I did it. I wore a mask. For the first time, I didn’t just try it on or wear it while sanding or staining wood, I wore a mask in a store. It wasn’t weird in the way I thought it would be. I had seen a couple of people wearing masks in TJ Maxx while shopping with my aunt on March 12th, the night I first realized things were changing in my world. I wondered if the mask wearers were sick or were trying to avoid becoming sick—whatever their reason for wearing masks, they stood out, and I stood as far away from them as I could.
Fast forward to last weekend, when I wore a mask for the first time (and went inside of a store for the first time since in a couple of weeks). I didn’t feel awkward or like I stood out. There were plenty of other people wearing masks; it’s been normalized it the past month and a half. What struck me was almost the opposite: a feeling of being unseen.
With a mask on, no one could tell if I was smiling as they passed. No one could tell if I was annoyed or unbothered as they apologized or excused themselves for walking in front of me. My mask caused me to feel hidden.
While being isolated in our homes, we are also encouraged to wear masks that isolate us in public. Maybe, all of this, the mask wearing, the staying at home, the uncertainty, the loss of income, and problems with your marriage that are being exasperated by the increased togetherness and stress, maybe it’s causing you to feel unseen by everyone. Even God.
In Genesis 16, Hagar had been placed in situation that was…uncomfortable, to say the least. God had promised a child to Abram (AKA Abraham), but because he and his wife, Sarai (AKA Sarah), were old, Sarai took it upon herself to bring God’s promise to pass. Apparently, no one told Sarai that “God helps those who help themselves” was made popular by Benjamin Franklin’s Poor Richard’s Almanac, and not God’s Word.
Sarai’s plan was to give her servant, Hagar, to Abram so that Hagar could be a sort of surrogate mother. Once Hagar conceived, Sarai began to mistreat Hagar, so Hagar ran away. While she was running, she was found. Not by Abram or Sarai, but by God.
The angel of the Lord called her by name, instructed her to return and submit to Sarai, and then named her son and promised her descendants too numerous to count. This woman, caught in the middle of someone else’s distrust of God and His promises, was seen. She was Sarai’s maidservant, but she was more than that. She was seen. She was seen by a God who had a plan for her.
Because of her experience in the wilderness, she gave God a name: El Roi. It means “The God who sees me”.
In Psalm 139, David wrote, about being seen, known, and created by God. “You have searched me, Lord, and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways. Before a word is on my tongue you, Lord, know it completely…My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place, when I was woven together in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be. How precious to me are your thoughts, God! How vast is the sum of them!” (Psalm 139:1-4, 13-17 NIV)
God doesn’t change. He is still El Roi.
In 2020, we are in a situation we didn’t choose to be in, and like Hagar we are still seen. You are still seen.
Like David, we can take comfort in God’s presence with us and knowledge of us, and we can praise Him for being a God who is present and who sees us.
I needed seeds and tomato cages for the raised bed my husband just built for me. I also had dreams of another smaller raised bed filled with strawberries, so I also wanted to look at the strawberry plants.
My husband went into the store first while I waited in the van with our toddlers. When he got back, I excitedly headed towards the store. Upon reaching the door, I was stopped and told I had to enter through the other door—the door I had made a mental note to go through, the door I thought I was heading towards. They also said they’d be closing in 5 minutes. When I entered the store, through the other door, I was again told they’d be closing in 5 minutes.
I hurriedly grabbed my seeds and headed to the garden center to look for tomato cages. After going up and down the aisles, I spotted them. Outside. The gates to the outside were all closed. I walked to the self-checkout, paid for my seeds, and walked to the van feeling embarrassed, flustered, frustrated, and defeated.
If you know me, even casually, you probably know I am a rule follower. I read instruction manuals, employee handbooks, insurance policy info, and I’ve perused the latest executive orders, stay at home orders, and FAQs. I like to know what’s expected of me. I like to be prepared. I like to follow the rules and stay in the lines.
