Tag Archives: COVID-19

The Small Percentage That Matters to Me

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I wrote this yesterday for my personal facebook page, but it got such an unexpected response, I thought I’d share it here. Post any thoughts in the comments.

 

Let’s talk masks, guns, and freedom. Notice I used the oxford comma—and I’m probably one of a very small group of authors to loathe that ostentatious little wiggle—to make sure there’s no confusion here.

Freedom is a beautiful word that’s been hijacked, much like the words educated, hate, and love.

Although my worldview is largely conservative, I don’t like using that word anymore because people have made it an uncrossable line. I believe immigrants should be shown compassion. Some of them just want to do what our ancestors did and make a better life. I wholeheartedly believe in women’s rights, but I also believe in the rights of the unborn. There are some people who should not. ever. have. a. gun, but I also have the experience of growing up in rattle snake country where shooting them was the quickest way for my dad (the Gunsmith) to keep his three young children safe. Seriously, they often hid underneath the pallets outside the back door, or within the woodpile in which we dipped our arms and feet in quite frequently.

When I run I don’t wear a mask. Can’t. I have allergies that mimic asthma. When we first moved to the Prescott area I had an inhaler for a short time. I want to laugh at people I pass who pull their hats over their faces, or pretend to see something the opposite of where I am so they don’t catch my heavy running breaths. In reality, passing a runner outside is not a good way to get sick.

But I do wear one when I go shopping. We have an immunosuppressed child, and although he’s doing better than he ever has, we wear our masks for him, but not just him. We have other family members at higher risk, not to mention the fact that my husband and I work at a retirement place. We’re surrounded by those with weakened immune systems.
Masks don’t protect the wearer unless they’re of the N95 variety, but they do protect those around us. How many of us think that matters anymore? Masks will protect others. My son is an other. Our parents and people we care for at work are others. If you are pro-life consider thinking of Others as those who need our help to survive.

Do I think our freedoms are being whittled away? Yes, as a person of faith I see this every day. Do I think there are corrupt politicians? Of course. Where you have power, there will be those who give in to the temptations that come with that. Do I think the media has been irresponsible? Absolutely. But not all politicians and media are the bad guys, and you have to wonder how much harder their jobs are because of those who are. The truth is, we don’t know all the facts, and probably won’t. Ever.

That’s where discernment and thoughtfulness come in. Just like I have to decide whether or not a politician cares for women’s (and minorities) rights or just wants to use us to get our votes, I have to consider my mask and make decisions.
Do we have the right not to wear them? Yes.
Are there circumstances where someone may not be able to wear one? Yes.
But for most of us, does it do more harm or good to others when wearing them in public?

Can we make this thing, this ONE thing about something other than our political leanings? Can we recognize that COVID-19 is the snake underneath the pallet, threatening our loved ones? Can we consider others’ welfare even when we don’t know them?

That’s what freedom is, pushing the might-be intentions of corrupt people aside to be a united people again. Can we start with the mask?

BTW, if my dad the Gunsmith, Cowboy, Soldier, Guy-who-actually-drove-cattle-across-Arizona can, one day, decide that hunting is not for him anymore because he loves animals THAT much and crosses “the line” then so can we.

Onward

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My dog knew something was about to happen. And when I say my dog, I mean Bella, and dog spelled backwards.

I had just begun to rise out of a long season of burnout. I’m not going to list the reasons, I’ll just put out a sentence most or all of you will relate to: I’m a grown up.

On the way to one of my daughter’s cross country meets last fall, I had shed enough stress to let some creativity back in; through the hairpin curves and mountain climbing in my rattly Xterra I got an idea so exciting I started tailgating the blue-hair driving in front of me. I felt guilty as she eventually pulled over to let me pass—tailgating is rude, I know—but I was thrilled to be settled onto the wings of my muse again. I needed to fly.

Come November, I was coming along on this new book, polishing the rusty fingers and creative flow, when my dog began to act strange.

My ultra-sensitive boxador has this code for earthquake. She can sense them from a state away. Bella gets fidgety, impossibly restless. If I’m not fixing it, she’ll go outside to our back patio and focus her bark-growl straight through the house to whatever threat she imagines is lurking in front of our house.

There were a few earthquakes, you know, across the world, so her radar was either ramped up to impossible or she was bothered by something else.

Bella moved out of our daughter’s room where she usually slept and started sleeping in the center of the house.

By January, she was mostly back to normal as she always gets once a storm or natural disaster gets underway. The only difference is that she insisted on keeping watch from the living room, where she can keep an eye everything.

Now that we’re in quarantine, Bella is exceedingly happy. Not only has lizard season begun, but her family is home a lot more. More play, more snuggles, more people to go on walks with.

It took me a while to gather my thoughts after the COVID-19 crisis arrived. From re-calibrating at my day job, to my own health issue right before quarantine to becoming a homeschool mom while trying to balance my novel-writing and…..you know. Being a grown up.

It the beginning, there were the haters spreading their angry at a 9.9 magnitude. It was ugly and so was social media.

But then, from across the world, Italy started singing from their balconies. Locked inside their worst crisis, they reached inside and gave forth their best.

As the hoarders cleared shelf after shelf here in America I started watching Bella more closely since I couldn’t go anywhere except when necessary. She has the gift of being exceedingly happy with so very little. Lizards, a nice breeze, her family, walks. Forwards and backwards, her kind is the very definition of love. I don’t believe this is coincidence. Now is the time for all of us to think about these things.

DoG spelled backwards is giving us a rest, my friends. He’s allowing this to happen for reasons I won’t pretend to know, but one thing I know He’s doing is reaching inside those of us sensing the change within the change, and pulling out our best.

He knew this was coming, and will remain present with every one of us throughout this whole storm. Right where he can see all of us.

It’s onward with the book for me, although I have to think about the new world it will be published in. How will things change? Will my characters still shake hands, or touch their faces? Will medical facilities wear masks all the time, forevermore?

Will I ever see my sweet Doctor’s face again?

Like Bella, I’m going to have to foresee the change so my book will be relevant when I release it.

I could say we’ve been given the opportunity to thoroughly, quietly (as much as mom’s lives with kids can be), intuitively consider how we’ll forever go about our lives. But doG spelled backwards hasn’t given us the choice this time.

I’ll promise to release the beautiful if you do.