Sunday, March 15th: I went to church like normal. Only very few people were there. I looked over my shoulder every single time someone coughed. At the end, the pastor said "See you sometime soon" instead of "See you next week" and my stomach turned in disbelief. That afternoon, my world plunged into darkness. Schools shut down, churches closed, restaurants closed. Fear gripped me and the whole state. I didn't know when I would see my friends again.
We started wearing masks all day, every day at work that following week. The hospital was chaos. Contingency plans were made that I thank God up to this point we haven't had to use. But it still felt like an endless descent into a terrible new world. It still does.
Weary. Lonely. These past 9 months have been a blur. A weary, lonely blur with a few encouraging bright spots along the way. I often think back to that last Wednesday we met together for small group. It feels like a dream. That world no longer exists. That girl sitting there laughing so carefreely - she no longer exists. I have mourned over and over those days and the dreams I had for 2020.
Sunday, December 20th: Today - a thrill of hope. I got my email invitation from the CDC, and I will receive my first of 2 Covid vaccines on Tuesday.
Tuesday, January 19th, 2021: 10 months after this nightmare began in my small part of the world, I will have maximum immunity from my vaccine and booster.
I remember when churches closed, when large gatherings stopped, I kept saying "when this is all over and these halls are filled again, I'm going to give everyone the biggest hugs and never take gathering for granted again!" I imagined it would be a huge celebration in the streets like the end of WWII. Just as quickly as the world shut down stadiums, concert halls, restaurants, theatres, churches - all would swing their doors open wide and welcome the masses again. As this pandemic has dragged on and on, I have realized that will not be the case. As vaccines roll out and spring time begins to blossom, it will be a very slow shift to a new world. This new world may resemble the pre-2020 world in some ways, but scars from the past year will run deep, and I am afraid we will never be the same. While I realize that in some ways, that's good - there are some things we needed to leave behind in 2019. But I will still mourn the loss of the dreams around that coffee table back in March, of what might have been. I will mourn the loss of patients and with families and friends who have lost loved ones. I will mourn the loss of time with my own friends and family.
But I do welcome this slow shift back to a world where I can strike out bare faced into a grocery store without caring. I celebrate this feat of human ingenuity and collaboration and genuinely pray that carries over into the post-Covid world. Post-Covid. That brings tears to my eyes. It's coming. And if you know me and I see you, you are warned - big hugs are coming your way!!!
Addendum 12/21/2020: As I pulled into work this morning, I had a text - "They are taking walk ins today if you want to get your vaccine." So a group of us went and got the shot. Before I had a chance to be nervous, I had it. I realized as I went back upstairs to start my day, there was something different. Hope, excitement, comradery seemed to fill the halls for the first time since March. I found myself still anxious but also giddy. Today was a good day. I crawl into bed tonight with a sore arm, but with hope for more good days ahead.
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