Reflecting on the last two plus years of a pandemic feels a bit like pouring a small pile of salt on the kitchen table and picking it up grain by grain to put it back into the small holes at the top of the saltshaker. Ridiculously painful. Sure, it would be faster to scoop the salt into my hand and toss it over my shoulder, but if the pandemic has taught me anything, it’s that slowing down and reflecting on what I am doing is not wasted time and not a bad thing. Maybe taking each grain of salt and thinking on it as I place it back in the saltshaker is a gift.
But who are we really kidding? While we all strive to find the silver linings of the two plus years, it’s a rare person who is genuinely happy for what happened with our world. Did we all really enjoy fearing for our lives, desperately Clorox-wiping every germ-touched grocery item and door handle? Do we feel confident we accurately gauged people’s mood and expressions from only the bridge of their nose up? Have we sincerely reconciled the number of people who died from COVID, as was reported hourly in the daily news? Was there any comfort in burying family members who had passed away during the pandemic, when communities of family, friends, and faith could not be there with us? Was it fun celebrating front line workers who kept our world turning, or did our hearts twist and turn every time we did it, because we knew it was not in our DNA to do the work they were doing? We all did what we had to do: We did our best-- as family, friends, neighbors, cities, states, and a nation. As I look back at the world since March 2020, despite political divisions and rhetoric, I do believe wholeheartedly that everything everyone has been working toward is well intentioned. It would be a rare person with a very cold hard heart who finds any pleasure in the atrocities that have strangled this world since the pandemic broke and not want to work toward health and wholeness.
So, in what or in whom did I find hope during the pandemic? I found hope in the scientists who were working around the clock to find a cure- a vaccine that would protect us from a deadly microscopic virus. I found hope in the hard work, long hours, and self-sacrifice of people supporting and caring for those who were sick and dying. I found hope in grocery clerks, restaurant delivery drivers, and factory workers. The stories of people doing good deeds for humanity warmed my heart day in and day out, and I am grateful to the national media and social media for bringing these stories to our attention. Definite hope. But when I pause, with a grain of salt between my fingers, and think on where I found hope most during the pandemic, I have to say, in children.
Children are many things. They can be loud or quiet, neat or messy, funny or serious, annoying or enchanting. But what I have learned, as a result of the pandemic, is that children, universally, are adaptable. Yes, they may have fumbled here and there, full out temper tantrums on the ground; they are human after all. But children are absolutely, positively gracefully adaptable. And the key word is gracefully; root word, grace, meaning courteous goodwill.
What difficult life lessons God’s children learned, all at once, in such a short period of time. They learned what the words disappointment, fear, anxiety, sadness, and anger mean and feel like. They quickly learned to appreciate the value in Q-tips swabbing the inside of their noses instead of just their ears and visiting grandparents through glass windows. They adapted to wearing masks, social distancing, and online learning, all new vocabulary turned vernacular. In child after child, I saw amazing, graceful adaptability, and I believe they were all simultaneously learning the meaning of the word hope and what that feels like too.
Grown-ups did real-life calisthenics so activities and learning could continue as safely as possible, and children’s intellect, interests, and talents would be nurtured with minimal interruption. And the children watched and learned. In our small corner of the world, live theater went virtual, and our daughter and her fellow actors filmed individual parts, with a computer wizard digitally taping them all together to create a full theatrical production. Our son and his teammates learned how to scull, so they could row socially distanced in single boats instead of in boats of four or eight with teammates, and the joy of competition continued. Dance class went from in-studio to on-screen and our youngest daughter watched her teachers bend over backwards to teach her the art and physicality of dance through a computer screen. Teachers led morning meetings, taught ABC’s and 123’s, and led PE class all through video monitors. Children witnessed hope in action. And it fueled their adaptability and gave meaning to all they were doing to live in a pandemic-ridden world. And it seems children around the world in turn extended courteous goodwill to other humans who crossed their paths. Larger gestures like lemonade stands to raise money for food insufficient families, baking cookies for front line workers, sewing masks, and smaller gestures like sending a handmade card, smiling through a window at a person they knew needed some extra love, hugging each other when they could. That is what grace-filled adaptable children do.
If I take the time to reflect on the salt pile that is making an awful mess on my kitchen table, I can absolutely find beauty in this period of history that will forever be called “the pandemic”. The beauty is found in the hope and grace-filled adaptability of the next generation. In Romans 5: 3-5 we are told “…we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us.” Maybe, as we painfully place each grain of salt back in the shaker, we pray on each grain, recognizing the suffering, acknowledging the perseverance, celebrating the strength of character, and knowing in our hearts that with the love of God, hope does not and will never disappoint us.
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