Still. Have Joy.

Here, in the U.S. and across the globe the COVID-19 pandemic has illuminated so much, inflicted much hardship, and invited spaces of pain.  For those of us though, who can find the space, and consideration, I want us to question where we can still find joy. 

A couple of weeks ago, I was on a morning run. That week, here in Chicago, we had gotten the mandate that all parks and running trails would be closed. As part of my maintenance of my mental health, a run along the beautiful lake front of Chicago is one of the greatest balms to my soul when it is fret with anxiety.

I started my run, full of frustration, instead of dodging sand, pebbles, and dogs that are frolicking along the beach, I am dodging cars, service vehicles, and delivery trucks. Instead of hearing the sounds of waves crashing along the shore, I am met with horns, and the clitter and clatter of city streets.

As I was musing in my frustration, I remembered a story from one of my favorite ministers. He once shared about one of his parishioners and how years earlier she had -had a stroke.  He goes on to tell the story about how he went to visit her in the hospital – the stroke had been severe, and she had loss the use of right-side of her body.   When he got to the hospital, he expected her to be depressed, frustrated, and angry by the state of her condition.  When he got there, he was surprised to hear a boisterous and joy-filled voice greeting him.  Taken back by her joy, she began to explain, that she was going to use the half of her body that did work, to lift the other half that didn’t work – she went on to speak of having joy, having faith, having resilience in the half she had left.

Many of us are working on half, and I recognize that each of our halves look different – “comparison is the thief of joy” and I would not dare to try to compare one person’s “living on half” to another.  What, I will say though, is again, as we can, as we are able - where like that church parishioner, can we Still. Have Joy.

In this season of “social distancing” I have been more socially connected than ever before.  I have done Zoom nights with family, virtual game nights with friends, laughed as I watched TV virtually with others…have reconnected with communities I have not talked to in years.  I have been more present to those around me and spent moments in reflection without the constant considerations of upcoming travel. I have gotten present to our collective responsibility to give where we can.

Recently, I made a donation to Family Promise  - an organization that is dedicated to helping those with housing and food insecurities. As you are able, I would encourage you to give to those causes that speak to your heart.

I say thank you more to the grocery store clerk, the mail carrier, those who prepare meals at my favorite restaurants.  When this is over, and we get back our “other half” let us, yes, let some things from the difficult season go, but let us also let some things remain. Let gratitude remain, let resilience remain, let faith in one another remain, let love remain.

Until the day we can all gather together at our favorite café, synagogue, temple, church, bar, theater, or running path along the lake in Chicago; let us give voice to our pain, let us honor our anxiety, and as we are able in recognizing the difficulties let us take a moment as we can and look with an unwavering sense of hope that even in the midst of hard times we can still have joy.