The following occurred during the first week of February and had no connection to the Coronavirus (COVID-19), at least I believe so, which at that time seemed like an “over there” problem.
“Are you real, and if so where are you, God?”
“Yes, I’m real, I exist, and I’m here.”
That question and real-time pleading followed by a wished-for imagined response, came after many shameless solicitations during my fevered, sleepless and vulnerable condition brought about by a viral infection.
In my depleted flu-like state the thought occurred to me that death would be welcome and called-out for divine assistance to die, be healed, or at minimum be offered a whispered assuring word.
The growing pile of used tissues, empty bottle of Robitussin, stack of books I was too miserable to read, and partly consumed gallon of spring water on my nightstand attested to my fragile condition—certainly not a terminal one, but a delirious one from which I desperately wanted relief.
“Take me now,” I pleaded, “I can’t bear this another hour.”
Too ill and exhausted for continued pleading, I lay in the darkness moaning and sniffling, seeking elusive sleep and rest while hoping for relief. When none came I tried to appreciate my privileged good life and first-world problem. Musings about how fortunate I was compared to millions, if not billions of others, didn’t alter or quell my self-absorbed whimpering. Nor did my symptoms lessen—the nagging croupy cough and aching body that drove me to the take-me-please frame of mind—but instead my body continued to fail me, and my soul’s desperation persisted.
Stripped of control, fragile and vulnerable, my tremulous voice barely above a whisper, I cried, and cried-out with unapologetic abandon, “Help me, and where are you?”
The desperation and tear-filled unabashed pleadings, as far as I could determine, brought forth only silence even as daylight arrived. I felt helpless, overwhelmed and suffocating in a colorless world.
I had quarantined myself in the back bedroom to protect other members of the household but now I felt abandoned by them and God.
“Blessed is the man who remains steadfast under trial…” words from the Epistle of James, attributed to James, Jesus’ brother or to James the Less. I, “Roger the Less,” felt no blessedness during my brief but compelling sickness, a trial in which I was not remotely steadfast!
Approximately ninety-six hours later, a first-in-four-days meal in my belly—the untoasted half of a cold Thomas’ English muffin—and looking every bit like the resurrected Lazarus, I shed my “grave clothes” and began waddling into wellness.
My initially cautious gait and unstable movement rapidly evolved into striding with authority, exercising, resuming the work that I love, being with people, and renewing the pleasures of the five senses fully restored and functional. Regaining control of my life brought intimations of my immortality, hints that being vulnerable and fragile, even needy were accepted as collateral symptoms of the flu, to be dismissed as temporary aberrations.
As my strength returned, the thoughts that God had sheltered in place, stayed home and left me, became “Shame on me because I know better!”
…
Now, more than one month later and removed from my solitary world of sweat-soaked bedding, flannel PJs that reeked of illness and body odor, not to mention my shameful, post-illness arrogance, I’m part of a global community struggling to deal with disease and dis-ease as COVID-19 brings sickness and darkness home to all of us.
Life is out of control as we’re all asked to alter lifestyles in an attempt to stem the onslaught of an insidious virus and do so in the service of not just ourselves but others. Feeling a renewed yet familiar vulnerability, the unnerving discomfort of the unknown, I’m working to embrace hope, in what I’m not that certain—perhaps epidemiologists, leaders, researchers, social distancing and sheltering-in-place, quarantines, best practices, each other, and/or the promised presence of the Great Mystery—but all of the above (handwashing too) plus other factors weave in and through me to create the tapestry onto which I’ll throw my lot.
When I feel boxed-in, desperate and lost because control eludes me—always overrated anyway—I often turn to authors for companionship, and James will be one who I’ll be revisiting. And here’s a “friend” from my graduate school days, one whose writings I dismissed in a cavalier manner, but his words stayed with me in spite of my arrogance. Gustave Fechner, nineteenth-century German philosopher, physicist and psychologist wrote about “healthy faith,” and those like me who say we’ll believe it when we see it. Though I cannot recall his exact words this is the gist of it: You will only believe it when you see it, but you must believe it before you see it.
And so, with his sense and faith I’ll peer into the darkness, looking for relief and answers, believing what I cannot see and seeing what I can’t [fully] believe.
Stay well, keep the faith, keep washing your hands, and here are some parting words from Frederick Buechner:
This side of paradise, we are each of us so nearly all the other has. There is darkness beyond our wildest imagining all around us. Among us there is just about enough light to get by.
by 
Thanks Roger. So glad looking for the light is a group sport.
Kim,
A coach, a wise one–although maybe not so to the cocky kid I was–told me that there’s no “I” in team. I snickered and went on about the business of playing. Decades later as a coach I realized the wisdom of Coach Costello’s statement. We are all in this together, and like it or not let’s look for the light in each other, and ourselves–our team!
