“In a dozen years, everyone alive today will know where they were, who they were with, and how dramatically their lives changed in the spring of 2020. Life as we knew it is changed, and probably forever. It will be BC and AP – Before Covid19 and After Pandemic.”
I sense this, from experience. My own life is divided in BGBS and AGBS – before and after Guillain Barre Syndrome. That illness changed me.
There are all sorts of before and after’s, all of them altering us in varying degrees. The moon landing. JFK and MLK’s tragic endings, the Challenger explosion, 9-11: If you’re old enough and you’re still alive with your wits about you, you probably remember particular details about where you were and what you were doing.
In the back of our heads we are all wondering if our feet will hit a figurative landmine in our daily walks, and we too will end up in a sterile hospital room, the door locked to anyone entering or exiting, unless they are medical personnel, covered from head to toe with protective gear. These are lonely times, everywhere, but especially in those rooms buzzing with the mournful hum of mechanical ventilators.
How can we not be changed?
All change, even good change is hard. Change, in and of itself, is not inherently evil, but it is often uncomfortable. Sometimes painful. Sometimes not.
For years, I’ve whispered a personal mantra. It represents how I feel about my life, and that of those around me:
"YOU CAN'T NOT GROW"
I used to say: “You can’t not learn.” But then, on further thought, I decided lots of people don’t learn. We often lose the lesson life offers to teach us. But growth? That comes with simply breathing in and out. Our spirits, whether or not we recognize it, are going to grow. We will one day look back on our lives, however long they are, however much power we had in our situations, however gifted or handicapped we are… we will look back, with the help of divine vision, and see that we have emerged grown, to some degree. Like those little withered peas I pushed into the soil in my garden beds a few weeks ago. They are sprouted and growing now, without me doing a single thing to help them. God took us, all wrinkled and new, and breathed life into us, and sent us off knowing that regardless of what happened while we were down here, we would return to Him with experience and some level of increased wisdom. Even if our intelligence were stripped from us, the process of moving through this earth life is going to change our spirits. Without getting too complicated or philosophical, I believe we will return to our Maker advanced in our spirits. The degree will vary, and we will probably carry some level of regret and some level of joy for what we have or have not done. But I sincerely believe that God did not set us up to fail. He sent us with an inherent ability to grow, like those peas in my garden. And like silly little children, we get mad at Him because we cannot or will not understand this like He does.
Tonight, as the clock turns us to a new day, I am reminded that my ability to “return Home” is facilitated by the one who crafted our frames and created this earth. The Son of the God who breathed life into this clay, who offered himself as advocate, mediator, and savior. The one who opened the door for us so our own two feet can carry us through.
Surely, Eastertime 2020 will be remembered by all of us. No community Easter Egg Hunts. No Easter Parades down 5thAvenue. St Peter’s Square is empty. The chapel in our little rock church down the street is dark and dusty. The seats at our large family dining tables sit vacant. Even the air is cleaner because so few people are driving.
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| Rome, 2020. The Pope holds Easter Mass at an empty St Peter's Square. |
And still, we kneel at our personal altars, in our own homes. We pour a few cups of water and break a single piece of bread. And the same power that turned water to wine, raised the dead, changed blistered skin and broken hearts and troubled minds with a single touch… that same power, bestowed by our Maker, cleanses our souls. From the humblest hearths in faith filled homes across this earth, we lift our voices in praise and supplication.
We cannot say we were not prepared. Our ability to worship from home began a whisper and a nod before this tragedy struck. Our shelves were filled because we were advised to fill them. Our study, as individuals and families, were shifted to home rather than classrooms, not in response to this, but in prior wisdom. Even our children were taught what songs to sing and how to pray, so that when there was no one standing beside them to help, they knew from experience how to at least try on their own. The Spirit whispers, from ancient days, “If ye are prepared, ye shall not fear.” We are still in process, and while physical preparation is necessary and comforting, the most lasting, solid, emotion-calming preparation comes with a sense that we are not being asked to do this alone.
Victor Hugo, the author of one of my favorite tales, Les Miserables, wrote:
Have courage for the great sorrows of life and patience for the small ones; and when you have laboriously accomplished your daily task, go to sleep in peace. God is awake.
It's the most comforting truth I know.
A blessed Easter to all. This completes my Lent Writing 2020. This daily Lenten sacrifice has been a blessing for me during this troubled time. (Coronavirus deaths to date: 108,907)
