Motherhood Doesn’t Stop for a Pandemic

While executing my carefully planned grocery shopping, I observed a young mother look up from her produce selections just in time to run after her toddler who blissfully maneuvered the shopping cart ahead, heedless of obstructions or social distancing. Motherhood in every stage looks different right now.

To those women who have given birth during the pandemic, congratulations! I understand the joy a newborn brings into a home but can only imagine the pain of being unable to introduce him to extended family and friends. You can’t leave the baby with grandma for a few hours’ respite. You can’t receive the hands-on help others might normally provide. Your hormones are on overdrive and your body is weary during an already emotionally exhausting time.

To those chasing preschoolers who don’t understand why they can’t see their friends or go to the playground or visit Grandma, wow! How do you even attempt to explain it? How can you convey the seriousness of it without causing undue fear? How do you keep them busy without driving yourself mad? It takes everything in you and more.

To the many moms at home with school-age children. You never aspired to teach because you knew you weren’t cut out for it. Now you’re “crisis schooling,” trying to help your child navigate technology, learn stuff you forgot long ago or may have never learned. Receiving back talk or worse. And when they’re not working on studies, they’re fighting, hungry, bored. You’re told to make this time memorable because one day your kids will look back on it. You’re afraid they’ll remember only chaos.

Perhaps you’re performing your regular job from home and with constant interruptions from your kids. It feels impossible. Or you work in essential services, putting your own life and health on the line every day and worried you’ll bring disease home to your family.

Maybe your kids are teens or college-age. Adults stranded under your roof but not necessarily willing to live by the house rules. Or the government’s rules.

Or maybe you are painfully missing your adult kids. All the Zoom chats in the world can’t make up for a family dinner and a warm hug. Leaving treats on your grandchildren’s doorstep isn’t cutting it for you as a grandmother. Or maybe you’re the grandmother whose arms ache to hold your month-old grandchild whose newborn days are vanishing.

Perhaps you’re a great-grandmother, concerned for your own health risks while at the same time worrying how the fallout will affect your loved ones. Will they make it through financially? Will they still have work? Will the family stay intact?

Whatever stage you’re in, Mom, can I remind you of a few things?

You’re not alone. You never were, and you’re not now. You can call on God’s help from anywhere at anytime.

You may have been told to repeat to yourself, “I am enough.” That might be helpful for a while, but sister, I know I’m not enough. Never was, never will be. That’s okay, because your children can only receive true significance, security, and sufficiency from their Creator. That is not you. You participated in their creation for sure, just as you participate in their upbringing. But you cannot create a living, breathing human any more than you can sprout wings and fly.

It’s in that whole-hearted partnership with God that we become the mothers our children need. Lean into the only one who will always be enough, knowing you don’t need to understand him in order for the relationship to work. It’s enough that he understands you. He knows what you need. He’s got you. He can be trusted.

Take a deep breath and have a Mother’s Day you’ll never forget.

Your Teacher Wears Pajamas

Imagine standing in front of an audience to tell a story. A third of your audience is blind, a third deaf. The last third can see and hear but they’re so far away they can’t distinguish facial expression. You need to communicate to all three groups.

It’s a simple exercise I used to have my drama team try, but I can’t help wondering if that is how teachers feel these days as they teach from afar. It seems disparity becomes even more evident during a lockdown, as not all students have equal access to a computer or adult assistance. Sadly, some teachers also worry about students who depend on school breakfasts and snacks to ensure adequate nutrition. “We’re all in the same boat” is not an accurate metaphor.

Sally Willms teaches Grade 2 at Westpark School and is finding this new normal far more work than teaching in person. She mentioned the challenges of the constantly changing government directives, using a Google classroom with seven-year-olds, accommodating parent requests, phoning each home to stay connected with families, longer staff meetings, poor internet connections, and more.

At the same time, her own kids need assistance with their work. Since their dad also teaches and they don’t want their children alone on the internet, all four work in the same room. “There have been times where I’ve looked over at Corey and he’s wearing ear plugs as well as earmuffs to drown out the sound of our family learning/ teaching situation,” she says. “Yesterday Corey and I had to be in meetings at the same time, leaving two boys unsupervised for three hours. What could go wrong?”

Renata Beaulieu agrees. She teaches Visual Arts, Ojibway and Beading at PCI and is also “crisis-educating” her three kids in grades 8, 9, and 11. “What’s most challenging is connecting with my students on a regular basis,” she says. “One student finally responded to my emails after three weeks and apologized because he was watching a series on Netflix.” 

Kyle Klyne instructs Science, English, Native Studies, and Geography at the Portage Learning and Literacy Centre. Though his students are adults, he faces similar challenges and agrees that face-to-face instruction works best.

