Unimaginable

The unimaginable happened

The unthinkable came to be

And now we’re challenged to grasp

What we know over what we see.

We know He is a good God.

We know He loves us so.

We know He sends the rain.

So the hidden things can grow.

We know He hears our cries.

We know He is the God who sees.

We know He always works

To set the captives free.

This season holds me captive

Darkness leaves me feeling lost.

Yet I know I must look up

When my faith is feeling tossed.

Only one thing guarantees

To lead me to the light.

I face my day in surrender

And open the fist I hold so tight.

Jesus, take these sorrows.

Jesus, be my guide.

Jesus, show me more of You

As I lay my fears aside.

Arm me for this battle

Remind me daily who You are.

May I recount Your faithfulness

And all You’ve done thus far.

We cannot change the past

Nor the realities we now face.

But I can fix my eyes on Jesus,

And make knowing Him my only chase.

Interestingly, God gave me these words as I sat alone in a boathouse on my writer's retreat just one short month ago (this is only an excerpt from the whole poem that I'm still working on revising), while writing about and grappling with several other unthinkable issues that surprisingly came out of nowhere over the last year. 

Little did I know, or anyone for that matter, the unimaginable situation we're currently living through as a nation and a world. Just a single week ago, in fact, my family spent three days straight just gallavanting all over the place, trying to enjoy a few days off together as a family right here in our own community--in some very public places. Golfing, bowling, movies, shopping, eating out, etc. We were getting ready to walk into the movie theater last Wednesday when I read about three positive coronavirus cases found in Frisco, the very town I'd just spent the afternoon in with my parents two days prior. 

Mike and David went to work as usual on Thursday, while Juan and I decided to ditch our plans to take public transport into Dallas to enjoy such a beautiful day at the Arboretum together, so we stayed home instead. That's when things started sinking in as to the dangers lurking around outside, when the cries started coming from Italy for America to listen and stay home, when schools started talking about closing for an extra week, etc. I figured I better stock up my fridge (I'd skipped grocery shopping the week before so we could use the money to eat out during spring break), and then I went to visit my mom and enjoy a cup of tea with her. 

I'm wishing now that we hadn't done any of those things, but we just didn't know. We didn't see this current reality coming from a million miles away. I find it no coincidence that God led our church through a sermon series the last few weeks called "Didn't See it Coming." God did, though, and He was preparing us. 

So today, less than a week later, I'm getting ready to start teaching online and any virtual way I can to stay connected to my students and keep pushing them along while schools are closed indefinitely (for at least 3 weeks, maybe more.) I'm battling with my 18-year-old senior to understand why he must stay home for any reason besides work, to understand that I'm not trying to treat him like a child who can't make his own decisions but rather protect him from being someone who's making the situation worse. I'm prayerfully watching my husband go out to work each day because he's a manager for a food store that obviously won't be closing. I'm cooking big, hearty meals that my family can eat and then have for leftovers to keep us going to the store as little as possible (I guess that's the one perk about Mike working for a food store--I can give him the list of food items we run low on and hope his store is not sold out of them.) I'm giving my son extra permission to shop on Amazon to keep him happy and not so angry about having to stay home. I'm extra concerned about my parents, wanting to spend the extra time I now have with them but not wanting to unintentionally carry a virus into their home. I'm looking at graduation announcements that came in the mail yesterday, announcing a May 21st graduation, wondering what May 21st will even look like and if this will have passed by then or have grown so big that a large graduation ceremony will be out of the question. Life completely halted, pretty much all across the world. 

 My "mobile classroom"--what little I could grab from my actual classroom yesterday.

 A morning with pancakes

 And many more to snack on.

 That long-awaited graduation announcement for May 21st, 2020.

Yet through all of this uncertainty, I'm also thankful for this time to stay home and breathe. To get out and walk in the fresh air. To throw schedules and daily busyness out the window. To have my sons home, especially David. To sleep in a little later and allow my boys to do the same, knowing that sleep is healing and protects our immune systems. To watch my sons and husband have movie marathons while I work on other things that I enjoy on my own. To reprioritize. I'm thankful for a job that I can, surprisingly, still do from home, and I'm thankful to live in a time where students really can learn virtually. I'm thankful for a district that put together such a wise, detailed plan both in English and Spanish (and Vietnamese) for our students to access and continue learning. I'm thankful for continued income in such an uncertain time. I'm thankful David can still complete his graduation requirements without attending a physical class. I'm thankful we got him his graduation gift (a laptop) early so that he can use it during this time of e-learning so that we're not both fighting to use mine. 

I'm incredibly thankful for my current devotional, One Thousand Gifts, that continues to encourage me to see all the gifts of grace around me, to truly live and record those precious moments we experience every day and not take them for granted. Recording the things I'm thankful for is really recording all the little ways that God shows his daily love for me. Even now in the midst of all this uncertainty. Especially now that we're living through what was truly unimaginable. 

More than anything, I'm thankful for a God who is not the least bit surprised. Ever.