Our family arrived in Canada from Paraguay in 1952, when I was 9 years old. We children began our schooling in a little country school where most of the children and the teacher were Mennonite. The school was a 20-minute walk from the farm where we lived that first year. There were so many new things to learn for a little Mennonite girl who came from a tiny village in the middle of nowhere. Even this small country school seemed huge. People spoke differently, dressed differently, and did strange things. Recess was difficult because we now had to relate to peers who were not as understanding as the teacher. However, there were two girls who were kind to us. They were sisters and they took my younger sister and me under their wings. Their names were Barbara and Margaret; I felt safe with them.
Then the scary thing happened. The word polio became part of our vocabulary. We heard that it was a crippling disease and that we could catch it from other children who had the virus. Barbara and Margaret were no longer at school; they had caught the polio virus. Maybe they would die or they might be confined to a wheelchair for the rest of their lives. Fortunately, they survived and came back to school but by that time we had moved into town and no longer went to that country school. However, occasionally we attended church functions there until our family found a church in town. I never went near Barbara and Margaret, afraid that if they would touch me, I would get polio. At the same time, I felt guilt. They had been nice to me during a difficult time and I completely abandoned them. I wish that I would have been able to talk to someone about this, but I was too ashamed and embarrassed to mention it to anyone. I still feel the guilt!
Years later, in 1965, when I attended Canadian Mennonite Bible College in Winnipeg, we were all assigned "deputation work." My assignment was to visit a woman in one of the local hospitals. She was in an iron lung, her body from the neck down completely enveloped by it. She was one of an estimated 11,000 people in Canada who were left paralyzed by polio between 1949 and 1954.The disease peaked in 1953 with nearly 9,000 cases and 500 deaths -- the most serious national epidemic since the 1918 influenza pandemic. In 1955, the Salk vaccine became available, eventually bringing polio under control (Wikipedia).
It seems that periodically we need a reminder that we are not in control. This coronavirus pandemic we are now experiencing is one of those reminders. Hopefully, a vaccine will be discovered to stop this outbreak, but in the meantime how do we conquer our fear and anxiety?
Our church secretary sent us a little hand-washing song to the tune of "Happy Birthday." It is a simple prayer, like the ones my mother taught me to say at bedtime and it has a strangely calming effect on me. I sing it almost every time I wash my hands:
God protect us each day,
As we walk in your way,
In the footsteps of Jesus,
Our strength and our stay.
This COVID-19 virus is also a reminder of our common humanity. As Parker Palmer says in a recent interview: " 'America First' is a very stupid idea. Coronavirus teaches us that we are all interconnected." I've already noticed this interconnection in our neighborhood. Several people have offered to buy groceries for us, leaving a note in our mailbox. Also, during the recent huge and unexpected snowfall, two different people came to shovel our driveway.
Parker Palmer also said,
"Violence is what happens when we don't know what to do with our suffering."
I have been thinking about that statement in light of what happened during my grandparents' time in the 1920s in war-ravaged Ukraine. They became the victims of people finally fed up with the suffering they endured at the hands of the elite. During this time of self-isolation I have plowed through a rather dense history of that time period, The Russian Revolution by Sean McMeekin, recommended to me by a Dutch friend. I could only manage a few chapters at a time but I learned a lot. I rewarded myself by reading a novel, The Secret Wife by Gill Paul, also set in that time period, about a young Russian general who meets Tatiana, the second oldest daughter of the Romanovs and falls in love with her. A good read!
I have also begun writing my diary again, which I neglected for quite a while. Hardy and I have been reading some of my old diary entries and they are quite interesting.
Above are two pages of my diary from 2001, written while I was in the throes of preparing for my PhD defense. At the same time, our youngest daughter was getting married and we had become grandparents for the first time. We both can't believe what a busy time it was and how we managed everything!
Hardy has put several puzzles together since Christmas and during our devotional times is always checking different versions among the many Bibles we have on our bookshelves, often enjoying reading a passage from the Plautdietsch (Low German) translation as well as from Peterson's paraphrase The Message and comparing the texts with his own work on the Kikongo translation.
Our grandchildren keep in touch by sending us amusing videos of their artwork and their pets, and of course also calling us on the phone. The first picture below is one of Sasha's creations and she herself is reflected in the second window.
I try to go for a walk every day and just before the big snowfall at the beginning of April, I discovered the pussy willows beginning to bud, so I know spring is coming. It will be different from what we expected but we will survive.
And how have you been and what have you been doing during this strange time of self-isolation?
How do you keep fear at bay, in yourself or in your children and grandchildren?
Here is an example from our Canadian Prime Minister, Justin Trudeau, addressing our children:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zBBjz16J-nU&feature=youtu.be&fbclid=IwAR13wYkakbwiGN-ksLfvEf9wBL9cyypP6HfnghrpWDQqtqemCogogQA-NPc
