Covid has brought out a spiritual dimension in my creative side. This painting came to me in a dream, and represents the lifetime journey of my soul. Weird, right? I'll explain more later.
One year in...is that actually possible?
Covid has been with us now for a full trip around the sun, and I'm hearing many people reflect on how it feels to be at the one-year mark.
Google it. You'll see what I mean.
I suppose most of us have mixed feelings. On one hand, there's that postmodern Rip Van Winkle reaction that we've just opened our eyes after what felt like a short nap in the days of Normal, and awakened to find ourselves a year deep into biological Armageddon. It's still hard to fathom that the world is truly in the grips of a science fiction-level pandemic, and I have my fair share of is-Covid-a-real-thing-or-am-I-having-a-really-weird-nightmare moments.
But most of the time, I'm aware of the way the world has turned. Though I'm confident that our scientific and medical whiz kids are well on the way to getting this virus under control, and the world will eventually open up again, I firmly doubt that we will ever live as we did pre-Covid. I can't say what we'll give up, or how post-Covid life will look, but I do believe we have stepped over a threshold of history, and while our civilization will surely carry on, we will never go back.
The past year has reminded me, over and over again, that
God is Number One in my life, so that makes me...
One year in...am I the same?
Perhaps that is the more interesting question. Covid has definitely touched every human life on this planet, though for some it has been a gentle brush of the fingertips and others a prolonged and punishing choke hold. Here, for better or worse, are the ways that one year of living with Covid has affected me.
My reservoirs of compassion and gratitude overflow.
Like so many other people, I ache from pain and agony that Covid has caused.
Yes, I mean the emotional toll it has taken on
those who have suffered,
those who have died,
those who have stood by helplessly on the other side of a pane of glass as their loved ones have suffered and died alone,
I also mean the physically painful symptoms that so many Covid sufferers endure, the ghastly torment that death by Covid wreaks upon the body, and the miserable long-term damage that often bedevils those who survive.
And yeah, I definitely include the mental and emotional distress caused by the Covid conspiracy folks who have denied the victims' reality, and pushed back against every fact the experts were trying to impart to help control the disease.
But it's a beautiful fact of life that agony often opens the door to thankfulness, and I've felt an overwhelming rush of gratitude for all the people who have risen up to help.
Medical front-liners,
scientific researchers,
first-responders,
teachers who found a way to make learning work,
the list of workers who have stepped into this crisis, innovating and adapting as they go, often putting their own safety or well-being at risk, just blows me away. I'm so grateful to the helpers.
I love how others are learning to love the stay-at-home life.
Now don't get me wrong - I've never been a freakish recluse or an antisocial stick-in-the-mud, but I have always loved the homebody lifestyle:
living each day according to an established rhythm,
keeping order and beauty alive in my spaces,
taking the time to make what I need in an authentic and homegrown way.
Granted, I've been very fortunate to share my home with my husband, two of my four daughters, and a handful of pets - I'm lucky not to be lonely. But I hear over and over again how many people are just now, because of Covid, discovering the advantages of a stay-at-home lifestyle, and plan to never return to the full-on crazy of go-go pre-Covid living.
I love that folks are embracing the gentle art of home life, and I feel more known and better understood for my own cottagecore tendencies.
I trust God.
Look, call it what you will.
God,
the Universe,
an unknowable Life Force,
the Source,
or whatever works for you,
a great majority of humans believe that there is someone or something responsible for this crazy mess we call life, and that, believe it or not, there is order to the chaos; He/She/It has it all under control.
I believe that. And I call that power God.
For sure, I trusted God before Covid. But Covid has upped the crazy so hard, has rained down so much pain and confusion on our world, has challenged us to rethink every single thing we ever believed back in those old days of yore.
But during this past year, I have seen over and over and over again evidence that some incredible source of love has been re-ignited in this Covid world.
These are just a handful of the humanitarian movements and trends that have gathered steam lately, and while I see human compassion as the driving force behind them, I believe that these rays of shining positivity ultimately come from God.
Love is God. God is love. And if God can figure out a way use a deadly worldwide pandemic to bring more love and compassion into the world, then I'm all in.
I trust my Supreme Being more than ever before.
* * * * *
Without a doubt, I hate Covid-19 for the immeasurable pain and suffering it has caused, but still, I'm grateful for all the ways I have grown, one year in.
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My Covid compendium of stories:
One Year In
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