You Can’t Win a Pandemic.

You can’t win a pandemic.

And that’s a problem, because I like to win things. I like to automatically be great at all things, and I am not great at this pandemic situation. I’m not great at working from home without my teammates down the hall. I’m not great at being stuck in my house 24/7 with my husband and dog. I’m not great at being away from my friends for weeks. It all makes me cranky and lethargic. Being removed from people is like being removed from my purpose, because I’m a people pleaser by nature. There’s no one here to please, no achievements to succeed at, no gold stars to earn. All of that has been stripped away, because you can’t win a pandemic.

I’ve been trying to stay off of social media as much as possible (something else I’m not winning at, because what else is there to do?), because if we thought politics was divisive, WHOO BOY, did we not know what we were in for this year. Our feeds are filled with competing takes on the severity of the virus, what the new guidelines are and how they should be interpreted, how to best love and support your neighbor, and more and more and more. The information is endless and being generated in real time before our very eyes. And just like every other day on the Facebook, social media has drawn clear lines and formed teams. You’re either winning the pandemic or you’re losing, and if you’re losing, you’re the worst among us.

I’ll be clear: yes, there are right and wrong ways to behave right now. The federal and state governments have issued guidelines to follow, and I believe it is my job as a citizen, and a Christian, to follow those guidelines to the best of my ability. I believe it is the best way to love my neighbor, and I believe that my ability to follow some guidelines that others cannot is my duty for the benefit of the whole. I believe it is my job to think collectively rather than individualistically. And some people don’t agree with that. And that’s okay. 

Shaming people into action has never been an effective tool. It’s easy to get frustrated when I see someone not treating the pandemic as seriously as me or following certain guidelines, but it’s still possible to extend grace and compassion to them. All of our individual responses to the current situation are grounded in our past experiences with fear and stress, and remembering that should fill me with grace. I can love others and recognize the efforts they are making without shaming them for not doing more. I can encourage people to adopt new behaviors without shaming them for not doing it the “right way” the first time. And I can see other people from afar and choose to believe the best about their behaviors instead of assuming the worst about them. There isn’t an either/or here. I can both extend grace to my neighbors and encourage them to modify their behaviors. But if my encouragement is caked in shame, I’ve missed the boat. 

Just like each of us gets to decide how we’re going to respond to the government guidelines, we each get to decide how we’re going to respond to our communities. This situation will only make me more cynical about my neighbor if I decide to let it. I would rather let this mess be a master class in grace and encouragement. Maybe living sacrificially right now means letting go of my need to win and shame others into submission. Maybe it means sacrificing my right to be angry. Maybe it means learning that refusing to live in fear doesn’t mean living in rebellion, but peacefully following someone else’s lead.

Just like I’m learning to give my community grace, I’m learning to give it to myself. I’ve never lived through a pandemic before, and I don’t like it. I don’t like the emotions it brings, or the new rhythms I’m learning. I don’t like that some days are harder than others and my sense of normalcy and routine has been tossed out the window. But instead of shaming myself every day for not being as productive as the day before, or feeling a heavy weight of exhaustion from being home all day, I’m giving myself grace. Grace to show up (thanks Suzanne) every day, giving the best I have to give, and accepting it might look a bit different every day. 

There’s no winning the pandemic, only surviving.

But I want my survival to be soaked in love and compassion instead of fear and shame.