Choosing Online School

              Decisions are hard and sometimes the decision-making process is the worst.  I am really good at seeing both the good and bad of any decision, which means I am really good at debating with myself.  When I have an important decision to make everyone can see I am distracted as I go back and forth in my head over and over again.  I also ask everyone I have ever met for their opinion, pray about it, meditate on it, and agonize for a while.  It’s not that fun.  But once the decision is made, as long as I know I came about it through good honest struggle, I feel much better.

              Lately life is full of hard decisions. One of those is the decision about sending the kids to school.  I definitely stressed about this.  I can easily see both perspectives.  If you would have asked me one year ago if I ever would send my 1^st and 3^rd grader to online school I would have assumed you knew nothing about me.  I am a huge believer in public education.  Honestly, I think all of the difficult situations our country is in point to the importance of a larger investment in public education!  But, life happens and we make decisions as best as we can and just try to keep up.

              My family decided that keeping the kids in remote schooling is the right decision for us.  I realize this is largely because I work a flexible part-time job which can mostly be done from home and so I am able to do this.  My oldest really misses school but he is such a sweet kid and serious thinker and he supports our decision.  My kids are doing great academically and we find ways for them to be social that we feel are safe, like an outdoor class at the Catamount Institute or social time with church friends after our outdoor worship service.

              There are several reasons we made this decision and several reasons that could have pushed us the other way.  One of the hardest things about the decision is the judgment.  Some people think that anyone being cautious these days is “living in fear” which conjures this image of us hunkering down with bags of rice and cans of beans with all the doors locked and curtains drawn.  I actually am not actively afraid of COVID (although like so many others I have my moments) because I know I am living in a way that minimizes my risks and the risks to my loved ones, like my mom who is very high risk for multiple reasons.  I realize I am doing my best so worrying won’t help.  But I know people have their strong opinions and think we are ridiculous because we see things differently than they do.  That will always be the case.

              The decision is also hard because of my FOMO.  A few weeks ago I deleted Facebook from my phone.  It was bumming me out for multiple reasons but I realized all the pictures of people partying without masks, going to large gatherings, and generally living as though this isn’t a thing were leaving me feeling like an outsider.  It’s a strange thing to see two very different worlds happening simultaneously. It also made me sad to read everyone’s posts about how awful online schooling is for them and how it isn’t working and they are all sad.  I totally get it.  Even with our very workable situation it gets hard and frustrating.  I miss my independence; I miss seeing the kids make new friends and hearing about their independent experiences. And I am constantly yelled for all day long to help find school supplies or address a technology issue or some other reason, but there wasn’t much encouraging on social media for those of us planning to stick with it.

              These days can be lonely for so many of us and we all seem to be pretty good at making this a more lonely time for each other by adding judgment, pressure, and projecting our own insecurities onto anyone who will bear them.  I have no judgment for people returning their kids to in-person or people homeschooling; I have seriously considered those and could have gone either way.  This is new for all of us, and it will one day be over. 

              A few weeks ago, as I was right in the middle of my indecisiveness, I was talking to a wise friend from church.  She has lived longer than I and is better at seeing the long view of things.  I said I was worried about the kids missing out and feeling alone.  She said, “They aren’t alone. You have all of us.  This church is your community and we love you and we love your boys and we are all here with you in this.”  She wasn’t telling me what to do, she wasn’t shaming me, she wasn’t mocking my amazing ability to make mountains out of molehills, she was just being with me.  And I felt less alone. 

In the Midst

               Ordinations are a big deal.  They involve: bishops, rehearsals, vestments, bulletins, choirs, rows of clergy, hotel reservations for family, plane tickets for seminary friends, chartered buses for church members, liturgical preparations and more.  Not to mention the mountains of essays, hours of interviews, years of seminary and copious amounts of prayer.  It is a life-changing experience one never forgets. 

                So I was excited on Friday to get to attend an ordination at our own church.  The assistant priest or curate who came to our church right in the middle of a pandemic had completed her time as a transitional deacon and was getting ordained as a priest in the Episcopal Church.  Much would be different.  Instead of a filled cathedral we would be on lawn chairs in carefully spaced circles outside.  Instead of bulletins we would find the responses on our phones.  Instead of singing together there would be a cantor inside the building with a microphone for us to hear him.  Seminary friends, former parishioners and family would follow a link to a live stream online.  But we still put on our vestments, wore our red stoles and processed with the Bishop. 

                We sat under a clear October Colorado sky and said the responses under our masks.  The Bishop preached a great sermon and everything was beautiful.  And even though there were many aspects of a typical ordination service missing, there were also many added sights and sounds unique to this experience.  The bishop’s inspiring words about calling and a persevering hope that love will win occasionally had the background music of a car driving by with the bass turned way up.  Claire’s ordination vows were spoken over chatter from patio diners at the restaurant across the street.  As the cantor sang, joggers and dog walkers looked at us from over the chain link fence.  The bright red vestments made those driving by turn their heads.  It was an ordination just as it should be … right in the midst of life. 

                Our sturdy churches hold stunning art in their stained glass and perfect acoustics for singing which makes for powerful worship, but our ministry is predominantly done out in the ordinary, in the midst of the chaos, beside the preoccupied and next to the distracted.  During these days of social distancing I have been meeting pets, seeing art work and getting college dorm room tours over youth group zoom meet ups.  Instead of youth group lunch after worship I am meeting up with teens in their neighborhoods for masked walks for catching up and thinking about God together.  Our relationships are no longer dependent on our building and we know more about each other’s daily lives. 

                School is also a very changed experience in our house these days.  I hear the teachers teaching, I listen to my kid’s responses and their classroom is sometimes the living room, sometimes the back porch and sometimes the desks we set up in their bedrooms.  Worlds have converged.  Some days it feels stifling, some days I feel like I can’t spend one more second in the walls of my house, but some days I see the ways in which these circumstances have deepened my relationships- relationships with my kids, my husband, my church, the kid’s school, the teens I work with and my friends.  Sometimes turning inward actually broadens our horizon.  Sometimes being forced out of normal circumstances challenges us to clarify our calling and focus on what matters.  And sometimes when we are pushed out of our familiar spaces we find that we are right where we need to be and right where the Holy Spirit is busy at work. 

photo by Steve Starr