Trying to Catch My Breath in a Pandemic

~ Amanda Rockey ~ Leave a comment

Well, about a year’s worth of things has happened in less than a month, really in the last two weeks.  A couple weeks ago we were having a birthday party for my son, preparing for softball season, and getting excited about our beach trip next month. Now here we are at home under lock down.

I wish I could say I am trying to be funny or exaggeratedly clever for using the words “lock down” but as most of you know I am not.  We are as a community, as a city, as a people on executive order to stay at home.  We should only leave our homes for food or work, and that is if you are still allowed to go into work.  How did this happen? Not too long ago I was busily cleaning the house anticipating a fun celebration for my son, thankful we could reschedule and still give him his party.  Now two of his cousins have had to cancel their birthday parties altogether along with just about everything else we had on the calendar.

My mind is so muddled.  The speed and magnitude of what is happening is almost impossible to take in.  I’m still trying to catch my breath, thinking this next breath, this will be the one I catch. Then my heart will slow down, and my muscles will relax, and my mind will clear. Instead I just keep trying to catch it as things continue to change day by day sometimes hour by hour.  Just when I think I will be able to calm down something new comes along, more mandates, more breaking news, more panic.

I’m embarrassed that I am reacting this way.  I thought I was tougher than this, thought I had more resolve, thought my faith was deeper and my trust stronger. When it comes down to it, I feel as though I’m falling apart on the inside while I’m willing my body to act the same on the outside.  I have 4 other smaller people depending on me, so I cannot fall apart. Just got to keep going….

I want to dig deep, grab hold of my faith in God, and sink down into all His promises.  But I cannot get past my anxiety.  It is in the way like a big road block keeping me from getting even a finger on my faith, even an inch closer to my Heavenly Father.  We all just keep getting stripped of all the things we are used to, and instead of me focusing on all the goodness and blessing these changes provide – because they are there and I can see them – I feel naked, exposed, and vulnerable. And that right there is the root of my anxiety.

During a conversation I had with a close friend of mine, she said a very wise thing.  God was going to use this time to transform her.  He was taking all the things she is battling and confronting her with them.  She confidently said she knows she will be changed forever after this pandemic is over.  So much truth and wisdom in that statement, so much hope.

I am being stripped of many of my comforts, stripped of my busy life that has allowed me to ignore my problems I stuff in the background, my relationships I justifiably neglect because there is just not enough time, not enough of me to go around.  Well, now there is enough, there always was, I just used it up on all the busy, and hid it in the noise of my “comfortable” life.

If I am wise, like my friend, I will grab hold of this time and instead of escaping my anxiety with the few distractions I have left, I will dive deep into those soul changing experiences this opportunity is providing.

So, I will sit with my anxiety, this vulnerable, exposed, not-knowing feeling.  I will sit with it until my Savior comes and rescues me because He promises He will. I need to stop trying to catch my breath and let my Savior catch me.  Maybe, if I could just sit still and let Him be God, I would find Him.  I would find Him sitting right next to me where He has always been. He is the Rescuer, the Redeemer of my soul.  And then I will be changed forever, then I will be transformed into more of His likeness, becoming more of who He created me to be.  Yes, I too will be forever changed.

But I will call on God, and the LORD will rescue me.    Psalm 55:16

Photo Credit: Leah Roberts

Week 1 – Trying to Control the Uncontrollable

~ Amanda Rockey ~ 1 Comment

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Our first week of training happened to fall on the coldest week of the year.  We are talking below-zero, freezing, record breaking, town closing down cold. This weather did not fit into my plans, and I tried to fight it, but in the end you cannot control the uncontrollable.   More than one lesson was humbly learned this first week.

Day one, however, was not as cold, even though we all knew it was coming thanks to the dramatic reporting of the weather channel.  I really wanted to get outside before the cold held us all captive to the inside.  The challenge was the slippery slush everywhere and it was kind of raining.  Looking at the dramatic weather channel I saw there was a small gap of no precipitation and decided that was my chance for escape.  Even if I couldn’t run I was going to do a 5 minute fresh-air-breathing walk.