Thanks for reading and commenting,
Roger
Yes, we all know God would never sleep if she existed, and the more rational of us know, that the concept of God or gods is longstanding, extremely destructive fiction. Religions, especially those that try to force their God on others, have created more horrendous events than disease or natural disaster. Atheists of the world unite!
Stephen,
Appreciate your reading and commenting. Forcing beliefs on others, religious or secular, has no place in a civilized society, and atrocities have occurred when it has happened. I suspect I would be a rational atheist had I not been born into and raised in a religious home. I’ve tried to excise God from my life. Questions about God, religious and the spiritual practices tied to those questions are ones I wrestle and struggle with, and from which I find no respite. Therefore I’ve accepted that being a follower and believer in the Judeo-Christian tradition will always be with me, a core piece of my lot in life, just as the doubts and questions about it’s efficacy will exist for me on a daily basis. I can live with that, and if She exists, so too can God. If He doesn’t exist, I’ve still had a full life, questions and doubts nonetheless.
Thanks,
Roger
There is no denying the darkness surrounding all of us, and we are all struggling to find the light. While we cannot control any of this, we reach out, connect with others, try to help where we can. I have learned to believe, and pray every day, God help us. Amen
Colette,
Thanks for reading and commenting. Your daily practice is one many are practicing, a connection we have, and a sense of being “one” that I hope we continue after this darkness has subsided.
Roger
To believe before you see it is to have hope. And why not? What do we have to lose? In contrast to your recent illness, Roger, our present journey is not a lonely one- we have a world of fellow travelers, at a distance of at least 6 feet of course, offering smiles and good wishes along the way. Be well and take good care, Dona
Dona,
Thanks for reading and commenting. The other day, while out for essential errands, I saw a line of cars and trucks in the opposite lane practicing what appeared to me to be 6 feet of social distancing==which brought a welcome smile.
Take care and be well,
Roger
Readers commented: “Well, I guess I’m glad he didn’t pass away, but what prompts someone to post stuff like this for public consumption? My guess is that he believes he’s arrived at a state of widely recognized wisdom and that his audience is eager to receive his insights.”
“Stay well” another wrote, “and remember if we stay at home and nothing happens…that’s the point!”
I responded to the first one: “No wisdom in this, nor any thought that “an audience is eager to receive his insights.”
And to the second reader” “Your point is well taken, thank you.”
Wow! You must have been so sick! That’s awful.
After reading this post, I keep thinking about the feelings that go along with our current need to maintain social distance when, in fact, we need to be connected to each other more than ever. It is a strange thought that our need for physical connection could be the thing that would make each other ill. Although it is practical and responsible to stay 6 feet apart, I wonder about the way that “order” can attach itself to harder, darker feelings. For instance, could it be that my need for others is dangerous or poisonous to them? How can I reveal my vulnerability and suffering if it makes me untouchable? So we go to the back bedrooms of our souls and shut ourselves in.
It is hard work to acknowledge our own suffering and hence, the suffering of others. But when you share your darkness here, it gives me permission to know and share mine, and I think that is when the light comes through.
Cindy,
Thanks for your comments. How do we maintain distance yet remain close and connected? A phrase used by writers and researchers re new technologies for communicating makes sense but raises new questions: Our devices make the distant close and the close distant. Now we’re at a time when these devices offer benefit during times of isolation as we are mandated to keep our distance from each other. We hope that our resilience as human beings will adapt so when “…we go to the back bedrooms of our souls and shut ourselves in” we still stay connected and [virtually] embrace each other.
Roger
Sharing your story about how ill you were reminds me how scary it is to feel that vulnerable. I’m so glad your body was able to fight that awful flu and recover. I appreciate your willingness to open your heart and bare your soul in ways that make me look deeper inside myself. Thank you, Roger.
Jo Anne,
Thank you for reading and commenting. Who in their “right mind” wants to be vulnerable? Yet in that state we find strength. Okay, I know and believe that so why do I choose to avoid vulnerability 99.9% of the time? As Maya Angelou said: “I’m trying.” Me and you too.
Roger
Roger
You will never be “Roger the Lesser” for me and, I imagine, for many who know and love you.
Glad you are back in stride!
Rich
Rich,
Thank you for reading and your kind and encouraging comment–yes indeed it is nice to be back in stride with our larger human community as we find our way into and through this pandemic–I’m in good company and privileged to be so.
Roger
Roger – I was a bit late in getting to this, though I had known of your illness and your responses to it from our March Men’s breakfast. Your quote on belief from your graduate school reading (Fechner) reminded me of a similar quote by Anselm of Canterbury (11th Century): “Unless I first believe, I shall not understand.”
Thanks for further developing your reflections on this experience in light of our common current experience.
