deafeningly silent. I sank slowly into the depths of the pool, feeling childlike bliss.

As I felt my toes graze the rough bottom of the pool, I kicked back to the top and thought to myself:

What is it about swimming that is still so enticing? It's just as much fun to me now as it was when I was a fifth grader on summer vacation.

I floated on my back, ears still in the water, soaking in the silence.

The weightlessness. After being heavy all day, jumping in the pool and feeling lighter than air is so euphoric. All my life I walk around carrying all of my weight, until those few moments when I am lingering in the six-foot water, hair splayed around me like a troll doll, when I am weightless.

That's when the lightening struck.

I am heavy. All day I carry around the weight of my insecurities, the pressure to succeed and achieve, the cumbersome load of societal expectations, the burden of past heartache, the oppression of a 24 hour day versus my 40 hours of to-do list items.

I am HEAVY.

No wonder I crave weightlessness. Imagine a day, waking up to none of that baggage. None of the pressure to fit twelve accomplishments in before lunchtime. None of the concern for looking the absolute best. None of the unexplainable need to make a name for myself in a field even I can't pinpoint. None of the guilt from past mistakes or shame or days I'd rather forget. Imagine just setting it all down.

A girl can dream, right?

In that moment, a quote from a friend came to mind. She told me in passing something that has resonated with me more and more ever since I first heard it.

Life is just the path between two gardens. Meaning, for people who share the same faith as me, we once lived in Heaven and we will again. We came from a perfect place, and we will return to it, after our brief stint on Earth is over.

It's a difficult concept to wrap my brain around since the implications are eternal. This life is all our conscious souls have ever known, so how can it be just a tiny stop on our metaphysical journey? You're telling me my twenty-one years of living is just a microscopic blip in my existence? This lifetime is merely a potty-break at QuikTrip on the road trip of forever??? Okay - you probably get the point.

We've all heard phrases like "ashes to ashes" or "dust to dust" but where did that come from? Surely it's not just a cynical way to allude to cremation and death?

Luckily, it's just as poetic as I'd like it to be.

Ecclesiastes 3:20 says: "All go to the same place; all come from dust, and to dust all return."

Genesis 3:19 says: "...until you return to the ground, since from it you were taken; and for dust you are and to dust you will return."

Last but far from the least, my personal favorite.

James 4:14 says: "Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes."

At first, that can seem like a shot to the ego, and if anyone's guilty of an ego who bruises easily, it is yours truly. I'm nothing but a fleeting mist? Excuse me, Jesus, don't you know who I am? Haven't you seen my laundry list of accomplishments? Don't you know how relevant I am?

Of course he has, silly girl (me, talking to myself). But what, of any Earthly value, can come with me when I get to the end of my path and arrive back at the gates of the garden?

Do I plan to arrive at the pearly gates with my college diploma in hand, wearing my lone pair of designer shoes and proudly touting my moderately-popular Instagram page? If Heaven is anything like a nightclub, the angel working as a door bouncer would surely laugh me right back down to Earth.

"...all come from dust, and to dust all return."

Unfortunately, Heaven has an even worse luggage policy than Allegiant Airlines. Sorry honey, better leave that fifth grade spelling bee trophy back here on Earth.

The bad news: Jesus doesn't care what you've done.

The good news: Jesus doesn't care what you've done.

He loved us as the dust we were, knowing we'd be nothing more than that very same dust when all was said and done. His love is undeserved, unearned, and impossible to lose. All we have to do is accept it.

I can't speak for anyone else, but that's far easier than passing Advanced Accounting 300. Not to mention, an eternity is probably worth a little more than a brief stint in a career I groan about choosing anyways.

So why oh why do I place so much value in the things of this Earth?

Every day I gladly put on all of my weight. I pick up each and every one of my grudges and hold them all tightly. I heap the pressure on myself to do more, be more, achieve more. I crumble under the burden of striving to be a perfect girl who just doesn't exist. I walk out the door, already doubled over under the weight of all I put on myself.

