Life's Tough, Get a Helmet

 As a 90s kid, I grew up watching Boy Meets World. My middle school relationship dreams were made of finding a love like Cory and Topanga had. I remember in the show how Eric would hit Cory in the head and then tell him, "life's tough, get a helmet." Not really sure why, but this popped into my head as I was sitting down to write a blog. That should be the motto of the last almost two years. Because man oh man has life been tough. 

Between the pandemic, all of the changes to life as we know, becoming a mom, and moving churches and states, life has all felt like a lot. Even as a person with a higher-than-normal baseline of stress and anxiety, the last two years have pushed me to my breaking point more times than I can count. 

When I think back to the end of 2019, that way of life seems almost unimaginable now. Shane and I had just found out we were expecting, so we were over the moon with excitement. Our lives felt so carefree and fun. We could sleep late on the weekends and go out for beers and French fries after yoga. Heck, in February of 2020, we went on a two-week trip to the Holy Land with over 300 other people. We spent that whole two weeks in close proximity to friends and clergy colleagues. In fact, there were probably seldom times where there was more than six-feet between us and other people. The last "normal" weekend I remember is when Shane and I went to Atlanta for the US Olympic Marathon Trials. That was such a fun and unforgettable experience watching hundreds of our country's best marathoners run through the streets of Atlanta. 

But of course, as we all know, that all came to a screeching halt in the weeks that followed. There were whispers of the first confirmed cases of COVID-19 in the United States while we were in Atlanta, but we had no idea how much life would change in a matter of weeks. All of a sudden, instead of feeling fun and carefree, life felt stressful and overwhelming. Instead of celebrating our baby on the way with our loved ones, we were sheltering in place, working from home, and having minimal interactions with anyone outside our house. 

This continued for months and months. Wearing masks became our new normal. I pretty much only left the house for runs and prenatal doctors appointments. This continued throughout the rest of my pregnancy and into those early postpartum days after Abigail was born. Maybe I was naive and overly-optimistic, but I remember feeling so hopeful as the vaccine finally started to become more widely accessible. After a long, dark year filled with loss and grief, it felt like the light at the end of the tunnel was becoming visible. Once Shane and I were fully vaccinated, it felt so comforting to hug loved ones with less fear. We still practiced social distancing and wore masks, but there was a little more peace of mind. 

As many others did, we continued to feel hopeful in those early months of 2021. There was a lot of exciting things going on in our lives. Abigail was growing and changing every day and we announced we would be moving back to Western NC. For the entirety of the four years we served in Florida, I looked forward to the day when we would eventually make our way back to North Carolina. Don't get me wrong, I loved our time in Florida, but the mountains have always felt like home to me. So, as bittersweet as it was to leave my church in Florida, I was excited to move closer to my family. 

Despite being full of excitement, the big move to NC was also filled with a lot of emotions and even more change. It was and continues to be a huge transition for our family. I underestimated how hard it would be to move in the midst of an ongoing pandemic. I underestimated how hard it would be to leave a congregation that I loved. I underestimated how hard it would be to balance motherhood and starting at a new church. I underestimated a lot of things, including how much of a toll all of this would take on me physically, mentally, emotionally, and even spiritually. 

And, as much as I hate to say it, I don't have a nice, tidy resolution to all of these things. I don't have a story of how everything got better or how things finally settled. Instead, I'm still sitting here in this liminal space with all of these hard, messy emotions trying to figure it all out. And that sucks. It's tough. I don't like it. I wish I could just fast-forward to the good part when things feel normal again. But, I don't think that's coming any time soon. So, instead, I am trying to learn to sit in the discomfort. I am trying to lean in to the messiness and chaos and look for how I can learn and grow in the midst of it. Life is tough, but there is beauty even in the toughest seasons, so instead of wishing them away, I guess I just need to get a helmet. 

Here's to leaning in to the toughness of life and finding joy in the midst of it. Life is hard and exhausting (especially with a 14-month old) and overwhelming, but it is also precious and beautiful. And I never want to forget that.