If I Die Tomorrow

It’s incredibly morbid to think about, of course. But, there’s a lot going on out there. We’re quite possibly on the outbreak of something that has never been seen in our lifetimes before, and hopefully, is only the once in a lifetime kind of thing. It’s hard to even talk about the name of it, the coronavirus. It’s new and it’s scary and it’s world reaching. A disease about so little is known with a death toll that’s nearly in the tens of thousands and infections in the hundreds of thousands. Schools, restaurants, businesses, cities, entire countries locked down and closed. Honestly, the scary part isn’t the virus. It’s people. Grocery stores with aisles empty of bread and water. Fights breaking out over toilet paper. Facing the decision, do I go into work and risk it, or go home without pay and still not be one hundred percent sure you’ll be safe? Or worse, having the decision made for you? Everyone, between a rock and a hard place. Everyone on fight or flight mode for at least the past seventy two hours, if not longer, and no way of turning it off.

The entire world, in panic mode.

I should probably start by saying that, no, I’m not sick. I don’t really anticipate becoming very sick either, even if by chance I am exposed to or even contract the virus. Anything’s possible, of course, but I’ve got a pretty good shot. I haven’t (knowingly) been exposed to anyone with the virus and I’m in very good health. I only wish others were as fortunate as I. I should also state that this is likely to be one of my darker posts. That’s only natural, I suppose. With everything going on, it’s hard for people to stay optimistic. If I get around to it, I’ll try and write and post some more cheerful things on here over the next few weeks. But for now, I’ve got this. Me, getting whatever I have off my plate, and you, reading it. Maybe you feel some of the same things I do. Maybe you’re also scared and looking for answers. Maybe you’re looking for the light in the darkness.

A Time of Fear

I don’t consider myself a person who’s afraid of terribly much. In fact, I’d confidently say I’m afraid of nothing. Of course, maybe that’s really not entirely true. I’m not scared of spiders, and I think snakes are actually really cool, but I don’t like it when dogs run up at me. A high edge of a cliff is usually a nice place to take pictures and admire the view below, but I’m not keen on going skydiving. I watch movies with lots of battles and blood and gore. But I absolutely hate horror movies, and I jump out of my seat at the jump scares. I don’t mind thunderstorms, but it sure as hell scares me when someone slams the door. I’m not afraid of terrorists, but I’m afraid of angry mobs or rioters. I don’t (usually) mind talking to people in person, but I get nervous talking to customers or parents on the phone, and I’m even more scared of having to leave a voicemail. I know I’m deeply scared of asking out girls, and worse, I’m afraid of being in a relationship if she were to say yes. Add oddly, I’m afraid of breaking my nose. Not the other bones, just the nose.

One thing I don’t fear very much is dying. Maybe that’s because of my young age and good health. Maybe it’s a strong religious background and faith. I believe in Jesus and I believe that God will take me only when the time is right into his kingdom. It’ll be pretty awesome: among the King of Kings, with no fears or worries or anxieties, reunited with my Mom who I’ve missed for nearly six and a half years now. But, that doesn’t really say anything about the now. In the meantime, there’s struggle and sadness and hardship. Fear, loneliness, uncertainty. And if the past few months, weeks, and days have shown anything, it’s that you never know what to expect. Things are rough out there. Imagining for a second that the virus wasn’t a factor in all this, the world is still in the midst of something terrible and full of darkness. Poverty, natural disasters, climate change, political chaos, starvation, wars and rumors of wars. To add all the chaos of the virus… it’s almost too much to think of. Stores are empty. People are locked in their homes and afraid to go out. No one has answers. Peace and glory is a long, long time way, and for all I know, normality.

Everything in the world has slowed down and ceased. There is just about nothing. And, as I told you, I’m afraid of the nothing.

One thing I believe very strongly, is destiny. The idea that God has everything laid out for me, a divine purpose and will to accomplish and strive towards. I don’t know what that means exactly; it’s something I’ve been trying to figure out for a long time now, and honestly, I may continue to do so my entire life. But this plan, is good. It’s perfect. It’s everything I could ever hope for, and beyond my wildest imagination as to where it takes me. But when you look at situations like this, you begin to ask yourself, how? How is that still the case? When you’re deadlocked into just about nothing, no purpose, no foreseeable future other than (hopefully) tomorrow. I can’t go to work. I can’t be with my friends. I can’t even go get a bagel.

The Little Blue Ball

I’m quite certain I’ve got a fair amount of time left on this planet, but moments like this, they make you think. What if I were to die tomorrow? What would it look like? Like I said, I’d be in the throne room with God Almighty, I’d be free of all the terrible pains that plague humanity and I’d be with my mother. Life would be perfect. But, is there any chance at all, I’d glance over my shoulder, spying a little blue planet and be entranced with a life past? Would I stare at it solemnly and wonder how much more I could have done? What things could have been? Would I, in perfect paradise, be disappointed?

