Pandemic Panic Prevalent
This virus is sweeping over entire nations like a swell that births in the middle of the vast ocean, insignificant at first, but gradually building into a crest, rising, gathering a deep rumbling power, developing momentum, coming head on, swallowing anything and finally leaving devastation and despondency in its wake.
As a daughter, I fear for my elderly parents, even more so because my brother, who was diagnosed a couple of weeks back is in quarantine in the next room, although he has recovered for the most part. As I sister, I still worry about him. My dad still goes out and carries on, but he understands that wearing a mask is not crazy and that keeping a distance is a good thing. As a teacher I feel so much sadness from my kids when they say they can't submit an assignment because of the death of a loved one and infected parents, grandparents, siblings, aunts, uncles. This morning a beautiful talented young lady wrote an apologetic email citing that two of her uncles had passed away due to this contagion and that her father and sister (who was also my student) were infected, leaving her mother is a state of utter depression.
This world has transformed. And yet the essence of who we are remains the same. People be people after all. As sickness surges, hospitals have lesser crowds. As we become socially and physically distant, we have resorted to the internet to make up for the connection we are missing... though, let's be honest - it's not and cannot be the real thing.
What more depressing is that people in dire circumstances are stuck with no means of escapism (unless you can take a deep dive into a good book) in their homes: abusive relationships, poverty, sickness (COVID or otherwise) are all under unbearable stress. Stress that may lead to incomprehensible damage physically/ emotionally.
As a mother (I still feel I qualify for that monachre), I feel for my long lost kids. If they could see the colour of my heart they'd see a lot of red for anguish, some blue for grief, but also some yellow for hope and vision, but also green for prayers and even more prayers. I have no way of knowing if they remember me - I suppose it's better that way. I do fervently pray that this invisible enemy doesn't go near by babies. Very visible ones have done enough damage. Funny how that words itself. But lot's of irony has been going around.
In a time like this, I believe it more important than ever to see the glass as half full. Always half full. That water always fresh, always there. I have no way of repaying the Lord for this shield I feel he shrouds me in, keeping away visible and invisible enemies.
If I count my blessings, I'd be counting till eternity, and even then I'd fall short. The world can turn even more topsy turvy, I am not one to be deterred. The minute I lose my passion, my zeal, my zest, my will to live and live well, that day would be a red letter day. And not in the good sense. I may falter and stumble, but I will always get up, always rise.
As a daughter, I fear for my elderly parents, even more so because my brother, who was diagnosed a couple of weeks back is in quarantine in the next room, although he has recovered for the most part. As I sister, I still worry about him. My dad still goes out and carries on, but he understands that wearing a mask is not crazy and that keeping a distance is a good thing. As a teacher I feel so much sadness from my kids when they say they can't submit an assignment because of the death of a loved one and infected parents, grandparents, siblings, aunts, uncles. This morning a beautiful talented young lady wrote an apologetic email citing that two of her uncles had passed away due to this contagion and that her father and sister (who was also my student) were infected, leaving her mother is a state of utter depression.
This world has transformed. And yet the essence of who we are remains the same. People be people after all. As sickness surges, hospitals have lesser crowds. As we become socially and physically distant, we have resorted to the internet to make up for the connection we are missing... though, let's be honest - it's not and cannot be the real thing.
What more depressing is that people in dire circumstances are stuck with no means of escapism (unless you can take a deep dive into a good book) in their homes: abusive relationships, poverty, sickness (COVID or otherwise) are all under unbearable stress. Stress that may lead to incomprehensible damage physically/ emotionally.
As a mother (I still feel I qualify for that monachre), I feel for my long lost kids. If they could see the colour of my heart they'd see a lot of red for anguish, some blue for grief, but also some yellow for hope and vision, but also green for prayers and even more prayers. I have no way of knowing if they remember me - I suppose it's better that way. I do fervently pray that this invisible enemy doesn't go near by babies. Very visible ones have done enough damage. Funny how that words itself. But lot's of irony has been going around.
In a time like this, I believe it more important than ever to see the glass as half full. Always half full. That water always fresh, always there. I have no way of repaying the Lord for this shield I feel he shrouds me in, keeping away visible and invisible enemies.
If I count my blessings, I'd be counting till eternity, and even then I'd fall short. The world can turn even more topsy turvy, I am not one to be deterred. The minute I lose my passion, my zeal, my zest, my will to live and live well, that day would be a red letter day. And not in the good sense. I may falter and stumble, but I will always get up, always rise.
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