I love thunder. And rain. And lightning, if I'm inside at home. And the dark, dark clouds that signal a big storm (but not the green ones that mean a tornado.) It reminds me of storms in Texas, though never quite as big or as strong. It's raining today in CT, a heavy, warmer spring rain that helps the just blooming hyacinths and daffodils. The snowdrop flowers are gone, just the green tuffs remain. And we're starting to see buds on trees, that pinkish or light yellow-green halo on trees and bushes. Today, though, my view is speckled by drops on the window screens. And I'm happy to be inside.
Of course, we've been inside for 16 days already, with only one big trip to the store a week ago. sis still goes to the barn, but it's private and horses can't catch the virus. There are only a couple of people there and they are distancing in yards not feet. Otherwise, we've stuck to the house and the yard. We chalked our walk in the first week, writing messages to neighbors. Perhaps when the rain disperses I'll do it again. I've also thought of drawing a labyrinth.
I've been thinking of articles I've read predicting 100K Americans dying and the ethical triage decisions that will need to be made. As someone almost 50, I'm right on the cusp of not being at the top of the priority list, compared to the younger people who we thought wouldn't get this. But they are; apparently, an infant has died. While, under regular circumstances, I would not be ready to die, I recognize the utilitarian need for objective decisions on this, though I imagine it would leave my loved ones angry, especially because the main reason we find ourselves in this particular situation is because #45 dismissed the departments that oversee pandemics set up by President Obama and because #45 has shown himself to be such an unethical, immoral, greedy, vain, arrogant person in charge (he is NOT a leader.) To pit states against one another in vying for PPE, to abandon NYC without more ventilators because they are a Democratic stronghold, to pander to his base by suggesting an Easter celebration complete with an open economy . . . there really are no words. I would haunt him and his followers if I die because of such greed; I have no desire to be a martyr for the fucking economy. But, still, if the choice is between me and a younger person, well . . . I would want someone to make that sacrifice for my teens, if they were to become ill.
For now, no one is ill in my extended family and these are purely hypothetical questions. But they aren't hypothetical in the larger world. And it's going to get much worse before it gets better here in the U.S. Which is why it feels very surreal that I'm sitting here watching my kids play the new Animal Crossing New Horizons game with all this going on. It's such a passive, privileged reaction to crisis. And I know how lucky we are, with the ability for all of us to be home, with resources to make it for the duration, with health insurance, a supportive community. I mean, we can pay for others to risk buying our groceries! (Though, Instacart workers are apparently going on strike tomorrow and I will not cross a picket line, even a virtual one.) Is it ethical to do that? When push comes to shove, do I care or do I put my immediate family's health first? I think the answer makes me uncomfortable.
As does the realization that I am relieved in many ways not to be chaplaining right now. I don't feel altruistic; I'm not sure how much I would want to risk my family. And, as I recently wrote in my paper for my Theologies of Chaplaincy class, I'm somewhat ashamed of this response. Which is perhaps why I'm publicizing it here, as a way of self-flagellating. I don't know. But if I were already a chaplain, at a hospital, I think I would be committed. As a volunteer, though, I have an out. Why the difference? Loyalty? Duty? Shame? It bears more consideration.
I guess my reflections here today are as gray as the weather. I don't feel down, more than is called for in this situation; sometimes, I feel the gravity of the situation necessitates a parallel seriousness of thought.
But my family calls me back and so I'm going to play on Animal Crossing, too.
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