The world finds itself suddenly on pause, left vulnerable to the unknowns of this virus. I have had to face my own pause head on for many years with fear and helplessness taking the front seat. But during these pandemic days - my gaze is outward on the world as it navigates thru a disabled reality. Everyday seemingly falling a little further - and I am left empty.
Overnight freedoms have been removed. Essential workers are on the frontline and medical personnel courageously become our heroes. Any sense of normalcy has been shattered. The streets, skies and waterways are bizarrely quiet. In an instance, so many privileges are beyond our grasp. Without warning we seem to have fallen and lack the grace to regain our footing. This loss of control is unnatural to the entitled world. But for me, I am all too familiar with the art of pausing.
Normal is but a dream as days turn into weeks and quickly months. Yearning for many simple things we took for granted when this virus did not threaten our lives. I wait for inspiration from the divine artist to stir my soul. Await the filling of my empty shell.
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Today is exactly 3 months since the epidemic closed our churches. But today the doors will be open to receive, with other Catholic Christians, the gift of the Eucharist. I am overly excited to gather in fellowship after such a long absence. With our faces covered we sing through our masks; “Lord, send down your spirit & renew the face of the earth”. (Not exactly sure this is what God had in mind for our renewal.) But it’s a glorious day to be at mass.
It is time to come forward and receive Holy Communion. The line is long & patience is required. Waiting for my turn, I am conscious again of how low the world has fallen and aware again of my emptiness. I move alongside Ken (for support) and approach the front. With outstretched hands our pastor places the blessed bread in my hands, only to have it fall from my grip onto the floor. A hush settles over the congregation. Without pausing, Father bends down low to the ground picks it up and places it back in my hands. I am mortified but move away, remove my mask and consume the Bread of Life.
Making my way slowly back to my seat, I am filled with meaning as to what just transpired. The fall of what is most sacred (our world) will not remain in this low place. It will be lifted and in the rising we will once again find healing. I wholeheartedly trust in God’s plan for me – as I am witness to my own fall & rising with MS. And before me now, I have seen that same assurance of God’s promise for our world.
A glorious day to be gifted a story.
