When the COVID nightmare began, I hurried and scurried to do my part. I threw my hat into a lot of rings, some of which worked out excellently, and others which turned out to not be my calling. The only thing I knew was that many were suffering with the disease, and still others were doing double duty to keep the world afloat. It seemed the most sensible things I could do were a) pray without ceasing and b) offer anything in my power to support those who were doing all the "heavy lifting."
Little did I know what lay lurking around my own corner.
As my daughter-in-law posted on her Facebook page, our family has had to beat back an ugly cadre of characters in the last 30 days or so. I don't mind telling you, I could have used the help of a stud like Hercules to fend off, sever and (please, God!) cauterize the ever-springing heads of misfortune which seemed bent on destroying us. As one of my friends put it, I felt trapped at every turn.
I think what has been hardest for me personally has been fighting COVID. First of all, there's a stigma to this illness, and don't let anybody tell you otherwise. Let's face it, corona is the modern day version of the plague, and nobody wants to be hobnobbing with that interloper.
The illness itself has been frightening and unpleasant, but I've survived worse. What makes this beast so brutal is the isolation he imposes. For the past three weeks, while my son and I took turns with the virus, I felt alone - but not quite. We basically each had to segregate in our own sections of the house, while scrupulously cleaning common areas after every use (not something one feels like doing when one's most fervent desire is to sleep away all the symptoms and fears that come with this nasty invader). In short, when one most needs people as a buffer against terror and uncertainty, one must settle for aide from a distance, phone communication, and the wonders of modern technology.
Let me assert, though, that, while such devices may be poor substitutes for flesh and blood, they become most welcome when one considers the possibility of making due without them!
Let me also hasten to add, assistance has been in great supply for us! Countless offers of shopping, errands, and "anything I can do to help" have flown in from unexpected quarters. These have stood us in good stead, as even post-virus, one does not dare set foot back into the community until one hears from a medical person those marvelous words, "All clear!"
So, why do I link all this with an historical perspective? Because it's critical! Throughout everything our family has endured this last month (seems like a decade), my mind has continuously cycled back through the pages of history. For instance, pondering infant mortality rates under the best of circumstances before vaccines and medical advances made their arrival has shifted my gloomy perspective about our twins' lonely NICU stay into sheer thanksgiving that such help is available in this day and age. What Colonial mother wouldn't have cheered at the chance to entrust her newborn into the care of strangers if that meant her cradle would one day be filled?
The past has lent clarity to economic concerns as well. We all have times of financial struggle, and COVID has dealt a huge blow to many a household cookie jar. Study of the life of George Mueller has helped me banish self-pity and concerns for worldly security. Wandering through the pages of this Godly man's life, studying his secrets for success and prayerful provision for all the destitute children who relied on him, has given me pause and new lenses through which to view my own life's uncertainties. Simply put, if Mueller could do it, I can do it.
I could add more, but my body is telling me it's time to rest. I really just wanted to share that, when depression has reared its diabolical head in recent days, I have found solace and assurance through the lives of my forefathers, whose perseverance took the phrase, "stiff upper lip," to extraordinary lengths. I have also found it useful to review my own overcomings, especially over circumstances which "threatened to undo [me]." Somehow, the recollection of past "Hydras" being slain on the altar of faith has made today's bogeymen no less scary, perhaps, but infinitely more slayable.
"Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword? As it is written, 'For your sake we are being killed all the day long; we are regarded as sheep to be slaughtered.' No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord."
~ Romans 8:35-39~
