I’m suppose to be writing a post for a friend’s blog about my experience with patriarchy and the church. Yes, I’ve experienced it. Yes, I have things to say. But I have to confess, it is not at the forefront of my mind lately.
My mind and heart are weighed down by news around the world. I find myself avoiding the internet, yet simultaneously being compelled to constantly scroll through. I’m grasping for order in my home because the world feels so chaotic. Now that my kids’ dresser drawers are sorted and all the lego in put away I sit down to write but still feel overwhelmed.
The words and phrases flash through my twitter feed, blare through kitchen radio, pop up in prayer requests at church. Syrian refugees…ISIS…Mike Brown… Sudan… Ebola… Gaza…. hostages…suicide…a missing plane…a shot down plane It is not letting up, like rain in February – constant flooding – overwhelming waters.
I know the world is never completely at peace but some weeks feel heavier than others. I seem to have cracked with the story of a stranger. The news of Mike Brown’s death sounded like a horrible story from 1961. But no. Unarmed, young African-American men are being gunned down by police in 2014. I could not feel more helpless. It is one thing to feel helpless about something like a missing plane but it is another to see events unfold like those in Ferguson, Missouri. I’m speechless.
I’m usually someone who tackles things head on but this makes me want to hide. I’m known for being a direct communicator and as someone who deals with things right away. But last night after a quick read through my twitter feed, I found myself wanting to hide.
I didn’t want to “feel” and I definitely didn’t want talk about anything. My husband was awake and at home but I couldn’t even bring myself to find him. I just wanted to hide from all that was going on in the world. I wanted to curl up on the couch and watch countless episodes of my new netflix discovery, The Good Wife and eat bowls full of honey-nut cheerios.
This all happened in the wake of Robin William’s suicide and the outpouring of writing/tweets on mental health. I am feeling overwhelmed this week but many people live like this everyday. Lord have mercy.
For brief moments, seconds really, throughout the day, I would go back to the communion table. This week, our pastor used a liturgy for communion – joining with people around the world who eat and drink together. He prefaced our liturgy with something like, “You of great faith or you of little faith are welcome to the table. For it is not me who invites you, but Christ himself.” The liturgy, read in unison, reminded me of the global Church. I thought about my brothers and sisters around the world, many suffering greatly, but all of us trying to hold on to the hope at the table.
Slowly I began to eat, drink, remember and believe.
Although hiding with Julianna Margulies and cereal has been helpful, one day soon I hope to come to the surface of this flood. I want to stay a little longer at table and face the overwhelming waters from there.