Living in the Labyrinth – Honest Thoughts on Quarantine Life

I don’t have to tell you that the last week and a half has been rather extraordinary. It’s not every generation that a crisis disrupts the entire human population. Like many others, I am now homebound, leaving the house only to walk the dog and occasionally go to the grocery store. My calendar full of ministry and social events has dwindled to nearly nothing.

Making things worse, the news is full of alarmist predictions and panicked uncertainty. There is a delicate balance to be struck between being informed and being overwhelmed.

Making things more confusing social media seems overburdened with opinions of all sorts, voices shouting to be heard over one another. I’ve seen many people jump at the chance to offer encouraging words and distracting activities. The occasional positive anecdote punctuates the opinionated post. I have started to think that sifting through for the cheerful stories isn’t worth the effort.

A week ago, we received in the mail a wooden finger labyrinth made by talented woodworking, pastor friend of Williams. I was thrilled by the surprise gift, and it got me thinking that lately, my life feels a lot more like a labyrinth.

A labyrinth, unlike a maze, has only a single path you can follow. There are no false paths or dead ends, and there are only one entrance and exit.

Like a labyrinth, I begin and end my day in the same place. I only navigate the relatively small area of my home, weaving back and forth from room to room. I have just a few tasks to do and a lot of time in which to do them, which leaves a lot of time for thinking.

Sometimes these thoughts are positive and optimistic. Sometimes my thoughts are of thanksgiving for those on the frontlines of healthcare. Sometimes I am encouraged by the positive messages and creative encouragement from friends online.

However, I still feel the need to lament. I don’t want to get stuck in a place of darkness or hopelessness, but I want to be honest about my feelings and not just gloss over them with forced happiness.

But I am sad. I want permission to be sad, and I know others are sad too. There are brides that have postponed their weddings, seniors that have missed out on prom, new mothers who are not allowed visitors, churches that won’t have Easter egg hunts.

We all understand that these sacrifices are necessary to keep people safe. But they are still sacrifices, and they do hurt.

We need space to feel the hurt and loss caused by this crisis, and the labyrinth, either real or imagined, provides a limited space to lament. The labyrinth allows us to travel inward, in order to dwell on those things that are deep and meaningful. On the way in, we can spend in mourning what we have lost and acknowledged our feelings. We can speak our fears aloud to God, as petty and as foolish as they may seem.

We can spend some time on these things, but we’re not supposed to get stuck there. We have to move back out.

On the way out, we are encouraged to celebrate God’s goodness. We can begin to celebrate more time at home, the flowers of springtime, and the opportunity to learn and do new things.

If you need the space to mourn, extend yourself some grace. Embrace the labyrinth in which many of us now live. Be sad if you need to and let those around you be sad too. Then, when you’re done, take a breath and find your way back out again.