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A New Normal

The New Normal

I don’t like it. And from what I gather, I’m not alone.

I’ve been thinking about it. Someday I’ll go back to the grocery store – without a mask. I’ll get my hair cut and colored. I’ll hug a friend, a neighbor. Or will I? Will it ever be the same? Experts tell us it won’t. It’ll be a new normal.

I haven’t liked the new normals of the past. The empty nest when the kids left home. Life without Mama after she passed. Life without Daddy. I really don’t want a new normal.

Spring was an especially difficult time here in Michigan to isolate. While I waited, I walked around my house. I cooked. I baked. I order groceries. I sent out sympathy cards. I prayed. Oh God. Give me wisdom. I can’t seem to focus without your direction.

I had plenty to do. Spring cleaning. A lifetime of photos to sort – to scan – to organize. A devotional book to write. A Bible Study to promote. But no motivation. It rained. It hailed. Finally the sun shone! I stepped outside. I walked. Worked in the garden. Planted. Breathed in the fresh air. Soaked up the sunshine. I prayed. Oh God. Give me wisdom.

The wisdom is found in the Word. He is the wisdom. I listened. He spoke. I heard “Jesus whispers!”

“Kathi, you are coming to a crossroad. This is where the paths meet. This is where wisdom takes her stand. This is where you take your stand. Wisdom is crying out to you. Stand at these crossroads and look at your past. Ask for the ancient paths, the paths where you have found wisdom before. Ask for the good way. Find it. Walk in that way. It’s where you’ll find rest for your soul.” 

Now it’s late summer. Strict isolation has ended yet we are constantly aware of “the virus.” It’s an enemy. It haunts. It taunts.  We still don’t know what the future holds.

We are at a crossroad. I have a choice. I determine my new normal. I want to be wise in choosing the path I take out of this time of isolation, social distancing, mask wearing. Of lockdown. Of stay-at-home.

Wisdom is crying out to me. Am I listening? Am I heeding the message?

I look at the past as the Word says. Good decisions. Bad decisions. I’ll be wise to learn from both.

I consider the ancient paths. Hebrews, chapter 11, begins by telling us that the “ancients” were commended for their faith. Then it gives example after example of those who exhibited tremendous faith. This is where I start – in the Word. A bit further, in chapter 13, I read to remember those who spoke the word of God to me – to imitate their faith. So as I consider the past, I ask, Where have I seen wisdom in action? Who displayed wisdom? Who modeled it? I think of those strongholds of the faith – Corrie tenBoom, who hid Jews in her home during the Holocaust and was herself punished in a concentration camp. She walked in “the good way.” I think of missionaries through the centuries. I think of Reverend Lindner, who led me to Christ – who faithfully taught children about Jesus. As I look at the “ancient paths,” I think of countless, wise models of wisdom. Those who have taken the “good way” God tells me to take – as I choose the path at this “crossroad” in my life.

What have I learned during these unprecedented, unwanted months? I’ve been comfortable, but I’ve observed others who are not. I’ve known people with COVID19 who have recovered; and I’ve know some who’ve suffered unbearably from it. I’ve spent days filled with anxiety; I’ve spent days filled with contentment. But most of those days are filled with a sense of uneasiness. None have been “normal.”  Families are struggling. Friends have lost their loved ones and cannot have a funeral. Drive-through funeral visitations have become a norm in my community. I remember the days of sitting at a social distance with my own flesh and blood in order to speak for a few minutes. I FaceTimed or Zoomed with my family that live away. I’ve learned that although the expression, “we’re all in this together” is tossed around with the purpose of bringing hope and encouragement, hate is nonetheless sown, as well, and it germinates and produces an ugly poisonous plant. Politics always seem to have the trump card in every discussion, and the rules change as the game progresses. I’m truly not fond of facing a “new normal.”