Why?

Here's where the tough love part comes in. The part where I look myself in the mirror, stick a metaphorical finger into my own chest, and say "lighten up."

Put down the anger. Put down the endless laundry list of boxes to check. Put down the striving and the jealousy and the bitterness and the dissatisfaction. Lighten up your load.

On this path between two gardens, do I want to waste my brief stint in this world drowning? After much thought, I have concluded that does not sound like the most pleasant way to live. I'd much prefer to be weightless.

I still want to succeed. I still want to be chosen for a boast-worthy promotion, I still want to be a published author, I still want my bikini body to be summer ready. I wouldn't be my type-3 self if I didn't have a little of that spark. What I mean is, by lightening up, I free myself from all of those things being chains tied to my happiness. If none of that ever happened, I would still find joy. By lightening up, I am cutting all of the ropes that tether my contentment to things of this world.

When I ran track in high school, I hated running. Loathed. But now I love it. The difference? I don't have to run now. I choose to.

When my alarm goes off for work in the mornings, I curse the day I decided to apply for a 9-5. But when my alarm goes off for the gym, I leap out of bed. The difference? I don't have to get up, I choose to.

When I free myself from the obligation to succeed, to be pretty, to be accomplished, to be well-known, to be independent, to be revolutionary, I free myself to enjoy those things. Why? Because I don't need to be any of them to be happy. When my contentment and my peace are no longer rooted in fleeting things, I can finally find the beautiful joy in them.

When I sit down to write a bestselling novel, a tumbleweed may as well be rolling through the ghost town of my mind. When I free myself to write for nothing but the joy it brings me, the words flow out of my fingertips faster than I ever typed in my junior high computer class (I would have most definitely snagged the words-per-minute record tonight).

There you have it, folks. Lighten up. Why spend our one remarkably brief lifetime pining over things that we will one day leave behind?

Think of video games. We all have a male figure in our life who has come dangerously close to putting an Xbox controller through the drywall because something happened in their virtual world that set them off. You just want to look at them, dead in their crazy eyes, and say, "why do you care so much?! It isn't even real!"

I can only imagine how many times Jesus has looked down on me and thought the exact same thing. Sweet child, why do you care so much? This isn't even real.

I say that not to discredit the very real pains of this world. I have felt real pain and I have seen it in the lives of others' and I don't mean to downplay or diminish true grief and suffering. I speak only to the trivial things of this world. Things "of the flesh", if I may pretend to be a scholar for a moment.

Love the things of this world. Find the simple joy in them. Laugh at the people who take themselves too seriously (hey, that used to be me). Remember that we're just passing through.

Lighten up.

Tough Love + Self Care: Just Mute Them

In a culture so infatuated with the idea of 'self-care', we tend to do ourselves a disservice by generalizing what counts as such. Face masks, a hot bath, and a glass of Stella Rosa? Definitely self care. Holding yourself accountable, reflecting, and challenging yourself to grow emotionally? Mmm... I'll take option number one.

Although the romanticized concept of self care can be beneficial (especially for your pores), it barely scrapes the surface of what it really means to love yourself.

When I was growing up, and still today, my mom isn't shy about calling me out when I'm wrong. She has never been the type of parent to blindly take my side, or allow me to scrape by with the bare minimum. In the name of "tough love", she broke every shell I trapped myself in, challenged every "can't" that I presented, and forced me to look at every situation through another perspective. Although there were times I just wanted her to match my level of petty and be senselessly angry at whoever I'm angry at, her way was admittedly best. It would have been so easy to wallow in every disappointment and to stew in the childish spats I've found myself in over the years, but that would have done nothing for me.

Instead, challenging me to look beyond my own perspective and realize that maybe, just maybe I don't know best is what caused me to grow as a person. Uncomfortable as it was at the time, the end result is greater empathy, humility, and a whole number of things that I forgot to thank my mom for in her Mother's Day card this year.

