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.