I’m afraid to open my email.

It’s not a fear I used to have. Just like most things at this point, I blame it on C0vid. Emails during a pandemic are like an elusive boogeyman hiding around the corner. You just know they’re going to get you, but you don’t know exactly when.

Over the past 11 months, we read email updates informing us of which c0vid color-level our community fell in, hoping it wasn’t in the red. Or (gasp) purple! Those updates always turned my stomach into knots.

(Side note: I always read those updates from the health department with the image of Ross from Friends in the back of my mind.)

Emails from the school district were constantly on our radar. Monthly updates let us know how much longer we could expect to be in virtual learning (editor’s note: it went on for a loooong time).

Now my kids are finally back in full-time, in-person school, vaccines are rolling out every single day, and things generally feel like they *might* be taking a turn for the better.

But I’m still afraid to open my email.

Because these days, an email from the school likely means that your child is being sent home to quarantine due to “close contact exposure”. This generally means they sat near someone in class and even though they both wore masks, and even though they didn’t physically touch, cough, or spit directly into each other’s faces, they are still sent home to quarantine for ten days.

It’s “out of an abundance of caution”, you understand.

(Hang around a while and you’ll start to notice my special brand of sarcasm.)

If I’m being honest with you, our kids have been home long enough. A full year if you must know. (Well, except for that short stint back in the fall where they went back in person for a total of 8 days before being put into virtual learning again).

And in that time, we learned to roll with the punches. Adjustments were made, expectations shifted, and we looked on the bright side more times than I can count. We made the most of it, just like everyone on the planet was expected to do.

And even though we’re in a new season, moving forward, I’m seriously afraid of opening my email.

Because getting an email from school today would mean missing out on a lot of things.

Being quarantined would mean another year of missing Easter Sunday with our church family.

My daughter’s birthday is next week. Being quarantined would mean yet another birthday spent at home.

Being quarantined would mean no Easter lunch with friends – for the second year in a row.

A cancelled hair appointment. You know that’s serious.

The question running laps around my mind this week? “What if someone gets quarantined”?

What if? Yes, even then.

My fantastic counselor has helped me learn to practice “playing the tape to the end.” For me, that means I imagine the scenario that is causing me the most anxiety. Then, I imagine that it actually happens and I see it all the way through to the end.

This may not seem like a big deal, but it really helps me to process and identify what I’m actually afraid of. Then I realize that even then, everything would be ok.

Why? Because of Jesus. I’m never more aware than right now, during Holy Week, of what He did for me on the cross. I know I can rest in the assurance of his eternal forgiveness and presence in my life. And that everlasting peace He promised to leave with us? It’s the real deal. I know this because there is no way, on my own, that I could feel any sort of peace about disappointment, loss, or fear. It’s all Him.

What if one of my kids gets quarantined and we miss out on more experiences that have been lost to us for so long? Haven’t we all been through enough?

Even then, I know that God will be right here with us.

We’ll grieve for a bit.

But then, we’ll still put on our Easter clothes and celebrate by watching the service that’s now always available online, a blessing that came from the pandemic.  On her birthday, we would get donuts for breakfast and make anything she wants for dinner. We would reschedule and have a belated celebration with her friends another day.

After such a season of loss, I’ve learned that it’s completely ok to be sad about these kinds of things. Loss is loss, big or small.

The Greatest Loss Became the Greatest Joy

Today, Thursday of Holy Week, I’m reflecting on a loss that reverberated across the world thousands of years ago. The day everything changed. And it was a devastating loss.

Jesus was accused of things he didn’t do. He was betrayed by those who claimed to love him. His closest friends turned on him. He was spit on. Whipped. Tortured. Laughed at and mocked. With blood spurting from his gaping wounds, in that moment he still asked God to forgive us. It’s devastating to reflect on the pain of that loss, even thousands of years later.

We’ll grieve for a bit.

But then we will pick our heads up, looking ahead.

Easter Sunday.

Just three days after Jesus was crucified, he rose again. Hope was restored! Good came from the darkness. Had the disciples even tried played their own tape to the end, they never could have imagined the amazing things God would do in the midst of their pain.

I believe that is true for all of us, in our own individual circumstances. We can’t imagine, even if we try, the amazing things God will do in our lives.

“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” Romans 8:28

What if I get the dreaded email? Even then, God will show us beauty in the midst of my sadness. We will rejoice and be thankful because of the eternal hope Jesus offers to every single one of us.