We owe it to ourselves to use that same tough love when it comes to self care. When you love something, you want to see it grow + thrive. To truly love yourself, you should want the same.

I'm a bit of a plant hoarder, possibly because it's the only living thing I feel responsible enough to keep alive. The basics of plant care are simple, sunlight and water. Going a little deeper, the plant needs room to grow. I can diligently water my fig, and perfectly position it in the sunlight, but if I keep it in the same pot I brought it home in, eventually it will outgrow the planter and wither away. A healthy plant will continually grow, and it needs room to expand. One more level into this metaphor, a plant needs to be pruned. It's completely natural for stems off of any plant to brown and die, even on a perfectly healthy one. Part of caring for a plant means going in regularly and picking out the dead stuff, the leaves that no longer serve the plant and the stems that are blocking the way for new ones. Pruning out the dead makes room for the new.

Let's say the sunlight and water are the fun parts of self care. Those are the expensive facials we convince ourself we deserve and the full shopping cart on Amazon because *treat yo' self*. Not to mention the essentials to survival like food, shelter, blah blah blah.

The room to grow is self explanatory. If you don't challenge yourself to expand mentally and emotionally, you will suffocate. Growth over your lifetime is natural and healthy. Don't get the wrong idea when I say growth, I don't mean hitting a new milage PR on a daily run or learning a new language. I don't mean growth by the standards of tangible productivity. I mean growth in the form of shedding fears that hold you back, letting go of unhealthy habits, and releasing yourself from the clutches of toxic relationships. Growth isn't always quantifiable, and it doesn't have to be linear to be valuable.

Finally, just like the fig tree in my living room, we need regular pruning too. It's important to comb through our lives, identify what's no longer serving us and even preventing future growth. Find the dead leaves and pick them out. Cut off the stems that are suffocating your growth.

All of this to say that self care isn't always glamorous and love isn't always gentle. In my wise old age, I'm finally learning the truth to the adage that nothing worth having comes easy.

...Yes, I learned that from my mother.

In an effort to document and hold myself accountable to all of the life lessons I've learned in my aforementioned wise old age, I'm going to begin a series of miniature posts, each centered around a different non-traditional means of self care.

This weeks inaugural topic: muting (and unfollowing) people.

While it would admittedly be the best thing we could do for ourselves to be able to mute certain people in real life, that is unfortunately not feasible and usually called manslaughter. However, in terms of social media, it's as easy as two taps on a screen.

In a world where you select who you follow and choose what content you consume, it's hard to imagine a need to put blinders on yourself. Sometimes speaking in terms of pop-culture can feel like speaking a different language, but I'll do my best. There are certain nuances that are only felt by a generation that has grown up with one foot in the real world and one food in the virtual one. One of those nuances being that an 'unfollow' can mean the severance of a relationship or the end of a friendship. To put it simply, unfollowing someone on any form of social media can mean you no longer wish to see or keep up with their life. Goodbye, done, sayonara, see you never. It isn't always received on the other end, seeing the unfollow and feeling the virtual abandonment (dramatic, stay with me).

I've had numerous reasons to unfollow people over my stint in the social media realm. The usual friendship fallout/breakup, the classic we-haven't-interacted-since-sophomore-year, the i'm-tired-of-seeing-your-baby, etc. Kidding about the last one! For the most part. The most tempting reason to unfollow someone is that seeing their content brings more negative than positive to my life and my mental state.

When I was a freshman in college, I really struggled with the fact that a great majority of my friends joined sororities and lived on campus and lived a made-for-TV life of frat parties, themed dances and endless sleepovers. In my little apartment off campus, I felt left out and left behind and every scroll was a reminder of that. However- to unfollow my friends would send a message I didn't want. I didn't want them to think I didn't care and I didn't love seeing them live their own lives to the fullest. It was just that the sight of their full lives made me doubt the choices I had made to pursue a different path.

