Some Coronavirus Thoughts

Coronavirus is coming.

Some say it is already here.

It started off floating across Hubei Province on silent bat wings.  It touched down in Seoul and Osaka.  Then soared across the ocean to Milan and Madrid, headed to the New World.

Quickly and inexorably it flies.  It touches the lives of oldest among us, those with four score years of experience and silences them, except for the metallic sound of the ventilator.

It has brought with it anger -- anger at a lack of testing and anger at long lines at airports because of testing.  It has brought anger at the president and anger at the Democrats.  Most of all, it has brought anger at both those who take it seriously and anger at those who don't take it seriously enough.

Even more, fear has settled over society.  It is a fear of lack -- of inadequate food, antibacterial gels, and toilet paper.  It is a fear that the government officials and doctors and scientists don't really know what they are doing.  Most of all, it is a fear of death in all of its forms -- even death that comes from China on silent bat wings.

I sit in my home and think about all of this.  I see the darkness that is engulfing those around me and wonder if the light can overcome.  What does hope look like in a pandemic?

Out of my window I can see a peach tree.  All winter it has stood, bare and gnarled, but now it blooms a brilliant pink.

It knows nothing of Hubei and Italy, of viruses and vaccines.  It only knows that spring is coming and the One who gave it life has promised that seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, day and night shall not cease.

Until He comes...

COVID 19

"Dr. Waldron," the older lady said.  "Do I need to worry about all this virus stuff?"

"Well, Ms. Edna," I said.  "It is a little hard to say..."  And with that, my mind began to race along different paths.

This "Virus Stuff" has a name, given by the scientific community.  It is COVID 19 and while it first showed up in China, it has since spread to over 50 countries and 120,000 people and has caused over 4000 deaths.

It showed up like an unwanted and unexpected visitor to disrupt business and travel, handshakes and hugs, sporting events and church services.  I suppose the hardest thing about it is it's newness.  Even the experts just don't know that much about it yet.

Unlike Influenza, which shows up every year, has a season and then goes away, we haven't seen this particular virus before.  We have no specific treatment for it and we don't know how long it will stick around in our various communities.  We only know that it is really contagious and that it is particularly hard on people older than 70.

As I read various posts, it seems that many are polarized, with some claiming that this is just an extra strong "flu" while others are buying up all the toilet paper in Walmart, "just in case."  It is not surprising that anxiety levels are climbing and it certainly is not entirely due to the media overinflating the story.

The Coronavirus is a big deal.  For people under the age of 70, the death rate is under 1 percent, but for people between 70 and 80 years of age, the death rate was 8 percent in China and for people over age 80, the death rate went up to 15 percent.

The problems result from a combination of things.  First of all, there is no magic symptom that tells you that you have this new virus.  The number one symptom is fever, which is as generic as they come.  Other symptoms include cough and shortness of breath.

Then, testing takes a minimum of two to three days, during which time Americans are notoriously bad at self-quarantining.  If we don't feel too bad, we tend to keep doing normal activities, spreading the virus around our church and work families without too much thought.  Most people probably start shedding virus several days before they have symptoms.

Finally, there is no special treatment for COVID 19.  Antibiotics and to this point most anti-viral agents don't seem effective against it.  Our care for the sickest people with this virus is primarily supportive until their body's immune system can over come it.

It is into this situation that public health officials can probably make the biggest difference.  Limiting large groups meeting can halt the spread of the illness.  Maybe it seems silly to be so aggressive with a "flu bug," but on the other hand, it is far better to be overly aggressive with canceling meetings and events and have this virus stop spreading, than to continue blithely on and wish we had done more when there were only a few thousand cases in our country.

China has been able to contain this virus, but only after 80,000 people got the virus and only with really aggressive quarantine measures.  It is important for us to learn the lessons they learned on ground zero.

We should take it seriously, but also remember that there are bigger hands than ours in control.  Thousands of years ago, the Psalmist wrote, "God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.  Therefore we will not fear though the earth gives way, though the mountains be moved into the heart of the sea..." (Psalm 46:1,2).

We can have confidence.  Our health care workers will do all they can to take care of people in need, but most of all, our God will be the refuge and place of safety for us to go to when everything seems designed to produce anxiety in the hardest headed of us.