My experience at Home Depot made me long for the comforts of normal, for a world in which the rules aren’t changing every few days, for security, for ease in running errands, for the ability to bring my toddlers into the store with me, for the option of what door makes the most sense to enter through—for normal life. And while we’re at it, a trip to the zoo with friends or getting to sit around a table with my Monday night Bible study ladies or a road trip to visit my family would be fabulous. 💁🏻♀️
As uncomfortable and uncertain as things are currently, I need to remind myself that this is a season. Just as there are literal seasons that I’m not overly fond of (ahem, winter and late fall after the trees are bare), this is a season I’m not partial to. Just like winter eventually turns to spring, full of life and color, this season will also end, and life will again spring up and blossom all around us.
Take heart, this season will pass, and it will be “a time to embrace” again.
“There is an appointed time for everything. And there is a time for every event under heaven— A time to give birth and a time to die; A time to plant and a time to uproot what is planted. A time to kill and a time to heal; A time to tear down and a time to build up. A time to weep and a time to laugh; A time to mourn and a time to dance. A time to throw stones and a time to gather stones; A time to embrace and a time to shun embracing. A time to search and a time to give up as lost; A time to keep and a time to throw away. A time to tear apart and a time to sew together; A time to be silent and a time to speak. A time to love and a time to hate; A time for war and a time for peace.” Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 NASB
It’s the babies’ nap time, which means Thad and I are free to clean up the messes they’ve made without interruption. I decided to turn on the Dwell app and listen to the Bible as I work.
Some passages in the Bible make me want to weep. The passage I’m on in my listening plan was one of those passages. My eyes filled with tears, and I had to take a break from my cleaning. I listened to this same passage less than a month ago, and I had the same response. It is Exodus 32.
In this chapter, Moses has been up on Mount Sinai for forty days and forty nights. God has given him laws, instructions for the tabernacle, instructions for consecrating the priests, and instructions for the sabbath. He has told Moses how the people needed to live as His covenant people, a people set apart. God ends His time with Moses by saying, “Go down at once, for your people, whom you brought up from the land of Egypt, have corrupted themselves. They have quickly turned aside from the way which I commanded them. They have made for themselves a molten calf, and have worshiped it and have sacrificed to it and said, ‘This is your god, O Israel, who brought you up from the land of Egypt!’ ” (Exodus 32:7-8)
God mentions destroying the people and making a great nation out of Moses; however, Moses pleads with God to remember His covenant with Abraham, and God relents. Moses descends the mountain and finds the people dancing and celebrating before their golden calf.
This passage is painful to read because of the people’s blatant rejection of the God who delivered them from Egypt, led them to walk through the Red Sea on dry ground, and who had made Himself and His power known to them through the plagues in Egypt, while sparing the people of Israel, His people. They created and worshipped a golden calf all because Moses took longer than they thought he was going to. They were impatient and uncomfortable.
It’s heartbreaking.
And yet, I’m afraid I see a form of this in my own life. In times of uncertainty, discomfort, and boredom, (eg., a pandemic with stay-at-home orders), I often find myself looking for distraction and something to occupy my thoughts and time with. My screen time is up.
Instead of turning to God, drawing near to Him in confidence because I know He’s never abandoned me before, and resting in His peace, I’m quick to pick up my phone and look for the funny Coronavirus memes or the latest numbers or newest guidelines. I allow my phone to become a source of numbness for my discomfort and impatience, and in doing so, I create an idol.
What about you? Are you resting and pursuing God or are you numbing out and pursuing distraction—whether it be social media, news outlets, home projects, or Netflix?
Let’s seek God in this time of having our schedules cleared. Let’s wait and watch for His hand. Let’s encourage one another and keep each other accountable (from a distance!) to remain near to God and in His Word.
• The servers who are suddenly without jobs, they’re struggling
• The nurse who doesn’t have PPE in the midst of a pandemic, she’s struggling.
• The college student whose college has moved online, he’s struggling.
• The senior whose senior year has been cut short, she’s struggling.
• The engaged couple now indefinitely hours apart, they’re struggling.
• The stay at home mom whose life hasn’t seemed to change much to you, she’s struggling.
• The working mom who has become a work from home mom while her kids are out of school, she’s struggling.
