Some years ago, I worked in a fairly large department. On a good day, we could be fairly contentious. The boss was frequently absent for several weeks at a time, and whenever that happened, chaos ensued, and he would return to quell the uproar. One day, as we were attempting to make sense of the dynamic, one member shared this analogy: “We are like a freight train,” he said. “When a car is added to the end, there is a sizable jolt that travels all the way up to the engine.” I thought of that image again as my retirement community, a CCRC, attempts to emerge from its 14 months wait on a siding while Covid 19 thundered around us. Thanks to severe isolation and frequent testing of staff and residents at the various levels of care as well as the dedication of “The Committee” tasked with our safety, none of the residents contracted the virus. Still, resurrecting our community is a struggle, daily strategy meetings and countless committees notwithstanding.
The worst symptom of our disorientation, confusion, and resistance is lunchtime. Our community has always been very proud that we all eat lunch together, and that we are seated by computer rotation so that eventually, we get to meet everyone. But for over a year now, we lined up a few at a time and 6 feet apart to get our main meal in a cardboard box, which we brought home to consume. The introverts among us rejoiced, content in our resourcefulness. The Zoomers among us discovered that we could continue our volunteer work and church attendance uninterrupted by an international emergency. Some of us tutored in adult literacy programs, and others offered counseling or spiritual direction without the hassle of driving to a library or office. We were happy. If I were lonely or are in the mood for a chat, I simply phoned or zoomed or hung out my window. No problem. Not so for everyone, however. The extroverts suffered. The powerful languished. Churchgoers sampled. Contemplatives lit their candles and folded their hands. The library’s stock of mysteries grew dogeared.
Now, in the outside world, grandparents are holding their grandchildren close again. Friends are beginning to get together again, hopefully charitably tempering observations on how we have aged behind our masks. Long-delayed weddings and birthday get-togethers are once more on the calendar. Sadly, many of us are missing. It’s hard to celebrate our liberation if we pause to hear the undercurrent of grief for those no longer here.
I was one of the fortunate ones. I love weaving and needlework, so I am always occupied. I have a practice as a spiritual director, and I volunteer as an adult literacy tutor. Wisely, I leave the future of our community organizations to greater heads, concentrating instead on what I have learned this past year or more. My beloved and wise writers group decided to reflect one week exactly on that question. I made a list of 20 items before I even stopped for breath. I share some of those here, and gently suggest this process as a worthy way of reflecting on a year of life in the Covid train yard:
I can take up a new practice and remain faithful to it for the entire year. I didn’t realize how deeply I am affected by confusion, or how angry it makes me. I am more of an introvert, much less an extrovert than I thought. I was right; Pilgrim Place is very much, exactly, like a convent. I think about my death quite a bit. I am much different now than I was at 79, six months ago. While I have gotten used to the church of zoom, I am so much less tolerant of the bickering and politicking within the Catholic Church. I quit! For the first time in my life, I refuse to plant zucchini. I will never ever be thin.
I don’t think we “Bruise too easily.” I wish we didn’t bruise at all. Take that, Paul Simon!
The strategist, administrative types among us are busy looking at the future, as our community deals with the trauma of this year (or not), and decides how to structure our future together. However, I suspect that we have all sustained a nasty jolt, as Covid bumped the “freight cars” of our lives together. In-depth social analysis of this year will probably have to wait another generation. Meanwhile, has the Spirit been hiding in plain sight among and for us all along? Perhaps. I wonder.