When I was single, I fought the urge to throw my phone across the room every time I saw another engagement post or wedding countdown. It seemed like everyone on my feed was pairing off more quickly than I could scroll past their wedding hashtag. While I was over the moon for each of my dear friends and their love stories, each golden hour engagement photo was another reminder that my left ring finger and my love life were both equally empty. I didn't want to imply that I didn't care or didn't want to see their Pinterest-perfect wedding, I just had a desperate urge to protect my heart from feeling even lonelier.

When I fall asleep at night, I scroll through Instagram (self care post on blue light damage and cell phone addiction coming soon - yikes) and see everyone's beautifully edited and perfectly posed photos. Everyone has certain people they compare themselves to more than others. Certain people in my life seem to pop up with their flat tummies and their flawless skin and their long flowing locks right when I'm having my most bloated, insecure nights. Don't get me wrong, I love them in all their bikini-clad, white-toothed glory, and I love seeing them happy. However- the toll it takes on me is worth examining.

In all of these cases and probably countless more, unfollowing a friend seems too harsh. I do care what they're doing, and I do support them. I don't want to sever ties or lose the relationship.

Sometimes you just need a brain break, and you need to love yourself enough not to subject yourself to content that constantly reminds you of your own inequities. Give yourself that break.

In all of these cases, I present to you the humble mute button.

Meant for cases such as these, where you don't want to take a metaphorical sword and sever ties with anyone, but know that something has to give before you begin to build up resentment against someone you don't want to feel negatively about.

The content you consume should inspire you. It should make you smile or laugh or even inwardly chuckle to yourself. It should motivate you or provoke your thoughts.

The content you consume should not make you question decisions you made in your own best interest. It should not make you feel like you're missing things that you don't have room for in the first place. It should not make you pick out flaws in yourself that you never would have seen otherwise. It should not cause you to close the app in a worse mood than you were in when you opened it.

What fills your mind fills your life, and through the consumption of social media, we can choose to send our lives in a positive or negative direction. There are times I catch myself scrolling down my Instagram feed, passing judgement after judgement on people who don't deserve it. I critique everything from outfits to editing choice to boyfriends' facial hair. Things that both aren't my business and aren't bringing anything positive to my life.

Toxic consumption of media is twofold. There is the kind detailed above, where social media makes me act and think cruelly towards myself. It makes me speak to myself more harshly and pick out flaws like it's my day job. The second kind makes me act and think cruelly towards others. It makes me want to screenshot posts and ask what on Earth she was thinking posting that. It makes me want to laugh at his mustache because who in their right mind told him it looks good. It makes me pick apart someone's grammar and life choices and taste in shoes. It makes my mind a place I am ashamed of.

Why am I consuming content that makes me embarrassed of my own thoughts? Why am I allowing myself to scroll through a feed of things that encourage my judgement and my hatefulness and my jealousy?

When your social media feed becomes a breeding ground for unhealthy behavior and toxic thoughts, it's time to be pruned. Unfollow the accounts that no longer inspire you. Mute the accounts you need a mental break from. Keep only the people and things that will help you cultivate the happiest mental state you can.

Self care can take tough love. Sometimes it's a guilty pleasure to be a little mean, behind closed doors. Sometimes we hate-follow people. We find sick joy in seeing other people 'fall behind' in life. We creep on the pages of people we know don't bring us an ounce of joy, just to fulfill a selfish need to keep tabs on their life. Care for yourself enough to cut this out. Love yourself enough to stop opening your mind to negativity and all its' friends.

While I can feel an entire generation rolling their eyes at such a lengthy post dedicated to the do's and don't's of following on social media, it needed to be said. Or at least, I needed to say it to get it out of my head and onto paper (my Macbook screen). Like it or not, social media is an integral part of modern society and will likely only continue to grow and take a larger stake in our lives. Just because we are conditioned to think it sounds trivial or that virtual problems aren't valid problems doesn't mean that the damage done by these platforms isn't real.

