COVID has brought me some clarity

COVID has brought me some clarity. One of my words for 2024. 

I went down hard on Monday, January 15 with my second bout of COVID. It has taken me literally every ounce of energy to keep up with my job. As a virtual teacher, one of the amazing benefits is it is flexible, and it is the thing I appreciate the most—second only to working from home. However, when you are sick no substitute teacher comes in (at least in my school)—so if days are taken off, you just come back to a bigger pile, and that causes me great anxiety. In true Terry form, I pushed through. 

That is what a Terry does. She pushes through.   

I realize I do a lot outside of work—this is not shocking for my inner circle, or me. During these past two weeks, I realized balls have dropped in my service work. Now I have to decide which ones I want to pick up, what ones I can pass on, or what ones I can throw to a Golden Retriever and let them play with for a bit. 

I think it’s pretty fortuitous that Godde, my immune system, and a virus forced me to do a hard reset. The timing with a new moon and Lent right around the corner is not lost on me. 

It’s a cliché, but we are human beings, not human doings. I have been doing way too much for 57 years. Trying to control. Trying to plan. Trying to push through. I am exhausted.

I see so much hate, violence, greed, and inhumanity in the world, for example (because I know you need one more—said no one ever living in this world) the person who was murdered by the State of Alabama earlier this week.This human being, Kenneth Smith, had already endured a botched attempt to end his life through a failed injection. He recovered. Only to be killed this week by a brand-new method that was never tested. Imagine surviving one attempt on your life, having to endure another, and not knowing if that one would work. If that is not THE definition of cruel and unusual punishment, I do not know what is. (Aside: I understand he killed a woman, who was a wife, mother, and fellow human-being, and she did not deserve to die, either.) The exhaustion now feels like an anchor. 

But then I listened to Dan Harris’ interview with Bryan Stevenson and there was hope. I’ve included the link to the interview because if you need hope—here it is. Coincidence that I was led to listen to this podcast after hearing about Kenny Smith? I do not think so.

Bryan shared a story based on the work he is doing with the Equal Justice Initiative, particularly around creating memorial sites around areas where blacks were lynched, in the United States, for the grave sin of being black. Oh, Godde, save me from this exhaustion. 

In addition to creating memorials at the sites of the lynchings, part of the project includes having volunteers go and dig dirt (from those lynching sites) to place in a museum. The story he shared had tears pouring down my face. A black woman in Alabama, despite her fear of going to this remote area to dig up dirt for this project, was on her knees digging. She saw a pick-up truck with a white man it in—and the fear intensified. She saw him drive past. She saw his brake lights and saw him turn around.  He then pulled to the side of the road and got out of the truck. I can only imagine her fear. The man asked what she was doing. She shared. He kneeled next to her and began digging with his hands. Ultimately he followed her back to Montgomery, to deposit the soil for the exhibit. Both (the woman and the man) had moments of tears when she shared about the lynching, and he admitted it could very well have been one of his ancestors who did the lynching. Hope.The exhaustion does not feel so heavy. 

Bryan also shared that he believes everyone is better than their worst mistake. That little nugget I am still processing. But it’s more hope and I’m claiming it. 

But exhaustion and fatigue persist. My COVID clarity is that for 2024 I am going to rest. Life has been way too much. We know 2024 is going to be a lot—for the world and the United States.

This Lent I am going to focus on A Different Kind of Fast: Feeding Our True Hungers in Lent, a book by Christine Valters Paintner. I invite you to join me on this journey. 

This year and this Lent, I am committing to NOTHING new and figuring out ways to pare my life down so I can rest, restore, and then meaningfully re-engage with the work Godde has in store for me. It’s not “quiet quitting”—it’s more like a silent sabbatical. 

I do not have to have my retirement mapped out this year. 

I do not have to have my Christmas decorations taken down.  

I do not have to decide to become a priest and have coursework completed.  

I do not have to be the best yoga teacher ever.  

I do not have to fix relationships. 

I do not have to be Burger King for my students and their families—they all can’t have it their way and neither can I.  

I do not have to do anything that does not make me the best version of myself—the Dalai Lama’s concept of “good selfishness.”

I do have to acknowledge that these past few years have been a lot. I am proud of the hard work I have done, in healing and recovery, but there’s still a lot more work to be done, particularly in recovery. I need to rest to renew.

Clarity. Thank you, COVID. I can do small things with great love. I can help someone dig dirt—I don’t have to organize and plan the digging of the dirt.  

Amen and namaste.