• The grandparents who don’t know when they’ll get to see their grandchildren again, they’re struggling.
• The man in sales at a time when no one is buying anything but toilet paper, he’s struggling.
• The parents whose kids may not be able to come home after being out of the country for two years, they’re struggling.
• The pastors and leaders who suddenly have to navigate closures and online church, they’re struggling.
• The stylist whose shop has just had to close, she’s struggling.
• The nurse who has to work while her kids’ school has closed, she’s struggling.
• The senior citizens who are told they shouldn’t go to the store, yet they can’t figure out grocery pick up or get their whole order even once it’s been placed, they’re struggling.
• The wife whose husband’s National Guard unit just got activated, she’s struggling.
• The person who keeps buying toilet paper, even though they have 200 rolls at home already, they’re struggling.
• The parents who can’t find wet wipes or diapers, they’re struggling.
These are just some of the things my friends and family are facing. It’s a lot.
Real talk: I’ve been struggling today. I’ve had a few break downs today. I’m feeling overwhelmed, worn out, alone, restless, impatient, frustrated, fearful, purposeless, unwanted, and defeated.
We are all struggling. We are all in this together in this aloneness.
This season will not last.
Let’s give each other grace. Let’s encourage each other. Let’s support each other. Let’s ease burdens. Let’s pray for each other. Let’s lean into Jesus.
After months of crying and praying and waiting for my son, in many ways, I wasn’t prepared to be a mom. My son will be a year old in a few months, and here is what I’ve learned I wasn’t prepared for:
1. I wasn’t prepared for the amount of bodily fluids I would come into contact with.
I expected spit up. I did not expect to be squirted during diaper changes, and I didn’t expect diapers leaking through to my shirt during church, yellow goo on my hands because he wasn’t finished going when I started changing him, or being thrown up on 5 times in two hours. Not to mention, he has a sweaty head when he sleeps if his head is touching anything besides a sheet (just like my youngest brother had).
Being a mom involves getting dirty.
2. I wasn’t prepared for how his first smile felt.
It was on a Sunday afternoon, and I took a break from getting the house ready for our small group to spend time with my baby. I told him I loved him, and he smiled for the first time. My heart melted, and my eyes filled with tears. Since then, he is almost always ready to give a smile (unless he’s tired or hungry).
Being a mom involves heart melting moments.
3. I wasn’t prepared for the number of baby-inflicted injuries I would sustain.
When he was first born, I received scratches on a regular basis, and I had the marks to prove it because gloves would not stay on his little hands. Now that he’s mobile, I have had bloody lips because he plops his head down on my face. He’s also learned how to pinch. Apparently my arms and neck are prime targets for pinching. Again, I have marks to prove it. My hair is a pull toy that goes wherever I go. Unfortunately, I didn’t count the number of hairs he has pulled out of my head, but if postpartum hair loss didn’t make me feel like wearing a wig, or at the very least, a hat, my little hair puller might push me over the edge. The worst part is, after he tugs, I say, “OW! That hurt!”, and my ordinarily incredibly sweet baby smiles. He. Smiles. Thankfully he doesn’t have teeth yet, so he can’t bite, but I anticipate adding biting to the list of ways he’s assaulted me.
Being a mom involves pain.
4. I wasn’t prepared for how smart he would be.
I know I’m naturally biased, but guys, my son is smart. At eight months old, he knew how to refute my “no” with an “ah!” and a nod of his own. He responds affirmatively and gets excited when we ask if he’s hungry and wants to eat, he waves bye-bye when questioned about where he’s going when crawling out of the room. If he has a dirty diaper, he smiles when asked if he stinks, he looks at his dad when I ask where Daddy is, he stops what he’s doing or sits up and watches for his dad when he hears the key in the door (even from the upstairs bedrooms!) or the garage door open, and he comes close when I ask if he wants to snuggle.
Being a mom involves proud moments.
