Lament and Joy and COVID-19

I have been so busy. So, so busy. It's weird that in a season when so many things have been cancelled so we can keep distance, I have felt as busy as ever.

Pivoting online has meant extra work in some ways, and different work in others. Working mostly from home has been good, overall, but it means a lot of distractions from my kids and my dog.

As you can see, he is very distracting to me as I work from the couch.

I've been wanting to blog more during this time, to capture my thoughts and feelings and document them somehow for the future. I've been wanting to write more words of encouragement to folks who are new to distance teaching, since that's something I know a bit about, and have things I could share.
I've been wanting to take time to write about things other than the current pandemic crisis.

But here I am, about a month since my last post, and feeling a little glum about it.

Truth is, I've realized I'm in a season of lament. I am grieving things that feel "lost."

This doesn't mean I haven't still felt deep joy as well. But I am lamenting the state of the world, and the state of our country, and the state of my own situation.
A student reached out to me last week and asked if I would be willing to be interviewed for a story in our campus newspaper. I agreed, and we had a great visit on the phone for about half an hour. At the end of our conversation, I said that if he had any follow questions to just email me.

This morning, I opened my email and had a message from him. His article is turning out to be a lot of facts and figures and hypotheses, and he wants it to be grounded in "story." So he asked me if there was a moment in this pandemic situation where I realized that "things might not return completely to what we know as normal." I thought that was a great question. After thinking a bit about it, here is what I replied to him:

This is something I’ve been thinking a lot about. The crazy part is that it isn’t so much about the educational aspects—in that regard, I think we’ll probably be fine. The format might look different, temporarily, but learning is still learning, and teaching is still teaching. My work goes on, and I still enjoy the work I get to do.

More broadly, I’ve been thinking a lot about lament. I’m grieving things that feel “lost.” If I had known those last class meetings before spring break would  be the last time I’d be with my students this semester, I would have said a better goodbye. I am so sad for my own kids that the many things they were looking forward to this spring—state speech meet, acting in the school musical, choir tour, prom, graduations for their friends—are cancelled or put on hiatus. I miss little things like going out for supper with friends. It’s weird that a trip to Walmart suddenly feels like an ordeal, because I wear a mask, and try to get through the store as quickly as possible, and then wipe everything down as soon as I get home. I feel like this is a season of loss in a lot of ways.

I have been thinking a lot about the book of Habakkuk lately. Perhaps Habakkuk is not your go-to devotional reading, but in times of uncertainty, it's a book I always turn to. The book of Habakkuk is basically a conversation back and forth between the prophet and God in which Habakkuk asks God a series of questions because he doesn't understand what God is doing. God is big enough to take our questions, our wondering--and he answers Habakkuk! And the response--the final chapter of the book--is a prayer of faith and praise, expressing deep joy in spite of not understanding. Here is one of my favorite passages, from near the end of the book:

Though the fig tree does not bud
    and there are no grapes on the vines,
though the olive crop fails
    and the fields produce no food,
though there are no sheep in the pen
    and no cattle in the stalls,
yet I will rejoice in the Lord,
    I will be joyful in God my Savior.
- Habakkuk 3:17-18


Throughout this season, I have been reflecting on the difference between happiness and joy. Happiness seems more fleeting and fluffy. I've definitely had some happy moments while quarantining! But joy seems deeper and more substantial. I find that I am lamenting so many things, but I remain joyful throughout--knowing that all things are in God's hands, and having confidence that even when I don't understand what is going on, I can "be joyful in God my savior." 

Anyway, that might not be quite what you were thinking of, but it’s where my head and heart are today.

I hope this finds you well!

Peace,
Dr. Mulder

That's my best thinking for today: finding joy in the midst of lament.