This time will end. I’m at a crossroad. And you are too. We face a “new normal.” I don’t want to choose the comfortable path that I used to think was the most important thing in this world. I want to have learned from what we’ve been through. I want to reach out – physically and in spirit – to those who are struggling. I want to play by God’s rules. I want the seed I sow to produce a beautiful plant – one that glorifies God. I want to choose the “good way” and walk in it. And as I hear “Jesus whispers,” (the Word of God) I’ll find rest for my soul in that “way.” Rest is what it’s all about. Not the rest I get at night when I sleep. Or the rest I encounter when I sit around the house these days, lacking energy or purpose. But the rest I read about in the Word. The rest He promises. The rest I desire. The rest of my spirit. The rest that brings me peace, knowing everything is well, knowing my future is secure. (I wrote a bit about rest in another recent post in this series: https://kathiwaligora.com/shelter-in-place/)

Your future is before you. Let’s not be overly concerned about finding the “new normal,” but be more concerned about choosing the right path at this crossroad; the “way” – the “good way” – and walking in it.

Further Reading: Proverbs 8:2; Jeremiah 6:16; Hebrews 11; Hebrews 13:7

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Social Distancing

Social Distancing. Is this term an oxymoron? How can one truly “socialize” while being “distant”? Social distancing is certainly more difficult for some of us than others. But none of us can use it as an excuse not to socialize. We simply need to learn how to socialize at a distance.

Jesus never practiced social distancing. No barriers existed between Jesus and the people.

He was going from Judea to Galilee. The Jews did not “socialize” with the Samaritans, so it was especially unusual that Jesus would go through Samaria on His way to Galilee. But He did. “Smack dab” through Samaria, purposely pausing at Jacob’s Well, near Sychar. It appears He planned it that way to “socialize” with a Samaritan woman – a broken, sinful, spiritually thirsty woman. A woman who needed Living Water. “I Am,” He said.

On another occasion, when His disciples tried to “shoo” the children away, Jesus said, “Let the children come to me.” He blessed them. He washed the feet of others. He healed multitudes. He fed thousands. He raised the dead. He was God in the flesh, truly above all, yet nothing was beneath Him. He socialized with purpose.

And Jesus sent us to do the same. We are clearly given what is called “The Great Commission.” It involves socializing.

Jesus is unchanging.

He is the “same yesterday, today, and forever.”

And His message is unchanging.

We are accustomed to meeting with people – face-to face. Large groups. Small groups. One-on-one. We are used to going next door to meet with others, or flying across the country.

Now things have changed. But Jesus hasn’t changed, nor has His message. It is the same message:  “I am the way, the truth, and the life,” He says. We still are commissioned to “go” and “baptize” and “teach.” Only our means of doing so have changed.

During this time of social distancing, small businesses have had to become creative. We call and order paint and supplies from our local Sherwin Williams, drive up, and open the back gate of our Enclave. The employee comes out the door, masked but her eyes displaying a brilliant smile. She loads the supplies into the back of our car and thanks us for our business.

A couple began a new cereal company shortly before the pandemic shutdowns began. Now, they safely and distantly provide samples to potential customers who drive around the couple’s u-shaped driveway.

We have more opportunities today, even while practicing social distancing, than people have had through the ages before us. Telephones and the internet offer a multitude of options to serve and minister to people every day. Zoom enables congregants to gather online – for meetings, prayer, and to socialize. People meet one-on-one, six feet apart in front yards, parks, or driveways. The purposeful are creative.

Social distancing requirements do not obstruct our commission. It’s still the same commission from an unchanging Savior. Be creative, my friend. People are thirsting, now perhaps more than ever. Share the “Living Water.” Go.

Further Reading: Matthew 28:19; Hebrews 13:8 

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Welcome!

Thank you for subscribing to my writing on my webpage.  With your subscription, you’ll receive each new posting. While you’re on the site, please browse! You’ll find may blogs from the past – some of which will speak to you. 

A very gifted specialist, Scott Eikenberry, from RelivitMedia has worked diligently to (re)develop my website, so it’s “up and going” strong now.

Thanks for your patience regarding your subscription! 

Look for new postings soon!

Lots of blessings to you. I hope you are enjoying your summer! Together, let’s set our hearts on the pilgrimage!

Kathi

 

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Shelter in Place

It’s a new term to me – first introduced a short time ago when we Americans were told to stay home!

My home is indeed a shelter. In the middle of the Michigan mitten, about halfway between Detroit and Chicago, our country home becomes the perfect year-round shelter. Cool in summer, surrounded by sycamores with leaves larger than dinner plates and abundant maples with deep green leaves – thousands of leaves – all creating shade from the hot sun. Comfortably warm in winter, heated by a massive outdoor furnace, boiling and pumping water through pipes, radiating throughout the house. So the home itself is a greatly appreciated and welcomed shelter, but staying there – sheltering in place, day after day, week after week, month after month – is quite another thing, isn’t it?