Surprisingly the dramatic weather channel got it wrong and half way through my escape I started getting pelted with little ice balls. By the time I got back face numb and completely wet I was reminded of what it is like to train for a race in the winter. I was also hoping this was not a sign of how this week or even the whole training was going to go.

snowy pathway surrounded by bare tree

My hope was dwindling away when I got a message from my running partner, aka husband, saying the whole campus where he works was closing down at midnight.  This bit of news brought on a new challenge because on that campus is the gym where I run when the weather is bad.  I thought I was being responsible and smart this first week by planning my workout schedule for the week. I was strategic to plan my strength training around when I would run making sure not to work the same muscle groups, planning a rest day, and working around our family’s busy activities.  All this planning backfired on day two.  My plans usually backfire but looking at the whole ratio of 13 weeks of training and on day two my schedule falls apart, that might be a record.

We ended up heading over to the gym that night before the polar vortex hit and the lock down began to do a speed run.  The problem was I had already done an intense leg workout that morning so trying to do a speed run on the same day makes for quite a challenge.  A challenge I then paid for the next day.  But let’s look at the positives of day two.  After rearranging our schedule for the evening we scrambled over to the gym with our two youngest in tow.   They were not excited about this new change of events or the little corner we found for them to play while we can run the track with them in full view. They expressed their dislike by both simultaneously crying.  Adding to the chaos, below the track in the gym an exercise class was just starting with music so loud we had to yell in order to hear each other.  At this point, the obstacles were laughable, but we were going to push through, and I was planning on putting all my frustration into running laps.

brown and white track field

I did say we were looking at the positives, so here they are.  We found another corner of the track where the music was not as loud and when the track was not crowded the kids were able to run the track with us.  They loved this and so did we!  We got to interact with them and they got some much needed exercise.  Lots of pent up energy on all persons was released in those laps.  My youngest ran so hard her legs hurt the next day.  Day two ended on a positive with a pretty enjoyable run, and some new knowledge that we can do our speed runs with them and each other. Day two ended with a great discovery.

This first week was definitely a learning week.  I learned several things not to do.  Like do not do back to back leg and speed workouts and then get up the next morning and do another workout.  Yes, that is what I did.  I tried to stay faithful to my already failed workout schedule and do a workout first thing in the morning.  I woke up tired and sore and continued to be along with short tempered. I found myself yelling at the TV, actually the coach who was leading the workout on the TV because I couldn’t keep up and believed in that moment it was entirely his fault.  I wish I could say my temper settled and my grumpiness subsided, but it didn’t.  I was not fun to be around that day.

The rest of the week was enjoyably uneventful.  I ended the week with soreness and fatigue and a couple lessons learned.  The biggest being I cannot plan for everything and need to be super flexible.  Flexibility is not something that comes naturally to me, physically or mentally, but I am learning if this training is going to work with this season of life, I need to learn how to move and flow with it instead of trying to control it. Honestly, I love when things are in control, it is comforting and safe, but we all know there are many uncontrollable things in life, one being the weather.  Once things were out of my control and I had to veer from my carefully calculated schedule I discovered something new, a new way, a better way, a way that fits the needs of my family.

If only I could remember this is the big things in life.  To let go of my carefully calculated plans and allow room for new discoveries and room for God to work His purpose into my life.  How much easier and stress-free would life be if I stopped trying to fit God into my plans and instead paid attention and followed His.

Yet, O Lord, You are our Father.

We are the clay, You are the potter;

We are all the work of Your hand.

Isaiah 6

Other posts in this series:

Running Rockey – An Invitation

Running Rockey – An Invitation

~ Amanda Rockey ~ 1 Comment

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I chose to start training for a half marathon on the coldest week of the year, if not the coldest week ever.  I’ve run a few other long races and trained through the winter, but the beginning of this training has been different, well not only different but challenging.

First off I don’t have my running crew.  The ladies I normally run with are not training for this race.   Our lives have pulled us, I hope temporarily, in different directions.  As I do not miss getting up at 5 am in the freezing cold dark, I very much miss the calming company they bring and the sharing of our lives in the conversation that falls to the rhythm of our feet.