So I come back to a simple verse I learned a long time ago.  "When I am afraid, I put my trust in you." 

I don't have all the answers and neither do all of the public officials in charge of the Coronavirus response.  But God is never at a loss and when I am most afraid, that is also when I need to trust Him most.

Thumb Wars

"One, two three, four, I declare a thumb war!"  My two sons chanted in unison from the back seat of our minivan.  This was followed by much moaning and groaning as both tried to put into action the theory of mutual assured destruction.

"All right boys," I said.  "That's enough thumb wars.  How about something else?"

"Can we play bloody knuckles?"  Elliot asked.

"No, that's an easy question," I said.  "How about you think about something you learned in Sunday School or church and talk about that?"

There was silence in the back seat as both of my sons contemplated this weight subject.  Finally, Elliot said, "Friday is Valentine's Day and Jesus says we should love our enemies on Valentine's Day."

"No," Vince said, very assuredly.  "Jesus didn't say that."

"Yes, He did," Elliot said with as much confidence as an Olympic skier heading down the bunny hill.  "It says so in the Bible."

"Elliot," Vince said, in a professorial voice.  "When people talk about Valentine's Day, they are talking about romantic love and that is not what Jesus was talking about."

"But I wasn't talking about romantic love,"  Elliot said.

"Yes, but Jesus wants us to love our enemies every day," Vince said earnestly.  "Not just on Valentine's Day."

It was a little amusing to have my boys hammering out some pretty hard aspects of the Sermon of the Mount in the back seat. 

Jesus' words are really hard to put into practice, but one of the hardest things is that these are not just words that we need to put into practice on special occasions like Washington's Birthday, Columbus Day, and Valentine's Day.  We are to love those who dislike us every day.

Even Mondays.

It isn't easy, but by God's grace we can do it, one day at a time.

Fear of Dying

We were reading the story of the Trapp Family Singers, the group on which the Sound of Music is (somewhat loosely) based.  I read to our children most evenings from a variety of books and for some reason had chosen this book by Maria von Trapp.  Much of the book is amusing, but close to the end we came to a long chapter that dealt in detail with the death of Georg von Trapp from lung cancer.

Most of our children were quiet after I finished reading the chapter, but Elliot was in tears.  "What's wrong?"  I asked him.

"I'm afraid," he said.  "Of getting lung cancer!"

"Well, it's a good thing you gave up smoking," I told him, hoping to assuage some of his fear with humor. 

This seemed ineffective for he began to wail even louder.  "Why is Elliot crying?"  Victoria asked.

"He's afraid of dying," I said.

"Oh," Victoria said.

"Are you afraid of dying?"  I asked.

"No," Victoria said. "Because I'm never going to die."

This amusing interchange over, I rolled up my sleeves and tried to calm my son's fears and eventually he ceased crying and moved on to fighting with one of his siblings.

This conversation stuck with me though and in particular, the contrast between these two children.  One of them thought about death a lot and had a morose fear of it, while the other blithely assumed that while it might happen to other people, it would never happen to her.

To me, this was this illustrates the way in which so many deal with concept of death.  Many are scared by it, while others simply do not think about it until forced to by accident or disease.

Neither of these approaches feels like a good option to me.  It is so much better to place our futures in the hands of the One who conquered death and can give us victory over it as well.  Only then can we have inner peace in a world full of epidemics like Ebola and Coronavirus and even cancer, for Jesus will give us victory, even in the face of death's darkness.

Volcanic Burrito!

I opened my lunch box and peered inside it.  "What do you have?"  One of the nursing staff asked me.

"An apple, a cutie, some nuts, two cookies, and something else," I said, lifting up a green Tupperware container that would have fit beautifully in a kitchen with a 1970s décor.  I opened the container as the suspense built in the lunch room.  "Looks like a frozen burrito," I said.

I took the oblong item and stuck it in the microwave for a couple of minutes.  When the microwave indicated that my food was done, I took it out and touched it gingerly with my finger.  It seemed to be warm all the way through.

I brought it back to the table, lifted my fork, and cut away the end of the Mexican delicacy.  I blew on it briefly and then popped the bite in my mouth.  Immediately, I discovered a whole world of pain.