I don’t know. That’s my honest answer. I genuinely, don’t know what would happen when I see that blue spinning ball that was once my home. I had a lot of good times. I grew up with a family who loved me and cared for me and were always there for me. I went on a lot of hikes, watched a lot of movies, ate a lot of ice cream. I had the best college experience imaginable with the greatest people imaginable, doing stupid things and laughing our days away. I had an amazing job as a preschool teacher with an incredible set of kids and a team who helped me pull through even the hardest days and made me smile every day. I made lifelong friends at both these places who love me and mean the world to me. I saw the world, not all of it, granted, but a lot of it. I made my way to Australia and back, at only twenty years old. Jobs, schools, people, and experiences that are once in a lifetime.

But then, there’s still more I wish I’d done. I’ve never had a picnic on a hill at sunset. I’ve never been out fishing, and I’ve got a perfectly good rod. I’ve never been on a hot air balloon ride, or learned to play an instrument. I’ve never seen the Redwoods, or Grand Canyon, or even the Statue of Liberty. I never kissed a girl or told her I loved her. I never finished my book. I never got to see my friends that one last time. I never told the people I care about how much they really mean to me, more than just “I love you”, but really told them how much they mean to me. I never found my destiny.

Yes, I’ve done a lot. And chances are, I’ll get to do a lot more with my life. But you never really know. And that’s the scary thing. Because in a way, something like this makes you realize maybe you don’t have another sixty years to do it all. Maybe destiny requires you to put in a little effort yourself. Maybe you need to live like you do only have one day left.

Looking Back

That brings us back to now. To quarantines, to food shortages, to loneliness, uncertainty, rule of fear. I can’t tell you how bad that feels, because, chances are you already know. Everybody’s story is different. And mine is a lot more fortunate than others. I’m healthy, I’m home, I have no major plans being disrupted, and I’m being paid. But still, it’s tough. Getting a text the day before that, surprise, the school is closing, and you just have one conference and cleaning day left before everything changes. The moment you and your classroom team have finished all the preparation, cleaning, and work that needs to be done, and you kinda stand there for a minute not knowing what to do or say next. And then, that moment when your co-teachers, honestly, your best friends, leave and you don’t know what to do or when you’ll see them or the kids that make your life so hectically wonderful again. Being in an empty classroom, full of nothing.

When I said I’m afraid of nothing, I meant it. And, I’m not alone in that. I know my sister is deathly afraid of coming back home from college and having nothing. My step mom is afraid that there’s nothing she can do to stop the disease, and my dad’s afraid there’s nothing he can do to calm her anxieties. Families are afraid there’s nothing on the shelves, or nothing they can do about being laid off or not being paid. People are afraid there’s nothing they can do to avoid getting sick, or nothing they can do as their loved ones are dying. We are afraid of the nothing. It’s uncertain, it’s scary, and it’s almost hopeless.

But there’s never really nothing. There’s always a light. Always a hope.

There’s hope every day, if you look for it. Going to the grocery store and laughing with strangers about how ridiculous it is there’s no bread or water. The sun popping out on a day full of rain. Little tasks for work that keep you occupied, something that gives the kids something to do and parents some amount of hope. The fact that we’re having pork for dinner, and that pork sounds really good right about now. Opening the windows and beginning to hear the birds of spring. Checking Snapchat to see your friends are alive and well and sending memes to each other. News that the virus is on the decrease in places like China, that various antibodies, drugs, and vaccines are already being developed and tested, and that many, many more people are recovering than dying. Watching videos of people playing music and singing songs on the rooftops of Italy.

None of that negates the bad. But it does help to know that, for most of us, this isn’t the end. Things will get better. Schools and jobs will reopen. The economy will bounce back. Worrying about toilet paper won’t be an issue and we’ll look back and laugh at ourselves for all the fuss it was. Sunny days will come again. This is a trying time, but keep diligent, keep hopeful. There is always hope. It lurks in the smallest of things and in the tiniest interactions with others. Keep looking for the light. All this will pass. I may not know when, or what greater affect it may have. But things will turn up.

And when they do, when the sun shines and the stores are full and life is back to its usual chaotic-ness, remember that you’ve only got the one life. Use it wisely. Don’t carry regret. Carry hope. All those things I want to do, like go on a hot air balloon or see the Redwoods or get married, I still can. God still has a plan for me beyond this. When things get better, I plan on making the absolute most of whatever he has laid out for me. Do everything you can and want to before it’s too late. More than that, do the things you want to do before things get better. Tell the people you love you love them. Check on the girl you have a crush on (if you’re feeling brave). Call your friends and have a laugh. Go on hikes to beautiful and remote places, watch movies you’ve been waiting on, eat a shit-ton of ice cream (well, maybe not too much). Try learning that instrument, do more writing, or get into painting. Give yourself the hope, show yourself the light, shape your destiny now.

Live life like you only have one day left. Not just in the midst of global pandemic, but every day. When you glance back at a tiny blue planet, don’t look back on your fears and angst and worry. Don’t worry about whether you did enough. Make it so. Look back without regret, look back on happiness and fun memories and yes, finding the little joys in moments of sorrows.

It’s not over. Unfortunately, the bad times may not be for some time. But, neither are the good times. Life on this blue little planet of ours, is quite beautiful. Even now, there is hope. There is light.

"So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand." -Isaiah 41:10

(a few happy memories, many more to come)