Susan Hiebert is the Director of Westpark Children’s Centre. Since she teaches preschool for 2-6-year-olds, she has had no contact with her students. “The year ended so abruptly and I am mourning the loss of the three best months of the year,” she says. “My heart aches for the loss of this special time with this group of children as I know I will never get it back. Although I am out of work until the fall, I am grateful I can be at home to homeschool my three boys. As a parent of a child with special needs, it has been difficult to get into a good routine for completing schoolwork. It seems to be a daily struggle to engage him in learning, but he is academically behind his peers, so I feel he needs to try to get the work done.”

 

But there are silver linings, too. The teachers mentioned rewards like having more time to chat with parents via phone, becoming more computer literate, saving money on gas, having more time with their families, and working in pajamas.

Kyle Klyne continues to work from the learning centre but said, “Developing online tutorials and assignments could prove useful in the future, especially for those with transportation barriers.”

As a teacher in a Christian school, Sally Willms has a unique opportunity. “I’ve been able to pray with parents over the phone who have needed encouragement and are experiencing anxiety during this time, and bring some comfort.”

When I asked the teachers what they wanted folks to know, their collective messages boiled down to three valuable insights:

“Please be gracious as we’re learning a new way to teach.”

“Parents, do the best you can right now. Our children will need lots of review in the fall, but they will be fine.”

“With the increase in internet activity, please be vigilant. Protect their minds and eyes from things children should not be exposed to, even if that means not every assignment can be done. Their minds and hearts are more important than any science project.”

Teachers, when you chose education as your profession, you had no idea how much flexibility, innovation, and compassion would be required in 2020. You’ve stepped up admirably. You are a treasure. Hang in there. God bless you.

Three Great Questions for Your Mental Health During Isolation

Does saying or thinking “this is hard” make you feel guilty? If you’re like me, it does. After all, I could have it so much worse. I’m not risking my life every day to care for the sick or elderly. I’m not bagging groceries or pumping gas. I’m not out delivering essential goods. I’m not corralling toddlers or trying to teach algebra to my own offspring.

I’m cozy at home, writing, baking, sewing, watching movies, napping, reading. Going for a daily walk. Finally finding time for unrushed housework and meal preparation. Logging in to Zoom meetings with various groups.

It’s no great hardship.

So when honest depression begins to rear its gloomy head, whether from the deluge of bad news or from isolation or monotony or a cloudy sky, I ask myself unhelpful and guilt-inducing questions:

What’s the matter with you?

How dare you mope while others suffer?

I deliver ineffective self-lectures:

Give your head a shake.

You’re so fortunate.

Smarten up!

Get off your duff and do something.

Can you relate?

I connect with a lot of writers online who say they can’t motivate themselves to write even though this should be an ideal time to be productive. Our brains are distracted, foggy, uninspired. The advice often given is to stop being so hard on yourself, grant yourself grace. Maybe now is the time to rest and quit “shoulding” on yourself.

Maybe.

That guidance may be exactly what some need, but it doesn’t work well for me. For this to-do list addict, nonproductivity is the surest path to the doldrums and crankiness. If I haven’t checked off my day’s goals, no matter how puny, I’m sure to go to bed miserably doubting my self worth. I know that’s not healthy, but neither is inactivity.

To combat this, I’ve come up with three better questions to ask myself daily. These let me off the hook called “productivity” while still adding value to every day.

#1. Who did I serve today?

Many days, the only answer to that question might be that you cooked supper. And maybe that’s enough. But you might find you served someone in more ways than you’d thought. One day I took a loaf of fresh-baked bread to a bereaved friend. I also spent a few days sewing face masks until materials ran out. Even picking up litter is a service to your community.

#2. Who did I bless today?

This differs from the first question and usually takes the shape of words. Did you call a friend when they came to mind, just to see how they’re doing? Did you leave an encouraging comment on social media? Did you pray for those on the front lines of this pandemic and for the leaders who must make tough decisions?

#3. Who might be blessed in the future because of what I did today?

I’m slowly writing a novel that I hope will bless others in years to come. I’m working on gifts for my kids for upcoming anniversaries. It’s too soon for these to be of use to anyone today, but the day is coming. Use your skills to invest in the future! Plant a garden. Build a bookcase. Mail a meaningful card. Take an online class.

At the end of the day, if you can find an answer to these three questions, I’ll bet your outlook will have improved. If not, try again tomorrow morning by rewording them: Who will I serve today? Who will I bless today? Who will be blessed in the future because of what I do today?

Three great questions for any time, really.