I no longer pray. I beg, I plead, I implore.
I ask for relief for my friend and a friend’s mom - the two people I check on every day.
I envision their lungs filling with clean air, dispelling the Covid out.
I feel somewhat hypocritical with my missives, but I promised…because it’s all I can offer.
As this plague rages on, I’m finding myself questioning my faith.
And yet I do exactly what I promise – I pray…and I beg, plead and implore.
I wish I could be that person, certain in resolution and cure and reason.
Instead I think: What kind of god would do this to its people? What kind of god separates people from their loved ones who are dying?
I dismiss suggestions that Mother Nature needed a break, that we needed time together, that we needed to appreciate more.
I find it impossible to believe that a virus has a lesson to teach us all.
Thinking about the future is too scary for me. My regular M.O. is worst case scenario, assuming if I think it, it won’t happen.
But what if it does?
I place myself in a bubble of ignorance. Unlike many, I do not watch the news. I know it will find me when I need it.
I realize that this bubble is filled with privilege. I have food. I have health. I do not have to work on the front lines.
I try to remind myself daily that so many are denied that privilege.
I think about those on the front lines – the doctors, nurses, first responders, retail workers, sanitation workers…the people that don’t get to “stay safe at home.”
And then I think about the other front lines – the families of those suffering, not able to be with their loved ones or able to be comforted.
It becomes clear that we Americans were arrogant in our belief that we could control and prevent everything.
Perhaps that is the lesson to be learned. There are no borders. We can’t keep anything or anyone out, no much how much it or they are feared.
In the meantime, I’ll keep begging and pleading and imploring…and hoping.
