This strand of the coronavirus will come and go, but the public reaction, financial and political happenings will stay with this. This time in history won't be forgotten. The question is - what will your COVID-19 story be?
Twenty, thirty, forty years from now when you retell your story of what happened and how you reacted, what will it be?
Today, I was scrolling through the crazy and found a poignant post from a high school friend. When I read her post, I asked if I could share because her answer is magnificent. She agreed, so read with me the beautiful words of Laura Simon, then decide how you will respond. God bless you all, if you need anything, please reach out. I am here. Take it away Laura...
On a beautiful, cloudless day in September of 2001, life as I knew it collapsed with two towers in New York. I was nearly 23, living in a brand-new apartment with a brand-new roommate, and student teaching for my final semester of school. (Yes, if you’re doing the math, I was doing the 4.5 year college plan. College was not my finest hour.)
One minute, life was beautiful and uncomplicated. Then my cooperating teacher pulled me aside, told me something terrible had happened, and sent me to the counseling office to watch live while she took charge of the eighth graders. It was a gift to me that I didn’t have to see that unfold with an audience of young eyes; I certainly wouldn’t have handled it well.
The following days very much resembled the ones we’re living in now. Crazy rumors led to runs on commodities that we feared would be in short supply. Instead of toilet paper, we lined up for miles to get gas. Gas stations sold out and shut down. We rushed to the grocery for non-perishable food. (In case you’re wondering, my provisions included cases of Dr. Pepper, M&M’s, Lucky Charms, and ramen noodles. Nothing else, really.) We were afraid to go to large, public places for fear that the terrorist next door (they were everywhere, we know) would target them. A rumor flew around that a large-scale attack was planned for malls nationwide. Schools felt vulnerable and many people kept their kids home. We were, quite literally, afraid to breathe, as if the air might be laced with explosives.
My roommate was housesitting for friends, which left me alone in our apartment, sprawled on the couch watching around-the-clock coverage of all the things we thought we knew. (As you can probably imagine, time revealed that much of that early reporting was completely inaccurate, but I didn’t have the perspective to realize it.) I didn’t even have cable, but I did have Dr. Pepper, which I consumed in abundance. The isolation was probably the worst thing that could have happened to me; lacking any good personal habits for dealing with anxiety, I watched, ate, and tried to find anything that would make me feel better.
It turned out that two things were quite helpful in doing just that. The first was shopping. As the fog lifted and things re-opened, the country began to realize that life probably would, actually, continue. The malls, desperate to lure in wary shoppers, offered deep discounts. Apparently, I am willing to risk death by suicide bomber if there’s a chance to score Express jeans for half price. A new wardrobe improved my mood remarkably, so I shopped often, in spite of the fact that I wasn’t getting paid for my student teaching gig. That’s why God invented credit cards, no?
The other opportunity that soothed that fear in my heart was happy hour at the TGI Friday’s right down the street with my new colleagues. Only it wasn’t really an hour – it was more like seven. For someone who’d rarely ever had a drink, that was a lot of alcohol. And all that alcohol masked the fact that my newfound community – which I desperately craved – wasn’t really what I was looking for. They were good people, but not on the path I wanted to be on. Still, it felt good to be with someone – anyone – in those early weeks, so I found a boyfriend in the happy hour crew and let the alcohol fix my misgivings.
Eventually I got rid of the boyfriend, and eventually I paid off the debt. Life went on, and offered me more personal 9/11’s. Each time, I flailed and writhed and grasped for anything to make me feel better. Each time – as it always does – life eventually moved on.
But the last one – just two years ago – finally changed me. That time, when my world bottomed out, I leaned in to God. Instead of binge-watching Friends, I walked the darkened halls of my house, opening my hurting heart to a father I barely knew. I read the actual Bible, and found a lot that I didn't know was in there. Friends – real friends – came alongside me and spoke truth. I found a counselor who was willing to ask the right questions, to look below the surface, to help me see things in myself I didn’t want to see. I begged God to fix things, and instead He opened my eyes. I was begging for a bandaid when I was bleeding out from a full-blown puncture wound. I didn’t know who He was or how He felt about me. The people I was trusting weren’t worthy of my trust. I was trying to earn what was freely given, and letting shame bully me into ignoring the truth.
God began to show me how to come to Him first, how to rest in what He was doing instead of fixing things myself. He began to show me that I can trust him, regardless of what people on earth decide to do. He began to rewrite my response to things that cause me anxiety.
And then last week happened. And this week. Every day, life as we knew it seems more and more impossible. If I let myself linger on social media, the bad news hits in regular waves. Just like 2001, the future we imagined seems gone forever. And just like 2001, my body is riding waves of anxiety. My appetite is gone. I’m tempted to stare at my phone all day. Sometimes my body just shakes. All day long, I just want to sleep. And then at night, sleep eludes me.
I’ve been given the same opportunity I was given almost 20 years ago, but this time I know this is where God is. In the scary and uncertain, He will do things I couldn’t imagine just last week. He will mold more than just my external situation; He will change my heart in these moments.
I still hate it – all this change and uncertainty and, most of all, the isolation. But I also know this is where we find him. If we’re brave, this is where strongholds finally break and victories finally happen. This is where we change. And this time, I’m here for it.
"Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go." Joshua 1:9
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