I’ll explain.
A few weeks ago, after my family started to get into a semi-normal post-holiday routine, my daughter started complaining about her throat feeling sore. By the next morning she tested positive and our family decided to hunker down, for a bit, since we were most likely all going to get it. The Omicron variant of COVID-19 seems to be the most contagious yet, and I felt like we would all just be better off to get it over with.
Of course, it didn’t really spread like I thought. My wife got sick a few days after my daughter and I spent the rest of the week working from home, while taking care of them. We really thought that it would be ‘mild’ as many had experienced, and were prepared for a few days of inconvenience. As it happens, they both were a lot more sick than we expected and they both spent 5 days each in bed before even being able to enter the recovery phase of the illness. After many trips back and forth to bedrooms with Tylenol, water, and gallons of tea, we were beginning to think that the rest of us had already had it and had been one of the many reported asymptomatic cases.
About a week after my wife had returned to work, and all the kids were back in school, our youngest started complaining about a sore throat.
Here we go again.
This was actually round three for us, since my eldest served as a trailblazer into COVID territories two months prior. Frustrations were high but what can you do? So out came the tissues, tea, and vitamin D. A few short days later it became my turn. The fever and body aches weren’t as long as some experienced but they were definitely worse than I expected. Midway through the week I told my wife, “I’m glad I didn’t get as sick as you did, I know I’ve been down, but at least it’s only day two in bed.”
“I’m sorry, honey, but you just finished your third day in bed. You’re sicker than you think,” she replied.
January was a rough month for many of us. I know as I recall how it happened in our family, many of us can identify.
Why am I writing this? Well, because I’m thankful for the experience and wouldn’t change it. COVID taught me, or rather God taught me some valuable lessons through it. They might seem obvious to some but regardless I think it’s helpful to reflect on what we learn, lest we forget.
So, what did I learn?
Well, first I learned that I’m not as tough or as resilient as I think. Many of us, especially men, like to entertain the thought in the back of our minds that we can handle things better or are tougher than others. Of course, I’d never say that, but I found that attitude in myself as I was caring for the others in my family. After a little fever and some body aches, it turns out that I’m not tough. I might actually be, as admitted to and confirmed by my bride, a whiny baby when I’m sick. Feeling miserable for a while, reminded me that there are many who have had it worse than I did.
It might be easy for us to muster up some compassion for someone who seems to be suffering, but I find that it’s a completely different and truer compassion that I have for someone who is suffering, if I’ve suffered a little myself. Suffering, no matter how small or big, teaches us compassion for the suffering.
I’m reminded that Jesus came and lived the full experience of man. Sickness, hunger, pain, sorrow and ultimately death. In stark contrast to me, He handled it well. But for me, knowing that what I experience is not alien to my God brings me an awe filled sense of closeness with Him. If I am sick, He knows what it is to be sick. If I am grief stricken, He knows how that feels. When I am tempted, He knows what it is like. (Hebrews 4.15-16)
Secondly, I learned how little control I actually have. At the beginning of the month, when my daughter started getting sick, I decided that we might as well all get sick. Knowing how incredibly catching this bug was, I figured it to be inevitable. So, I didn’t worry about keeping my distance, I slept next to my wife while she burned with fever, I didn’t bother with secluding the sick ones, because after all it didn’t matter. And I didn’t get sick during that round. Neither did my boys. Even with my disregard for distancing, and my neglect to sanitize every surface, I didn’t get so much as a sniffle.
I didn’t get sick until it was my time to. Of course, we all know that we don’t have much control over the things that happen in life, but if we’re honest we tend to live as if we do. If you want proof of that, just see how angry you get when things don’t go the way you expect them to. (I did plenty of that this month)
Why am I thankful for that? In hindsight, if things went the way I thought they should, our life would have been a lot more difficult. As it happened, I was able to care for the people who cared for me a few weeks later. The beautiful part of not being in control is knowing the One who actually has a better plan for you. (see Romans 8.28)
There are a few other ways that COVID blessed me, but the last one I feel the need to mention is simply patience. I would have liked to be feeling better by now. I would have liked to not feel like I need to take a nap every time I go up a flight of stairs. But having to wait for things has a very positive impact on our priorities. It forces us to see what things hold value. This week instead of doing some of the tasks I had outlined for myself I found myself necessarily spending more time in prayer and reflection, which I sometimes struggle to make time for. Any time I feel like things should hurry up to my timing, it seems that patience always provides a better answer.
For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the LORD. 9 For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts. | Isaiah 55: 8