Photo credit: Eugenio-Marongiu/123.RF

Photo credit: Eugenio-Marongiu/123.RF

As I lay safely in bed Easter morning, this is the short Covid prayer/lament that came to me:

As I look forward (so to speak) to the long gray hair that will add 10 years to my appearance, I work to feel as blessed as I absolutely am by my white, upper middle class privilege, in the midst of what for many is the nightmare of ten lifetimes.

While I need only pick up my phone to call the local volunteer organization for elders who bring every last item on my grocery list, I see on TV the orderly mile long lines of cars waiting to pick up whatever the now ubiquitous food banks have to offer.

But how please are the 40% of Americans who don’t have even $400 on hand in case of emergency paying their rent? And how far behind are their kids falling if they don’t have the Internet to keep them “in school” or a parent able to tutor them? How about the woman heading home with that coveted food bank food only to be beaten, again, by the angrier-than-ever man in her life? Where’s the lifeline for her and her children?

And while I wonder whether the sudden rounds of diarrhea I’ve been experiencing could be a harbinger of Covid, as I’ve read they might be, I watch a front line nurse, who flew from the Midwest to New York to help, do what he’s there to do—put a tag on the toe of the next person in line for a body bag, if there even is one. Another dear soul, among the countless world-wide who suffocated and died yesterday, bereft of even one family member or friend to hold her hand. And I won’t even start on the president.

I could go on—about the nursing homes, the cruise ships and the navy ships, the prisons, the homeless and, especially perhaps, the horrifying discrepancy between the death rate of black and brown people and that of whites, and, and, and…. But I bet you get the picture.

Really the only good news here is that, yes, I am beginning to feel a little more blessed on this strangest of Resurrection mornings. Now I’m off to resurrect our gratitude practice and myself with a cup of coffee and cream. Lucky me. May you count your blessings too—because if you’re reading this, you probably have some, thank God!

About the Author: Suzanne Grenager

A seasoned writer and mentor with a gift for helping people see and be their most authentic, empowered Self.

One Comment

  1. Karen Latvala April 18, 2020 at 5:34 pm - Reply

    Dear Suzanne,

    I always appreciate your sharing. You’ve named so many ways in which we can offer our compassion for all the pain in our world today, and that’s good. Some wise people are calling it “Karuna” virus to emphasis the compassion which is growing as a global response. And of course that also brings up our gratitude, as you mentioned, for what we do have. I like seeing this time, as many have called it, as a “global reset”, a time for slowing down, taking stock of our inner life, and remembering why we came here. Personally, I am focusing on simply shining my light in small ways, and as it ripples out, it combines with with all the other lights growing brighter globally. We CAN make a difference, just by being our brightest selves:). And I do hope you are well….maybe you’ve built up some antibodies to the virus if you had a touch of it! Blessings and gratitude!

    Karen Latvala

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