Tag Archives: Pandemic

DEAR MISTER FLOYD    

George Floyd Mural

Photo by munshots on Unsplash

DEAR MISTER FLOYD

in pandemic times we learn

that breath is everything

look what we risk to keep it

flowing in and out of lungs

to feel it cool the nostrils

to feel the breastbone rise

to trust how it finds its way

and feeds the blood

 

in pandemic times we see

how the world goes to work

for a simple breath

giving up livelihoods, bringing

children home from schools

to protect this elementary act

see the nurses in shields like

warriors, see mask-makers at

their sewing machines intent

over scraps of fabric, see factories

retool to make machines that push

air through our windpipes so we can

sing the song of life, see distilleries

turn spirits into sanitizer to make

our hands clean, but our hands

 

are not clean, Mister Floyd

because of the other virus

the contaminant which is

our pre-existing condition and

causes us to step away from

each other for centuries

 

now your town is on fire and

you lie still on the pavement

see how our tears fall on our masks

see how our masks fall from our faces

see the fabric unravel, Mister Floyd

rise please rise like this smoke

do not refuse to haunt us or

how will we remember what

we learn and forget

breath is not cheap

 

Kate Tucker

 

Lockdown

Carolina Wren Singing

Photo by Ryk Naves on Unsplash

Yes there is fear.

Yes there is isolation.

Yes there is panic buying.

Yes there is sickness.

Yes there is even death.

But,

They say that in Wuhan after so many years of noise

You can hear the birds again.

They say that after just a few weeks of quiet

The sky is no longer thick with fumes

But blue and grey and clear.

They say that in the streets of Assisi

People are singing to each other

across the empty squares,

keeping their windows open

so that those who are alone

may hear the sounds of family around them.

They say that a hotel in the West of Ireland

Is offering free meals and delivery to the housebound.

Today a young woman I know

is busy spreading fliers with her number

through the neighbourhood

So that the elders may have someone to call on.

Today Churches, Synagogues, Mosques and Temples

are preparing to welcome

and shelter the homeless, the sick, the weary

All over the world people are slowing down and reflecting

All over the world people are looking at their neighbours in a new way

All over the world people are waking up to a new reality

To how big we really are.

To how little control we really have.

To what really matters.

To Love.

So we pray and we remember that

Yes there is fear.

But there does not have to be hate.

Yes there is isolation.

But there does not have to be loneliness.

Yes there is panic buying.

But there does not have to be meanness.

Yes there is sickness.

But there does not have to be disease of the soul

Yes there is even death.

But there can always be a rebirth of love.

Wake to the choices you make as to how to live now.

Today, breathe.

Listen, behind the factory noises of your panic

The birds are singing again

The sky is clearing,

Spring is coming,

And we are always encompassed by Love.

Open the windows of your soul

And though you may not be able

to touch across the empty square,

Sing.

 

Fr. Richard Hendrick, OFM

March 13th 2020

A Strange, Strange Time

Giraffes

Photo by Philippe Oursel on Unsplash

What a strange, strange time!

The only other period of my life equally weighed down with fear and uncertainty was the Cuban missile crisis, a time we all miraculously passed through without harm.  (More than fifty years later we know how truly miraculous that safe passage was.  And it wasn’t our government that kept us safe!)

I will never forget being a young English teacher standing in front of my high school class when the principal’s voice came over the sound system giving us evacuation instructions.

I’m not a particularly brave person.  I grew up with a father who was terrified of the world.  He fretted about every conceivable threat to our physical safety and, having struggled through the Great Depression, spoke often and solemnly of “when the next Depression comes.”

He has accompanied me all my adult life, whispering, warning, promising disaster.  I seem to have no way to turn off that dark voice.

Nonetheless, a pandemic never even made the list.

Which just goes to show that worrying isn’t the solution to anything.

But if worrying doesn’t help, what does?

A friend of mine, long before these fraught times, came up with the answer.  Grace and Gratitude.  Grace, the infinite gifts to be discovered in every life.  Gratitude, the deep appreciation of those gifts.

To keep the two before her, my friend found a photo of two giraffes and named them Grace and Gratitude and put them on her wall.  Liking the idea, I found a photo of two giraffes, too, and they adorn the wall right in front of my computer.

The problem, though, with putting something up on a wall that you look at every day for many hours of the day is that it doesn’t take long to quit seeing it entirely.

Until the world collapses around you.

Then you wake and see again.

So here I am at my computer looking at my giraffes, really looking at them, and remembering my friend’s wisdom that came out of a gentler time.

My life has been messy.  I have taken so many missteps.  I started out knowing so little about myself.  And it has taken such a long time to know, to accept, to love this person I am.

But through all the mess a core has held true.  I wanted to write, and I have written.  I wanted to turn my innermost self into words, into story, and I have lived by words and story.  I wanted to cast those words, those stories into the world, and it has been one of the deepest gifts of my life that the world has received them.

And what has been returned to me from that writing and from having that writing received is the gift of my own self.  I know myself better now.  I love myself better now.

And knowing and loving myself, I have more to give.

Which is what seems to give life value . . . that giving.  Whatever form it takes.  It’s easy to know your life matters when you can see your impact on others.

But sometimes even the opportunity for giving is taken away, and then what do you have?

My wise friend, the one who named her giraffes Grace and Gratitude, is a healer.  Even after leaving her profession behind, she has continued to find multiple ways to bring healing to those she touches.  And now, under the rules of this pandemic, she lives alone with little contact with this world so in need of healing.

“Is there anything I can do for you from a distance?” I asked yesterday.

“Help me figure out the purpose of my life,” she answered.

Just a small request from a healer shut off from healing.

But she knows.  She already knows.  And when she forgets, her giraffes will remind her.

We live in Grace, in the gift of breath, the gift of heartbeat, the gift of life itself.  Because all life is a gift.  Even life we do not choose to have among us like this living virus is part of a larger, sacred whole.

We live in Gratitude, because that is our reason for being here.  To know life in all its abundance, in all its pain.  To celebrate its lifeness as every cell of our bodies celebrates our existence.

And the only thing we must do to earn that celebration is to be.  Just to be.

Necessary.

Justified.

Holy.

And our purpose?  To receive Grace with Gratitude.

It is enough.

Even in these strange times!

Pandemic

Heart

Photo by Nick Fewings on Unsplash

What if you thought of it
as the Jews consider the Sabbath—
the most sacred of times?
Cease from travel.
Cease from buying and selling.
Give up, just for now,
on trying to make the world
different than it is.
Sing. Pray. Touch only those
to whom you commit your life.
Center down.

And when your body has become still,
reach out with your heart.
Know that we are connected
in ways that are terrifying and beautiful.
(You could hardly deny it now.)
Know that our lives
are in one another’s hands.
(Surely, that has come clear.)
Do not reach out your hands.
Reach out your heart.
Reach out your words.
Reach out all the tendrils
of compassion that move, invisibly,
where we cannot touch.

Promise this world your love–
for better or for worse,
in sickness and in health,
so long as we all shall live.

–Lynn Ungar , written on 3/11/20