Always, without exception, our world is a mixture of the beautiful and the horrific. I commonly see both child molestation and the wide eyed wonder of children’s innocence; the joy of a wedding and the pain of a divorce; the miracle of birth in one hospital room and the premature death of a loved one just a few doors down. The prosperity of New York contrasts with the poverty of Ethiopia on any given day, but then the simple happy lives of some Ethiopians contrasts with the maddening, depraved lives of some New Yorkers in the same season.
Covid19 is among us now just as Spring is budding and blooming.
As I wandered around my house this morning in the cool spring breeze, I beheld the seemingly inch-per-hour growth of my hosta, the buds of the maple in the front yard, the fresh bright green of the privet along our back fence and the wisteria blossoms just opening up. I look forward to the first mow, where I will smell the cut grass intermingled with wild onion.
There is always, and there will always be, misery. Sometimes it’s on our doorstep and sometimes it is far enough away that we can pretend it doesn’t exist. Because of the choices I’ve made in my career I’m almost always aware of it, as I try to fight against it. It is usually closer than we would like, and often closer than we are aware, like a wolf looking through the window.
Today, I choose to enjoy spring. That doesn’t mean that I’m ignoring the problems. It means that I am taking the precautions within my control and otherwise playing my normal role in my family and society. From working in the world of child abuse for several years, I know that there is a point where I must say “that’s all I can do.” I used to hate that point. Now I accept it as the point where I can breathe again and release my worry in favor of sanity, knowing I have no other option.