Cherishing Little Blessings Amid the Great Worry

In February, before the age of lockdowns, my youngest child helped my husband give ScourGuard shots to our pregnant cows and heifers.

This vaccine increases antibodies in the mother’s colostrum, which in turn boosts the immune systems of the newborn calves during their first months of life. These antibodies help protect the babies from diseases that cause scours, a life-threatening condition that dehydrates the calf and damages its stomach lining.

My son read the vaccine vial and exclaimed, “We could give this to ourselves!”

One of the diseases the vaccine protects against is coronavirus.

My husband explained to our son that the strain of coronavirus we vaccinate the cows for is different from the one invading the planet.

Nearly three months have passed since that exchange in the barnyard.

It seems like a lifetime ago.

Winter went out like a lamb while the silent, invisible enemy marched through six continents and upended every aspect of human life. Seemingly overnight, economies crashed as businesses shuttered and jobs evaporated. Schools closed, events canceled, and humanity sheltered at home to help slow the spread of the virus.

The season of Lent, traditionally a time of giving things up in order to repent and reorient our lives to Christ, became a true return to the desert. Dystopian images flooded news feeds: empty shelves, empty cities, overwhelmed hospitals in hot zones, rising death tolls. By the time Holy Week concluded on Resurrection Sunday, the world was full of empty churches as sequestered Christians celebrated an empty tomb.

Now the world is slowly starting to unlock. Our state’s stay-at-home order expires next week, and we Minnesotans will transition into a “stay safe” phase. While we cautiously move forward, anxiety continues to linger. Have we ever had so much to worry about? Life, death, work, unemployment, recession, inflation, social distancing, masks, the consequences of broken supply chains. Farmers, who have struggled for the past five years with an extended downcycle, must now bear the anguish of dumped milk, plowed-under crops, and euthanized livestock.

The Apostle Paul instructs us to rejoice always and pray without ceasing, no matter the circumstances, yet the temptations to worry without ceasing pull daily at my heart. But Paul doesn’t leave it there; he pushes us to do more. Give thanks. In all circumstances. (Even a pandemic.)

I confess I don’t always win the battle against worry, but I can give thanks for what conservative commentator David Brooks called “the little blessings amid the Great Worry.” I have been so glad to shelter-in-place on the farm with my favorite people in the world, and I’m so thankful we’ve stayed healthy. I’m also grateful for a surprising consequence of the shutdown: an unexpected season of rest.

Like families the world over, our calendar emptied completely for the unforeseeable future. The initial disappointment of highly anticipated events being canceled faded in light of grim news reports and continued calls to stay home for the common good. Activities halted—and so did hurrying. The stress of getting multiple people fed and out the door on time for extracurricular activities, lessons, meetings, rehearsals, gatherings, and appointments vanished. I haven’t said “let’s go” or “hurry up” in over two months!

Two weeks into the lockdown, my daughter noticed that I was getting more sleep and, consequently, starting the days with more energy and joy. Indeed, we all seemed more relaxed as we spent our newfound extra time in restful pursuits: walking, reading, talking, and lingering over meals. That led to a revelation: I didn’t realize how exhausted I was.

I had been so busy running, I had forgotten how to rest. I had forgotten that work and leisure are equally important for a harmonious life. Busyness blinded me to the need for balance.

T. S. Eliot declared that our lives are “distracted from distraction by distraction.” Many good, affirming, and important activities claim hours of our time, leaving little left over for rest. Pre-coronavirus, I used to look at the calendar multiple times a day to make sure I didn’t miss anything. Now, I tend to forget what day of the week it is. With so many “distractions” stripped away from my life, I’m free to focus on what’s right in front of me: the family I love so dearly, newborn calves racing around the hillsides, budding branches, singing birds…

Christopher Booker, a reporter for the PBS Newshour, admitted that distraction controlled his family’s life to an unhealthy degree. “Our family Saturdays have always seemed to contradict the purpose of Saturdays: to unwind from the week. The day always passed with a relentless tempo, as we moved from one obligation to the next.” Saturdays suddenly looked different after the lockdown. “We walk. Sometimes just down the street, sometimes on the bike path behind our house, sometimes on a nearby trail… When we’re out walking, the day slows. Anxiety remains, but it loses ground against playing drums on a tree or listening to the spring peepers, those tiny frogs that sing of winter’s end, small little details that I can’t believe we had left out of our Saturdays before.” 

We will eventually get to the other side of this pandemic. Life may never be quite the same, and in one aspect, that’s okay. As restrictions continue to lift, I want to carry forth the lesson of this stay-at-home moment: amid the Great Worry, I was reminded of the value of living a more restful life.