fear and psalm 63

I scroll through the images on social media and, although I try not to, I compare my life to the photos I see pulled up on the tiny screen.  Where did everyone get such beautiful fall decorations?  How do these people have the time and money to travel to all these wonderful places?  And why, oh why, do they all look so good in activewear?  (Seriously, I want to know.)

I read about the environmental catastrophe twenty-some years away and start to make a mental list of all the ways I can lessen my carbon footprint.  I envision myself on a small farm, surrounded by solar panels, a deep well, and a massive barn stocked full of water.  

I hear about all the hate and blame between the Democrats and Republicans.  I wonder if our government will ever recover.

I register my daughter for high school and the thought hits me: will this be where the next school shooting happens?  

I read a statistic from Children's Hospital in Denver where the number of patients coming into its pediatric intensive care unit for suicidal behaviors has jumped 600 percent in the past nine years.  600 percent.  I don't even know how to wrap my mind around such a thing.  

I feel the panic settling in and I fear for the future for my family, our country, the world.  It feels overwhelming and I wonder how to help, how to cope, how to survive.  

I sit with my girls on the bed.  Their now-long bodies stretched out over the fading quilt.  I tell them we're going to do a mini-Lectio (deep sighs but no rolled eyes - hooray!) and I ask the Holy Spirit to reveal a word or phrase to each of us. I open the Psalms and there is Psalm 63 all underlined and starred and highlighted.  I have visited here many times before.  Slowly, I begin to read:

You, God, are my God,

    earnestly I seek you;

I thirst for you,

    my whole being longs for you,

in a dry and parched land

    where there is no water.

 I have seen you in the sanctuary

    and beheld your power and your glory.

 Because your love is better than life,

    my lips will glorify you.

I will praise you as long as I live,

    and in your name I will lift up my hands.

I will be fully satisfied as with the richest of foods;

    with singing lips my mouth will praise you.

On my bed I remember you;

    I think of you through the watches of the night.

Because you are my help,

    I sing in the shadow of your wings.

I cling to you;

    your right hand upholds me.

"I have my word, " they each say after the third reading.  And we talk about our words, about rich foods, thirst and longing, and what it looks like to "sing in the shadow of his wings."  They wander off to their beds and I sit with the Word in my lap.  For the first time today, I feel like I can breathe.  And I am filled with gratitude for the sweet mercy of hope restored.