Special: Response to the Coronavirus Threat

Here in Kentucky the closings due to the coronavirus threat are toppling our everyday routines and anticipated events like dominoes, and life feels unsteady. Yesterday was our first school day with all the kids home—our first day with the walls pressing inward, our first day where I didn’t encourage the kids to go out or find neighbor friends to play with. Our day was not pretty and peaceful. It was hard. There were ugly tantrums and threats of running away and exasperated reactions and less school accomplished than could have been and less floor not covered with clothes and toys than I prefer, and far less peace than my Enneagram 9 nature so craves.

I read the posts—the beautiful tributes to a day of rediscovering the priceless value of family relationships and spending extra time together—and was tempted to compare. To conclude that even homeschool mama as I am, I had come up inadequate.

I read inspiring articles of people showing noteworthy human kindness, of offering extra supplies to neighbors, of leaning into community and compassion—and again I felt I’ve come up lacking. We didn’t join the maniac stocking up of supplies, didn’t buy any extra toilet paper aside from the week’s worth we already had, didn’t attempt to click-list an order until yesterday. I’d love to be the neighbor with ample supplies to freely contribute, the neighbor cooking and delivering extra meals, the neighbor watching extra kids so parents can more easily work. But unless we can find meat in stock in the next couple days, we are going to be coming up with creative meals and eating a whole lot more almond butter + jelly sandwiches. And I’m still wrestling with whether the most loving and respectful thing is to keep some distance or welcome you close anyway.

So here I sit, pounding out words after encouraging my kids to take a break from school and watch something on Disney +, writing because I have to wrestle with how we live on mission in our neighborhoods during the coronavirus threat, writing because I need to dig deep enough to find the words there waiting.

Do we still meet as a missional community because we so much could use the encouragement and support so sweet with proximity, or do we best love and respect each other by keeping more distance since meeting puts a whole lot of kids together in the same place? Do we still play with our neighbor friends or sacrifice our preference even though it’s hard, even though it doesn’t feel loving—not because we live in fear but because we are responding in love to a concerned population who may feel less than loved by our presence? Ironically our reasons to meet or not meet, play or not play, can both be spurred by the same motive—seeing and valuing those around us (“You, Lord, know everyone’s hearts,” as I read in Acts 1:24b).

Then too, I have to wonder whether all our small efforts to flatten the curve may just make a difference for someone, and it may not even be someone we know—but should that matter? We are created for community, and confined largely to our homes even for a few days many of us are feeling this deeply. Here we are greatly missing the connections, the in-person conversations, the freedom to come and go as we please. We miss the camaraderie of neighbors, the play that is more fun with more littles. But the need for in-person community can be more easily seen in its absence, and in this too we can choose to see blessing.

So here I land: let’s choose simply to let grace mark our next number of weeks. Grace for each other—grace in not judging the positions of others, grace in loving even those we disagree with. Grace for our politicians—grace in respecting their authority and desire to value human life and keep us as safe and healthy as possible, grace in following our city, state, and national recommendations—not out of fear but because we are compelled by love, because we value our neighbors over our preferences, because filling needs and forming community can still be done in creative ways and from a safe distance. Grace for ourselves—grace to not compare, grace to bravely choose gratitude, grace to struggle and question and grieve.

In closing, I would like to leave you with a few ways we love well—the essence of missional living—from a safe distance:

• Pray and meet together via the phone, Skype, FaceTime, Voxer, etc. with your missional community/small group/life group, friends, and family.

• Play dates can be virtual and plentiful, even with neighbor friends. Utilize FaceTime or walkies!

• Know your neighbors needs as they arise through a neighborhood FB group.

• Contribute financial help to a small business owner or restaurant employee impacted heavily by the coronavirus closings.

• Practice gratitude for the good you can find in this season. Writing down a few things you are thankful for each day shifts your perspective.