However, I do have a new running partner.  The one guilty of signing me up for this race in the first place, the one who has cheered me on the most, and the one who has picked up the slack when I have given all my energy and patience and the ability to speak calmly (or the ability to speak at all) on the long miles I had just run. My husband. IMG_1350 (2)This new partnership is both enjoyable and troublesome.  Enjoyable in that I am not alone in this training, and it is something we can do and experience together as a couple.  One of my favorite things to do is be active with my family, and now I get to schedule it in on a weekly basis.  Troublesome because we have four children that we cannot easily take with us while we run, and therefore we cannot run at the same time.  I am also losing my backup when a run wipes me out.  Chances are good that he also will be wiped out with the probability going way up for grouchiness and maybe too many Netflix viewings for the kiddos.

With these new changes and challenges in place, I decided to do a blog series on my/our training.  This will give me a different form of accountability and a way to journal this race’s training.  If you are curious about what it is like to train for a half marathon with a family of young-ins and a husband that decided he would like to try out a half as well, specifically the same half you are running, then please feel free to follow along.  Since that is probably a very small number of people anywhere and you do not fit into this group but would also like to follow along as we stumble through the next 13 weeks please feel free to do so. Even if you have no desire to run any length of race, or pavement, or earth of any kind feel free to follow along to solidify why you do not run.  But you may find that running and training for a race are so much more than simply running, and if that was all it is I would have quit after the first day.

Other posts in this series:

Week 1 – Trying to Control the Uncontrollable

Can the Wounded Serve

~ Amanda Rockey ~ Leave a comment

Tears began to flow as I was sitting in a living room with a few other ladies, the kind of tears that you didn’t mean to let fall but couldn’t stop. img_6627You see, something almost magical happens when these ladies gather and I get to join.  All of the sudden I don’t have to be a rock star mom, an amazing wife, or a devout Christian.  I don’t really have to be anything.  We are not best friends, even though I enjoy each of them very much. We don’t hang out much besides these couple gatherings a month and a small chat here or there when we have the time, but when we do come together we can share our hearts.

The topic of conversation was casual and turned a bit more passionate when we fell onto the subject of our city and the needs that are so prevalent.  That Sunday’s sermon was excellent and has had my head spinning ever since.  It was touching, it was motivating, and for me it was frustrating.

And this is why:

The season of life I have stepped into, with much resistance, is a season of healing.  Some of us have skeletons in the closet, baggage we are carrying around, pasts that haunt us.  And at some point we desire freedom, so we let out the skeletons, unpack the bags, and revisit the past.  This is my time.  This is my season.  I am not overjoyed about this and am like a resistant two year-old saying “No, I don’t wanna!” while stamping her foot so hard her wispy toddler hair bounces from the impact.  Reluctantly, I give in.

I’m only at the beginning, just getting started, but am raw from emotion.  It’s not easy opening up your heart, the one you have guarded faithfully for many years, the one you have taken care of.  So when the process begins, things I have begun experiencing, for lack of better words, are different and unfamiliar.

As we begin talking about our community and the children and the poverty, I lose it. With the condition of my heart and the room’s loving atmosphere of  “come as you are” my emotions spill out like little bouncy balls going every which way, and there was no way for me to catch them.

I know I felt conflicted after hearing the message on Sunday, but these tears, this deep heartbreak with an even deeper anger caught me off guard.  Because I believe I cannot do anything about it, or can I?

I’m left with this question, can the wounded serve?  I’ve been called into this season of life, to heal and to rebuild the broken, my broken.  Opening up old wounds is painful, and it takes time and it takes energy.  Honestly the task seems too big, overwhelming and extremely scary so how could I possibly have the capacity to serve, to serve others, to serve our God?  I’m angry that I feel like I can’t, that I’m not whole enough or strong enough, or put together enough.  I cannot even carry my own burdens so how can I carry the burdens of others?

But I still want to.

