treading water in the covid blues...

Coming to terms with the consequences of the contagion washes over me from time to time - and lays me low. The new normal - face masks, self-imposed limitations on social interaction, instacart groceries, virtual meetings, family visits by Zoom and all the rest - no longer feels unsettling. It makes macabre sense. What grabs me unexpectedly by the throat is the breadth and depth of this new normal. Like having to plan, prioritize, and orchestrate how our small family might simply visit together for a quiet meal or birthday party. Or the precautions we will need to take in order to vote in the upcoming primary election in September - let alone count the costs of showing up at our polling place for the November presidential contest. Or when will travel to Canada - or even our favorite places in our home state of Massachusetts - be safe again? And I mean really safe? I know that I will not likely feel free to interact openly until probably next spring 2021 at the earliest - and that cuts deep.

This truth caught me unawares again last night as a wave of grieving rose up and pulled me into its undertow. All day I have been struggling to keep my head above water. I know that this, too shall pass. Yet taking stock of our losses, personally and collectively, feels staggering. Like other types of grief before it, these covid-blues have thrust a mean-spirited, bony hand into my heart in a a cruel and demanding manner and for the first time in months I feel fragile. Yes, yes, our feelings come and go. My emotional life is only a part of this puzzle, too. And, by faith I am certain that what I am experiencing is not the end of the story. And still, like other seasons of grief, this one took me totally by surprise. 

That's one of grief's curses, yes? You never see it coming. It always pulls you down when you least expect it. And you're not in control of its magnitude or longevity. It has a life all its own. Small wonder I sensied it wise to consider the dance of faith and hope this week during my Sunday morning live-streaming reflection. In times like these, even while knowing these covid blues are unique, I realize I am feeling like this Leonard Cohen song as interpreted by Judy Collins. In ways that are sacred, the angst of suffering is married to the joy of faith ever time that incredible chorus comes around with its angelic harmonies.

 

My Sunday live- streaming gig will open this week at 9:55 am with an original blues improvisation from my favorite jazz quartet. We created it for our 50th anniversary celebration of John Coltrane's "A Love Supreme." It is a moody, moving conversation between piano, bass, sax and drums performed on Good Friday 2016 that culminates in a vocal improvisation on William Billings' "When Jesus Wept." (check it out this coming Sunday @ https://www.facebook.com/Be-Still-and-Know-913217865701531) I am looking forward to my study, prayer and writing this week as I go deeper into the paradox of trust, joy, faith, hope, and love while treading water in the blues.