Sometimes it takes tough love to realize that you are the one hurting yourself. By intentionally exposing yourself to things that exploit insecurities or invoke negativity, you are stunting your own emotional growth. Identify what's no longer serving you. Find the dead leaves and pick them out. Cut off the stems that are suffocating you.

You will be amazed at the growth that follows.

XOXO

Live from Quarantine: Brain Dump

To be perfectly candid, when I wrote the last post and hit submit, I figured I would end up writing again in a week or so as usual. I figured inspiration would hit me out of the blue and I would sit and type away after a normal day of working at my 9-5 and then post it, hoping someone would take the time out of their busy life to read it.

I did not, however, picture writing this on a Thursday morning from my kitchen table in the middle of a time I am usually halfway through a workday. I did not anticipate being under a mandatory 'stay at home' order, under a nationwide pandemic, just weeks after never having heard of 'COVID-19". But, I guess that's where we're at now. Life comes at you fast.

Before I begin, I want to write a disclaimer. Despite the comic relief that I approach every situation under the sun with, I realize this is a very tragic and trying situation. I am praying ceaselessly for the sick, those in power facing impossible decisions, and the people who are afraid. I am incredibly fortunate to be in such a good situation and in good health, but I realize my blessings and don't take them for granted. I know how quickly my situation could change and I am so thankful for the good fortune I have had so far. I realize some of what I talk about can be trivial in the face of national shutdowns and global chaos (Kourney K voice, "Kim, theres' people that are dying,"). I don't take this lightly. These are just my thoughts from my small corner of the world.

In my newly found abundance of free time, I have been thinking way too much for my own good. Between reliving repressed memories of childhood embarrassment and trying to figure out why Derek Shepherd never got a head CT, it's been busy around here. Despite my best efforts, sometimes it gets overly deep and philosophical and no amount of color-coding my closet will distract me from the inevitable soul searching.

This post will most likely mirror life lately, in that it will be scattered, jumbled, and may or may not make sense. I'm hoping we're all in similar states of confusion, and you won't mind too much.

I've seen a lot of posts about how this quarantine/pandemic is God's way of letting us all reset. His way of getting our attention and realigning our priorities. Here's the thing about that, I don't believe God causes bad things to happen. Without getting too theological, I believe that because we live in a fallen world full of sin and free will, bad things are inevitable. However, just because God didn't directly cause this to happen doesn't mean he can't work good through it ("and we know in all things God works for the good of those who love Him," Romans 8:28).

Again, I don't think God was tired of waiting for us to give our undivided attention to Him so He snapped His fingers and unleashed Coronavirus on us. I do think that in a spirit of of obedience and faith, it's important to listen for God's voice in all times, especially these full of uncertainty. In this time, when so much is falling away by means of cancellation or quarantine, what remains?

I look at my life, what it normally looks like. Typically, it's a whirlwind of one thing to the next, rarely stopping to be still. I live by lists and planners, all of my days premeditated and set out before my feet even hit the floor. I start each day scrutinizing my planner, making sure I'm being productive to the max. Asking myself if I can fit in an extra coffee date with a friend or few hours of working on who knows what. All free space on my calendar is filled with scribbles and squeezed in to-to lists, and all free time in my life is filled with plans. Stopping for a deep breath is rare and resisted. I struggle with the concept of "just being."

In the face of our new normal, my old ways are nearly impossible. This entire development has happened more or less in two weeks. Our area hadn't been affected until all the cancellations started pouring in from the major sports teams and universities. In even less time than that, we have seen our community begin to take action. Schools are shutting down, friends are unemployed, businesses are closing, and I'm working from home. In less than two weeks, our world got turned on its' head in ways we could never have seen or anticipated.