The burrito did not contain, as I had anticipated a mixture of beans and meat.  Rather, it was filled with liquid, scalding magma!  I had unknowingly bitten into a volcanic burrito and was rapidly losing the skin inside my mouth as a result.

Of course, the problem was not with the burrito.  I suppose I could have cut thirty seconds off its cook time and I wouldn't have suffered quite as much, but the bigger problem is that I lack the patience necessary to eat one comfortably.  Two more minutes of letting my burrito cool would probably have been sufficient to allow me to keep my mouth and tongue safe.

Patience is a virtue worth having.  It makes the lives of those around us more enjoyable as we won't get upset as easily with little speed bumps within our days.  It will give us peace in some of the stressful situations that each day is bound to contain.

It can even protect a hungry doctor from a volcanic burrito.

It's the Mennonites' fault!

"So how are you doing?"  I asked the older gentleman who was seated in the exam room.

"Oh, I'm doing pretty well," he answered.  "Just here for my check up."

"Very good," I said, as I placed my computer on the counter top.  "Anything in particular you want to take care of today?"

He had a couple of things before I moved on to my routine questions.  As I was wrapping up, I mentioned to him "I'd like to get a cholesterol panel and a couple of other blood tests while you're here."

"Now, Doc," he told me.  "I just need you to know that if my cholesterol is up, it's the Mennonites' fault!"

I was taken aback, because I am a Mennonite and I don't recall in any of our secret meetings discussing plans to raise the cholesterol levels of Brookneal.  But maybe I missed that one...

"What?"  I asked.  Not the smartest sounding question, but I guess one that expressed my confusion.

"It's the Mennonites' fault," he repeated.  "See, they had their Fall Festival and my wife came home with three dozen donuts, a pie, and three pumpkin rolls -- and maybe something else.  Anyway, three days later it was all gone and we didn't throw any of it away.  So now you understand."

"Oh," I nodded.  "I'll keep that in mind when I get your results back."

Of course, if his cholesterol was up, it wasn't truly the Fall Festival's fault.  He was the one who had eaten the donuts and pie and he was the one who would deal with the consequences of that.

It is human nature to blame others for our wrong doings.  Ever since in the Garden of Eden, Adam blamed Eve and Eve blamed the snake, people have been trying to shift responsibility away from themselves.  Sure, I did something bad, but it wasn't really my fault because someone else encouraged me to do it.

The reality is that blaming others for the things I do is never helpful.  I am in control of the decisions I make and will suffer the consequences for them.  Hopefully as I realize that and by God's grace decide to make better choices in the future, I can have victory.

Even if the Menonites keep selling tasty baked goods at their Fall Festival.

Eviction Day?!

"Tomorrow's the day!"  Elaine said firmly.  After nine of months of carrying our fifth child, it was time for our daughter's "eviction."  Because of Elaine's blood pressure, her doctor thought it best to induce her before it really started to climb.

We went to sleep with this firm knowledge of the future.

Things change the next morning when Elaine called the hospital labor and delivery department.  "I'm sorry," the nurse told her.  "It has been really crazy up here.  We can't do an induction now, but you can check back around noon to see if things have calmed down a little."

At lunch time the message was the same.  "I just don't honestly know how we can do your induction today," the nurse said apologetically.

So we went to bed on the day our little girl was to arrive just the same as we began that day -- an expectant mother and a waiting father.

It wasn't until the afternoon of the next day that they called us to come in for the induction.  As always, I asked myself what was to be learned from this delay.  Maybe an extra thirty-six hours of further lung development were just what our little baby needed to be healthy.  Or maybe God was simply teaching my wife and me a lesson in patience.

Through that evening and till the afternoon of the next day we continued to wait until our beautiful little girl showed herself for the first time.  With her cries, I realized that more than anything I learned again that I wasn't in control, nor the doctors who were charged with my wife and daughter's care. 

God is in control of all of the stops and the starts and even the pauses of our lives.  With all the wonders of technology, He is still in charge.

His timing is perfect and while we may not have wanted to wait, our baby girl was just perfect.  For, even when God seems to be a day late, He is right on time.