Natural disasters draw me home.
Man-made or mistakenly-spread disasters, such as COVID19, also draw me home. I
feel safe, secure, and comfortable in my home. It’s where I most often want to
be. But it’s not where I want to stay
or truly shelter.

My body is comfortable to Shelter in Place,

but my spirit yearns for more.

When I became a Christian, I became a new person in spirit. And ever since, my spirit yearns to shelter in the Father. The Psalmist (Psalm 91) refers to that place of shelter as the secret place of the Most High God, El Elyon. And when we dwell, actually reside, in that secret place, we find rest. Rest of mind – peace – assurance. Isn’t rest what we really want? I do.

I look for that secret place.

I yearn for that secret place.

And I find that secret place.

The term secret place most often refers to the way our soul is in
relationship with God. It is the place Jesus speaks of when he instructs us to
go to a room with the door shut when
we pray – a place of solitude with God – a place set aside for time alone with
God. It is an intentional decision to spend time in the Word, praying and
listening. God meets us there. It is in this secret place we discover Him as “our
refuge and fortress, my God in whom I trust.”

The stay at home order from our government is nothing
like the stay at home offer from God.
God doesn’t order it. He offers it.

 “He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.” Psalm 91:1

Charles Spurgeon, renown preacher
of old, wrote about this first verse of Psalm 91: “The blessings here promised
are not for all believers, but for those who live in close fellowship with God
. . . all do not dwell in the most
holy place; they run to it at times, and enjoy occasional approaches, but they
do not habitually reside in the mysterious presence. Those who [do] . . .  become possessors of rare and special
benefits, which are missed by those who follow [from] afar.” He refers to those
believers who reside in God’s secret place as “constant guests,” remaining
under God’s protection.

Psalm 27:5 tells us that in our days of trouble God will keep us safe in His secret place- He will hide us there and shelter us in place.

So, while I am in mid-Michigan,
sheltering in place in my comfortable surroundings, my main focus will remain finding
shelter, being a “constant guest,” in the Father’s secret place. That’s where I
– and you – will find true refuge – not just through the COVID19 crisis, but
every day – forever.  

John 3:3

Psalm 91:1,2

Matthew 6:6

Psalm 27:5

Look for Kathi’s other articles: Today’s new language. Informal discourse from a stay-at-home English teacher.

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I have been fearful during some of these days of the COVID19 pandemic and isolation. But today I am not frightened.

I have had a significant amount of anxiety during this COVID19 pandemic. But today, I am not anxious.

Today, I am angry.

I am angry with the thief who is killing and stealing and destroying. I am angry with the demons who serve him and do his dirty work.

And today, I am sad.

  • I am sad that we can’t meet with our church family and celebrate the life of our friend who has passed – to hug his family and tell them how we loved him – to sing “The Days of Elijah” while we dance the aisles, as he did – to feel the tears drop down my cheeks as we all sing one final “I’ll Fly Away.”
  • I am sad that my cousins cannot sit with their dying mother at her hospital bed – sad that she cannot feel the comfort only those children can bring – feel the warmth of their cheeks on hers, their wet lashes returning the comfort hers once gave.
  • I am sad that I cannot gather with my extended family at the graveside – to honor and say farewell to a blessed cousin – to hear sweet stories about her – to tell her children and grandchildren how much she meant to me.
  • I am sad that our friends cannot comfort their dying father in the nursing home – cannot wrap his hands in theirs and pray him to glory.

None of these things can happen because of the thief. So today I am angry, and today, I am sad.

But like any other day – those of fearfulness, anxiety, anger, happiness, or – like today – sadness, I look to Jesus. And I listen.

He whispers,

“Kathi, don’t let your heart be saddened. Don’t be troubled. I’m preparing everything.  I hear you, and I will deliver you all. Now is your time to comfort from afar.  I am close to your friends and family in their suffering and loss. I am their comfort. “

So I trust Him: The God of Comfort.

(From Psalm 34, John 14, 2 Corinthians 1)

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Only a few days left . . .


