Kristen Grossman Prose

“Be patient, then, brothers and sisters, until the Lord’s coming. See how the farmer waits for the land to yield its valuable crop, patiently waiting for the autumn and spring rains. You too, be patient and stand firm, because the Lord’s coming is near.” James 5:7-8 NIV

Patience is a lesson I have to learn again and again. Patience in the unknowing is turning out to be one of my biggest hurdles. In this time of pandemic, I continue to struggle with the unknown. Some businesses have reopened, despite rising numbers of COVID-19 cases. Furthermore, our younger daughters come to us with requests to spend time with friends in situations that couldn’t possibly allow for social distancing. We are weary of being the “unreasonable” parents who don’t trust others with our family’s health. We are tired of explaining that we need to stay home to help make the world a little safer for those who must leave their homes to support their families.

Meanwhile, we feel guilty about our one attempt at fun and normalcy this past holiday weekend. After submitting to COVID testing, we met all of our children in Lake Tahoe for some family time. (If you were there and saw that one and only nerdy family on the crowded beach wearing masks–that was us.) However, we felt so uncomfortable with the lack of social distancing that we didn’t stay on the beach very long.

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I feel like I could buckle down and make it through whatever lies ahead with COVID-19 if only I knew the endpoint. If only I knew what life will look like in January. Or next spring. Or next summer. However, finding a way to live life without knowing what lies ahead is not a new exercise. I think of prisoners of war who must get through each day not knowing when or if they will see their loved ones again. I reflect on those who experienced pandemics without the luxury of the internet to keep them connected to their church, family, or friends. I think of soldiers on the battlefield, not knowing when the war will end and whether they will survive to see home again.  

A farmer plants his crops and then patiently waits for the rains to come. He does not know if his crops will experience plentiful rain or a season of drought. He does not know if wildfire, hail, or insects will destroy his hard work. Yet, he faithfully does his part. He plants his crops, dutifully tends them, and trusts that the Lord will provide.

My job, as well, is to do my part. To stop obsessing about the future and focus on the work that God has set before me now today. I can be grateful that I have plenty of food and then donate to those with empty cupboards. I can remain the mean parent who keeps my children at home, so we don’t contribute to overflowing hospitals or put others at risk. I can continue to read and educate myself on race, so I can learn how to promote social justice. I can pray for shut-ins who are suffering from the lack of human contact. I can dig deeper to find ways to connect with those who have no family to love on them from afar. I can trust God with my future, rather than mistakenly thinking it is in my power to have the future all mapped out.

Dear Lord, thank you for the many blessings You have bestowed on us, even in this season of uncertainty. As we struggle to learn patience, please guide us to do the work You would have us perform this very day. May we plant seeds, tend the crops You have set before us, and trust You for the rain that yields a bountiful harvest. Amen.