Sunday, May 31, 2020
I went to church today. It was our first service since March 15th and it was different. On a table at the entrance sat a box of masks for anybody who wanted one as well as a bottle of hand sanitizer and a request that everyone use it before proceeding further. In the fellowship hall, half the tables were gone and only three chairs were placed at each remaining table. Breakfast and coffee were both behind the counter. No one was allowed to serve him or herself. As a result, I didn’t get quite as much cream in my coffee as I would like, but hey! It was coffee. In the sanctuary, every other row of chairs had been pulled and chairs had been set up in the overflow area for anyone who wished to distance themselves further.
Yes! There were hugs! But only for those who were comfortable with the notion. Those who wished to retain a larger personal space were respectfully given their wish. And there was singing! Particularly apropos was the song “Is He Worthy?” by Andrew Peterson. It spoke so deeply of this world broken by disease, injustice, and violence. Pastor Art Scottberg did not preach today. Instead, we had an extended time of prayer for our nation and for the needs of individuals within the congregation. Our elder, Henry Zimmermann, shared his heart and how he was led by God from fear and complaining with those who were doing likewise to pointing those he encountered throughout his work to the power, majesty, and salvation of God. After that, Pastor called for testimonies, stories of how God has been providing for each of us through the isolation of lockdown. Oh, and there were stories indeed. And then, in joy, we sang our way out of the service.
Once home, I indulged in that grand Sunday afternoon family tradition of a nap before preparing supper for my brother Mike and me. And after the plates were cleared and Mike had returned to his own house, I sat and thought. Although I sometimes feel it and often times joke about being old, in my mid-sixties, by today’s standards, I’m not really all that ancient. But what makes me sometimes feel as if I belonged to an age gone by, I think, is that as a child I listened, really listened to the stories my grandmother, aunts and uncles, and parents had to tell. It has been said one can truly only understand and feel history as far back as the oldest person you have known in your life. My mother’s mother was born in 1895. My father, if he were alive today, would be 110 and my mother, 103. So their stories carry me back in time 125 years. And I believe their stories can teach us something about the circumstances in which we live today.
Mary Willger, at the age of three, in 1898 contracted diphtheria. So did her infant brother Joseph. Mary, my grandmother survived. My great-uncle did not. In the case of infectious diseases in those days, public funerals were not permitted. So my great-grandfather laid his baby boy to rest in the cemetery on St. Mary’s Ridge, alone. My father’s older sister, Mural Catherine, died at the age of 13 from either diphtheria, the Spanish flu, or tetanus. Unfortunately, I cannot remember which. Three of my mother’s brothers, Phillip, Richard, and Theodore contracted polio and survived. Theodore also survived spinal meningitis. My brothers, Tom and Ken, when they were five and six, were removed from our home and quarantined in the county sanitarium until they recovered from scarlet fever. And I remember the county health nurse posting a quarantine sign on our front door when I had the measles.
So? So what can these anecdotes teach us today? My grandparents, parents, siblings and I lived through times when epidemics swept the country — some relatively mild, some deadly. I know my grandmother and parents feared winter — diphtheria, influenza, and whooping cough season. They feared summer — polio season. And with good reason. they had first hand knowledge of the devastation and death these various diseases could deliver. And there were no vaccines, nor even the suggestion that such a thing might ever be. Yet despite the epidemics of diphtheria, deadly influenza, polio, despite the anxiety fueled by newspaper headlines, They. Lived. Yes, I’m sure they took precautions, when they knew what precautions might be effective. I’m sure there were times of anxiety. But they lived! They lived to celebrate the times of recovery. They lived to mourn their losses. They went about their livelihoods and family gatherings, and days of worship despite their fears and anxieties.
And that is what those people, my grandparents, parents, aunts and uncles, now all gone, can teach us today. Yes, there is cause for concern. Take the precautions you feel necessary for yourself and your family. But above all, remember God is in control…and don’t forget to live!
Kathy Kexel 