Decisions, Delays, and Distance

Day 36 of sheltering at home due to global pandemic. So far, so good, health-wise.

Decisions

In the past month I have driven my car a grand total of 19 miles. Life is simpler now with only about one outing a week. Even so, we do face new and different kinds of decisions during this confinement. When to risk going to the grocery store, for example. Do we have enough food that we can skip the store this week? When our county had only a handful of confirmed coronavirus cases, we took precautions, but we went out without any real fear. Now that our county nears 2,000 cases with more than 65 deaths, real fear seems wise, and we decide not to go out, even taking precautions.

Two weeks ago, we wore masks and gloves to buy groceries during early-morning seniors-only shopping hours. Items we could leave in our garage for three days, we did. We brought perishables in and washed them with soap and water before refrigerating them. Last week, same drill, except we left stuff in the garage for five days, because the recommendation had changed. This week, we’re not going out at all. I rummage in the pantry for dried beans and in the freezer for chicken and green beans. Meal planning will stretch me a bit, maybe take more time to figure out new dishes to make with older items, but I’m game.

Another decision was about masks. Just as the let-it-rest rule changed from three days to five days, the no-mask to yes-mask rule changed. Deciding to wear a mask was easy for me, even during the weeks of no-mask advice. Why would healthcare workers and allergy/asthma sufferers have worn masks for years if they were completely ineffective? The no-mask recommendation seemed unfounded to me from the start. Because of a broad range of allergies that sometimes compromise my breathing, I have a couple cloth masks to wear in high-allergy season and on airplanes. I’ve gotten weird looks for years; I don’t care. I like to breathe. And during the weeks when only people with coronavirus symptoms were advised to wear masks, I got some weird looks. No matter. I felt at least a little more protected. My husband opted for a mask several weeks ago, also before the official advice changed, and he also felt a little more protected.

It’s difficult to decide what recommendations to believe anymore. Can my mail be infected? When will businesses reopen? What happens to your body after you recover from COVID-19? Many theories float by. New information comes. Advice changes. The fact is, no one knows for sure. We are all doing the best we can.

Delays

Thankfully, we can get along without fresh produce, timely haircuts, and teeth cleaning. But both my husband and I have some medical issues whose fix-it appointments have been bumped into the twilight zone. His doctor told him it could be months until elective procedures would be possible again. As understandable as new medical priorities are, that is most discouraging for people in pain.

Distance

Physical distancing does not necessarily mean social distancing, we happily discover. Easter came and went with some sadness over no egg hunts in the yard with nieces in nephews, no traditional Easter meal with seldom-seen family, no He-is-risen hugs at church. I can’t deny feeling lonely on Easter. But in recent weeks I have had delightful hey-we’re-all-in-this-together phone connections with old friends. Surprising my technoweenie self, I have video-chatted with friends over previously unfamiliar computer apps or platforms or whatever they’re called. My writers group has amazingly productive conference-call meetings, and my beloved former book group is resurrecting via Zoom.

I admit that in one sense (the olfactory one) I am grateful for physical distancing. To help keep our immune systems strong, I feed my husband and me copious amounts of fresh garlic. We may now be unfit for human company, or at least we may engender more weird looks. Haha. 

Gladly (finally) accepting the gray world of coronavirus

That we’ve had three days of gray skies just fits, doesn’t it? Oddly, yet aptly, yesterday’s fog never lifted. The earth was gray from its roof to its roots, pre-morning rush to post-evening rush hour. That annoying gray fog just surrounded and sat on us like the coronavirus situation shrouding everyone’s vision for the future.

Like many people, I have felt afraid for my health and that of my loved ones, worried about financial loss, undecided about what is worth risking a trip to the grocery store, and just plain disoriented. Oh, and I’m afraid of boredom. Oh yes, also disappointed to not have a vacation trip to look forward to at this time or perhaps ever again.

I may have to stay home, but I don’t have to live in those fears and disappointments. The game changes more quickly now, so I’ll have to get used to disorientation and decide it won’t derail me. People’s suffering as I hear of it will sadden me, and I can lament and show compassion. But as I settle in to self-isolation, I can let go of the illusion of control and instead, hope and trust in God for my fate. Along with fluttering black and gray streamers now necessarily decorating my nest, I can hang red, yellow, blue, and green streamers. The colorful ones are what I choose to gaze at most often.

My move from agitation to acquiescence came through people’s posting bible verses on Facebook. Too many to remember, they had a cumulative effect, but I especially loved being reminded of Mark 4:41, where Jesus’ disciples were terrified and asked each other, “Who is this man that even the wind and the waves obey him?” Regardless of bioterrorism theories and which leaders of which countries do better or worse controlling COVID-19’s spread, and which conflicting analyses of coronavirus pop up on Facebook, and who speculates what will happen, my good God sits sovereign on the throne. I can trust His will. What calming truth!

Then came a pivotal e-mail from Alliance biblique française with a COVID-19 prayer in French. The prayer for protection and provision is long, praying for persons of fragile health, for medical personnel making anguishing decisions, for business owners facing losses, for parents juggling jobs and children in tight spaces. The personal parts of the prayer, however, constituted a major attitude change for me. In surreal, inconceivable, emotionally charged times, I am forced to accept your presence surrounding me. I accept the silence you’re creating; it helps me hear you better. Isolation immerses me in loving dialogue with you. I welcome restrictions in my movements; they focus me on what is essential. This was the kicker: I accept my vulnerability to disease. It reminds me of your gift of health. It reminds me that suffering is part of life.

Oh, how I have taken for granted God’s gift of health. And freedom. Food. Family. And … Oh, the gift of time! Who am I to think I can control any of this? Resting in God’s control leads to my being able to rest in my nest.