Listening to the rain this morning gives me reason to stop and think about the events of these past few weeks. Runs on toilet paper (no pun intended), bottled water, and sanitizing products, cart races through Costco, and people losing their goodwill while screeching expletives at their fellow shoppers permeate social media right now. The air is thick with fear, panic, foreboding, worry, and exhaustion. Information, misinformation, and too much information comes at break-neck speed. One media outlet tells us we have nothing to worry about. Another tells us we should be concerned and vigilant. And yet another tells us we are doomed. There is talk of conspiracy, political posturing, and worldwide demise. And I am concerned. Not so much about COVID 19 itself, but about what fearful, frantic adults are teaching their littles about how to handle life’s uncertainties. The human race has faced, and will continue to face, difficult, seemingly impossible-to-solve issues. And while most of us won’t find the cure for all of our maladies, we hold the cure for the paralyzing fear they create. We needn’t be perpetual Winnie-the-Poohs, but we must not become eternal Eeyores either. Our littles deserve to be raised, taught, and guided, not by Chicken Little and his ilk, but by courageous-in-the-face-of-uncertainty adults.
Some believe this virus pandemic is the work of a conspiracy. I agree. But the conspiracy I see is one that threatens to take away our faith, our resilience, our goodwill, our laughter, our joy. I don’t know if I, a loved one, or a friend will contract the virus. I have no control over that beyond taking the common-sense steps of washing my hands with soap and water, self-quarantining, and not coughing or sneezing into people’s faces. But I do have control over how I react to the craziness that surrounds this pandemic. I can choose to shiver, shake, and suck my thumb in the corner. I can choose to lose all semblance of manners as I set out to clear the shelves of what I want. I can choose to hunker down until the threat is past, knowing that another threat is just around the corner. I can choose to be grateful for another day’s breath, and the opportunities that canceled activities, closed theme parks, and limited travel gives me to re-group and spend time reading, talking to loved ones and friends, and listening to the rain as it soaks the thirsty desert. I can do my best to show our littles that it is possible to find something to smile about even when those around us are losing their minds from fear. Those young ones need us to show them the way. They need us to help them find hope. They need us to quiet the outside noise.