I don’t have an answer to my question, I just lay it out there for discussion, to chew on, to examine and search and wind the wheels of our mind.  Now the easy answer is, “Of course you can serve, of course you can help others.  With God you can do anything. He makes up for what we lack.” Actually these are all things I believe, and even believe He calls us to do the things we could not possibly do on our own. However, I don’t think they answer my deeper question. Because if you are really wounded, if you are really sick and God does not give you an instant healing, but instead purposely calls you into a journey of healing, of rebuilding and refining are you really supposed to be out on the mission field? Am I really supposed to be out on enemy lines when right now I’m not sure I could easily recognize the enemy, when I feel as if my armor is thin and my limp is too slow? God is choosing not to fix this quickly, He is choosing to allow me to walk with a limp, to be confused so I seek, to keep my armor thin so He can heal my wounds.

So I googled it, the question.  I didn’t ask Seri because we are not well acquainted yet, and Google usually pulls through.  My quick search came across stories of soldiers being allowed back into action after losing limbs, amazing stories of courage and duty to our country.  However the soldiers did not go back into battle until they were healed, or at least strong enough to handle battle.  A play also popped up in my search by Thornton Wilder called The Angel that Troubled the Waters with the quote, “In Love’s service only the wounded soldiers can serve.” I turned this quote over and over in my mind, and I understand the plays beautiful message that our wounds serve a purpose.  I get that, but still the question can be asked, when do those wounds serve a purpose? Plus, it doesn’t fit so neatly into the freedom and healing I’m seeking after.

I also go to God’s Word and demand my brain to recall every Bible hero I can remember, did any of them serve when they were incredibly wounded and vulnerable? At first my mind goes blank.  I am not a Bible scholar, far from a theologian.  I’m pretty sure I didn’t even ace my Old and New Testament Bible classes in college.  Finally a Bible figure pops into my tired mind, a story I had just read to my daughter the day before, the story of Samson.  Sometimes the simplicity of a children’s Bible story book helps me see the main story and not get so caught up in the details. bible2
I remembered that I was taken aback because he, being one of my childhood heroes, was not a great guy.

At first glance he seems like a big jerk.  On second look, maybe he was just a real sensitive guy, but either way he just didn’t do much good with the strength that God gave him.  As his life story goes, He did do good on the last day of his life, when he was stripped of his strength, sight, dignity, identity, and freedom.  God granted him strength one last time and he pulled down the whole temple killing thousands of Philistines.  He was wounded and he served.

I’m sure there are other stories in the Bible of those serving when they were wounded and not to be forgotten the many martyrs and those tortured for their faith.  As I typed the words wounded and vulnerable my beloved Jesus came to mind.  However, I wouldn’t dare to compare my situation to His sacrifice or even the sacrifice of the many others who have gone before me.

My heart still doesn’t have an answer that fits perfectly in the slot. All I have is a discussion.  I’m not sure there is an answer.  Maybe I’m looking at it all wrong.  Because most of this has been “I” statements speaking to what I want and what I don’t.  Isn’t the real question about surrender?  How much am I willing to give up?  Am I willing to give up my comfort, my pseudo-clarity, and my easy answers to go down the unfamiliar path?  The one that looks dark and scary where I can only see a few steps in front of me. The one that creates more questions than there will ever be answers.  It is not about my great ideas, or how much I want to serve and fix, or how hard my heart breaks for others. It’s definitely not about my impatience, resistance, and anger for having to go through a healing season.  When it comes down to it,

it’s not about if I can serve, but If I’m willing when He calls me to.

Restore to me the joy of Your salvation, uphold me with a willing spirit. ~ Psalm 51:12

Crock pot confessions

~ Amanda Rockey ~ 3 Comments

I have been sitting on this blog post for quite awhile letting fear and doubt and perfectionism keep me from posting it.  It is a little scary and intimidating to post your first one, especially since I don’t really read any other blogs and am not sure what a true blog is supposed to be. The content still rings true even though it was written several months ago, not much has changed.  This has been pressing on my heart long enough so ready or not here I come….

 

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Coming back from my first grief support group is probably not the best time to start writing my first blog post.  Even typing those words “my first blog post” make me shiver just a bit.  Although I’m not sure what I am so scared of.  I am writing to probably an audience of two, my husband because he loves me and my mom because, well, she is my mom and that is what moms do.

