For a moment that will go down in history, it was humble. It unfolded not on a battlefield or in the roar of a rocket taking off, not in a fiery speech or the declaration of war or peace. Yesterday history was made in a quiet British nursing home.
You probably saw it in the news: a smiling, elderly woman making her way past a crowd of clapping doctors and nurses, stepping forward to receive the first of two doses of the Coronavirus vaccine. Margaret Keenan, 90 years old, at 6:31 a.m. local time on Tuesday at University Hospital in Coventry, sitting down to make history.
It was amazing. When I saw the picture, it took my breath away.
Such a small thing: a tiny vial of liquid, the pinprick of a needle. A few seconds, and then it was over. No trumpets, no fireworks - but in that moment, our world shifted beneath our feet. Nothing will ever be the same.
Help is coming.
I know what you're thinking, and you're right. This won't be quick or easy. It will still be a long struggle, with setbacks and heartache. These next months will take patience and dogged persistence, and we're already tired and discouraged.
It's been a hard year, I know - a long night of heartbreak and confusion and despair, threading our way through the unknown weary step at a time. So much loss. So much uncertainty and despair and loneliness.
But now, finally, we see a light, far, far off in the distance.
Can you see it? There, shining in the night?
I picture us all, every one of us, sitting exhausted in the wilderness, shivering in the cold, all of us staring at that flickering light, so far away.
I said help was coming, but that's not quite true, is it? We need to find our way there. We still have miles to go.
As I look at that light ahead, I've been thinking about what these next months will ask of us. We'll need to stay strong, stay vigilant and careful; we'll need to look out for each other and do what we can to help our struggling neighbors. We can't let our guard down, especially now.
Don't despair, my friend. And don't stop doing the good things we all need to do to stay safe and keep one another safe. That light's a long way off, but we'll get there, step by step.
We've been deathly ill, but the healing will happen. One by one, in rooms all over the world. Every time someone sits down and rolls up their sleeve, we'll all get a little healthier, and the light will get a little brighter.
The day will come, and I pray it won't be too long, when you and I will walk into a clinic and roll up our sleeves. And the earth, for each of us, will move.
Thx Heather