I have had this lingering sadness mixed with grumpiness mixed with dismay mixed with jolts of pure rage and a tumble back down into despair--but who hasn't? My pandemic mindset (the negative kind, not the grateful I haven't gotten sick kind) seems to be triggered most by events that either aren't happening or are happening in a different way.
This past week, as I've started working my way through the modules for my onground intensive for the certificate in spiritual direction, I've felt the negative pandemic mindset struggling to root itself in my brain. I try to root it out with gratitude for the fact that it's still happening at all--in June, the intensive was simply cancelled, which has added 6 months to the program.
But this is so NOT what was making me thrilled a year ago when I went to the first onground intensive at the seminary last year. I was so happy to get back to a campus that has a traditional feel, to explore an amazing library, to meet new people and to room with an old Create in Me pastor friend. The coursework wasn't unfamiliar to me, but I was glad to hear the concepts again and in a new context.
An in-person onground intensive isn't practical in a year when a contagion continues to wreak havoc. And to be honest, I'm not sure I'd have been given permission to leave my full-time job this week to travel to the seminary if it had been a traditional onground experience, so in some ways, this works out for the best.
But there's a very different energy to sitting in front of my computer working my way through video modules than the energy that comes from being in a classroom. Not for the first time, I realize how easy it is to be distracted when sitting in front of a screen.
Yesterday a UPS truck pulled up, and I wondered what this could be. All of our Amazon orders have already arrived. The delivery person handed me a package. It was a care package from the seminary. It contained a variety of treats, many of them made locally in South Carolina, plus some instructions:
I was blown away by this care package, and I continue to think about why. After all, I could buy these kinds of things myself. I often don't, but I could.
But it's more than that. It's the fact that the people in charge realize that we could use this kind of boost. Many of us yearn for the situation to be different--and the care package shows an effort to mark this time as special, as sacred even. We may need to be separate, but we can drink the same tea and coffee, light similar candles, trace our fingers around a finger labyrinth at the same time.
During the past 9 months, I've seen various teachers create care packages for their students. I've read the comments of those who go online, looking for suggestions for a box of inspirations sent to creative writing students or poems sent to literature students, art supplies and self-care items and all sorts of other items that can be delivered by a variety of methods.
If you're a teacher and you wonder whether or not the extra touches have meaning for your students, speaking as a student, I'm here to tell you, yes they do. Your students may not ever tell you, and you may not know for sure, but I am profoundly moved by this gift.
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