Like you, perhaps, I am struggling to make sense of all that has happened and continues to happen.
The past month of an unbroken series of bad news has been trying for many- sharp spikes in outbreak numbers, a reversion to stricter lockdown measures for all, news of unvaccinated seniors coming from left field, global disasters from climate change, and a devastating school tragedy of a young boy being murdered by another, whose ripple effects continue to push out.
Amidst all of this, the circulation of false vaccine allegations, petitions to push back against vaccination, and flurries of misinformed textes promoting alternative solutions to vaccines have weighed me down.
A quiet sadness paved its way into grief, which stewed its way into anger, an unexpected vexation with matters out of my control- with people who champion their individual rights not to take the vaccine while remaining oblivious to the tremendous impact this has to a greater community and on a more personal level, an inexplicable impatience with unsolicited advice.
Weeks ago, I had read about “pandemic rage,” a new phenomenon describing the unusual frustration of people unleashed in the pandemic, from the many disruptions and uncertainties COVID-19 has brought to our lives.
Anger is a normal part of our emotional compass, to help us navigate through life, stand up for ourselves and others, and even defend what is worth protecting. But now that it had crept up upon me, stayed with me, pulsed within me, I struggled to manage it.
At its best, anger can energize us to shine what is tarnished. But at its worst, it can rob us of our best and daily joy.
I found myself unusually vexed in a text messaging group where vaccine allegations were tossed around, disproportionately exasperated in a conversation with a kind-hearted person who was well-intentioned to share a wonderful option for childcare for us. I packed my anger in a suitcase. And it was not until I read the lyrics to the song “Scars of Heaven” that has been circulating widely, as the song played by the Christian parents at their child’s funeral, in the heartbreaking murder event in Singapore last week, that I began to reflect upon the importance of living out our Big Whys, not in the brief, sparse moments of inspiration and grief we get hit by from time to time, but every day, in every moment.
The song writes: “If I had only known the last time would be the last time, I would’ve put off all the things I had to do, I would’ve stayed a little longer, held on a little tighter. Now what I’d give for one more day with you.”
As tears gushed out for a week of mourning over the losses experienced on a personal and national level, I began to finally grieve the unspoken emotions packed so tightly away.
All at once, memories, like a raw wound, gushed to the surface-It felt like only yesterday when Cliff had had had a liver crisis and every day felt fresh with the possibility of being the last day we had together without the burden of illness or tragedy. The nearness of how fragile life can be, became real again. Suddenly I understood the anger I experienced with the well-intentioned advice to send our children to a childcare center, so that Cliff and I could be less busy, and do the things that could advance our careers and better our futures.
My reaction feels almost petty now, in light of all that’s going on in the world- but the lyrics of the song awakened an old realization, made me acknowledge how that seemingly very real possibility of losing Cliff drastically changed not only my career choices, but also shaped my decision to be as hands-on as possible in the early years of our children’s lives.
When you live in the wake of realizing you have been living, continue to live on borrowed time, you can never live the same way again. Nothing can really replace the time we spend and invest in our families. And the incident, the song, the grieving, gave me words to explain the unusual anger I had. There before me lay an indisputable, uncontestable argument that sending our children to childcare would free up a lot of time for us- to rest, to study, to advance ourselves. We were recommended a privatized childcare near home with excellent teachers. Holistic, creative schooling. Lots of subsidies. Very cheap, when you work it all out. Very cheap. Near nature. But yes, very cheap when you take everything into consideration.
I regret that my attentiveness and silence must have egged her on. I was bristling all over, but failed miserably at saying what I really felt- how I really think my having a husband who’s alive at all and even children with him (I thought we would last 3 years from the liver crisis) has really been all quite a miracle, that in a few years we may move to a humanitarian setting with limited stability and so this is a choice I made, we’ve made together, to invest heavily into our children’s early years through hands-on parenting in this peculiar way. It’s not for everyone and we don’t think it’s a superior way, but it’s what we have chosen. So there really isn’t room for us to change course for personal gain.
THIS, our choice we have made, IS our personal gain.
But I did not say that. Instead, I drank in all the unsolicited advice like a cold drink on a hot day, bristling with anger unspoken.
As I reflected on the past week of seemingly disparate events, I gleaned three lessons:
1. Know Your Big Why
In times where our personal decisions may be challenged by convincing arguments, we must do the hard work to dig deep, re-discover and articulate our Big Why- why we do what we do and choose what we have chosen. So that when we find ourselves tossed by others into fresh waves of self-doubt, we can lean on that and be at peace to be accountable to ourselves.
Because at the end of the day, no one knows when the last time will truly be the last time. We alone have to live with how we have led our last days with the ones we love, and no one else will carry a lifetime of regrets on our behalf. So if you’ve decided to take the road less trodden, to slow down, to say no to another glamorous work opportunity, to savour your life and spend more time with your loved ones, even if it is hard- do so indulgently, guiltlessly.
You don’t owe anyone any explanation.
2. Shine Your Light, however small
In times of deep tragedy and wounding, we can be faithful in our giving of ourselves to others- sharing a kind word, taking a step of faith to volunteer to mentor or befriend those in need, or simply, to reach out and get help for ourselves. It may not seem like a lot, in light of all that the world is grieving over, but we each have a little light we can shine onto ourselves, onto communities around us, however small, which can dispel some of the darkness.
3. Choose Decisions that Bless your Community
In times of crisis and confusion, there is no better time to honor the interconnectedness of our community- whether it’s on the subject of racism or vaccination. As much as we champion our individual rights- the truth is that every action and inaction has an impact on the greater world.
Our decision not to get vaccinated for our “personal (non-medically related) reasons”, to forward petitions about alternative medical solutions and rally others to stay clear of the vaccine for reasons like avoiding the “mark of the beast” or suggesting scientific reasons way beyond our own fields of expertise… not only discounts the heartbreaking work of thousands of health professionals who make personal sacrifices every day to keep our community safe, but (and I will not mince my words here) put others at real risk of real losses.
Lives are at stake.
This season, even as we grieve as a nation, know this- that anger is at bay. But instead of packing it away, we can choose to do the hard work of sitting face to face with it, and remember our Big Why, choose to shine our light, and make decisions for good, not for worse.
If you, like me, are grieving, know this- if there ever was a time for asking ourselves the hard questions of why we live and love the way we do, what more is it that we can do for a broken and dying world, how we can love our loved ones better, there is perhaps no better time than now.
Let us not forget that we, too, can make little decisions inside of us that send ripples, greater than we imagine, out into our world. And perhaps, that could make all the difference.
