Monday, March 23, 2020

Pandemic Ponderings - Personal Loss

So many people are suffering hugely because of this virus. Tens of thousands have lost loved ones. Doctors and nurses are working like mad and are under great stress. Some folks are stuck in foreign countries, other folks are "stuck" in nursing homes and unable to receive visitors. Many are at risk of losing their small businesses, and even more have been laid off or are otherwise struggling financially.

In the grand scheme of things, we're doing just fine -- for now.

Since our family homeschools and since Steve was already working from home as he's in the last stage of writing his dissertation, we've hardly had to change our normal rhythm at all. I'm used to the kids being around all day (not that I find it easy!), used to feeding 7 of us three times a day. The kids are used to reading, playing musical instruments, drawing, playing our many board games. Steve is used to writing and translating with the background noise of giggling or crying children.

Still, this is hard. We feel the pain of a few losses right now, and know that others are still to come. I'm glad we don't know the future. At the moment, we're hurting from:

  • Not seeing family. My sister and her kids moved from CA to VA last summer to be near us and we've tried to get together every week or two. We can still chat by phone, but it's not the same. My kids aren't phone people -- they like to be with those they love. The boys play board games and tag and shoot baskets and play on playgrounds. The girls dance and chase and snuggle. Being apart is hard. Also Steve's parents live 3 hours from us and we were enjoying seeing them every month or two. I don't know when we'll get to visit again. 
  • Not meeting with church. We just began going to Pathway Vineyard Church in September and were grateful each Sunday morning we got to worship there. It's a small church with incredibly friendly people. We miss worshiping with others. We miss the hugs. We miss seeing people who ask how we're doing and offer to pray for us. And we'd just begun hosting game nights at our house for church folks and friends. Now that's all on hold.
  • Not seeing the few friends we have. For many, this is a blip in time. The need to socially distance won't last forever. But our time here is short. Our lease is up in July and we're not staying. Steve's program will be done and he'll no longer receive a student stipend. So the thought of not getting to see our dear friends during our very last few months here is quite heartbreaking. 
And in the coming months there will be more:

  • Naomi not getting to have a high school graduation ceremony or party. 
  • Naomi not getting to perform in the play "Matchmaker" that she has been practicing with Metropolitan School of the Arts.
  • Steve's job possibilities drying up because universities are delaying their hiring.
  • Steve not getting to have a graduation celebration.
  • Steve's job interviews and teaching demonstrations being done remotely instead of on campus.
  • Moving away from DC without getting to cram in a few months of last-minute visits to historical sites and museums. And we never did get to greet Nancy Pelosi or Adam Schiff in person and ask for their autographs as we intended.

Most of the time, I feel lucky and know I don't deserve the ease with which we're facing such a pandemic. Most of the time, I'm grateful. But our losses are real, however small they are compared to the world's, and I hope I can help my family grieve them.

Sunday, March 22, 2020

Pandemic Ponderings - Gaza

This was day 10 of our family's self-isolation and day 1 of hearing the virus is in Gaza. My heart and mind are so full and churning that I've decided to try to write as often as I can. Not to be read, but just to process, and to provide a record I may someday find valuable.

Gaza is one of the most densely populated spots on earth, and one of the poorest with the least access to healthcare. They're also cut off from the world and the rest of their country by the Israeli government, so I'd hoped beyond hope that perhaps the novel coronavirus wouldn't reach there. My heart broke today to learn it has.

It's hard to explain how horrible a situation Gazans are already in. They effectively live in an open-air prison. Their water supply is unclean. Their people are bombed and shot at, and if they don't immediately die, they lose limbs or die later because of a lack of care for these wounds. Their medical system is already overwhelmed.

And now this.

The Israeli government is a cruel one. When children with cancer or other severe health issues need specialized medical care and are "granted permission" to leave Gaza for a city in their own country with better hospitals, often their parents aren't allowed to accompany them. This has sometimes meant a child dying without mom or dad at their side, or an infant being taken for care by a grandma since the breastfeeding mother isn't permitted to go.

I would like to hope that Israel will ease restrictions in order to let Gazans in respiratory distress from COVID-19 get the help they can. But I don't think it's likely. I feel like the Gaza Strip has just been given a death sentence. I see you, Gaza. I'm sorry.