My friend:

It’s been an interesting two weeks, hasn’t it? Interesting being the choice of word because it is what one says when one doesn’t know what to say, or when all the things to say have been said.

“Interesting” to me has been watching all of us try to navigate through the fear and worry. Even if, say, we aren’t the type to fear and worry we’ve been “casually” keeping an eye on things anyway, because somewhere is something we think is uncertain enough to think about and track.

For myself, I have not been worried about the virus. It is more infectious, and it does impact the elderly and compromised among us, but so do most things; we’ve lived with this fear. It is true we don’t know some key things about its spread and viciousness so there was that to feel uncertain about, as well as suspicions of bad data gathering. Then too, most things just don’t happen on a global scale which is enough to bring some fright, though I suppose once again, things like the flu do happen on a larger scale. We’re just used to it and don’t think about it as seriously. We know what to predict there.

Several of my friends and I (for me it was very mild if so) had symptoms that were a dead-ringer for the virus, but didn’t go to the doctor because it was back before the panic hit, so our reward is now we don’t get bragging rights. If it was COVID-19, as we suspect, it was definitely pretty unpleasant but nothing that seemed life-threatening. Not everyone has been so fortunate, I’m aware of that and don’t wish to be callous.

For my part of it, I have worried about the impact on the economy and folks who can’t afford sweeping shutdowns. I have financial and health reserves, but not nearly everyone does. Even so, my reserves are moderate. They can be compromised. I worry the leaders are not balancing these equal concerns of safety. People in charge tend to be at the top of the heap, and not very good at thinking like folks who have to live a little nearer the bottom. Politicians, especially, make their living from a popular vote which is both a good safety check and frustrating when they don’t have much of a backbone. On the flip side, it must be hard to draw conclusions and an action from a situation they don’t, and can’t, understand fully. There’s many complicated factors, so I’m not here to blame, though I probably will still criticize as one of those voters. <grin>

Either way, I was afraid they would make decisions based on the panic, and not a reasonable response to the virus.

After the first week, in which I was able to keep my head fairly well, I clicked into Facebook and it dawned on me that a new kind of social distancing was needed. The panic was getting to me; not that it was infectious, but simply a worry and anxiety taking over my days. Nope, not today Satan, so I deleted the app and began to take in limited amounts of media, restricting much of what I did to certain times, or websites that only reported and didn’t comment or interpret. If I needed interpretation, I looked for it selectively and with only one guideline:

(1) Looking for realism with hope

A study I listened to awhile ago reported that after an extensive research project there were two common threads emerged: the first conclusion was that fake news thrives on shock and fear — the second that true news spreads much slower (can’t remember the stats) and always contains a hopeful element.

Facts can be manipulated any which way you want, to support any personal fear or agenda. Christians ought to know, this has been done to the Bible, and by us, for ages. In the end, if we are going to support anything we should support hope, with the ability to face a more brutal truth. Admiral Stockdale said these iconic words after he was released as a POW, having been tortured at least 15 times:

"You must never confuse faith that you will prevail in the end — which you can never afford to lose — with the discipline to confront the most brutal facts of your current reality, whatever they might be."

He said some of the soldiers were at a disadvantage because they would confuse hope with optimism: “we’ll be out by Easter… ok, surely by Christmas.” When it didn’t happen, eventually it broke their will and desire to live, so they died. We can certainly direct some wishful thinking toward maybe being able to go to church by Easter, but then again we’re not trying to survive a POW camp. Compared to that we’re on an Easter Egg hunt.

Hope and optimism are easy to confuse. Optimism pins itself on specific outcomes, hope says we will prevail in the end. Of course we hope things will change, but our mental (and even sometimes physical) well-being is a matter of internal resources like courage and common sense. The ability to keep our heads, and to believe that even if we don’t know how or when, things will be ok again. Good will win.

