“It’s a rebuilding year.”
I’ve heard my husband use that phrase countless times since the beginning of this year, referring to the school orchestras. With so many talented graduating high school seniors, and the aftermath of online learning and COVID complications, the future of his orchestra program is going to look different. It’s going to take effort to make it look like it had in the past, and hopefully even better. It’s going to be a long process, not happening over night. It’s going to take work, but the hope is that it is worth it.
I was on a run in the 88 degree weather this afternoon. It was gross and hard. The thought that kept coming to my mind was Daniel’s shrugged shoulders and small smile, his line “it’s a rebuilding year.”
It’s not just our schools. It’s not just our city. It’s not a personal problem. It is ALL of us. We are all looking at the rubble of the past year or so, wondering how the heck we’re supposed to clean it all up.
I was listening to a podcast the other day. It was an episode of That Sounds Fun by Annie F Downs (I just bought her book by the same title and it’s next on my list). Her podcast guest was John Eldredge. You can Google details about these folks, but long story short, they are GREAT.
John was talking about how constant streams of uncertainty and the fear that comes with it breaks people down. Sitting in silence with the Lord, he was asked “what are you hoping for?”
In the winding down (we think) of a global pandemic, we are in a hope deficit. The news, the fear and uncertainty, the isolation, the canceled plans, the disruption of what we’ve always known…the list continues. We aren’t hoping. And our desire to hope has been dashed.
So today as my feet were hitting the pavement for the first time in months, I was overwhelmed with what I felt this meant for me.
Hope has been hard to come by. Pandemic or not, it’s been difficult for me to hope for some time now.
“You may be suffering in silence, but God isn’t silent in your suffering”Rashawn Copeland
I found this quote last week as I was scrolling through Instagram, and wow it’s important to remember. My hope deficit is SEEN. My heart and its brokenness is KNOWN. And whether I can see it or not, God is moving. We can know that and hope. Even when our circumstances are bleak, or our will to keep moving is gone.
It’s hard to see schools across the country, and organizations that are known for wonderful things hold the burden of “rebuilding” and rekindling hope and purpose. It’s just as hard personally. We have expectations of where we “should be”, but aren’t, or won’t be. We aren’t even close. And there is immense shame in that, at least for me.
At the end of the day, I am seen. I am known. I am a part of a bigger and better story of redemption. When I am broken down, I can hope in the rebuilding that the Lord can do in my life. He is in the rebuilding business.
So, as a former half-marathoner and ISSA student, I put a thick layer of Body Glide between my thighs I ran my slowest 2 miles in the heat of the day, in shorts that really don’t fit anymore. It’s a rebuilding year.
I quit my first big girl job that I mostly very much loved in an effort to take care of myself. It’s a rebuilding year.
I have had the biggest battle with exhaustion, disinterest, anxiety and depression. Sometimes it makes me physically sick. It’s a rebuilding year.
I am experiencing a social life again for the first time in a long time, and I’m learning how to be a friend again. I’m still kinda bad at responding to messages. It’s a rebuilding year.
I am learning how to cook again this summer, and fighting with the sky-high lawn to feel like I’m succeeding as a first-time homeowner. It’s a rebuilding year.
Whatever it is for you, starting over is tough. Rebuilding is a long road. But we have been given a lasting reason to hope. So we’ll fight for that to be our foundation as we pick up the pieces.