5. I wasn’t prepared for the lack of sleep.
Oh sure, I was warned. Plenty of people took it upon themselves to tell me to enjoy my sleep while I could. I either ignored them or laughed it off as exaggeration. I graduated college and had my share of late nights of studying, and I lived in a dorm with fire alarms going off at random times in the middle of the night—I could handle it. Ha! I felt like a zombie for the first month and then again at 3-6 months when he was up every 1-3 hours. Then there’s a tough decision to make in the daytime: drink coffee and feel a little bit more energy but risk not being able to nap if you have the opportunity or don’t drink coffee, keep feeling like a zombie, and be able to take a nap if the opportunity arises.
Being a mom involves not sleeping.
6. I wasn’t prepared for laughing at 4AM.
My little character is in rare form these days when he wakes up in the middle of the night or early in the morning to eat. We bring him into bed with us to feed him, and he takes a few sips, then sits up with a massive smile, climbs on me, climbs on his dad, pushes my head or my other arm off of the arm resting on the mattress to make a place for his head to go as he plops down next to me to snuggle for a minute before he gets up with another smile and starts the whole process over again. At some point, decides to start eating again, and then snuggles for a little while longer before being taken back to his bed.
Being a mom involves unexpected laughter.
7. I wasn’t prepared for how nerve racking the first few nights were.
Was he warm enough? Was he too hot? Was he going to scoot down into his swaddle and cover his face? Would I wake up if he cried? Was he still breathing? For the first few nights, I slept with my pillow propped up, overlooking his pack ‘n play, and waking up every few minutes to look at him, not because I was so crazy in love with my new baby, but because I was so afraid he’d stop breathing in the night, and I needed to make sure his chest was still rising and falling.
Being a mom involves worrying.
8. I wasn’t prepared for how much I would love his personality.
While I was pregnant, I worried that he wouldn’t like me or that I wouldn’t like him. While we have a few years before he grows up enough to decide whether or not he likes me, I’m pretty crazy about him. My little guy is a character. If you know my husband, you’re probably not at all surprised. He definitely inherited his goofiness from his daddy. He babbles and dances in his high chair or at the baby gate. He showers everyone he sees with smiles (again, as long as he’s not tired or hungry). He laughs at random things (mostly things his dad does, every once in a while I’ll earn a laugh). He is stubborn. He’s fearless (unless he’s faced with sunflowers, and then his bravery rapidly melts away). He’s adventurous. He is incredibly sweet and snuggly. He is observant. He is ornery.
Being a mom involves falling in love.
9. I wasn’t prepared for the isolation I felt.
Granted, it took me weeks to feel human again and to be somewhat functional, but the first couple of months were incredibly lonely. I had worked until the day I went into labor, and I was used to being around people. Suddenly, I was with one tiny person all day, and for a while it seemed like all he did was cry, sleep, eat, and stare (he did a lotttt of staring, especially at the painting behind our couch). It was worse than it could have been because he was born in winter, and I am terrified of driving in snowy or icy weather. Plus, flu season was one of the worst in recent years, and my newborn didn’t have the immune system to fight a sometimes deadly flu. From what I read of other people’s experiences, the flu sounded absolutely miserable, and I didn’t want to get sick either!
Being a mom involves loneliness.
10. I wasn’t prepared for how fast it all goes.
When he was first born, I longed for the day he would sleep through the night, and therefore, wanted to just get through the newborn phase–even though I was warned about how quickly it goes. Again, I ignored what I was told. In just a few, short months, my newborn has gone from needing held constantly, not being interactive, being tiny, and being a loved little stranger to being able to sit up on his own crawl, pull himself up on furniture, walk with a push toy, smile, laugh, “talk” back and respond to questions, being big (okay, he’s still pretty tiny for his age, but he’s so much bigger than he was!!), and being someone whose likes, dislikes, and moods I know. It’s crazy how fast he’s grown. His growth and development has been so bittersweet. On the one hand, it is an absolute joy to see the new skills he develops, to watch his personality develop, and to watch him grow, but on the other hand, I cried when I boxed up his newborn clothes, and I know it’s just a matter of time before my snuggle-loving baby grows to be a space-craving little boy (my eyes filled with tears as I typed that).
Being a mom involves time flying.
And in just a few months, we get to start it all over again. I will probably still not be prepared.
Imperfect Pearl 