On the Verge of Overwhelm

Hibernation is calling! Another bottle/boxset/box of biscuits to binge. Another update to check. Another unanswered question to ignore. When did ‘living in the moment’ stop promising freedom and start feeling heavy?

Little hopes have shone through the deluge of gloomy headlines, keeping us going. A vaccine on the horizon. A neighbourhood coming together to serve its vulnerable. A miraculous Covid-19 recovery.

As I placed an enormous pumpkin over a candle – long after my kids decided this ‘family fun’ was only for Mum – I noticed how fragile light often looks. A timid orange glowflickered, nearly overwhelmed by the darkness surrounding it. 

Overwhelm (verb):

1. bury or drown beneath a huge mass of something, especially water.

2. have a strong emotional effect on.

3. defeat completely

After seven months of new normals, of being thrown from extreme emotion to extreme emotion, of attempts to adapt todo all the things, expertly, from home … many are feelinganxious, depressed or just plain tired. Apparently ‘Covid fatigue’ is a thing. 

I’ve noticed an anxious apathy in myself, a desire to hide behind my face mask, ideally under a duvet. The thought of seeing what my youngest calls ‘live action people’ fills me with joy, but afterwards I feel disappointed. I can’t express what I’ve felt over such a long and turbulent time. I can’t hug them. I can’t let my mask fall. 

There’s nothing like social media to show us that everyone else is perfect (or is at least making a better job of looking like they are!). There’s nothing like being isolated with the same people every day to show is we are not perfect at love. Yet there’s nothing like a global pandemic to convince us that real, authentic, masks down love is what really matters.

Aside from the fear of small people ‘helping’ wield kitchen knives, carving a pumpkin face was easy. With a template and a skewer, a laughing Pikachu was possible! Likewise, it’s not hard to post only our highlights or to sometimes feign smiley eyes.

Dealing with the insides was less fun. My eldest did not want to go near the mush of seeds and flesh. After the cap was removed, he was done. My youngest loved the spongey sliminess but found the finished result creepy. Even after scooping and scooping, I found fibres poking through the final design. 

My insides sometimes feel like a huge mass of messy thoughts and emotions. I need someone who isn’t afraid of my mess. I need a light that reaches all the dark edges of my life. Not just a flickering flame, but something more like the blazing sunlight that kept shining (and kept us sane) through lockdown. 

Where do I go to find the freedom to let down my masks? I’m going to borrow some words from the Bible:

‘It started when God said, “Light up the darkness!” and our lives filled up with light as we saw and understood God in the face of Christ, all bright and beautiful.’

When I look at Jesus, I’m not worried about being misunderstood. I don’t need to hide or strive to impress. It’s like looking Love full in the face. I can spill my guts to himand to some friends too, knowing my identity isn’t based oncarving a perfectly designed exterior (or pumpkin or profile). It’s based on being lit up on the inside with a force that is stronger than whatever is threatening to overwhelm us. This really sums it up for me:

‘If you only look at us, you might well miss the brightness. We carry this precious Message around in the unadorned clay pots of our ordinary lives. That’s to prevent anyone from confusing God’s incomparable power with us. As it is, there’s not much chance of that. You know for yourselves that we’re not much to look at. We’ve been surrounded and battered by troubles, but we’re not demoralized; we’re not sure what to do, but we know that God knows what to do; we’ve been spiritually terrorized, but God hasn’t left our side; we’ve been thrown down, but we haven’t broken…

So we’re not giving up. How could we! Even though on the outside it often looks like things are falling apart on us, on the inside, where God is making new life, not a day goes by without his unfolding grace.’​​​2 Corinthians 4:7-12

This season of darkness, as I’m tempted to retreat under my duvet, I’m so thankful for the light of Jesus who gives me the strength to fight overwhelm.

Holly

Holly is married to Steve and they have two young children. She loves reading and watching stories of all kinds and swimming (not all the kinds). She works for Navigators UK on the publications team