The Unimaginable

Another Way for week of December 25, 2020

The Unimaginable

Recently I wrote about “The Unexpected.” This week I’ll tackle the unimaginable. Yep: the pandemic.

I was standing in line at the grocery store the other day when the masks all around (thank goodness) put me in pause mode. I thought about how unimaginable the scene would have been to me last year at this time. To all of us. It would have been science fiction. A medical disaster movie.

We remember the first weeks of mask wearing, and the long long lines outside of Costco and Walmart, standing six feet apart. What country were we in? It felt like an old eastern European regime maybe.

At our grocery store at first, no more than half of the people were wearing masks. I would glance at others, hoping to not catch any droplets, stiffening at someone sneezing, someone crowding too close. There were few children in stores at that time, which was wise, but so different. As children gradually started coming back out, wearing masks, the kiddos looked proud to be so grown up. I remember my four-year-old grandson telling his mommy as they waited in their van to pick up groceries, “Mommy, I need a mask.”

On a personal level, my husband had knee surgery just four days before the major U.S. lockdown the weekend of March 13. When we went to his second rehab session at a retirement wellness facility, we were stunned to find out he could not receive any more rehab there. We had been working with them for months anticipating the surgery, and now, oops, sorry, we don’t want you anymore. I don’t really blame them, they needed to protect their retirement community—and we don’t actually live there. But, what were we to do?

A local fellow writer and photographer/blogger suggested another rehab place we’d never heard of, and Stuart went on to successful rehabilitation there.

And my mother—who had unexpected surgery after a fall breaking her femur on February 20—was suddenly locked away from seeing my sister who lives nearby, or anyone other than healthcare workers. Unimaginable, of course. These things are routine now, we know the restrictions.

My two older grandsons—who grew up with tight family restrictions on screen time—were gradually shifted into screen overload: online learning over Zoom (but not without major hiccups in one school system where the technical networks were simply not up to speed for thousands of connections). These days, the two first graders are eager to get away from their computers at the end of “school” hours.

The day I went shopping for groceries and found nearly empty shelves in many aisles of the store, I wept silently. It seemed so unbelievable. My mind flashed back to the Russian guest in our home in the early 90s, who marveled at our full grocery store shelves. She picked up products and studied them.

A year ago, I couldn’t have imagined big tough smart well-paid football coaches standing on the sidelines of huge almost-empty stadiums wearing masks. What a sight, now commonplace.

If you had told me I would not attend services in my church building for ten for months, I would have said no way. That doesn’t mean we haven’t worshipped, prayed, reached out to others, fellowshipped the best we can. Certainly, this tests our faith and our faithfulness, but in spite of it all, I find my heart drawing nearer to the God of the universe, and the Jesus that I still follow and love. Mary and Joseph could not have imagined the trials that were ahead for them, either.

We are lonely for loved ones this unimaginable holiday season, but as others have pointed out, those who serve in the military or Christian service and ministry around the world—they do not usually get to go home for the holidays. It is a surprise and an unusual year if they get that privilege.

And so it goes. May you find hope and joy in the year ahead.

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High point of your Christmas holidays? Low point?

How are friends and loved ones doing? Unload here, if you care to.

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Another Way is a column by Melodie Davis, in syndication since 1987. She is the author of nine books. Another Way columns are posted at FindingHarmonyBlog.com a week after newspaper publication.