A few days ago, I pulled out my planner and stared at the month of March. With the saddest color I could find, I drew a felt-tipped, fine-point line through three weekends' worth of plans. I struck through three different committee meetings for events that have already undergone months of planning. I crossed out a handful of social plans with friends so dear to me. I wrote the word cancelled more times than I ever wanted to. As I sat and stared at the butchery of a calendar page, I felt a lot of things. Disappointment for sure, but also a sense of mourning. All of the pictures I had in my head of the way this month would look, all gone in a matter of minutes. I felt heartbreak for the people with much more important things they had to scratch out. All of the baseball games that my Senior brother won't get to play, all of the wedding dresses hanging in their garment bags, all of the trips that were cancelled and the flights that were grounded. My heart hurt tenfold for the people who were losing more than I was through this unforeseen crisis.

I turned the page to April and stared at the blank month. Usually, the first day of the month is my favorite. An empty planner page holds so much possibility and promise. For the first time, I looked at all of the dates with nothing written beside them and felt...lost. In the middle of this situation that is changing almost hourly, it's impossible to plan beyond your next meal. A million different sources have a million different ideas of how long this will last and how severe it will get, but one thing is true across the board: no one really knows what the future holds.

My comfort comes from looking ahead and knowing, as much as I can, what is coming. I like to visualize, to plan, to map out. Almost to a fault (definitely to a fault). Looking at those empty pages, my stomach turned with the thought of the unknown. Wondering what would happen to my job, my life group, my friendships, my fitness routine, my family, everything. For once in my life, I had no idea what the next day would hold.

While I write these words, I picture God laughing. Plans and preparation are truly a human construct and something that we cling to for security. The only one who really knows what the next day holds is Him. Despite our best laid plans, every new day could bring something that sends them all crashing down, leaving us awestruck and clutching our precious planner as the dust settles. While this is a grandiose example of how little we can really control, it's a strong lesson I feel like needs to translate to the rest of my life. Planning and preparation are good, but they should not be my guiding principle or my North Star. Knowing how quickly things can change on a worldwide level is humbling. Who am I to pretend I know what lies ahead? I am clinging to the only One who actually knows, asking myself why it took a global pandemic for me to think that, gee, maybe I don't know best.

Whenever and however this awful situation passes, I know my need for stability will still be there. I am working every day to root my comfort in the words and promises of God and not in the pink gel pen words written in my planner from TJ Maxx. I can't change the fact that I'm a neurotic control freak, but I can remind myself that as a believer, I have so many truths to cling to when everything else falls away.

Romans 8, the Message Translation, "31 With God on our side, how can we lose? If God didn't hesitate to put everything on the line for us, embracing our condition and exposing himself to the worst by sending his own Son, is there anything else he wouldn't gladly and freely do for us? 37 Do you think anything is going to be able to drive a wedge between us and Christ's love for us? There is no way! Not trouble, not hard times, not hatred, not hunger, not homelessness, not threats, not backstabbing, not even the worst sins listed in scripture. 39 None of this fazes us because Jesus loves us. I am absolutely convinced that nothing- living or dead, angelic or demonic, today or tomorrow, thinkable or unthinkable- absolutely nothing can get between us and God's love because of the way He embraced us."

I love this verse, but this translation stood out to me more than usual. Trouble, hard times, hunger, homelessness, tomorrow, the unthinkable. All things that are happening all around us now more than ever. With the layoffs and closures and sickness that seems to become bigger and more prevalent by the day, what else is there to cling to besides a God who refuses to let go of us?

I know that one day I will open my planner, make all of my incessant notes, organize my week down to the hour, and the word quarantine won't even cross my mind. This will be a distant memory for most of us, and we will return to a version of our normal. While I know that day will come, I am trying to soak up as much of this humbling time as I can. When people are suffering far worse than I am, I am humbled. When people are losing far more than I am, I am grateful. When the world is going haywire, I am rooted in my faith.

I don't know what tomorrow will hold, but I know who holds my tomorrow. And that is enough for today.