Everyday I am bombarded with press releases concerning the COVID-19 pandemic crisis.
They are endless.
I sort through them all and determine which releases Iíll use and which are just overkill. How many times can you tell someone to wash their hands?
To say it wears me down is an understatement.
Iíve had a case of the blahs for a couple of weeks now. I have tried in vain to shake it off but just couldnít seem to get rid of them.
I realized Iím grieving.
Iím grieving the life I had just a few short weeks ago. Iím grieving the fact that I canít go out after 9:00 p.m. or sit in a restaurant and have a meal.
There are five stages of grief and to get through it you must experience them all.
The first is denial.
That was my initial, ĎI canít believe this is happeningí phase. I had never witnessed anything like this before in my life.
Second comes anger.
Lots of that. Itís the blame stage of the process. Blaming China where it all started and blaming those in power for doing too little or not doing enough.
Next on the list is bargaining.
Itís a case of the ĎIf onlyí statements.
If only we had jumped on it sooner...
If only we had practiced better social distancing...
Then comes depression.
Thatís right, the blahs. Itís private. Itís where worry works its way in. Fear of financial loss and the possibility of losing a friend or family member to the virus.
Finally, there comes acceptance.
It took awhile but Iím there.
Whether I believe the coronavirus to be the deadliest event since the plagues of Egypt or a politically motivated, media hyped phenomenon matters naught.
Itís a fact.
Stores are closed, events are cancelled and curfews are in place.
Itís our new norm.
I donít have to be happy about it but to find any peace I have to accept it.
Things will be different for awhile but the sun will still rise in the morning.
Just as we will celebrate the rising of another Son this Sunday.
The services may be a little different but Heíll be there and that brings me peace.
God bless you.
See you out there.