Fumbling Toward the Light

Remember when it really hit you, how serious this was going to be? I think every one of us can remember a moment when suddenly we realized this pandemic wasn't going to go away. Maybe for you it was the day the schools closed, or the theaters; maybe it was watching the news and seeing the numbers march steadily up every day. Maybe it was the day you got sick yourself, or, tragically, lost someone you loved.

For me, it was the evening we went into lockdown. I had been to one last in-person meeting, all of us sitting far apart with our new masks on. We stood in the parking lot, unable to even hug one another goodbye. And then, as I headed for home, I suddenly realized I'd never seen my town so quiet and still. The streets were empty. The library was closed. Every store and restaurant was dark and shuttered.

Suddenly I knew this was going to be like nothing we'd ever been through before. It was going to change everything. The world I'd always trusted had come screeching to a halt, and there was no knowing when or if it would ever be the same again.

Well, here we are, a long, hard year later, and it's a good time, I suppose, to look back and take stock. So I got to thinking: what have I learned this year?

Here are a few things I never really knew before:

You think life will always be like this? Think again. Life is fragile. It can be swept away in an instant. We take for granted that the life we know is going to be like this tomorrow, or next year, and we walk around making plans, never stopping to think that fate may just take us on a different ride. I suppose we need to think that way - who can live walking on eggshells? So I don't mean we should live in fear - just don't get complacent. Appreciate normal days for the blessing they are. Which brings me to the next thing I learned this year:

You're so very lucky. When I look back, I can't believe how many things I took for granted. Sitting down at the dinner table with my family. Laughing in the dark with a crowd of people at a movie. Eating in a restaurant. Singing in a choir. Hugging a friend. I could do all that and more, and it was no big deal. I pouted about wanting things or fussed about stupid problems, and never once did I stop to look around at all the incredible richness of just living. Until the day they all were swept away, I never realized that how precious those things were. When I finally have some of them back, I don't think I'll ever take them for granted again. I never knew how good water tasted until I had to walk in a desert for a year.

People are complicated - I mean, really complicated. If you really want to get to know your species, go through a plague with them. It's when we're challenged that you see what we're made of.

People can be incredibly caring and heroic - and they can also be mind-bogglingly stupid. One minute you want to beat your head against the wall over how blind and foolish they can be, and the next you shake your head in amazement at their creativity and compassion. They'll stand on balconies banging pans, serenade their lonely neighbors, organize parades for kids in lockdown - and then they'll shoot a security guard at Walmart because they won't wear a mask. We're saints and idiots and everything in between, and this year has brought out the best and the worst in us.

We're all trying to find our way. I was going to write some noble tripe about how we've "climbed this hard mountain, and are nearly there" - but you know what? It's more like we're fumbling through the dark - all of us, one huge crowd of humanity - groping along with a few blessed lights (thank God for scientists!) to lead the way. And knowing that, knowing how foolish and flawed and nearsighted we are, I feel a little more connected, even with the people I disagree with most. We're all trying to find our way through this, and that guy I shake my head over is groping in the dark, too, and he's probably just as befuddled and frustrated as I am. So I want to try to be more patient and less quick to judge. We're all on the same road, and like it or not, we've got to get there together.

So. Here, one year into this disaster, things are looking more hopeful. It's starting to look like maybe we stubborn humans might just hang on a little longer, at least for now. And on the way, I think we've all been pushed to grow a little bit.

How about you? How have you changed this year? What have you learned?

Better days are coming, I think. Till then, stay safe, and take good care.