What the Virus Stole and What it Couldn't
My rona-versary, what I'm reading, what I'm listening to, life updates...
It's been a year since my battle with Wuhan’s gain-of-function variant...
A year ago today, I was in the midst of a month long battle with an ugly case of the virus-that-shall-not-be-named. My run-in with the thing was stressful, to put it mildly. However, as in all difficulties, the Holy Spirit opens the door for us to change in ways that we can’t choose for ourselves. I’m remembering and musing, not with fondness, but certainly with gratitude.
“Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return; the Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.” Job 1:21
(If my experience had a theme song, this would be it: Take a listen you won’t regret.)
Have I changed? Quite a bit. Chronic illness has taught me much over the years about detachment and faith, but this particular sickness put me on a fast track for a couple essential lessons. One of those is that I think more about how living a happy and peaceful life in the midst of risk is only possible with a healthy acceptance of death. There is no reasonable hope of avoiding it. We can numb our fear, ignore reality, pretend that we will live forever (or to at least 90); it impossible to forever stave off the invariable outcome.
I can say with confidence that true healing and happiness does not come from avoiding viruses. Impossible. There will always be another threat, and there will always be the hope of eternal joy and rest… yet how we quickly forget.
And then I fell asleep…
I’m also celebrating the one year anniversary of having my name appear in the dissident rag known as American Magazine. At the time it was published, I was extremely ill and couldn’t have cared less that a leftist Catholic journalist was distorting my words. However, when I recovered, I did enjoy writing this response:
The necessity of comparison: A response to the Catholic left
I might have remained ignorant of the thing entirely except for an email which said something close to:
You should humble yourself and apologize for the terrible things you write.
Sickness puts a lot of things (and particularly internet drama) in proper perspective. As I lay prone on the floor, focusing on oxygen, I thought “I guess I am pretty lousy sometimes. God will judge me soon enough”… and then I fell sleep.
What the virus stole and what it couldn’t
Ridiculously enough, the first thing that comes to mind is that the virus stole my hair. I lost a lot of hair as a result of the trauma to my body, maybe a full third, and I’m vain so it irked. General recovery took many months. A year later, I am still not where I was pre-sickness. There’s a lot of loss written in between the lines of acceptance.
The greatest loss was the death of my extraordinary father-in-law who died from medical negligence during recovery. For the record, he beat covid pneumonia, but he couldn’t beat the hospital protocols which refused a very sick man hydration for two weeks. No water. No IV fluid. Even when he left the hospital and was moved to rehab, “covid protocol” was no hydration other than thickened water which he could not drink and food which he could not eat. He tried but was overcome. God designed our kidneys to be pretty resilient but there are limits.
When I was sick, he served me and my family. He showed up in my driveway every day to bring us meals along with watermelons and clementines to help hydrate. This man—this extraordinary servant—was denied hydration for 14 days by men and women who are paid to care for precious lives. By the time we understood what was happening and demanded proper care, it was too late.
A year of losses. The smell and chill of October brings grief, but also a reminder of gains…
Does our magnanimous and gracious God ever allow a calvary without an Easter? Never. Sometimes, in the midst of trial, we are in so much pain that even His tender caresses are intolerable; yet He stays… and the enemy can’t claim a thing that we don’t hand over. Not a single thing.
The Spirit of God moves and fills all the spaces where welcome is extended, pouring into the cracks even where we aren’t sure we want Him. Maybe you aren’t there, God… but maybe You are. And He pours in like an ocean that will not be denied entry. Stronger than we are. Softer, too. Covering and flowing… sweet water of life which does not leave.
Sometimes, his kids and grandkids gather in my mother-in-law’s home, the home that her husband made into a stronghold of love; all gather around the living room to pray a rosary for his soul, in thanksgiving to God for every blessing, and praying for the world. The fruits of his love expand in the very space where he prayed for all of us every single day until he no longer could.
The flood of grace cannot be stopped.
What I’m reading…
I’m currently working through a book that was sent by a woman who has been following the cancer journey of my daughter-in-law. She sent a donation for Danielle’s treatment. She also sent me a book and a beautiful handwritten note. (Thank you, Amy, for following the prompting of the Holy Spirit to bless my family.)