A Lizard Named Lazarus

"What do you have there?" I asked my eight year old son as he bent over a little wooden box.

"It's treasure!"  He said dramatically.

"Really," I said.  "If it's enough treasure maybe it could help put you through college."

"Actually, Dad, it's some rocks I picked up and one other thing," Elliot proceeded to open the lid and a terrible odor emanated from the treasure box.

"That is the worst smelling treasure I've ever smelled!"  I said.

"That's because there's a lizard in there that I found,"  Elliot told me.

"Is it alive?"  I asked curiously, already knowing the answer.

"No, he's dead,"  Elliot said.  "It's way too hard to catch a live one."

"Maybe you should name him Lazarus," I said.  "All he needs is a resurrection to be as good as new."

In need of a resurrection.

Just a little thing and just the sort of thing that is beyond human knowledge and ability.  It is exactly the same thing that each one of us needs from a spiritual standpoint.

Without Jesus, we are "dead in trespasses and sins," as the Apostle Paul so aptly put it.  We are worthless and even worse, we stink to the One who made us.

The only solution is for us to invite the Savior to the opening of our tomb.  For only He can bring life in a place of death.  Only He can say in the place of death, "Lazarus, Come Forth!"

Alligator or Crocodile?

"Look, Dad, it's an alligator!"  Victoria told me.

"Are you sure that it isn't a crocodile?"  I asked.

"No, Dad, it's an alligator," my four year old daughter assured me emphatically.

I looked closely at the reptile.  I usually can identify the difference between the two similar (but different) species based on the signs on the zoo exhibits, but I know that there are differences other than the signs.  Unfortunately, it is really hard to tell the difference with animal crackers.

Of course, animal crackers seem to inspire a whole lot of questions for me.  Sure, it's a penguin, but which species of penguin is it (truly identifying the genus can be challenging, even for trained zoologists)?  Are there certain varieties of animal crackers that are endangered (and how can we protect them)?  And most of all, can vegans eat animal crackers (insert slippery slope argument here)?

None of this detracts from my ability to enjoy animal crackers or helps me to enjoy them better.  Which is too bad, because I really don't derive much pleasure from a package of animal crackers.

Quite simply, joy is learning to get pleasure from the smallest blessings in our lives.

It is a blessing if your spirit can lift with the tiny things of this life.  It seems as though as humans age it takes more and more to give them the same enjoyment that they once received from something as simple as an ice cream cone or a box of animal crackers.

So it is that I pray, not for bigger blessings or more thrills, but a child like sense of joy.  I want to feel happiness when I open a box of animal crackers, whether it contains alligators, crocodiles, or neither.

Peach Harvest

Our kitchen smells of peaches (which is a good smell).

That's not surprising because peach harvest is here.  We have one peach tree and when we get peaches from it, we got a lot of peaches.

What would be nice is if some reasonable number of peaches would ripen every week -- maybe 20 or 30 and we could eat them over a couple of month's time.  Instead, we got home from spending time with my family to find that we had three bushels of peaches that needed to be "taken care of."

With this in mind, Elaine has been peeling and slicing peaches to make a variety of things, including peach pie, peach bread, peach spinach salad, and peach muffins.  On the canning side she has canned peach jam, peach salsa, peach butter, and peach pie filling.

Somehow being in the middle of peach season makes me think about other seasons.  Life is about seasons.  Elaine is expecting our fifth child.  We are soon going to be moving from one season of our life to another.

The writer of Ecclesiastes said, many years ago, "For everything there is a season."

We are going to be moving from a season of diapers and bottles, into a season of driver's permits and college entrance exams.

The reality is that when you are going through a particular season of your life it is hard to enjoy the good parts and much easier to focus on the aspects where it feels overwhelming.  More often than not we feel more like an entrant into a hot dog eating competition than an attendee at a cook out.

It is hard to enjoy peaches when they are coming out your ears, but a ripe peach is hard to beat and I still enjoy eating them.  In December I know I will think fondly of the tasty fruit we had on our tree, even though we have felt a bit overwhelmed this week.

It is important to try to spend time enjoying whatever season we are in now.  Later on, all we will have are the memories of it that we make today.

The Message of the Pepper

"Wow, Dad, that's a lot of stuff on your hamburger," Elliot said to me.

