Making Space to Keep Showing Up

when i'd so often rather not

I looked at the city bus wistfully: “Not In Service.” I thought how smart it was to have that message lighting up its front as it made its way around town, so as not to let anyone down that was hoping to catch it. But I mostly wondered what it would be like for me to make a call like that every now and then: not in service.

Photo by Lisanto 李奕良 on Unsplash

I wake up and I’m immediately “on” as we rush to get the children ready, fed, and out the door to make the school bus. We tell them to get dressed (repeatedly), to come up to brush their teeth as I hurriedly pull a brush through her hair and make sure he has a puff of his inhaler and his daily meds. I hug them, kiss them, bless their foreheads, and release them into their day, hoping it will be kind to them and God will be near. What else can I do?

I come in the door from a long day at work and need to be of service to my waiting family members immediately. There is no cushion or down time. The feeling and pressure of being “on” is constant as the snacks are doled out, the screen time is negotiated, the backpacks are sorted and the wet snow clothes hung to dry, the dinner prep and clean up happen—mostly by my husband, a bill or two is paid, some laundry starts tumbling, a fight (or three) is refereed, a trail of “stuff” is picked up and returned to its rightful place, a school email is tended to, the push to start the bedtime routine is insisted on, until finally the last child is tucked in. It’s exhausting. And that’s on a night when we haven’t run the children to two or three activities in separate directions while balancing our own work commitments that often demand night meetings as well.

It's no wonder that we let them linger on screens longer than we should. Or that I have little time to read or write or pursue a hobby that helps me feel human or even watch TV or check socials until after 10 or 11 pm. Or that my hot shower in the morning is my favorite part of my day where I linger too long—and often get interrupted. Or that I have been known to holler back, “She’s not here!” when a child calls out, “Mom?” into the bowels of the house.

To be able to hang a blinking sign around my neck that says Not In Service for a full day is a luxury I can only dream about.

I want to be Not In Service as I think about what this moment in time demands for our country. It’s a serious time for those deeply concerned about our democracy, about the land, about refugees and immigrants, about diversity, about federal employees, about unfettered access to social security numbers and bank accounts, about science and vaccines, about equity, about national parks, about gay and transgender rights, about the future of the weary people of Ukraine and the Gaza Strip, about tariffs bringing higher prices, about cozying up with dictators, about pulling out of global partnerships, about inclusion, about alienating our allies, about betraying our farmers, about firing those working on nuclear codes and bird flu, about freezing humanitarian aid efforts, and about the education of our children—especially those with special needs.

I’m not against change but it does need to be thoughtful change, enacted with discussion, time to prepare, and congressional oversight. The government as we know it is being dismantled in a haphazard way and it feels as if we are hurtling toward authoritarianism. Some are ringing alarm bells, but many are asleep or complacent.

National Park Service rangers deployed a massive American flag upside down in Yosemite Park, a sign of distress or extreme emergencies. Photo share by Other98.

Maybe when we lose Medicare and Social Security the truth of who he is and who he cares about will finally be made clear to his supporters. The reality is that I’ve thought that before and it feels there is no bottom.

I grapple with how to respond to those who voted with very different values than my own and whether to even stay in relationship. My instinct is to cut all ties. It seems small of me, and I wrestle with that. The words of today’s Gospel haunt me: “Stop judging and you will not be judged. Stop condemning and you will not be condemned.” (Lk. 6:37) I cringe.

Yet most of these people have done this not once, not twice, but three times now—voted for this vile person who has normalized violence, hateful rhetoric, and is a 34 time convicted felon. I have spent the years since 2016 trying to figure it out and am aware of both anger and a deep sadness within me toward those who cheered in November. Many cheering were the same ones lying about the election of 2020 that resulted in the horrendous violence of January 6.

When it is apparent that almost everything that MAGA and the current administration stand for and give voice to is against the Gospel message, I need to distance myself. I no longer wish to go on with social norms and share life, friendship or social media connections as if all is fine.

Screenshot from @brcremer

At the same time, I’m finding strong bonds with those who felt betrayed by their country last November and am grateful for the gift of those who show up in word, action, and emotion when I most need them.

Besides the emotional drain that is our political situation, I want to flash my Not In Service sign with other draining situations, too. As I accompany a family member through a serious health issue and feel waves of anticipatory grief as I imagine the future. As I consider the risks and benefits of hormone replacement therapy to get me through the hot flashes, night sweats, fatigue, and moodiness of menopause. As I nurse wounds that sliced deep by a friend’s words and actions. As I begin therapy for an emotionally at-risk family member where suicide ideation has surfaced. Everything seems to be swirling at once and I want to wave my white surrender flag in the air.

It can feel bleak. There are days when staying in bed sounds mighty fine.

But what service has God made me for, for the good of the world? What has God equipped me with, and given me to do, that God has not asked of another?

Bed days are not an option. But I needed to take some time, to Make Space these past months to tend to these feelings, find my people, and to galvanize some strength within. I need my children to know what I did, and am doing, to help save democracy: who I voted for, who I am writing to, the organizations I am increasing contributions to, and the conversations I am having on and off social media.

One way my children will know this is by recording some piece of this history in a letter to them—my husband and I have been writing them a letter each year to let them know what they are like at that age and some of the stories we want them to know about themselves. We put some cash in each one, along with some photos, and are holding on to these until graduation, when we plan to give all the letters to them, as a gift from their childhood. I want them to know not just who they were as young children, but who their mom was and what she stood for.

I also need to keep showing up for my family member journeying with rapidly declining health that is frightening to us all, showing up for my friend whose words and actions bewildered and hurt me to see if there is some depth to the friendship to carry us through a rough patch, showing up as the best mom I can be to my children so I am calm and peaceful with HRT helping me become once again who I am, and normalize therapy in the family as a healthy coping tool.

It's a lot. The last few months have been a lot. I need to Make Space for all of it, and being completely Not In Service is not an option. But I can pace myself, taking breathers as I need them for my own mental health and long-term stamina. We all can.