Covid-19: It Was Inevitable

The pandemic was gaining momentum in Chicago and the fear of Covid19 infiltrating our shelter was very real. 3 of our 4 programs operate open or congregate living situations, and in each of these shelters, bathrooms and the cafeteria are shared. We also serve a particularly vulnerable population - with a high number of our men and women being over 60 and/or have preexisting conditions. With this unseen and unpredictable virus doing potentially fatal damage, we launched into all the preventative measures we could.

I’m proud of what we did. Over the following weeks, the changes we made were difficult and seemed impossible. A few of the dilemmas we had to change: the men slept 6 inches apart from each other, the women slept in bunk beds only 3 feet from each other, and our cafeteria had long lines and everyone eats together. As a result of the very real danger, here are just some of the moves we made: we opened up unused spaces, rearranged already-used areas, made good use of ducktape, set up sanitation stations, did relentless cleaning, rescheduled things, and made mask-wearing mandatory. Social distancing and isolation are privileges, yet despite that, we created an environment where both of these were happening. 

When we made these changes we would keep a few people in mind - the 75-year-old veteran who recently was hospitalized with pneumonia, the 78-year-old diabetic woman who has been a victim of decades of domestic violence, the 68-year-old father who has congestive heart failure, or maybe the 59-year-old with HIV. How do we protect someone so fragile against this invisible deadly killer, who loves to prey on the old and sickly? 

After these initial safeguards, everything picked up pace! During the next couple of weeks, we were hit by a tidal wave of overwhelming intensity. Covid silently crept in and just kept on rapidly advancing. It’s hard to describe all the eclectic mayhem that went on during this time - but in the back of our minds, we had to keep on thinking of and praying for our elderly sickly friends. The sweat, the extended hours, sore muscles, the nonstop movement, the lack of sleep, and the risks taken were for them, for their safety and protection! 

Every day there were different needs - and most of them were urgent! During this time, we ended up driving people with fevers to the hospital, carrying bags, moving beds, and helping everyone who lives and works at CCO get tested. This virus triggers so many fears and trauma, so a lot of our time was spent calming people down and holding hands as they had the long thin stick put up their noses during the test. One Friday evening, I looked at the built-in GPS in my phone and realized I'd done 42 sets of stairs and almost 20,000 steps from the constant movement that day. 

I was loving it though - so much energy, so many good things were happening! I looked over all we'd done and was able to smile, as those who'd been tested positive were moved to a safe haven, and those who were at the greatest risk were transported to hotels, with doctors and nurses actively manning both places. 

I had been wearing my mask and gloves, I was being careful, but I blinked and realized that I had been around and close to so many Covid19 positive people. I started getting chills, sweats, body aches, and an upset stomach. Beth had similar symptoms, so I ventured in to see the doctor, and had my second test - I knew it and the test confirmed it. It was inevitable! 

And just like that - everything changed, everything stopped. 

Beth and I have been in isolation ever since. It's a strange reality going from making countless split-second decisions and feeling the weight of hundreds of men, women, and children on our shoulders, to feeling absolutely trapped, powerless, and weak in such a crisis. It's an awkward reality going from serving hundreds of people to the ones being served. It's a humbling reality going from feeling significant and vital to feeling insignificant and helpless. 

I'm good at being in the moment, so it's hard to let go. "It is what it is" and there is nothing we can do about it. Part of living in the strength and power of God's Kingdom is learning the secret of being "content no matter what the circumstances". While delivering the Sermon the Mount, Jesus reminded us, "Give your entire attention to what God is doing right now, and don’t get worked up about what may or may not happen tomorrow. God will help you deal with whatever hard things come up when the time comes". Despite the storms, despite the wars, despite everything falling apart, despite our tireless efforts and good intentions, He gently cries to us in these moments, "Be still and know that I am God." 

Beth and I have reflected multiple times on the story of the disciples putting all their sweat, efforts, and good intentions into fishing all night long, only to come up empty. Then a mysterious man arrives and tells them to toss the net on the other side. A ridiculous request at a ridiculous time, but they listened and the result was miraculous - 153 large fish in a net that should have ripped, but didn't. As they strained to bring all the goods ashore, they realized the mysterious man was Jesus, who then blessed them by making them breakfast.  

Jesus sees! He notices! He cares! He hasn't forgotten about us! The Kingdom of God is not stagnant, it lovingly and silently moves in the right direction and at the right time - even when hope seems to have disappeared, Jesus arrives and brings healing, blessings, and life into our midst. 

Don't despair, He's in the storm, He's in the quiet, He's in the pandemic...
Seize the day.
Kia Kaha