Grappling With Fear — Writing My World

I was sitting in meditation when I first heard it. I immediately recognized the insistent rat-a-tat-tat on our front window. The tall front window generously floods the stairwell with light and is not far from where I sat cross legged in my favorite chair. I knew it was the bluebird John mentioned seeing the day before on the same window sill. Now this little fellow was interrupting my morning quiet.

I successfully ignored it until my timer chimed. As I opened up my journal to write, my curiosity got the better of me. I tiptoed with my journal to the top of the stairs to sit out of sight. I hoped to catch the bird in his futile pursuit and possibly discourage him. A few weeks ago we lost a beautiful red bellied woodpecker to our picture window in the back. The full moon had duped him into seeing our trees in the glass. We were heartbroken at the loss, and I could not bear the thought of losing another beautiful bird.

I waited patiently remembering that birds often see their reflection in a window and think it is a rival. After a few minutes of waiting, I closed my journal and quietly crept down the steps to peer into the trees. There he was on a branch nearby. His brilliant blue feathers and dapper red breast were hard to miss. His drably feathered mate perched on a branch or two above him. No wonder he was so concerned. His chosen one was nearby, and he didn’t want to deal with any competition as they started their family. I gazed up at them until suddenly they flitted off into the forest that surrounds our house. Perhaps I was the cause of their fear and hasty departure.

As the morning passed, I thought about the bird’s behavior and couldn’t help but compare it to mine lately. I, too, feel a bit frantic and my actions seem just as futile and nonsensical. I ruminate over an invisible enemy. It is an enemy that has brought our healthy economy to its knees; stretches our modern healthcare systems to their limits and beyond; and yet if it lands on my hands it can be rendered helpless with soap and water in 20 seconds. It is a head scratching enemy that puts many of us in a fearful frenzy. I know this virus is real and should be taken seriously. Yet, I wonder if my fear has made me as irrational as the bluebird who pecked on our window. While fear is useful when faced with a clear and present danger, is it useful in the middle of a pandemic?

So how do I combat this fear? How do I ease the tightness in my chest when I read what is happening around the world, or assuage my husband’s angst as he watches the stock market’s erratic plunge?

If only Mr. Rodgers was still with us. Oh my, how I need his calm demeanor today. I picture him now in his cozy sweater, lacing up his tennis shoes, and then thoughtfully peering into the camera to give me advice. He surely would name my fear and acknowledge that these are “scary” times, but then he would gently remind me to “look for the helpers.”

And there are helpers, everywhere. Teachers shifting gears and teaching online. Parents pitching in, too, with their own impromptu lesson plans. My sweet young neighbors who ask repeatedly if they can shop for us. Friends and family who call or text just to check in. My father who solicitously commiserates with our jitters over the stock market. Clergy who have adapted to drive-in services or video streaming. Musicians who offer sweet interludes on social media and YouTube. My neighbors who in one day sewed over 100 masks for our hospital workers. Our brave Tennessee Mayors Cooper and Moore who closed nonessential businesses in Nashville and Franklin in spite of the govenor’s inaction. Of course, our most important helpers are the healthcare workers: doctors, nurses, technicians, hospital workers, and staff who are on the front lines of this pandemic. They may suffer the most as the illness spreads.

Perhaps the ultimate way to tamp down my fear, is to not only remember the helpers but also try to be a helper….call a friend, bake some bread, or just get busy making some masks. Peace be with you. Stay well. Stay in. And then as my mother always said, “This to shall pass.” ~c.h.