Years ago, I attended a sunrise Easter service. Now, anyone who knows me knows that I can count on one hand how many sunrises I’ve seen. I am NOT a morning person. So, to actually set an alarm and plan to be up early is a huge ordeal for me.
But I wanted to attend the service, so there I was, up before 6:00 a.m., making my way to a cold, dark beach. It felt like the middle of the night. I was tired and grumpy, and I couldn’t see where I was going. There were little hazards everywhere, like random pieces of driftwood, uneven ground, and loose pebbles.
I carefully stepped across the sand and found a large log to sit on. “Why am I here,” I thought, as I shivered in the early morning damp air. It felt like daylight and warmth would never come. Slowly my eyes began to adjust and recognize people I knew. One friend noticed me shivering and gave me a blanket.
Then the service started, and the landscape began to slowly but surely light up. As the sky turned pink, two ducks glided across the gloriously calm water. A pastel pink glow on the horizon ushered in the sunrise, and that dark, cold feeling began to disappear.
Why am I going on and on about this, you might ask? Because some days the COVID-19 crisis can feel like stepping across a dark beach or sitting shivering on a log in the chilly morning air.
It’s uncomfortable, it’s uncertain, and if we had our way, we wouldn’t choose to live like this. Much like how if I had my way, I’d never choose to leave my warm bed in the early morning.
But I truly believe that the dark night of this pandemic crisis will end and the sun will rise. As British Columbia’s provincial health officer, Dr. Bonnie Henry, says, “This is our time to be kind, to be calm, and to be safe.” It’s not easy, but one day we will see a pastel pink glow on the horizon, and things will get better.
For now, we step carefully across the sand, sit as comfortably as we can, and find virtual ways to wrap blankets around our shivering friends.
Stay safe and healthy, dear readers!