Tip of My Iceberg

It’s almost finished.

Building out our tiny porch to something that could hold our whole family has been a dream for years. We’ve saved and waited, often with frustration, because something else always came up where the money needed to be used.

We imagined what it would be like to have everyone sitting together for porch time. Enjoying the outdoors together. Or the chance to entertain in a space that was made for hospitality.

A year and a half in the making, due to permits, timing, and everything else that goes into–and can go wrong with–a project, and the end is in sight.

But the dreams for what it can be used for will have to wait. The anticipation of a sweet people-space will be put on hold.

I didn’t anticipate having something we can’t use.

Not like we wanted.

More waiting. The longer this social distancing goes on, the less able I am to wait well.

The porch will be used. John and I will sit out there early in the morning with a cup of coffee.

It’s not how I’d have written the script. I’d have made it a party, a chance to invite family and friends to gather, to enjoy this gift of space. To enjoy one another in a place made for crowds.

Not for just two people.

This isn’t a big deal. The porch will still be there when the fears and frustrations of this virus have passed.

However long that may be.

Impatience is the product of fear and a lack of control. At least it is for me. When I have no means to guarantee the end I desire, when circumstances arise that I can’t shape to my liking or fix to help others, I become impatient with the process.

I feel the need to talk about it.

There’s something about having others hear my whining and complaining that gives me a sense that it’s truth. I’ve said it; others have heard it; my reality is now theirs.

This is the bigger issue with our current situation. Everyone is voicing fears, frustrations, anger, and anxiety.

It’s all valid.

Our emotions and perspectives are part of who we are. Products of our stories.

We’re not helping one another with our complaints. We drag others deeper into the black hole with us.

It’s easy to catalog all the wrongs that are happening right now, personally and communally. Locally and globally. We can’t unsee it all that’s going on.

Jesus reminds us that we will have problems in this world. We’ve seen that over and over again. This isn’t ever going to be a place of true peace and rest.

He is the One who can give inner peace even when problems raise their ugly heads with persistence. When my impatience overrides my understanding and responsibility and I scream in my soul that I want what I want.

He’s not surprised or shocked by my response. Or anyone else’s.

Jesus is available to all who will call on Him. He offers strength to those who seek it, courage to those who need it.

He’s with us. If we ask.

He sees it all.

He sees all of us.

So I’ll sit on my porch and know I’m really not alone.