Skip to main content

What to do in Case of Pandemic

“Gabe when you are afraid, will you trust in God?” the small, sincere voice of my daughter, Felicity, drifted to me as I sat on the couch, legs folded under me, looking at my creative writing projects. They were tucked in bed and should have been sleeping. 

My son’s voice, largely ignoring Felicity, hummed and thrummed as he made his toy cars vroom along in what sounded like a vaguely destructive manner. Then her voice continued, singing the lyrics, “When I am afraid I will trust in you, I will trust in you, I will trust in you.” 

            The interchanged warmed my heart. Yes, I want them both to trust in God when they are afraid. 

And I want to trust in God when I am afraid. 

And I want someone to remind me to trust in God when I’m tempted not to trust in Him. 

**
            I began this post several weeks ago when ordinary life thrummed and hummed. As I revisit this story, ordinary has shifted and changed and the hum as I and many knew it has shifted. The feelings and thoughts and actions that followed that new tune were a strange procession of denial, logic, anger, small joys, resignation, and helplessness. Headlines like “This is a Generational Moment” rallied my dormant patriotism. After all, we are the children and grandchildren of the great generation. They were great because they handled their moment with selflessness. Can we do that too? Can I do that? It makes me feel like I am reading about Molly MacIntire the 1940’s heroine of American girl doll fame. She was plucky. I can be plucky too. 

And then grand thoughts fade into everyday realities, and it is raining outside, and the children laugh, and sometimes I am angry. 

. Now there is little to “do” and perhaps much to fear—but then reading this story of my children, I am reminded about what to do when in a dark room with only a little brother and a tiny night-light. 

**
            When I explained to Felicity that we could trust in God when we are afraid she was taken by the idea. I could almost see the light in her eyes at the thought that she didn’t always need mommy, because she had God. It took her trust in me to hear that—and if the story in the Bible is true, that God loves us—surely, his love is greater than my love for Felicity and my trust can be greater as well. When I am afraid I should trust in God… but what did I do instead? 

            I told Nathan the title of this piece and he laughed and gave me a list of what I actually did.

            Step One: Freak out
            Step Two: Call friends and freak out with them
            Step Three: Drive across town and buy coffee to “SUPPORT LOCAL BUSINESS”
            Step Four: Write a blog post, in which to remember what actually matters. 

What is fear? Isn’t it uncertainty and the conviction that unwanted suffering approaches. Was Christ afraid when he prayed in Gethsemane’s Garden? He knew the crucifixion was coming. He knew with certainty that he’d experience undesired suffering. Christ too must have known fear and Christ’s deep desire to avoid suffering validates our own desire to avoid the painful. And yet Christ said, “Not my will, but thy will be done.” Christ turned to prayer—but not just prayer. He asked His friends to wait and watch with Him. And perhaps with God’s strength we can watch with each other instead of falling asleep like the disciples and as a community we can bear together what comes

            What does it mean to trust in God? To Felicity it meant that whatever shadows or thoughts made her feel fear she didn’t have to remain afraid. Instead she could remind herself by reminding her brother that she trusted in God. 

            Maybe that is what it means to trust in God. Maybe it means that we say yes, there are uncertainties and suffering that we do not want, and yet we can remind ourselves by telling each other that we don’t need to continue to in fear. 

A verse comes to mind, “Fear not for I have overcome the world." 

God, when I am afraid help me to trust in you

What matters is who I become in whatever circumstances are given to me. What matters is what we do with the time and the circumstances given to us. 

Let us pray, remember, and go together. 

*Photo taken a year ago prior to social distancing. Let us go together six feet apart. 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Adventure Begins Very Early on the Morning of July 15th

Note: In-N-Out is the first place I go when I arrive back in California. The California chain tastes like coming home. My day had been planned. I was going to walk with friends. Have coffee with my mom and a phone date in the evening. Followed by my husband asking, “what should we have for dinner.” And me responding “In-n-Out.” I’ll admit it I did exercise in hopes of expediting the labor process, but as I had been told, “babies will come when they will.” So I laid my plans: Plan A the aforementioned walk etc. and Plan B— Have a baby. When my mom arrived, full of more energy than I’m used to her having (a contrast with my labored lack of energy), it was apparent that Plan B was in effect. We were most definitely not going to coffee. I was going to have a baby. Labor… it’s not fun. Epidurals… they are a wonderful invention. It was late evening. I’d hoped they’d let me push on the 14 th . The history nerd in me was caught by the idea of having a baby on Bastille D...

The Bicycle Onsie is too Small!!

The fabric stretched around Felicity’s little feet and nestled her in a perfect fit. It was the first time I’d put Felicity in a onesie with feet. Up until then, she wore t-shirt onesies that snapped around her diaper. They were light and perfect for the hot summer days. But when nighttime came, Felicity liked to be cuddled and the footsie onsie was the perfect solution. Up until now, all Felicity’s clothes flopped and folded around Felicity’s tiny, baby body. She swam in the extra fabric. This onsie was snug and it fit like it was made for her. She’d wave her little legs and arms and the white fabric with little bicycles printed across its surface stretched with her. I loved putting her into it. Then something happened. It didn’t take long…maybe a couple of weeks. The bicycle onesie was washed following a diaper explosion and the cotton cloth shrunk. But just a little. Felicity’s cheeks and limbs became rounder and her eyes wider. She watched the ceiling fan and figured o...

Slaying Giants

Days like this begin when the night before I choose not to sleep, because I must read a few more lines from some news site or scroll one last time through the glowing screen of my iPhone instead of making good on my resolve to read quality literature and journal prior to bed. They continue when I wake up earlier than usual to teach, but finish teaching to realize that my children also went to bed later then they should. So now, everyone’s patience operates like feet hitting a wet spot on a wood floor. Bam. You loose traction. And first one then another is upset and done. That tantrum sparked another melt-down from someone else, and as I try to not join the melt-downs, and instead attempt to be the adult I hazard some words of explanation.  “Your choices impact us all.” I tell one of them.  My children’s choice do change the tenor of the room for good or for ill, but so do my choices. On days of this sort, where nothing is really wrong, other than a strong case of the grumpies...