Staying Connected: Stacia Parks
Hello City Church!
What a time to be alive, am I right? We are witnessing history in the making and it is wild. Normally, five days out of the week, I am at James River High School with about 2,000 students and 150 faculty members. In my classroom, I have students with special needs so as you can imagine, my days are… lively. Since March 14th, I have been home. My days are a lot quieter. This has led to a lot of thinking and reflecting.
A few years ago, I was in waiting rooms multiple times a week (over the span of 11 months) as I would wait for my mother to come out of her MRI, CT scan, or surgery. After a week of social distancing, the feeling of the “waiting room” has reappeared in my life. I can’t help but compare these two times and my actions during both.
My first instinct since school closed was to be as productive as possible. Look how much time I have! I can create fun online lessons for my students. I can workout. I can work on house projects. I can cook. I can clean. I can garden. I experienced a very similar outlook when I first sat in those waiting rooms. I had a to do list and I focused on that. In both situations, I was merely looking for a distraction that would be strong enough to ease the intense anxiety I felt. I really thought that work of some kind would release the tightness in my chest and slow my heart rate so I wouldn’t constantly feel like I was at a Zumba class wearing a weighted vest. Turns out, work is not the cure for anxiety.
I remember that after the first month in those waiting rooms, I shifted to reading, Netflix, scrolling through social media, playing games on my phone, etc. Maybe those distractions would be stronger. Maybe I could escape there. After four days of social distancing (yes, four whole days), I turned to those distractions again. Surprise! I still felt like I was at a Zumba class wearing a weighted vest (by the way, I am VERY bad at Zumba so that adds to the anxious feelings). In the hospital waiting room, my eyes were cast down looking at a book or a screen. I did not see the others in the room. I knew if I looked up, I would see more pain, heartbreak, worry, uncertainty, and fear. I knew that I couldn’t fix it for them. So, I just didn’t look. I don’t want to do that again. I don’t want to passively sit in the waiting room. I want there to be purpose and action in my waiting. I want Christ and His love to shape my waiting.
A dear friend of mine posted this recently: Remember our relatives who survived the Great Depression? They emerged with hoarding like tendencies. The trauma taught them to save things, anything that could possibly have a use. And we just accepted them saying, “She lived during the Great Depression.”
How will future generations regard us? “Oh Stacia, she never shakes hands or hugs. She survived the coronavirus.” How will this whole separation shape us? I’m hoping it will sound more like this: “Stacia, she will give you the shirt off her back. She survived the coronavirus when everyone had to work together without being in close proximity.”
The anxiety I often feel is so selfish. It causes me to forget about others. I only focus on how worried I am about the situation. I don’t have a concrete plan yet. But I know I want to use this time to fight anxiety, look around for those in need, and allow God to lead and shape me so that I can come out of this knowing I have continued to love others with the love of Christ despite any distance.
During this time when we can't be in the same physical space, it's important that we make an intentional effort to stay connected in other ways. We would love for you to write a blog post or record a brief video or audio update sharing what this strange time is like for you and how you are seeking (and seeing!) Jesus in the midst of it. We hope to share these posts via this email newsletter, our website, and our social media channels.
If you have something you'd like to share, email it to Val (val@citychurchrva.com) or contact her with ideas, suggestions, or questions.