The pandemic - a personal encounter

When we were preparing to move to the Caribbean, two of the things I prayed for were: 1) to be keenly alert to the people and circumstances of our new environment and 2) to deepen my compassion for those who are hurting and most vulnerable. These prayers continue.

The area where Morris and I live in has the highest number of coronavirus cases in Jamaica.  Like so many others, we have been very diligent in following all the pandemic protocols.  On September 09 Morris developed flu-like symptoms that quickly worsened.  He needed to be tested for Covid-19 and even though I had no similar symptoms at the time, I was tested too.  End result? We were both positive. Quarantined at our house, my symptoms remained fairly mild but his quickly grew into intense body pain, fever, gastric nausea, loss of appetite, and substantial fatigue. Relief was difficult to achieve and he kept getting weaker.  He was eating very little and to even brush his teeth or get a shower took so much energy he had to sit and rest. The journey was scary. We knew how dangerous this virus was. I felt helpless as I did my best to keep Morris comfortable.  We were defenceless in a way we had not been before.  We reached out to a recommended physician, Dr. Gomes, who remained connected with us almost daily.  Morris’ illness kept evolving and when his oxygen levels started to drop, he was hospitalized. The fear was real. The sadness I felt on the day Morris walked into the isolation ward at National Chest Hospital was one I shall never forget.  Our faith in God was firm but leaving him alone was just really hard. Thankfully, our family and friends and colleagues poured out their love and their prayers for us constantly.  I slept some nights with my Bible under my arm, reciting every biblical narrative I could think of where God rescued, healed, or delivered those who called on Him.  Through our own faith and the support of others, we found the courage to remain hopeful in spite of many tears and in three days Morris’ saturation levels stabilized on room air without any need for extra oxygen. Thank God!  He was treated with antibiotics, steroids, and stomach meds. On October 01, Morris was released back home and his recovery progressed. We rejoiced at every sign of healing. Two weeks later he was doing so much better he could return to the office.  While his fatigue is still intermittent, his days are much more normal and most of his routines are restored.

Over these days, both of us have tried to capture a little of what this pilgrimage has meant. Here are some of our reflections.  

1.      Our bodies are fragile. As I searched the Scriptures, especially the Psalms, there it was. We are made of dust. We are not immortal. We are like the flowers of the field that bloom in season and fade in season. We ‘wear out like a garment’ (Psalms 102:26). Only God remains the same. We are not divine. We are all susceptible to disease. No one is immune.

2.      There are so many others who suffer much more than us. Our own sickness causes us to more regularly lay others before God, especially those so vulnerable.

3.      Gratitude encourages our hearts and keeps us grounded. Thankfulness is a daily gift to open. People, provisions, promises – big things and small, like emojis from your granddaughter, chicken soup, and Lysol spray. Or the kindness of a colleague who becomes your taxi and delivers food.

4.      The purpose and power of others praying over you and for you. We are designed for community.  As one good friend told me, “When we reach out to others for prayer, we allow others to be and do what God intended.”

5.      The Bible is so helpful. It’s wisdom so solid.

6.      God is full of compassion and mercy and always worth trusting. (Psalm 121)

7.      Our natural response to pain and sickness is to resist it. Yet there are times when something good comes from pain. The miracle and wonder of a newborn child does not happen without the labour and agony of the baby’s exit through the birth canal. The brilliance of a colourful butterfly flapping its wings in freedom and flight is withheld until it first journeys through the darkness of a cocoon.  The Israelites deliverance from slavery and bondage to the Promised Land came after the torment of plagues and death. In our humanness we resist pain. We pray against its every form. We moan and struggle and yet, sometimes it has a purpose.

In one of Morris’ journal entries, he recorded some reflections on the effects of Covid-19 to us. Here is some of what he wrote:  

·       It began before we left Kenya. We couldn’t say a proper goodbye to those we had worked so closely with. We had to leave early. Something was missing.

·       Days of quarantine – (both leaving Kenya and entering Jamaica) - isolation, lockdown, delays in connecting with others.

·       Three COVID tests – two negative …

·       The positive virus in my system, painful physical symptoms and emotional - discouragement bordering depression, weakness, my body fights to recuperate, sleep evades me.

·       This is only my personal journey of discomfort compared to so many. The death toll is so high. Cases keep rising. Feelings of isolation and suffering for thousands worldwide.  Personal and economic impact on a whole new level.  And so Lord I pray:   

"Your provision Lord is my lifeline. My community is my support. I see a way forward and I declare:  This is my Father’s world. I believe a little more deeply. And I lament. “How long O Lord, how long will people suffer and die before you intervene?” I naturally question “Why?” but also add “Why not?” I seek forgiveness when doubt arises and I seek renewal and regeneration by Your Spirit. I am grateful for what I believe about your GRACE! It is never based on my merit. I trust You supremely through a lifetime of faith and hope. There is no ‘arriving’ until I reach heaven. You alone have a clearer view, the big picture, the divine working.  And so I plead:

·       May your grace abound to all who are hurting

·       May peace and quiet reach into the darkest moments of those who suffer most

·       May wisdom prevail on every level and bring an end to this dark time

·       May I continue to know patience and renewal through this journey"

Morris and I register our deepest gratitude to our family, our friends, our colleagues in Canada and here, and our territorial and international leaders for every expression of compassion, support, and prayer.  In spite of being as diligent as possible with regularly wearing masks everywhere, constant hand washing and cleaning, physical distancing as much as possible – we now know firsthand that this virus can penetrate an otherwise healthy body and leave its imprint. 

When I prayed that God would keep me alert to the people and circumstances around me and deepen my compassion, I had no idea how a personal exposure would affect those prayers. Both of us have new and deeper images in our hearts and minds - patients in isolation wards (more real for Morris), people crying over their loved ones, people who can’t afford medical testing, people living on the streets who can’t distance, children and parents struggling in the midst of a complicated school year (school remains closed here), people alone without loving supports, and people with uncertain futures.  The key to showing compassion is understanding the pain of others. We cannot always walk a mile in another person’s moccasins but we can be alert while on the road.

Morris and I have recently read NT Wright’s book “God and the pandemic – a Christian reflection on the coronavirus and its aftermath” – we highly recommend it. The author describes the deeply important nature of God that we must remember. When people suffer, God does too. And it is by aligning our hearts and our actions with that of God, that we can move from asking the ‘why’ question of this pandemic to answering the ‘what now’ question – prayer and compassion.  I end this blog by quoting the book:

“This is our vocation: to be in prayer, perhaps wordless prayer, at the point where the world is in pain. At those very moments when we find ourselves weeping with grief at the death of a friend or family member, or at the impossibility of having a proper funeral, or at the horror of millions of the world’s poorest being at risk, or simply because being locked down is inherently depressing – at those moments, when any words we try to say come out as sobs or tears, we have to remind ourselves that this is how God the Spirit is present at the heart of the agony of creation.”   Amen.