I Just Need a Faith Lift: Finding hope in the midst of pandemic teaching

On March 13, 2020 we were called in to an emergency staff meeting that changed everything.

We thought we would close for a few weeks until “this all passed.”

All short term changes can be stressful, and this was no exception, but nobody expected “this all” to become “all this.”

Two weeks of school closure turned into ending the semester though Zoom, our home transformed into a makeshift school where my husband taught history, I taught ELA and theater, and our daughters finished first and fourth grade.

It was such a riotous time… while we enjoyed the slower mornings, the extra hugs during the day, and wearing comfy clothes, we were also blending the boundaries between work and home, rest and toil.

I’m a doer. I launch myself into projects with genuine enthusiasm and quarantine became another one of my projects.

The Renaissance Fair got cancelled? No problem! Let’s have our own Renaissance learning unit filled with research and ending in our own fair at home.

Spring Break vacation is cancelled? No problem! Let’s turn our balcony into a resort and read our books while we take in the Miami sun.

Restaurants closed? No problem! Let’s start trying out all sorts of delicious recipes at home.

Needless to say, we used the time to bond, read, dance, bake, create, and know each other at another level.

Our hope and faith has always been focused on Jesus. Bible study, prayer, and constant worship held us together. During the quarantine, our family Bible studies became longer and we realized we had let the stress of the routine get in the way. Pre-Covid, we would rush through Bible study and prayer as part of our bedtime routine. During quarantine, we could lounge on each other while we dove into the Scriptures together and it was glorious.

My flesh, however, quickly showed the wear and tear of time, stress, exhaustion, frustration, and criticism. Not only did my face start showing signs of the times, but my faith too. As I joked about needing a face lift to hide all the new wrinkles, I realized I also needed a faith lift to genuinely find hope in the midst of all this uncertainty. This new state of perpetually missing what was has broken me.

I realized too that I had been wearing my stories of pain as badges of honor; my experiences with suffering as warrior wounds. Living through my dad’s death, as well as living through hurricane Maria and the aftermath in Puerto Rico, moving to Miami, raising our exceptional daughters and even being married to an incredible man who fights a daily battle with mental health, have all been painful, challenging, and transformative. My faith in Christ and my hope in His love have always lead me through these difficult times and, to His glory, made me stronger, braver, and resilient. But was that enough to help us through all this?

Perhaps one can only take so much.

Perhaps this pandemic hit me when I was already down.

For whatever reason, I found (and find) myself with my eyes on the fire instead of on He who has always shown His grace and mercy.

As I wondered if my outlook shift came from burnout or resistance to change, I kept my eyes on that fire… teaching through a pandemic feels more like an assault. I am not burning out, but constantly burning, as if on fire, and the torches are at the hands of everyone from decision makers, parents, students, and even complete strangers who choose to berate teachers online.

I quickly spiraled into all the stages of grief. Grieving what was, angry at so much loss, and even resenting this profession as well as the altruism in me that chose this profession in the first place. I miss teaching like I used to… I miss the apparent chaos of group work, the flexibility of moving students around the room, and the ability to teach from any part of the classroom. Teaching to socially distant rows that all face one direction, and to a screen with some sweet faces and too many ceiling fans and foreheads, is exhausting and demoralizing. Teaching like this is not sustainable in the long term because teachers have constant exhaustion paired with feeling overwhelmed. I think we are all tired of feeling tired and overwhelmed. Moreover, we are often being told to do more, be more, and try harder, by ourselves and by others. We are literally living with too many tabs open, and every tab matters. At the end of the school day, I am spent. My darling daughters get the remnants of someone who really wants to love others, yet is drowning by doing so under these conditions.

I’ve been praying for peace, for strength, and for renewed joy.

King David wrote Psalm 40 during a time of great emotional stress, and perhaps, burnout. Psalm 40 is a cry for help, as well as a reminder of all the other times God had indeed delivered him from despair. I have made Psalm 40 my prayer:

“…Lord

You listened and pulled me

from a lonely pit

full of mud and mire.

You let me stand on a rock

with my feet firm,

and you gave me a new song,

a song of praise to you.”

Psalm 40:1-3

I have prayed this Psalm before. I know very well how it feels to be in “a lonely pit full of mud and mire” and I also know the One who has pulled me from there and made me “stand on a rock with my feet firm.” He has given me a new song before, and He will do so now.

If, then, life is a journey full of moments of great joy as well as great pain, then how do we find rest and refreshment while living in it? We fix our eyes on Him and remind ourselves of the many ways He has shown His face before, trusting He does so still and will continue to do so.

I praise Him for the many beautiful glimpses of heaven in this tumultuous present. Our daughters are thriving, learning, growing, and making every day delightful. Our marriage is stronger because we have been forced to confront so many situations that were previously ignored or shoved to the side, and this newfound closeness has allowed for even more conversation and understanding. My colleagues are superheroes and angels. Whenever I am having a particularly rough day, they are there with encouragement, laughter, and friendship.

As I was crying, praying, and surrendering all of this to the Lord, he reminded me of Isaiah: “The LORD will guide you always; he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land and will strengthen your frame. You will be like a well-watered garden, like a spring whose waters never fail.” Isaiah 58:11

This image of a sun-scorched land rings true, not just because our contexts basks in the Miami heat, but because our circumstance feels like unbearably scathing heat. While I yearn for the refreshing rain, I will remain “joyful in hope, patient in affliction, and faithful in prayer.” Romans 12:12

Join me in praying for teachers as we continue to do our calling during a pandemic.