For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven and do not return there but water the earth, making it bring forth and sprout, giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater, so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose, and shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it.  - Isaiah 55: 10-11

September fell apart like the weather falling from summer highs to autumn cools. We had hopes of starting school, starting home projects, hosting friends and family, simply hopeful for the changing seasons. Instead, we caught the plague of the 21^st century. And just like that, three weeks became a blur of feverish sleeping and quarantining. And perhaps a little redheaded temper.

As soon as we heard that we had been exposed to the plague of the 21^st century, we stayed home. One by one, we fell ill. To be honest, the young ones did fine. One had a fever all of an evening. Woke up fine and went on with his life. The other was down four days. On his first day fever free, he went on a hike where there were no paths and no people and slow going. Just rocks, trees, blue sky, and peace. My husband had about two days of slow going and no fever. And I got it the worst. I was down 12 days.

And hated it. Fought it. Cussed about it. Threw a fit (as much as I could) over it.

I yelled at God over this vexation He thought so funny for me to endure and endure with no end in sight.

And God listened with the Grace of One who knows pain, with the Hesed of One who understands discouragement, with the Mercy of One who suffered betrayal, with the Love of One who endured scourges of body, mind, and soul.

And He held this wild redhead fighting with every bit of strength I could muster against Him.

This good God gave our friends compassion for us during this extreme down time. He sent family with words of healing. He gave quiet for our souls to still. He sent food; healing and good. He opened time for us to spend together and enjoy our communal love and misery.

He whispered the changing of the seasons through a soft wind and a chilly temperature drop which felt heavenly on a fevered body. He cleared away clouds for the stars to shine bright in our desert sky. He breathed heavy clouds that rained on my forgotten garden suffering from my suffering. And He cared for it.

His gifts during this time were many and varied.

And I missed it like the proud, arrogant sinner that I am.

There were a few texts.

• “How are you, my friend? Can I bring you something?”
• “How is your family doing? Do you need anything? I’m just around the corner.”
• “We want to bring you dinner. Is lasagna good?”
• “How is today going? It will get better.”
• “We are praying for you and your family.”
• “I love you, friend. I’m sorry you are having to go through this.”

There was my sister calling me daily giving me ideas to help lessen the symptoms. She encouraged me that my body was doing exactly what it needed to do. Just not fast enough for me. And I just needed to be patient and rest.

There were our grown daughter and son who checked in on us nearly daily. Reminding us to be still, so rest, to let our bodies heal. And reminding us of their love and care for us. Their calls were my favourite.

There were my parents who offered words of love and kindness. They reminded me to rest and have everyone rest. Nothing was more important right now.

There was my friend telling us about the monoclonal antibody treatment and an appointment made.

There was my professor who offered lots of grace in getting my homework in and my first test done. And he didn’t need to.

There were other comments and opinions, but those weren’t important nor long lived in my hearing.

And sure enough, one by one, we got better. The plague lifted and life began. Again.

Reflecting upon our time with the plague, I learned that I’m impatient. I’m still a restless heart whose Christianity isn’t perfect. I don’t give grace as easily as I want, least of all to myself or God. In moments of weakness, I wondered if God really did care.

He does. Especially if I don’t feel it. Which is some physics paradoxical quandary that I will spend the rest of my life exploring.

I took my waking times during the plague of the 21^st century to read about some of the times in the Bible where people had the plague of their century. Because, why not. I’m not the only one who will endure a plague in life. Who knows, maybe even you, my dear friend, will find yourself going through some kind of plague. Well, let’s be honest. You will find yourself lost in a maze of some plague.

Naaman

I liked this story. Naaman got angry with the man of God. I can totally relate with anger. Elisha told him to go wash in the river Jordan seven times. Naaman was too busy of a man. He wanted quick healing to get back to his important life not go to a dirty river to be healed. Some friends encouraged him to listen to the crazy man of God. An aside, friends are exceptionally important. Our words have the power to draw us closer to God.

Speak life to your suffering friend.

I read somewhere that it wasn’t the first dip that healed Naaman, it was the last one. But (oh, this little conjunction brings together two seemingly distant ideas), the work on his soul began at the first dip. God cared for Naaman enough to heal his body, true and good. However, (another one!) God cared more for his soul, his heart. That healing began immediately. Naaman found his pride released in the dirty river.

Jesus healed 10 lepers

What was great about this story was that the lepers spent time together; the unclean away from the clean. No one would come near them. Having the plague of the 21^st century, I realized quickly that no one was going to visit us. We were four people in a house. Alone.

Yeah, crying out “Jesus, Master (Teacher, Healer, Good guy walking on the road), have mercy on us” is the cry not only of a torment soul, but a lonely one who misses family, friends, strangers, community! I may have yelled that a time or two. We had three weeks of being the outcasts of society. We had three weeks where no one entered our home to visit. And while we can’t say that we’ve been abandoned by our community (we are infinitely blessed by our community), we did experience some people who wouldn’t touch our infirmities from this plague of the 21^st century.

Yeah, crying out “Anyone, anywhere, have mercy on us” is valid, true, real.

And a condemnation on our society.

Who needs mercy? Everyone. Who needs mercy in the moment? The one suffering. They do not need condemnation. They do not need lectures. They do not need opinions. They need mercy.

We need mercy.

We need to give mercy.

I only had the energy and emotional ability to read these two stories. It was worth the energy it took. The lessons clearly are meant to magnify God. Yet, they held the heart of mankind (humankind, people) under the spotlight. We are flawed, short sighted, and judgmental.

Naaman had no desire to be even more inconvenienced than he already was. He was proud, arrogant, and frustrated that the man of God told him to do work to heal.

The ten lepers knew no one would help them. They knew everyone would judge them if they came to close to society. They knew people would jeer them for putting their dirty near the people’s clean. They knew mercy wasn’t found in people.

These two stories worked in my heart to show me that pride prevents healing. When I let go of pride, I allow God to work on my heart, my mind, my body. Letting go of that notion that my life is so important that I don’t have time to be inconvenienced by a sickness that is slow to leave and understanding the reality that my life is a part of a world that is broken, fallen, unknown brings peace that cannot be found otherwise.

Mercy is real. Giving mercy is challenging. Especially if we have ideas, ideologies that are different than the one suffering, giving mercy is near impossible. Yet, mercy and grace need to be given first.

• Before judgement, mercy.
• Before condemnation, grace.
• Before lectures, love.

Oh, friend, I hope you are a redeemed sinner who has already learned the lessons of letting go of pride and carrying mercy like a cloak. I will probably forget again. My short-sightedness will cause me to yell at my God, who clearly loves me more than I hate myself. But (ah, that different thing), I will remember His good gifts to me. And I know, He surrounds me with dear friends who will speak life to me. He showers grace through quiet gifts of nature and nurture.

Thank you, my God, for having the plague of the 21^st century descend on our home and remind us that you are a good God. Thank you, my God, for causing us to slow life during these changing seasons to remind us to breathe through the changing of the winds. Thank you, my God, for bringing our friends and family to love us through the ugly that is found in life. Thank you, my God, for healing us in our souls, in our minds, in our bodies. Thank you, my God, for your ever present presence.