Grace, who is 15, told me about a conversation she had with an old friend. “She asked me how my year had been going,” Grace said. “And I told her about all the new things in my life and the things that have changed.” Suddenly her face crumpled. “And I realized, I’ve been through a lot, haven’t I?”
Yes, my girl, you have been through a lot.
The earth has made its way around the entirety of the sun since last March, which means we are headed towards all the anniversaries. March 13–the last day I was on campus with my students. March 19–the day we were told we had to leave. March 25–the day we left Tanzania. The emotional impact of each of those days left a yawning hole that has yet to be filled.
I don’t like remembering it. I’ve related the story of March 2020 to friends several times; I’ve re-read the account I wrote. It doesn’t take much to pull me back into the grief and bewilderment and shock all over again. I wonder how long it will take before I can think about it without feeling it.
Sorrow overshadowed just about everything in these last 365 days. It wasn’t just the evacuation, it was the months of uncertainty, the stress of moving from place to place for such a long time. It was the grief of our beloved pastor and friend being diagnosed with brain cancer, the fear for the future of the school we had invested in for sixteen years. It was the starting of a new life in a community that was locked down, all of the “firsts” marred by precariousness and unpredictability.
That’s not to say that there weren’t good things that happened, of course. There have been incredible ways that God has provided for us, indescribable kindness showered on us, and the provision for every single one of our needs. So it’s not that I haven’t been thankful for the good things. It’s just that the sorrow overwhelmed all of it.
But I don’t think God is concerned as much as I am about my happiness. A parent who does everything within his power to make his child happy is usually not a very good parent. I may yearn for comfort, peace, a life without rocks and barriers, but God desires to see the fruit of faith, perseverance, and love, which will not grow without pruning. I step back, and I can see the bigger picture. And God has the farthest-reaching perspective of us all.
There are shafts of light piercing through that sorrow, casting beams of hope into my family’s lives. We move into our own house in a week, and with it the promise of guests in our home again, establishing ourselves in a community, finally feeling settled. School is inching towards normalcy. We are planning vacations with our families for the summer, and hopefully, a trip to Tanzania.
Yet this year has damaged my capacity for hope. Nothing feels certain anymore. It’s so odd to think that on March 7th, one year ago exactly, I hadn’t the slightest clue that any of this would take place. So what if we plan these things, and just like last March, everything disintegrates again? I find myself afraid to hope, afraid to dream. The world doesn’t feel as predictable as it did a year ago. The ground I stand on feels shaky, and I wonder if it will ever feel steady again.
I suppose, though, that there is room for gratitude for this shakiness. Who am I, to put my trust in the ground beneath me? What right do I have to hope for certainty in this life, which is nothing but a vapor, a blade of grass that scorches in the heat? God bless this pandemic for reminding me of what has always been true: On Christ the solid rock I stand, all other ground is sinking sand.
Sheryl Zeiset
“I don’t think God is as concerned as I am about my happiness.” Truth. Thank you for writing. I have read every one of your blog posts in this last year with intense interest. In two months we are leaving Tanzania..and even the planned in advance leaving is so difficult. I dread dread dread the goodbyes and the adjustment to life in the states. I feel in a bewildering weary state of knowing for so long that I have to do this. And just wanting it to be done and over with or never happen. I can relate 100% to your not daring to hope anymore… life feels too shaky. So many things went ‘wrong’…it feels like things probably always will feel in that perpetual state of ‘wrong’.
But then I remember that God doesn’t work in ways that are always understood in our earthly minds. His ways are greater. He is always good and He always has a plan. An eternal plan that surpasses anything our finite vapors can imagine.
Too bad our stateside homes, California and Pennsylvania, are so many miles and states apart! We’d love to meet you some day!
Beverly Tucker
Hi Amy.
We returned from the mission field in 2018. That first and second year felt much like when someone you love dies. The pain has lessened, but I am still processing difficult things that happened and how to move on to a healthy place to be more valuable in the kingdom.
Last year the US definitely looked different from anything in my life time in many ways. Readjusting to this country, then this country going berserk made me feel like I was caught up in a set of the Twilight Zone. You have the added responsibility of helping your children adjust. I am much older than you, the grandmother of 2 two year olds girls. Like you, I am an educator and have spent a chunk of my life teaching. I found your blog because I started one. I am not posting to it now because I am enrolled in a course to learn how to optimize seo.
May God bless you and your family and help you discover the unique new place He has for you!
Beverly Tucker
http://www.tangledfaith.com is my website. Your comment would not let me post it.
Steve
Greetings Amy,
Again, I really enjoyed reading your writing. Your memories of a year ago prompted memories of mine. As the year 2020 began, my theme song was “I can see clearly now the rain is gone and I can see all the obstacles in my way….” ( https://youtu.be/MrHxhQPOO2c ). For Jan, Feb and the beginning of March it was going so good. I sang the song, or parts of the song to my classes. You see, I was tentatively planning to retire from teaching at Norte Vista High School(34 yrs at Norte Vista). But as the first ‘stay at home’ order came out from our district, and the many that followed from the district, state, federal government, that theme song of mine started to sound like a record getting scratches. Each order was a new scratch. And soon, my theme song was unplayable. Ha, I love that analogy, because it seems so fitting.
Then in the past 8 months 5 friends passed away including my mom. Its like whaaaaat?… So your point about being afraid to hope was poignant. All of which causes me to turn again to the Lord and trust him and give him so much great thanks for all he has done and will do in me. I am reminded often, this world is not our home we are just passing through… as the song goes. 1 John 2:16-17 “For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh and the lust of the eyes and the boastful pride of life, is not from the Father, but is from the world. And the world is passing away…” This brings me back to your blog’s ending statement, “On Christ the solid rock I stand, all other ground is sinking sand. ”
Many blessings to you and yours Amy.