I wasn’t planning on adding to my reading stack just yet (it’s a big pile), but I was curious about the author and looked him up. It turns out that it is the same priest who apologized to his flock for participating in the Eucharist lockdown during quarantine. He asked forgiveness and he promised that he would never do it again. The first time I watched in 2021, I wept.
Father said, in part:
We abandoned you when we should have been closest to you. For this, at this holy Mass, I ask your forgiveness.
The worst thing is that I cannot assure you that such a thing will not happen again, because as far as I know, I have not heard anyone express regret for what happened. What I can promise you is that I will never again be a party to something similar, and that if obedience places me in such a situation again, I will withdraw so as not to be a responsible and guilty party to something that, even today, weighs on my conscience, as the act of which I am most ashamed in my entire life.”
The cover of the book is plain, the title a little confusing at first; but because of those words he spoke in his homily, I wanted to know more from the heart and mind of this courageous shepherd. It had my full attention and I cracked it open.
The book is essentially the transcript of a retreat that Father had given to a group of women. It is called…
Jesus and You, Woman: Ignatian Retreat for Women under the guidance of Edith Stein
Since it was originally intended to be an in-person retreat, I have been working through it a little at a time, taking much more time than the original retreat intended, resisting my inclination to consume the content in large bites. The words are marvelous and I want to consume and learn, but I also understand that the goal is not consumption but relationship.
Within that context, I spent a long time interiorly at the house in Bethany, a place of respite in the friendship of Christ…
I did not want to leave. Even now, I find myself turning back in the book and revisiting Father’s words and taking them through my days. The weaving in of the words of Edith Stein is also a strong and beneficial thread. She writes about a hidden life in Christ and it awakens me.
I am not through the work—not even halfway—but I highly recommend to anyone seeking to grow more deeply in love with Christ this season.
Family Updates…
My daughter-in-law, Danielle, has started her chemo treatments for rare and aggressive ovarian cancer. She and Peter have been sharing more about their experience with integrative oncology and the care she’s receiving, which combines the best of the allopathic and natural health care. Peter shares a little about the Four Pillars of this approach HERE.
Danielle recently wrote:
The medical journey I’m on is a puzzle. There’s a whole lot of pieces. Each with their own details, their own spot. This puzzle that is my body and my illness doesn’t have edges and some of the pieces I pick up don’t fit. Some that fit now won’t fit in a week. But the puzzle is beautiful regardless.
If you want to learn a little more about their story to learn, contribute financially, or share with others, you can find some helpful information at this link.
Hidden Fatherhood
I can’t stop marveling at this photo of my granddaughter and her dad. So much here to unpack. Watching my son become a father has added a layer of healing and goodness to my life. I see in him what I have seen in other good men… a reflection of our Heavenly Father.
I also think of the hiddenness of good fathers. The strong presence which lays a foundation. Maybe unnoticed. Securing the perimeter with prayer and toil and presence. Not every earthly father provides perfectly in this way, but we have a perfect model. And my son is doing a great job.
Finally, I’m taking a deep breath before heading into THE SEASON. You know what I mean… the season that is so rich with possibility but that threatens to drown us in too-much-everything. I’m working through the book I mentioned above to get in the right interior space. Then I will move into Advent of the Heart by Father Alfred Delp for Advent. Thinking of doing a group book study online but maybe that extra to-do would be counterproductive to the point? Not sure. We will see.
May the peace and joy of Jesus Christ be with you now and forever!
Melody
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I'm so sorry about your father-in-law. It makes me mad how our healthcare system in collusion with Big Pharma caused so many unnecessary deaths. Last week, an African priest I know told me that his elderly parents got COVID and were put into the ICU, on ventilators, until they were basically on death's door. He yanked them out of the hospital against the protest of the doctors—he even had to sign a waiver that he'd take responsibility for whatever happened to them—and put them on ivermectin. They both got better within a few days, and both are still alive today.
So heartbreaking about your father-in-law :(. And yet, what God has done through it - is nothing short of a miracle. Thank you for sharing your heart with us. This is truly beautiful! To think, if your husband didn’t pursue your heart so many years ago - we might not know you or your talents in the way that we do now! So much beauty, thank you for letting us in!