By ANNE LAMOTT

I am on a deadline. I wish I could write something new about how we might best come through this terrifying patch of time. But I decided to re-post a slightly rewritten piece from a few years ago. Maybe there is something in it that will help break the trance of fear a lot of us are feeling. 

Where do we start?

We breathe, confused and stunned, pray, stick together.

Right foot, left foot, right foot, breathe.

I wish there was a website we could turn to called, “What it means, What is True, and What to do.” Lots of very tense religious people are going to insist that their Scripture answers all these questions. That’s nice. Lots of them will try to hustle us into joining them in Vengeance World. As that had just been so helpful before, right?

So where do we even begin today? What do we do when it feels like we are all doomed, and the future will only be worse, and we can’t remember anything that ever helped us come through? Well, we have shards of truth, and we can gather them up, bits of broken mosaic tile that shine. 

We know that this is a dangerous place, that we are a vulnerable species, that Cain is still killing Abel, that the world is hotter. And yet also, that Love is sovereign here.

We know that “Why” is not a useful question; and “Figure it out” is not a good slogan. We know that the poor, the innocent, babies, the very old, and the LGBTQ community always bear the brunt of hardship and disaster.

So where do we find grace and light? If you mean right now, try some radical self-care: friendly self-talk, a cup of tea.

Grace always does bat last, and the light always overcomes the darkness–always, historically. But not necessarily later the same day, or tomorrow, after lunch. So kindness and encouragement to everyone, even to our very disappointing selves. This pandemic will be hard, but we’re good at hard. Wendell Berry told me 25 years ago, in Advent, the darkest days of winter, “It gets darker and darker and darker, and then Jesus is born.” But you don’t have to believe in a God with socks and shoes on: maybe just Goodness? Love?

What is the answer? Gandhi is almost always the answer. 

Jesus’s love for the poor and refugees is the answer. 

Adding a bit of light and warmth to these cold dark days doesn’t hurt. Candles are beautiful and bring a soupçon of solace to our souls. 

People living on the streets could really use a Hello, and a buck, and bottles of water.

Grace will always show up in the helpers, as Mr. Rogers’ mother used to tell him in times of tragedy. But today, right now, if you have a nice bumper sticker that explains or makes sense of it all, it’s probably best if you keep that to yourself. It is definitely best that you not share it with us. It will cause me to get a tic in my eye and will guarantee that the next time I see you, I will run for my cute little life. Everyone in his or her right mind will. 

So how do we shelter in place in the midst of fear and fear?

We stick together in our anxiety and cluelessness. We reach out for any help at all; we share any truth and encouragement and humor we come upon. We feed the poor and send money to people who are helping save children around the world. These are good responses. I am going to recommend that we do that today, and tomorrow. 

I notice we are being gentler, more patient and kind with each other. If people are patient and kind, that’s a lot. It means something of the spirit is at work. 

We will come through this pandemic, but it will take time. I so hate this! Hate this, hate this, hate this, and do not agree to this, but have no alternative, because it is Truth: it will take time. 

We’re at the beginning of human and personal evolution. Whole parts of the world don’t even think women are people. But we show up. Maybe we ask God for help. We do the next right thing. We buy or cook a bunch of food for the local homeless. We return phone calls, library books, smiles. We make eye contact with others, and we go to the market and flirt with people who seem lonely. This is a blessed sacrament. Tom Weston taught me decades ago that in the face of human tragedy, we go around the neighborhood and pick up litter, even though there will be more tomorrow. It is another blessed sacraments. 

We take the action and the insight will follow: that we are basically powerless, but we are not helpless. We wash our hands, etc. We pray and/or hope for Grace, which is spiritual WD-40. I have no answers but know one last thing that is true: More will be revealed. Things are much wilder, weirder, richer, more insane, beautiful, and more profound than I am comfortable with. The paradox is that in the reality of this, we discover that in the smallest moments of amazement, at our own crabby stamina, at kindness, even to strange lonely people who worry us, and gentle attention, to breath and all the new blossoms, we will be saved.

Anne Lamott is an author and activist. This is taken from her latest Facebook post