This newest giveaway is worth $700,000. It’s a beautiful home – Urban Oasis 2019 – and it could be mine! I love everything about it! If only I could win the Sweepstakes! I receive the email reminders. “Don’t miss today’s chance!” it states. “There’s only a few days left.”

I dream. Just as I have every year.

I envision my entire family (20 of us) driving or flying to Minneapolis (or to Whitefish, Montana or to Raleigh, North Carolina) – spending a few weeks of utter bliss vacation. I’m realistic enough to know that we can’t afford to keep the home. We’ll sell it shortly. Meanwhile, the cash award included will pay the taxes; we’ll drive the Mercedes, and enjoy a lavish vacation.

The Dream Homes, Smart Homes, Urban Oasis Homes, Green Homes – I’ve dreamed about them all! Each is striking. Will I want to take a few pieces of furniture or decor before I list the home for sale? Take it back to my Michigan home or my little Florida cottage? To replace an older piece? To remind me of my short-lived extravagance?

Those of you who know me know that I love decorating. I look at the photos, take the “virtual tour” of each home, visualizing my family in each. It’s fun – sort of like reading a book. I’m traveling to South Carolina, Arizona, Florida, and Colorado. I’m imagining a place and a time of rest, of no troubles – no problems, of my family close to my side – all safe and healthy and happy.

And for a time, I have no cares or worries, no concerns about our upside-down nation, no thoughts of my unanswered prayers or of unborn babies dying or of children suffering.

Then I discover that the present sweepstakes has ended. I have not won. So I hope for the future. I look toward the next sweepstakes.

It’s all a bit like life in general. Hopes and dreams. Wanting to live in an unbroken world where all children laugh and play, where all people cherish life, honor each other, and honor God.

But I don’t really have to wait for the next sweepstakes. I only need to wait for Jesus. He will gather me, as He promised. The Bible tells me He has it all planned. Above my greatest dreams. It’s a little bit as though Joanna Gaines has decorated the house – I know I can trust her. I know I will love whatever she designs. God has that and so much more planned for me. I can trust Him. It’s above and beyond winning the sweepstakes or hiring Joanna Gaines.

So I can rest. And I can dream. And I can trust. And I can imagine the unbroken world He promises in His Word. I can visualize my children – all children – laughing and playing. My family close around me. Not a care of a problem or even a bit of anxiety within me. I’m sitting and relaxing. My heart is full, and I’m resting in His promise . . . There’s “only a few days left.”

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Mom, It Really Doesn’t Matter

You don’t allow your child to spend the night at that home. You’re a bit hesitant for several reasons. Your daughter – or son – is upset, angry.

I couldn’t understand why my mother was so strict about certain things. I was the “only” girl who couldn’t go. “Everyone else” was going. It wasn’t until years later I heard about the older sister’s boyfriend sneaking in and out of the back door – about the father’s heavy drinking problem, one which caused a fatal accident.

Trust your instincts, Mom. Trust your common sense. God gave it to you. It really doesn’t matter what others think. At least she’ll be safe.

He’s so sick – the doctor said he’ll be better tomorrow. Others call you a “helicopter parent” or insinuate you worry too much. Childhood illnesses build up immunities, they say.

My brother was sick with symptoms unlike typical childhood illnesses. It was “after hours.” Mom called the doctor, an excellent pediatrician, top in his field.

It doesn’t sound like anything serious,he said. Wait it out. 

Hours went by. Mom tried to get her mind off it. She tried to occupy herself with other things – housework, mending. Called the doctor again. 

Bring him in first thing in the morning, he said.

Mom couldn’t sleep.  She cried with worry. Her mind went places she didn’t want it to go. She called the doctor the third time. Bring him in now. Meet you in ER.

It’s Bright’s Disease, he said. If you hadn’t brought him in, I don’t think he would have made it through the night.

Trust your instincts, Mom. Trust your common sense. God gave it to you. It really doesn’t matter what others think. At least he’ll be safe.

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The Cross Still Stands

Our eyes are attentive to our screens, taking in every word, every image. Our hearts are breaking as we watch: Notre Dame Cathedral is burning.

French Catholic Newspaper, La Croix, shows the spire’s collapse on its front page, with the headline: La Coeur en cendres (The Heart in Ashes):

And those words, probably inferring the heart of the church, nonetheless describe our feelings: our hearts are in ashes. We are a suffering people, anyway, our hearts shattered by evil in the world: deliberate killings, deliberate abortions, deliberate hate. Cancer, suffering, disease. We wonder how much more our already-broken hearts can take.

