What an incredible few weeks.
I don’t know about you, but my emotions are all over the place. One minute, I’m hopeful and I look for signs we’re coming out of this. The next, I’m riddled with worry and I wonder what else will be taken from me.
It all seems so…unreal.
Some of my prayers are obvious: That God heals the sick, comforts people dealing with loss, and that scientists quickly discover a way to rid the earth of this horrible virus. I also find myself praying that when all of this over, we’re never the same again. I wrote in my journal last week: The only thing worse than the virus would be if we emerge from this unchanged. That, to me, would be a greater tragedy than the death toll we’re going to see.
We need to identify, and act on, our never agains.
NEVER AGAIN will I take human contact for granted.
NEVER AGAIN will I worship the wrong things.
NEVER AGAIN will I look at hospital workers, first-responders, truckers, grocery store workers, and cleaning people the same way.
NEVER AGAIN will I view dinner and a movie as some kind of right because I work hard.
NEVER AGAIN will I be afraid to step forward when I’m needed.
NEVER AGAIN will I see the world as I did in February.
I remember exactly where I was on September 11, 2001. I know the horror of that day. And I remember September 12 — the day our country went silent, the day we looked at each other differently. As the smoke continued to billow above Manhattan, we were not yet enraged looking for retribution. We were brought to our knees, quieted and humbled.
After we come out of this, that’s where we need to stay: quiet, humbled and on our knees. Ironically, we’ll stand taller that way.
This little blue planet we’re spinning on is so very small. We’ve built much upon sand and kid ourselves that it’s solid. Forgive us, Lord. We’re sorry.