“Dad, you can’t be outside! There is a virus out there,”
Hazel, age 5, ushering me inside upon my return from work on Friday.
The scale of this current pandemic is something most of the
developed world has never seen before and certainly something most of my
generation has never witnessed, and yet the measures we are taking…feel so
familiar. My family has been quarantined before, a lot actually. We have spent
weeks without hugging our loved ones, washed our hands until they were raw, sanitized
every surface in our house daily. We didn’t panic when the stores sold out of
hand sanitizer because we still have unopened quarts of the stuff. We have
foregone birthday parties, avoided stores, and skipped church (even though we desperately
wanted to be there). We didn’t need to buy Lysol wipes because we had a case
left in the basement.
As a parent of child that had a blood cancer, I will never
forget (or recover) from the experience of self-quarantining in a world that
was operating at full capacity. We looked out the door and saw nothing but
germs and sickness, seemingly benign issues for most of society that could have
spelled death for our beautiful little redhead. We lived in constant fear
during that time, stopping loved ones at the door, scrutinized our food
preparation, minimized our contact with anyone and everyone. We did what we could
to control the things that we could…and yet Hazel still had sickness. She still
had fevers and we still were forced into weeks-long hospital stays that likely
saved her life.
I am fortunate to be able to worry much less about Hazel now
than two years ago. Her immune system has nearly fully recovered and she can
now fight off sickness on her own, although COVID-19 still presents
considerable risk. I cannot even imagine having a child going through
chemotherapy during this time. Cancer parents already live at a state of heightened
concern, feeding off of the constant stream of adrenaline released as you do everything
in your power to keep your child alive. I imagine it is similar to how first
responders continue performing their jobs in states of emergency or how soldiers
continue fighting in times of war despite being totally physically and emotionally
depleted. I rode that “high” for months at a time, carrying on through all the
peaks and valleys of Hazel’s treatment. Elizabeth and I balanced work,
finances, school, the needs of our other three children, and Hazel’s battle for
as long as we could until one of us would eventually crack. Our bodies and
minds would perform for as long as they could and then one day, we would just
collapse, broken, depleted, worn, done.
God was glorious enough during those times to ensure that we
didn’t both go down at once, allowing our partner the strength to continue
handling life, while the other spouse was crushed under our personal crisis. But
then, slowly, we got through it, picked up the pieces, and continued on.
It has been a long time since I felt that type of pressure,
but this week, my adrenaline high fueled by anxiety has returned. By virtue of position and circumstance, my
level of concern now no longer lies within the four walls of my own home. I have
30+ team members currently spread across the United States that depend on me to
keep projects moving, provide them resources, and ultimately maintain their
safety. I have worked next to every one of these individuals over the years. I know
their stories, have met their families, and have shared in many of their own
personal victories. My capabilities are stretched as I try to keep our business
running smoothly, maintain the safety of our team, and balance their personal
needs during this time of pandemonium. I also have 350+ church members that look
to the decisions of several of the leadership boards I sit on to help keep our
members safe, yet still be the hands and feet of Christ during this time. And
of course, I have five immediate family members that are watching how I handle
myself in a world fraught with uncertainty.
Today’s global crisis is scary. The health danger of the
Coronavirus pandemic aside, the state of our society as a whole is concerning. Thousands
are without a job for an indefinite amount of time, stores are struggling to
maintain supplies, and politicians and health advisors are doing their best to keep
the public informed – and yet our country marches on, trying to stabilize the
reeling economy and keep the most vulnerable of our population safe.
Much has been written on how the measures put in place by
our government are not for the masses, but for the individuals that cannot
fight this virus. Every time I sanitize my hands, wipe a door handle, or turn
on an air purifier, I remember that, because Hazel was one of those
individuals. I don’t care what your stance is on vaccines, healthcare
interventions, or political affiliations, the actions we take today on a
personal level determine life or death for those who have nothing to bring to
this fight tomorrow. Being immunosuppressed is horrifying in a world without COVID-19,
but it has become even more desperate in the current landscape.
I have walked a similar path to this already in my life.
Crisis exists, but my reaction to it is the measure of the man I have become. I
have prayed my entire life for wisdom, a focused desire to ensure I can lead
when needed, and it is needed now more than ever. I strive to make my actions
contemplative, using data to inform my decisions, leading with my heart, and
allowing faith to act as my guide. My God is real, he is bigger than the
problems I face, and he can handle this. My job is to be His servant, and act
out His will. The public mantra has become "We are all in this together" to signify we are not alone, but I would add to that "...and He is here."
“So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed,
for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with
my righteous right hand.” – Isaiah 41:10
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