An Open Letter to God During the Pandemic

An Open Letter to God During the Pandemic

                Hello God.  It’s me again.  This time I’m going to be really honest and not say all those things I think you want to hear.  I’m really tired, upset, afraid, and yeah, I’m mad.  I’m tired of each day feeling like the same during this pandemic.  I’m tired of not being able to go to plays at the local theater, of not lunching with friends, of cooking all the time instead of eating out.  I’m tired of not being able to see my children and grandchildren except on a Zoom visit.  I’m tired of not being able to go to church.  And I’m really tired of being afraid every time I do venture out to the grocery store or a doctor’s visit.  Most of all, I’m tired of a federal government that doesn’t respond to the needs of the people.  And I’m tired of people who don’t wear masks.

                I’m mad.  I’m mad at the President, the Congress, the virus, and I have to admit it, God.  I’m also kind of mad at You.  After all, you promise that we shouldn’t worry because you care about us.  You promise that your Kingdom will come on Earth.  You promise that if we love you and one another that everything will be okay.  Then I remember that we don’t do all those things you’ve asked us to do, so I guess I really ought to just be mad at humanity and not at you.

                I’m afraid and a little depressed.  I had planned to live out my life in relative harmony and peace.  Then this pandemic hit, and all my plans fell apart.  It’s hard to get motivated to do anything when nothing seems to matter anymore.  It’s hard to clean the house when no one is going to visit.  I find myself numbing out with books and television and Sudoku puzzles, just to occupy my brain.  The highlight of my day is my morning walk; I feel more connected to the trees and weeds I see daily than I do to people.  The pandemic has cast a light upon the underbelly of our society, and I’ve seen how people are hurting and afraid, wondering where the next meal is coming from, how they will pay the rent.  That’s really depressing.

                Then I remember how fortunate I am.  How You have pulled me from the Pit so often in my life.  I recall that I have a roof over my head, sheltering me from the heat and the cold, money for the bills and the groceries and medicine.  I don’t have to go to work or educate children at home, or really do anything I don’t want to do.  I’m not disabled and my husband is alive.  And the cable is working. 

Okay, God, I guess I have to admit that your grace is sufficient after all.  Your thoughts are higher than my thoughts and your ways are wiser than my ways.  Thanks for letting me get all this off my chest. 

With love,

Kaye