When You Want to Hide

My turtle friend.

I’m not one to like confrontation or catastrophes. When the world started tipping a few months ago, I hid like a turtle in my shell.

See, I am an Enneagram 4 (more about that here), and we 4s don’t like to face the overwhelming situations that inevitably come up in life: pain, fear, sorrow. I can’t speak for all 4s, but I do know this about me: I like to hide under my blankets when trouble comes.

In the early weeks of lockdown, I was constantly feeding my soul with other people’s words. They were good words, filled with comfort and hope and understanding. They resonated deep inside and I drank of them freely.

The same happened with all of the musicians. Everyone, it seemed, had some instrument to play or song to sing, or both. The dragged their tubas and tambourines out of the closet and played and sang away.

And me. . .I watched silently, amazed.

I noticed something about my favorite writers and podcasters. They kept writing, podcasting, and speaking on social media. They talked about their fears, told the world what they were doing to pivot in their work, shared small challenges for me, and encouraged me to continue.

And then they began speaking truth. Hard truth. But truth, nonetheless.

And one message kept coming through.

“Don’t stop creating. The world needs your art now more than ever.”

Me? The world needs to hear from me?

I wasn’t sure about that. Me? The world needs to hear from me? I wasn’t sure I liked that thought or believed that. I was still processing what was going on, sifting through the news, keeping up with my city’s recommendations.

Hadn’t everyone already said everything there was to say? Hadn’t all the truth been laid out on the table within easy reach? What could I say that would be unique, new, different?

For I was still trying to sort out my own fear, depression, anger, and struggles. I was the weak one, the one who struggled with getting out of bed every day, the one who didn’t have strength to grab life with both hands, to make plans, to hope.

I still lay awake at night, staring into the darkness and wondering how life would be two months from now, four months from now, a year from now. How could I share anything of worth? How could I encourage anyone when I was still wondering how to encourage myself?

I knew that I should post something, but perfectionism kept me from it. That’s something else about Enneagram 4s. . .anything we present to the world must be flawless. If I did write a blog post or an Instagram post or go live on Facebook, it had to be perfect. Or else.

But when you’re a creative, excuses won’t let you hide. Your fear is real, but the art won’t be silent. It’s still within you and you can try to cover it up, but it still comes back to haunt you in the wee hours of the morning. Or tug at your subconscious when you’re busy washing dishes or sorting laundry. And it turns a deaf ear to pleas for perfectionism.

So I decided to post something. Nervously, I wrote several free verse poems and posted them on Instagram the weekend of Easter, working through thoughts I was carrying in my heart. They were rough pieces of art and I knew it. But it didn’t matter. I chose a few topics that were pressing on me–fear and hope–and tried to express them in the way that meant something to me in light of the glorious hope we have in Christ.

Whether anyone read them or not. . .at least I had been true to myself. I had heeded the call to share my words. And that was really all that mattered.

And I found some things to be true.

1. Although I was frightened of the future, I could take time to process that. For you, this might take different forms: writing in a journal where no one can see your halting words, or singing and playing your instrument live on Facebook.
2. Although I was frightened of the future, I needed to remember that others were, too. Once I finally processed my fear in real time via social media, I found that others understood and others could be encouraged.

We’re facing challenging times, and we need to let ourselves be vulnerable and share our fears with each other. It’s what keeps us sane, connected. It allows us to heal and hope again.

My art might not reach thousands, but that’s not the point. The point is that I created, and I shared my creation.

And now. . .may I just go back to hiding for a little bit?

Because now it’s your turn.

Oh, to be British!

I have this friend who is British. Her name is Ruth and she has the coolest accent. I love hearing her talk. And drinking legit British tea with her beautiful tea set. A real tea set! From England!

Sorry, I get a little excited thinking about it.

See, she fell in love with this guy from Oklahoma and came to live on the prairie. And now she lives near me, so that’s also very exciting.

Anyway, long before COVID-19 was a way of life, I was over her house one day. We were talking about the British way of handling life’s challenges.

“In England, when we have something particularly challenging that we must face, we first brew some tea,” she said. (Sounds like a good first step.) “It’s just tradition. If you were to pop in my house, I’d put the kettle on. It’s a cultural thing.”

We briefly reviewed how very British this was compared to the American way of doing things. In America, coffee is the beverage of choice. Perhaps tea in the late evening if someone is overly affected by caffeine. But generally, coffee is preferred over tea.

Then she said something that struck me.

“If a tragedy happens, we drink a cup of tea and make a plan,” she said. “Then we get on with it.”

I loved that thought.

It was so British and so amazing.

I thought about that a lot in the next couple of days. I even made it kind of like my personal motto.

Because, frankly, I had to do this very thing. Needed to do it. I was facing some changes in my life and I needed to take a moment to pause and collect myself, make a plan, then get on with it.

See how simple this is?

1. Drink a cup of tea.

2. Make a plan.

3. Get on with it.

I’m sure this brings to mind another famous phrase from World War II that has become popular in recent years. You see it everywhere.

“Keep calm and carry on.”

During those frightening days in British history, the Ministry of Information was commissioned by the British government to write and design some morale-boosting posters. Several posters were written and spread across Britain. A third poster, written by one clever writer (aka “civil servant”) used a phrase that was specifically prepared in case the Germans invaded England.

The poster was not needed, thankfully. But the phrase has since become legendary. One of these posters was found years later in a pile of dusty books bought at an auction. The British didn’t end up needing the extra morale at the time, and it seems to me they still don’t. They knew exactly how to keep calm and carry on then, and they do now.

Today, we see this phrase everywhere.

“Keep calm and unicorn on.”

“Keep calm and Okie on.”

“Keep calm and StarTrek on.”

“Keep calm and — (you fill in the blank).”

It’s really a part of the British culture. A simple phrase that encapsulates something they believe and hold dear. And like my friend’s simple directives, I wanted to put it into practice.

Maybe her own three-step plan seems too simple. Oh, there’s much more I could add–places where I could fill in the blanks and make it all fancy and try to be amazing. But if I could take a step back and do this thing–this very British thing–I might be way ahead of the game.

Why don’t we try that, you and me? I’m sure doing so would help us get to whatever we needed to, and much faster. With everything that is swirling around us now, we need a simple plan. We can’t really afford to have fancy plans because there’s just way too much happening. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’d say you’d prefer that, too.

I’m very thankful for my friend and her common sense way of doing things. I wish I was more like her. Maybe now I can try to be.

Just for today, go drink a cup of tea. (Or a pot, whichever you prefer.) Make a plan. And then get on with it, friends.

Ruth and I enjoying our tea.