"Scare us, Mommy. Scare us!"

I’m not sure why this is so much fun for kids, but like many children, my daughter used to love for me to scare her and her friends when they would visit.  “Scare us, Mommy.  Scare us!”  One particular time, I exhausted every idea I could think of to get a scream out of Mary Susan and her little red-headed friend, but it was never enough, and they always wanted more.  Finally, I decided to scare them so badly they would never ask me again.  

 

“Give me about five minutes and then look for me upstairs.”

 

I ran upstairs, dressed myself completely in black, including a black turtleneck and stocking cap, and quickly grabbed a flashlight.  Then I stepped outside in the cold on our small balcony and stood in the dark while I watched through the glass and waited for them to come upstairs. 

 

The two girls never separated as they frantically ran back and forth between the bedrooms looking under every bed and behind every door.  Curiously, I saw my daughter lift the lid and peek into a two-gallon ceramic urn to see if I was hiding in it.  (She later explained she had just seen “Honey, I Shrunk the Kids” and thought there was a real possibility I might be inside.)

After exploring all nooks and crannies the two girls finally ended up on the landing right in front of the door, completely bumfuzzled as to where I might be. Perfect. 

 

Then, when they happened to face the door, I placed the flashlight under my chin and suddenly turned it on, making my head look as if it was floating in midair.  This was going to be great!

 

Well, I immediately regretted what I had done.  Both girls began screaming at the top of their lungs, absolutely scared - to - death. In a split second each girl reacted to her fear in her own unique way.  Mary Susan spun around in circles with her hands in the air, but her friend dropped to the floor shaking in complete and total terror, and for a minute I thought she was going to hyperventilate and pass out.  I clearly overshot the mission. 

 

As I look back over the past year, I feel like 2020 took “fear” and turned it into a nasty four-letter word.  Abject fear was everywhere we turned.  And just like Mary Susan and her little friend, each of us has had to deal with the fear in our own individual way. 

Math has never been my greatest strength, but I particularly hate word problems.  They never made sense to me because it always seemed like we were looking for a clear, precise, absolute answer and ignoring all the outside influences and variables that should be taken into consideration.  

 

For instance, let’s take the awful train problem.  “Train A leaves the station in Cincinnati at 8:00 a.m. traveling 60 miles per hour and Train B leaves San Francisco at 6:00 a.m. traveling 80 miles per hour.  Where and when will the two trains meet?”  

 

To me, there are a million answers to that question.  Besides the obvious time zone issues, what’s the weather?  Is there something on the tracks when they cross through some small town along the way?  Is one route steeper than another?  Did the conductor have a fight with his wife the night before?  There are so many things to take into consideration - so how can there possibly be one answer?  

 

Navigating this year of unprecedented pandemic has been much like this frustrating word problem. There are so many variables, so many things to consider, and we have each had to make the decisions that felt right for us, even if others disagreed.

 

Upon hearing the news in March that everyone needed to immediately quarantine, we totally shut down all incoming and outgoing traffic at Blue Monarch.  Our staff continued to serve our women and children remotely, but we were away from campus for many weeks while our two on-site staff members absolutely had their hands full!  Even gathering groceries and toiletries for so many women and children became a daunting task.  

 

The first thing that struck me, though, was that although I was seeing and hearing "fear" every place I turned, when I visited with our residents via zoom, I couldn’t help but notice they showed absolutely no fear.  I then realized, as I looked into each smiling face, every one of them had faced much greater fear in their lives so yes, this made perfect sense.  This virus was not their biggest fear. 

The moms really rose to the occasion and became very creative in developing activities to enjoy with their children.  The extensive time together surprisingly built stronger relationships between mothers and kids and some great memories were made during that time.  They even made me a gorgeous scrapbook that I love. Yes, for a time this isolation felt like a new adventure.

But then something began to surface that really troubled me.  The extended isolation and monotony, and separation from our staff, began to eat away at the mental health and wellbeing of our women and children. That’s when I realized, the virus was not the only thing that could impact life and death.  Mental health was just as important as physical health. Our residents are always free to walk out the door and leave, so if they left during this time out of frustration or depression, we could run the risk of relapse, overdose, abuse, or even death. All were very realistic possibilities and needed to be considered as we made decisions to protect the residents in our care. Even though it was somewhat amusing when one woman dumped an entire can of paint on the head of another woman (it was orange, by the way), we recognized that this was just a small symptom of a much bigger and rapidly growing problem.  

 

We have solved a Rubik’s cube puzzle every single day since the pandemic began.  With lots and lots of moving parts, there have been many variables to consider.  Does this person go into quarantine because she was in court?  Do we quarantine the entire family until test results come back? Should this child go to school? Should they go to church this week? Can she visit her family?

 

Thankfully our board chair, Dr. Bryan Myers, has been available to coach us as we have navigated this difficult season.  We have sometimes called him five times in one day as we have made tough decisions to protect our community.  Here at the end of 2020, I am happy and very grateful to report that we have experienced a miraculously healthy year - mentally and physically.  It’s unbelievable, really, and we give thanks.  

 

The year has actually been full of tremendous blessings and unexpected abundance.  After all, we broke ground on a beautiful, new eight-family home.  Several children were reunited with their mothers after long and painful separations. We had two graduations and celebrated as our graduates transitioned into new adventures with work and school.  A precious baby was born free from drugs in her system, and we introduced horses into our program, which immediately brought new opportunities for healing.  In fact, the fear in this girl’s face is the only kind of fear we welcome to Blue Monarch - and that’s because in about forty-five minutes it will probably be gone.  

Just like Train A and Train B, we are all making personal decisions each day the best way we know how - even if our solutions may not be the ones others might choose.  We may have left the station at the same time, but some routes are steeper than others and no two are alike.  So, the big question is, “where and when will the two trains meet?”   

 

Well, I don’t know how long it will take, or where it will happen, but I pray when both trains finally meet, it will be at a place of peace, compassion, and respect for others.  In the meantime, I pray that God will protect each of us as we travel and that he will keep our eyes open.  After all, the real tragedy will be if we miss the other train entirely.  

 

For God did not give us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of self-control.  2 Timothy 1:7