I looked up, a bit surprised from the construction site on my plate.  On my bun was a burger, followed by a thick slice of pepper jack cheese, followed by lettuce, two tomato slices, pickles and a mixture of southwest spicy mustard and ketchup.  It was definitely the sort of edifice to make the designers of the pyramids jealous.

"It's almost done," I said.  From a plate I took four slices of jalapeno pepper and placed them on top of my sandwich.  Now, I usually don't put jalapenos on my sandwiches, but my beautiful wife had decided to get a few jalapeno pepper plants for our garden and no one else in my family would eat them.  Being a good steward, I didn't want to see them go to waste.

I placed the top part of the bun on top and looked my creation in the eye.  Then I took a large bite. 

For a moment, everything tasted great with all of the normal tastes mixing around my taste buds and then it was all overwhelmed with a strong flavor of jalapeno.  The capsaicin was kicking in.

I know that there are many peppers that are a lot hotter than jalapenos, but honestly, the whole time I was eating the sandwich all I could taste was the spicy peppers and even an hour later, my tongue was still tingling from the experience.

I thought that next time I might just go a bit lighter on the peppers -- or maybe leave them off entirely.

It made me think about the impact that each one of us has on others.  Obviously there are many different parts of our personalities and character that strike people when we meet them, but often there is something about us that stands out and sticks with people. 

It might be our kindness, generosity, or it could just as easily be our selfishness and unwillingness to listen.  There is one thing that people will carry away from their time with us.

Jesus told His followers "By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another."

This then is the way to let those around know who we are following and to leave an impression that lasts far longer than a spicy pepper does on a protesting tongue.

Another Birthday

"Today is your birthday?"  The lady asked.  She sounded surprised, as though it was unusual for doctors to work on their birthday.  "So what are you doing for it?"

I thought for a bit.  "Well," I said.  "I guess I'm going to go to the nursing home tonight."  I could she see she was taken aback.  "Oh, not to stay," I reassured her.   "I have a couple more years till then.  Our church sings at a nursing home in Lynchburg on some Wednesday evenings."

"That sounds interesting," she said.

"And then I thought for the rest of the day I would try to treat my patients with a lot of compassion.  The way Jesus would treat them," I finished with a flourish.  "But no, I'm not doing anything extra special today otherwise."

Birthdays roll around every year whether we want them to or not.  They are typically days when I hear my children singing Happy Birthday and my Facebook account blows up with Happy Birthday wishes.  They are days too of feeling a bit older and not so much wiser.

To me, though, birthdays feel like a time to take stock of my situation, not necessarily asking the question "What am I doing?"  (Although that is a good question).  But, "How am I doing what I am doing?"

I am taking care of people who are dealing with pain and illness and I have done that for many years.  It is easy over that time to lose a sense of compassion and to become a little cynical about people and their motivations.  Cynical doctors can still get through their days just as easily as non-cynical doctors, but I'm afraid they don't tend to leave their patients with as much hope and joy.

As I launch out into another year, I pray it would be full, not only of taking care of the needs of my patients, but of doing so in a compassionate way.   If I can treat people as Jesus would treat them, I believe I can make a difference -- not because of me but because of His power working in me.

That's my birthday wish for this coming year.

Altered Words

"I just figured out the words to Amazing Grace, Dad," Elliot told me, a little proudly.

"Really, which part were you struggling with?"  I asked, mentally scanning the lines.  Maybe, 'I once was blond but now I see?' was the one.

"I thought for the longest time that it said, 'To save a wrench like me.'  Now I know it's saying the word wretch,"  Elliot said.

I laughed.  "Yes, the word is wretch and not wrench."

My children aren't always good with the words of songs by memory and when they don't know a word, they often substitute something that sounds similar.

I suppose they take after their dad there...

The imagery in the song Amazing Grace stands out.  First, there is a picture of humans without grace -- blind, lost, and wretched.  This is crucial for us to understand so that we can connect with how amazing the grace must be to save us.

Perhaps it is easy to think that it took less grace to save someone like me, because I am a little better person than some others that I know.  Nothing could be further from the truth.

It truly took Amazing Grace and Love Beyond Degree to Save a Wrench Like Me.