(2) Gardening

A friend mentioned recently how much comfort it is to be around new and growing things right now, and I agreed. In the midst of worry, having work to occupy me has been an immense relief. Especially work that will have the end product of food. <grins> If a bit dodgy in other aspects, my prosaic German upbringing of gardening, canning, and butchering chickens makes me feel much more able to take on times of uncertainty. If I can help feed myself and the people around me (even though it probably won’t be needed this time) that means the world.

My fingernails have dirt under them more often than not right now. The other day I borrowed a truck, hefted two 50# sacks of potting soil, some new trees, and plants home. Then I got a few scoops of top soil and spaded a garden — starting with some old logs, a few layers or cardboard, and dirt on top so I can have Hügelkultur. Go look it up, I ain’t ‘splaining it to ya. Admittedly, it looks more like a grave right now because have you ever spaded a garden? It’s hard work! However I now have Buttercrunch lettuce and arugula started outside, and purslane and bee balm started inside. Did I know about those last two before this year? No I did not. Neither did I know that poppies are hardy to a frost and that daffodils and tulips are not hard to grow. I’m saving all kinds of potted containers to start plants and I’m having the time of my life.

Expect to see chickens pop up in my yard next.

(3) Respectful Socializing

We have been limited to groups less than 50, with recommended groups of 10. We’ve stuck to that with few digressions. Mostly, it’s been those of us that have been together even while some of us probably had the virus and didn’t know it. We’ve all been exposed to it with each other anyway, so we continue to get together. If we got a stay-home order I imagine we’d respect it as much as possible, but so far community has been a lifeline.

On Sunday a few groups merged to hike to the top of a local mountain, where we sat on the cliffs picnicking, and then having an impromptu worship service. It felt restoring, like nothing about life was exactly normal, except the people. For this time, we belonged together. We didn’t know about tomorrow, we might not have had yesterday, but today was ours.

It’s been the same with small groups of friends gathering to support local restaurants with take out, coffee in the sunshine, coffee in the rain. I’ve made coffee more more regularly than before because coffee shops aren’t an option for sit-in, but you know. It’s been calming. Boil the water, prepare the coffee, drip, press, warm the mugs, add the cream… Grounding. (pun not intended)

THE GROUND ON WHICH I STAND

It’s what I’ve come back to over and over again: a grounding of myself. My parents never utilized grounding for discipline, but this to me feels like the a kind of grown up version.

We are grown ups, you know. We have to discipline ourselves, to learn, to grow, to be ok. Sure, it’s great to talk to friends about our concerns, and believe me, I do! It’s just, it’s no longer anyone else’s direct responsibility to calm me down, get me food, and make me go to bed. This whole freakin’ virus business has felt a lot like making the transition from the known parameters of childhood to the unknown of an adult world with concerns we don’t know anything about. It’s ok, it really is. We’ll figure out how to deal with this one and move on.

In the last two weeks the most valuable things to me have been my walk with God, the small groups of friends I’m allowed to see, work, going out to run anyway, making good and nutritious meals, keeping up with my house, and planting a garden. Really, it’s the things that I’ve done, more or less, for the last year. Routine is our friend in times of stress, and it will help us to continue living as if we mean to keep on living, not living as if we’re waiting around to die.

Last night as I was winding down to go to sleep I got a sensation I always have difficulty describing. It’s as if God draws especially, personally and specifically near to me. As if he’s my dad showing me something really cool and special, he puts his arm around me, and it makes me feel warm and happy and ok.

I saw that he really loves our world. Really loves it. Sometimes I forget he made it, and he’s got more skin in the game than any of us in restoring it. He’s God so he could’ve already done it by burning it and starting over. For a God who has the capability to create worlds, I sure don’t see why he’s stuck it out with this one, and there can be only one reason to do something like this: love.

Somehow - I don’t see how and can’t understand it - but something about this whole pandemic feels like a special mercy from him. A severe mercy, but something we’ll understand someday as a saving grace even though it seemed especially hard at the time. I don’t know if he intervened to keep something else from happening, or if this is something evil that he is turning toward good: himself… but I have never felt more sure that his care is with us. He is with us. God, is with us.

Love,

L. Raine