It’s hard not doing something
The car door open to allow room for the neck of a guitar, a man strummed and sang “How Great is Our God” in a beautiful tenor amplified through the open windows of the SUV he parked in front of Memorial Hospital.
About a dozen cars scattered around the parking lot like awkward teens at a middle school dance.
Maybe some prayed, maybe some sang along, maybe others wondered out loud, maybe some sat in silence. No one approached anyone else, each car a microcosm created by the walls of Social Distancing.
One person stood alone, silently pressed against the black fence separating the backyards along Mac Arthur Street from the east parking lot.
The prayer vigil for healthcare workers at the hospital reflecting the reality of confusion and unguided need to do something in the face of an invisible foe.
What else can we do when the only strategy is hunker down?
Fear permeates every activity. Is a run to the store necessary? Will I come into contact with someone or touch something that will endanger my family or me?
When the sign of the enemy is a cough, a sneeze or a sniffle, every wheeze comes with a shot of apprehension. Am I sick? Is he sick? Is she sick? Am I exposed?
My nephew makes up songs about God hating the virus, his mouth continually working around the word. Slowly drawing out the syllables of it as he works things through his mind as best he can while drawing plans for a “vacuumer with two choppers to chop it up.”
A friend has created a quarantine area in his home for his doctor wife. She weeps knowing she will be separated from her family for weeks to attempt to balance their safety and the needs of her patients. “Just stay home,” she says.
Factory workers balance their paychecks, their company’s needs and their fear of going to work. Or stay home. But sometimes you have to do something even if it takes your mind off of that weighty subject.
Teddy bears, painted windows, public prayer, walks or runs in the park, digital school work with smiling messages from celebrities, drive-by birthday parties overshadowed by withheld final goodbyes at funeral homes, business closings, lost jobs, and unattended wedding ceremonies.
Everything brings tears.
It’s hard, and whether or not we are all in this together, we are all in this together.
The bear is sitting at Matt and Beth Deschamp’s home along West 150S. Beth recently put the bear out as a positive message for everyone.