Ted,
Thanks for the Anselm quote, reading and commenting as well. Belief and understanding, what a mix with neither being able to “stand alone.”
Roger
Roger,
Thank you for your insights. I also appreciate all the comments. As I understand it, we should avoid doubting in the dark what we know is true in the light. Light always trumps darkness. It is at the end of the tunnel. Dawn follows the darkness of night. There is no speed of dark! I love this quote by Someone special, “I am the light of the world.” I find that comforting. It is my prayer that He will reveal the answer to someone, anyone who is desperately seeking a solution to this present dilemma, AKA Coronavirus-19.
Cyril
Cy,
“Light always trumps darkness,” has many meanings so thank you. Many are seeking and working hard for answers, and for them we’re grateful beyond words. The Light shines through caregivers in all shapes and sizes of uniforms, and as you rightly say: :Dawn follows the darkness of night.” Thanks for taking the time to comment.
Stay well and healthy,
Roger
Dear Roger,
“Koping (w/ literary license) in Kansas”
I read your story and would have been the first to respond but the devil was toying with my computer and kept rejecting my email address. Sorry to hear about your illness and the severity of it–a lonesome road to travel but happy to hear of your recovery. We’re trudging along. Since our oldest cannot go home on his days off he has to stay at the firehouse. Our eldest daughter secluded herself for fourteen days, moved in with us thereby enabling her brother to stay at her home–a more comfortable resting place for him. Our other daughter and husband bring the kids around on occasion to frolic in our yard so we can do our “distant visits.” My beloved hubby took another fall the other day and is back to using a walker. Caring for him and making him mind me is a full time job, one I gladly do though sometimes with clenched jaws and pursed lips. Who said love was blind? He accuses me of monitoring his every move which is more or less what I do and would also forgo if he would abide by commonsense guidelines, men! One more thought, the most important one: Each night in my prayers I express gratitude for that day–a practice that changes grief and grumpiness to gratitude!
Be well,
Karina
Karina,
I smiled as I read your words and saw too much of myself, not exercising commonsense and abiding by guidelines, although I did read instructions once in 1985 only to decide that I’d never do so again because like others of my gender we’re smarter, so we think, than the printed word. Continued healing, keeping visits at a distance, being resilient, and asking for a grateful heart. Thank you for reading and commenting,
Roger
These words stand out for me: “Keep the faith and keep washing your hands.” That sums up where I am after 76 years of evolving into my present awareness–my awareness of faith in the unknown and, simultaneously, compliance with the world that I do know. For all my theologizing and proclaiming, God remains largely unknown to me. “Now we see in a mirror dimly.” But I keep “washing my hands” because that is what my parents taught me, and with some discernment now in my post-childhood years, that is what the current authorities mandate. That is what I do every day to get along with the realities on the ground. Despite my whimperings about the brutality of the status quo, I am largely a conformist with a feeble hope for a new world order, which my faith tells me would be the Kingdom of God. Just because my hope is feeble, as it must be because of the dimness of my vision, which may be related to my general dim-wittedness, my the actions that I take based on that hope may be robust, as they sometimes are. So, Roger, we keep the faith and we keep washing our hands, like the good boys that we are.
Bill,
Whatever “marbles” I possessed at the outset of life I may be losing. Bear with my meandering mind…
“…after 76 years of evolving into my present awareness..” caused me to think about the riddle of the Sphinx: What is the creature that walks on four legs in the morning, two legs at noon and three in the evening? Oedipus answered “man,” getting it right and causing the Sphinx’ death. When we’re infants surrounded by uncertainty we have faith, must have, in our caregivers, at noon full of ourselves we [often] eschew faith, and when evening [76] closes in and uncertainty [COVID-19] sends us reeling into the unknowing we grasp for faith, again. At least that’s part of my journey so far in 2020. A time when whimpering, embracing feeble hope, thinking dim-wittedly, and being of dimmed vision are acceptable given the circumstances. In that lessened state our “hope may be robust…we keep the faith and we keep washing our hands like the good boys we are.”
Regarding the good boy part, Bill, you may have been–the verdict on Roger is still out!
Thanks for reading and sharing your insights.
Roger
Bill,
Thanks for reading, commenting, and graciously–though undeservedly–including me in “the good boys” group. I owe you! All of what you’re describing in the present circumstances seems appropriate–we whimper, question our discernment, kvetch, shrink in the presence of uncertainty, feel dimwitted and lost BUT hope we can be robust, care for and love our neighbors far and near, meet the challenges and come through these times more unified and caring for one another. I promise to keep the faith and hope alive while striving to keep my hands washed.
Roger
Great stuff and so needed right now. So Doc keep writing and washing those hands. Love you Gary
Gary,
My mother, long deceased, is smiling somewhere because I finally heeded her advice…WASH YOUR HANDS!!!
Roger