From Jaimie: On Breath and Uncertainty
Isaac is playing baseball this summer. The season started last month (June) just as we collectively resumed so many communal life activities that had been on hold for more than a year. Before the game (Isaac’s first ever) there was quite a bit of angst and hand wringing at my house. Between Isaac’s nerves (and honestly, my own,) and rushing out the door, I was not sure how the evening would play out. Fast forward to two hours later and Isaac left the field with dirty baseball pants, a smile on his face and an immediate need for ice cream!
Later, I reflected on how the evening turned out just fine despite anxiety and doubt. When I zoomed out and thought about that evening in context of the last 18 months, I could feel a deep breath leave my body. That evening seemed so everyday, typical and summery. It was so relieving to grasp just a little bit of the summertime rhythms my family has had in the past. And to just…breathe out and not have to hold my breath.
I believe that since March 2020, we have been collectively holding our breath with little reprieve. Social unrest, unpredictable economic factors, an increasingly dangerous political atmosphere and other disruptions to our lives have accompanied this global health disaster (that we still are not fully through.) It seems like as soon as one circumstance takes our breath away, another arrives on its heels to steal it again. Angst, hand wringing and holding our breath is what much of the world has been doing every day for more than year.
One of the things that has occupied a large portion of my thoughts and feelings over the past year is concern about the aspects of childhood that this time in our history might be stealing from my son. This summer, I am looking forward to new adventures, scraped knees, bug bites, sun burns, learning and so many other childhood experiences for Isaac. And yet, I cannot ignore all that looms in the distance as the pace of climate change quickens, COVID variants spread and so much still seems uncertain.
Yet as I think about the night of Isaac’s first baseball game, I realize that part of my role in offering stability and forward momentum for my family and community is my own breath. If I want to come out of this time of difficulty better and wiser, I cannot continue to hold my breath. I have to continue to breath in and breath out, even as circumstances sometimes take my breath away. Why keep breathing in and out? Because life, affliction, difficulty, joy, and success are going to happen nonetheless.
This is one of the reasons I love the book of Ecclesiastes so dearly. The bottom line take away from this book seems to be: Life…Happens. There are no rose tinted lenses in this book in the Old Testament. There is real, honest assessment of the fact that suffering and terrible things (as well as wonderous and positive things) happen, with or without our participation. At the end of chapter 12, the author points to difficult times with a litany of terrible and terrifying possibilities. In verse seven, they end with, “and the dust returns to the earth as it was, and the breath returns to God who gave it.”
God is breathing in and breathing out, in and amongst suffering, toil, attrition and loss. While we are holding our breath, God is still breathing. Breathing with God and being willing to let go of specific outcomes allows us to be present with both joy and difficulty at the same time. But as is the case with most painful growth, paying attention to God’s breath in the world must come before we can start following the Divine breath rhythm. This month, notice your breath and the breath of God in the world. Are they in sync? How can you bring your own rhythm in line with the Divine’s?