But we keep watching the reports of the fire; we keep listening; we keep hoping.

And we find it. Hope in the final photos – the photos taken after the fire is out – the photos showing what remains. The altar remains, and . . .

. . .the cross still stands! Not only does it stand, but it shines. It radiates. It glows. It reminds us that in this world filled with evil, we have hope – the confident expectation of God’s promises.

Click here to hear the beautiful reminder of what the cross stands for. “It stands to heal and to restore and to comfort those who mourn. . . it stands for hope; it stands for peace; it stands to set the captives free; it’s where the only Son of God reveals love for you and me; It stands to heal and to restore and to comfort those who mourn. . . “

Let the cross bring you hope today. Hope in the very purpose of this Holy Week. Hope in Jesus Christ alone, the Savior of the World.

When your world feels fallen, hopeless, remember – the Cross still stands! Jesus suffered for you and for me. The altar remains open; His arms are open, waiting for you to turn to Him.

Click here to learn how to become a believer.

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Today I Celebrate Her Birthday.

Today is her heavenly birthday.

Happy Birthday, Mama!

When she passed years ago, just one month after Daddy, I thought I might adjust to life without them. Then I saw your Facebook posts and heard your words, spoken as you hugged me at the visitations, written on your cards of sympathy:

“It’s been ten years, and I miss her every day.”

“My dad’s been gone 18 years and I still cry.”

Suddenly I knew. The pain would never go away. It was frightening, overwhelming, to think of living with this dire grief for the rest of my life. I could not go through it alone.

“Jesus wept.” I knew He was weeping for me – with me. I not only accepted the compassion of this Savior, but I pleaded with the Father for it.

Then I started digging. Old photos. Memories. Aprons. Dishes. Walking sticks. Blankets. The sight of his binoculars caused a swelling in my throat; the smell of her Ponds Cold Cream drew flooding memories down my cheeks. How can I ever get past this?

I shared my grief with others. They understood. I was not alone.
Many had grieved. Like me. Looking at them from the outside, I hadn’t realized that their insides had once been heavy and weighted. Like mine. Would I ever appear normal on the outside again, like they did?

I did not find comfort in those common feelings of grief. But I did find comfort in knowing that I grieved much because I had loved much. I had years of memories to carry with me on the lonely, painful path ahead, the path I’m still traveling today. Are the memories worth the pain? Is the pain worth the memories?

I’ve stopped trying to figure it out. I’ve stopped trying to distinguish grief and sorrow from mourning. I’ve stopped trying to figure out what stage of grief I’m passing through. And I’ve stopped feeling guilty or shameful that I’m still grieving after all these years – that others have more reason to grieve than I.

It is what it is. A broken world full of suffering and full of grieving people. Not by God’s design but because of the sin of the first created.

It is what it is. A beautiful life, speckled with pain and grief.

But He is what He is. A beautiful Savior who weeps with us and says, “It won’t be long. I’ll gather you. Let me comfort you until then.”

Until then, Mama, ride your beautiful Buckskin mare down the lanes of the farm. And have a Happy Heavenly Birthday, Mama.

Mom on Gypsy, her Buckskin

If you haven’t yet, please read my book, When Life Roars, Jesus Whispers. To order, message me through this site or on my FaceBook Writer’s page https://www.facebook.com/KathiWaligoraAuthorSpeaker/

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It is finished.

It is finished!

“It is finished. With that, he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.”

He “gave up his spirit.” No one took it from Him. He gave it up.

It is finished!

By the time I read those words in the book of John, Chapter 19, I’ve read of His flogging, the crown of thorns crushed on His head, the mocking of my Lord, the crushing weight of carrying His cross, the humiliating stripping of his clothes, the iron nails pounded through His hands and His feet, the vinegar given at the time of his greatest thirst. Oh how sad those words seem.  My heart is breaking.

It is finished.

He gave Himself. For you. For me. He finished the work. He took your place. He took my place. The perfect Lamb of God was crucified between two sinners, sinners like you and sinners like me. So now, how I love those three words. My heart is full.

It is finished.

Click here if you would like to learn how to become a believer.