Masked, Distancing, Confined and Wondering

Two months ago, I wrote about our extended family of 10 people sheltering in place together.  Our numbers have gradually decreased, until I’m now living alone in the main house.  A granddaughter who is an essential worker stays in the studio that has its own entrance and facilities.  The restoration of silence and space brings its own gifts, but there is no doubt that it is more eventful and enriching to live with close-knit family in residence.

Friends call and ask, “How are you doing?”  “As well as can be expected under the circumstances,” I’m likely to reply.  It can be hard to distinguish how much of my response is influenced by the pandemic, and how much is due to the status of my cancer.  Here are my reflections on each.

By now, I’ve had three of the four planned Lutathera radiation infusions to treat the metastatic spread of the cancer.  My oncologist says that after the last treatment takes place September 29 we will know more about my condition and prognosis.  The unpleasant GI side effects are under better control. No pain is a good sign.  I move slowly and stiffly and sometimes have issues with memory and slight confusion.  Might be due to age as much as disease.  As I work on building exercise into my daily life, Ruth Bader Ginsberg is my role model.  My kids observe that I still beat them at Scrabble and am capable of preparing a full meal complete with homemade baked goods. My engagement in the community continues.  I sense a strong life force within.  My spirit is continually renewed by the support of Andy, my family, faith communities and friends.  And hope persists.

With respect to the pandemic, I admit to feeling hug-deprived.  Time-confused as days blend into one another.  Missing seeing smiles as we go about masked. Longing to sit with friends in a restaurant and be served.  Depressed by the news full of evidence of suffering, neglect, oppression, violence and manipulation.  Disgusted by the stupidity, spinelessness, partisanship and callousness of so many of our political figures.  Fearful of the economic  distress facing the unemployed and low wage workers as we fail to invest in the social safety net or provide fair compensation for essential workers. Yearning to have my grandchildren safely back attending in-person school.  Hoping for the survival of small businesses in the community.  Praying for a fair and free election with full participation.  And so much more. 

 I’m with many of you in wondering if and when it will ever end.  And how will we know when it does? It’s not like we can sign a treaty and declare a victory, a cessation of hostilities.  Or mark the end in some ceremonial way.  A vaccine will certainly mark progress, but its effectiveness will depend on how many are willing to trust and be vaccinated.  The pandemic may seem to end in phases, freeing different groups of people in waves—children, youth, people of color, the healthy, the old, and immuno-compromised people at the last.  Risks will still be there for a long time.  Tolerance for risks will vary according to the advice of experts and the individual’s level of fear or sense of caution.   What if it never ends, only shrinks and fades in imperceptible ways, leaving the person alone with decision-making about re-entering social engagement? 

And as we re-enter social life together, how will the world have changed?  What have we learned?  Are we willing to speak truth to power? Find ways to promote nonviolent and meaningful change?  Will we continue to commit to grappling with racism and white supremacy?  Will we pay attention to the poor?  Will we invest again in public health? Will we build more affordable housing?  Create and strengthen a network of community mental health services?  Re-orient our approach to criminal behavior to emphasize problem-solving and restorative justice?  How will we support our public safety officers so they can genuinely protect and secure communities?  Can we achieve reasonable measures of gun control?  Learn to have civil conversations in which we differ respectfully and listen to one another?  Confront in ourselves and others tendencies toward greed and self-centeredness?  I believe that it will take both kinds of commitment to reach the Beloved Community:  investment in personal changes of habit and priorities, and investment in creating change in social policies and institutions to promote a society based on peace and justice, freedom and dignity for all people.  End of sermon, and let it be so.  With guides like John Lewis, and the energy of new young leaders willing to engage in “good trouble”, it may come to pass.

Words of wisdom for these days:

Blessing in the Chaos  To all that is chaotic in you, let there come silence.   Let there be a calming of the clamoring, a stilling of the voices that have laid their claim on you, that have made their home in you, that go with you even to the holy places but will not let you rest, will not let you hear your life with wholeness or feel the grace that fashioned you.   Let what distracts you cease. Let what divides you cease. Let there come an end to what diminishes and demeans, and let depart all that keeps you in its cage.   Let there be an opening into the quiet that lies beneath the chaos,   where you find the peace you did not think possible and see what shimmers within the storm.                                                                                                                                               -       Jan Richardson The Cure for Sorrow: A Book of Blessings for Times of Grief    The Gates of Hope “Our mission is to plant ourselves at the gates of Hope— Not the prudent gates of Optimism, Which are somewhat narrower. Not the stalwart, boring gates of Common Sense; Nor the strident gates of Self-Righteousness, Which creak on shrill and angry hinges (People cannot hear us there; they cannot pass through) Nor the cheerful, flimsy garden gate of “Everything is gonna’ be all right.” But a different, sometimes lonely place, The place of truth-telling, About your own soul first of all and its condition. The place of resistance and defiance, The piece of ground from which you see the world Both as it is and as it could be As it will be; The place from which you glimpse not only struggle, But the joy of the struggle. And we stand there, beckoning and calling, Telling people what we are seeing Asking people what they see.” Victoria Safford, the minister of White Bear Unitarian Universalist Church, in Mahtomedi, Minnesota (www.unitarian.org/whitebear)