Raw is the best word to describe my state right now.  It’s been a rough emotional week, but then again it has been a rough month.  It seems like we just can’t catch a break and are being bombarded with one thing after another.  It’s just regular inconveniences, but they keep on coming with just enough time for us to catch our breath in between.  It’s nothing life changing.  No, that was three months ago when I got a call to come to the hospital because my Grammie had been in an accident, a fatal accident.  And when I got another call in May telling me my sister’s son has cancer.  He was just six months old then.  Or over two years ago when I found out I was going to be a mother of four, just after we celebrated my son’s first birthday.

Yes, those were all life changing events, then why was scraping the gooey sticky mess of chicken broth and bits of bones off my refrigerator feeling like a life changing event.  I had been cleaning all day, since 6:45 am to be exact.  That was when I came downstairs, stood in my kitchen, and stared at the mess.  My sleepy light-sensitive eyes sweeping over my kitchen trying to inform my just as sleepy brain what I was actually seeing.  What the sleepy brain concluded was that my crock pot had erupted like a volcano in the middle of the night spraying gooey sticky greasy chicken broth, bones, and meat all over my kitchen.  Not a spot was missed, Crock Pot Volcano made sure it hit every surface, wall, appliance, cabinet, window and thing in my kitchen.

You see, I was determined to beat this bad luck we are having and decided it was time to cook up some healthy nutritious bone broth.  This was to nourish our bodies and keep us from repeating our four long months of illness we experienced last fall and winter.  I was being proactive, getting ahead of the game.  But in all my excitement I had forgotten one small detail, don’t latch the crock pot. Now all our health and nutrition was spewed all over my kitchen, and I was left to clean up a mess of good intentions.

By the evening I had shut down and then the tears came.  I was just so tired of failing.  I knew we were living in chaos.  The month before, my husband and I came up with a plan of action.  We were organized and full of hope. I was going to declutter our home and he was going to balance the budget.  We even had weekly meetings to discuss our plan and revise and evaluate.  Little did we know by the end of the month we would only  discovered how little money we actually do have and all I would declutter is the breakfast bar.

During my pity party with the refrigerator and wondering why every part of my life seemed so hard I couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to this disaster than chicken.  I thought maybe this was not terrible luck and God is either trying to get my attention or is preparing me for something.

These past few years I think I should get an A for effort.  I have tried so hard to pull us out of the chaos.  But the more I try to climb out the farther I fall in.  I’m a fighter by nature so if it gets harder I fight harder.  I keep fighting for this nice life.  You know, the one where the house is organized and clean, home school time is filled with amazing lessons about history and cool science experiments, healthy meals are on the table every night at 6:00, dinner discussion is great, bedtime is full of stories and giggles, prayers and kisses.  Life flows nicely, we have our problems but we handle them with ease.  That is the life I keep fighting for but instead I get a house full of clutter, school squeezed in while cleaning up the dishes, I hope to at least feed my family something before 8:00 and bed time, well, its loud, its chaos.

Crock pot volcano has finally gotten my attention or at least brought me to a new level of exhaustion, stripping my emotions raw, and forcing me to stop, to pay attention to His still small voice.

Maybe I need to stop trying to climb my way out of the chaos, and instead I need to find Him in the midst of it.

Not climb out but search within and just find Him, grab His hand, or even jump on His back and let Him lead me through instead of out.

Maybe I am fighting what I need to be living.

And that’s it.  I have no amazing conclusion.  No five step process on how to get to that nice life. The only life changing thing I am attempting to do is listen and follow what He says. Simple, but not so easy.  He has impressed upon my heart for so long to write.  I have continually fought Him on it.  I have come up with every excuse in the book as to why I can’t write.  But I am done fighting Him.   I am listening and trying to obey and pay attention to His still small voice. 

Welcome, if you may, to my journey.  My journey through the chaos, jumping onto my Savior’s back because if my two feet hit the ground I will be running the other way.  No more fighting, no more escape attempts.  I will face it head on, I will face the life He has for me because that nice life, the one I have been fighting for, it’s just not mine.  As long as He is with me, I think I can do this.  I can go through the chaos.

14 The Lord replied, “My Presence will go with you, and I will give you rest.” Exodus 33:14