April 10: Even There

Our schedule was stuffed like a turkey on Thanksgiving Day. Every hour of our days logged into the Google calendar organized our involvements. I was driving 2-3 hours per day to get my kids to all of their after school activities—choir practice and cello in another county, cub scout meetings across town, and then our one-hour commute to and from their local public school. I was a stay-at-home mom with a part-time gig in her minivan that didn’t fully park into the driveway until 9pm. 

Dinner wasn’t even scheduled. It was like a hopeful wish that something would fall through and we could eat at the same time. And having my husband present was another matter, as we were dependent on his work shuttle not having another breakdown on a heavy trafficked highway!

Then COVID-19 came to our area. Like a surreal dream, our calendar tipped to the side and emptied its contents into the trash. The days, no longer bloated, stacked on top of each other deflated. School was postponed. Activities cancelled. My husband’s company told him to work from home. Had we died and gone to paradise?

If I ignored the news highlighting the tremendous suffering this virus has inflicted onto the world, I would have believed so. The stressful academic-focused launching pad vanished and our home became a cozy nurturing abode of family time with one another. We have slow, joyful meals that aren’t slapped onto the table in a rush but intentionally put together. Tired, stressed-out expressions have been erased. Though my husband still works, he hasn’t had to endure the irritations of a long commute. Instead of belted into the driver’s seat, maneuvering through traffic and pick-up lines, I’m balancing on the piano bench freely combing books of music and losing myself in nocturnes. Should I illustrate a cartoon of my present life, little pink hearts would emit from a sunny-side up house smugly smiling with a rainbow halo hovering above.

But this isn’t paradise. We are very much alive and our home here isn’t permanent. Like everyone else we are vulnerable to catch a virus, lose employment, endure a fire, feel the heartache of losing loved ones, and be victims of crime. The effects of COVID-19 not only cause illness, but daily anxiety for the present and future. However, is this really different from what life was like before it? Didn’t anxiety and worry exist pre-COVID-19? 

When I exited foster care at 17 years old, there wasn’t a pandemic but plenty of fears laid at my footsteps to succumb to. In the 1990s foster kids didn’t receive the aid they now get like a fully paid college education and transition homes to go to until their early twenties. Where I would sleep and how I would get food to eat were real issues for me. How I could afford warm clothing for Indiana weather was a worry. Not knowing a soul in that state was also intimidating. I was a California girl but a judge had advised me to flee somewhere far and even go so far as to change my name. The page of my Bible that wrote out Matthew 6:19-31 became worn, underlined and highlighted.

Jesus commanded me not to worry—not when I was 17 and not now. Not about my clothing because he was caring for the lilies. Not about food because isn’t there more to life than that? I pulled the words over me like a warm blanket. And I won’t sugar-coat it. Those days were extremely difficult. But my relationship with God as a 3-year old Christian strengthened as I saw His work in my life. I received a small music scholarship to a remote Christian college. Odd jobs sprang up that helped me pay for my out-of-pocket expenses. One time I was stumped at how to pay the next semester’s remaining tuition due in weeks. I continued to tithe what I earned and prayed. Telling no one of my predicament I received a phone call a couple of days later from my former social worker. There was leftover money and she wanted to know if it would help me. My expenses were covered! To this day, this evidence is on the top of my list of times God has made Himself very apparent to me.

I am a world away from where I used to be as a teen but what hasn’t changed is Satan’s determination to pull me under. Whether it’s feeling like I can’t juggle the busyness or my worry that the virus will hit our home along with a rushing city fire burning all we have to bits, I am thankful that our God hasn’t changed His mind on caring for us. In the busyness, in this abrupt stillness, His Hand holds us firmly. We can trust in His Word that says, 

If I rise on the wings of the dawn, 

if I settle on the far side of the sea, 

even there 

your hand will guide me, 

your right hand 

will hold me fast.

Psalm 139:10

Shelter in Peace,

Regina Gadad