In March I wrote a blogpost in which I mused about what it would be like to live through some sort of natural disaster. Three years— excuse me, three months later, my curiosity has been sated.
Lancaster County is now in the Yellow Zone. Pennsylvania is re-opening in stages: red was the total shutdown, yellow is partial, and in green you’re to good to go (but not without your face mask, of course.) Most counties in Pennsylvania are green, but Lancaster and several other high-population areas remain yellow. Sit-down restaurants are still closed, but most retail places are open again.
Ironically, in the past few weeks I’m actually hearing about people I know having the virus. Several older people I know were hospitalized, and a distant elderly relative has died. People who have the virus say they ache all over, are very tired, and lose their sense of taste and smell.
A week or two ago, I sent my brother a Lord of the Rings joke about COVID. The joke went like this, “As the hordes of Mordor are breaking down the gates, Gandalf tells Frodo, ‘Don’t be worried, Frodo. It’s a PATH-ogen… A pathogen we all must take.'”
Two days later I learned I sent the joke to Andrew on the same day he went and got tested for COVID because he was having mild symptoms and didn’t want to infect his co-workers.
The test was negative. So it wasn’t his turn for the pathogen. So far, everyone in my family has stayed healthy.
Church has re-opened, with rows of chairs spaced apart and physical distancing strongly encouraged. (Honestly, I don’t mind the six-foot rule. I’ve never been a big fan of handshakes. What’s wrong with giving a little wave?) We don’t pass around an offering plate or use songbooks.
After almost three months of no church, however, it’s great to have in-person services again. I didn’t realize how much I missed it until the first Sunday I was back, and the guy having opening devotions announced which passage to turn to, and it hit me how great it was to have real church again. We’re in a new church building, too, so it all seems a little surreal.
My friends and I are getting together to do outdoor things. Lots of campfires, which are great fun except for the smoky clothing. One morning Mom thought the neighbors were burning trash, but she was actually smelling my smoky sweater in the laundry hamper.
The local library is still closed.
In a few weeks, I’m planning a trip to the Creation Museum in Kentucky with two other friends. All three of us are hoping not to get the coronavirus before then. Happily, tickets are good for up to one year.
It was definitely the weirdest springtime of my life, but it’s comforting to watch nature carry on as usual. The neighbor’s cat had kittens in our woodpile, and this morning I finally caught a glimpse of the kittens as they slipped through the fence. We’re eating fresh strawberries from our garden, and in about one week, we’ll have fresh raspberries, too.
The silver lining in the covid cloud is the fact that some of us have learned to appreciate life’s simple pleasures and the things we took for granted .
No kidding! I’m going to really appreciate the library when it opens again.