Oil In My Lamp

I've been journalling on my phone since this whole Coronavirus thing started being taken seriously in California but now almost at the end of week 2 of this "extended Spring break" I've felt to put down something blog-worthy. Just like everything else these days, I'm going to not sweat the small stuff and just get it out without too much editing. (That's one of many wonderful by-products of this "shift" (as Dr. C calls it) that this world was overdue for. I'm kind of loving seeing news show guests and late-night hosts broadcasting from their homes, etc.)

I'm just finding myself really grateful that my lamp was full before this all became a thing and that I already had a lot of practice discerning the voice of the Spirit, and it's becoming clearer than ever. I have my moments of panic throughout the day but they are quickly dispelled by activities, people, or promptings. Some examples:

—Don't get rid of that fabric. (Turned out to be invaluable in my mask-sewing efforts.)

—Go ahead and reserve that storage unit. No, really, now. And get the one nearby. (So glad I did that months before all this happened because taking daily trips to add to it has been a great errand to do with Sam. Also, crazy as it sounds, opening up that rolling garage door to see my stuff exactly as I left it has given me a message of security and stability.)

—Press forward with your plans. It will be OK. (We are in the process of helping my in-laws buy a house here and almost ready to start a major home addition! On paper this is kind of crazy but both my husband and I feel good about it and why not plan on things working out? It's been a lot of work and stress but also SUCH a gift and comfort to work on house plans and design when this global situation can make you feel like things are shifting under your feet.)

I've been feeling the peace of the spirit through all of this but what I've been craving most is to feel NORMAL. It's not normal to have my husband and son in the house all day every day. It's not normal to not grocery shop every week or to feel like I need to constantly wash my hands. It's not normal to suddenly think carefully about whether I really need another paper towel. It's not normal to see and hear people constantly taking walks in my neighborhood. I'm not saying all those things aren't actually good, they just don't feel normal. But working on house stuff feels normal. Sewing feels normal. Doing housework feels normal. Working outside is not just normal, it's glorious and healing and communing with God.

In addition to very precise and useful promptings, feeling overwhelming gratitude for so many things, and feeling lavishly bathed in the peace of the Spirit, I'm so much more sensitive to EVERYTHING. I must eat regularly or my mood goes down. I must get outside. I must spend time with plants. I must create.

I think a lot of the baggage has been stripped away for me and for so many in the Western world who are not used to this kind of struggle, and for me it's leaving the pure essence of what's important.