I’ve been feeling helpless and isolated lately. Helpless to do anything to make a real difference in the face of this overwhelming coronavirus struggle. Isolated not only from family and friends, but from everyone. Even chatting with a stranger sounds novel and inviting. I’m guessing many of you can relate.
In this season, I’ve been asking God to help me know what is mine to do. My wife and I donated to a charity providing help to those impacted by the pandemic, and while that’s incredibly important, it felt somewhat detached and impersonal.
As I sat on the balcony of our apartment for my morning meditation and prayer a few days ago, I noticed a grey mini-van parked across the street. A man lay asleep in the drivers seat, and every square inch of the vehicle was packed with possessions. It didn’t take Sherlock Holmes to deduce he was living in his van.
I felt a variety of emotions – sadness for this man’s situation, frustration at the devastating impact of the virus, guilt over being comfortably nestled in my cozy apartment. Should I do something? What could I do? I wrestled with those questions for awhile, then tried to ignore them. I came back inside but found myself frequently returning to the window. Eventually, he drove away.
When I stepped out on the balcony the next morning, I noticed he was back. Apparently, this was his new spot to park overnight and sleep. As I settled in to pray, once again asking God to show me what is mine to do, I felt like God looked at me with one eyebrow raised saying, “Really? Am I being unclear here?”
Abandoning my normal routine, I went inside and baked some bread (don’t be impressed – it was the “remove the plastic and heat in the oven” kind). I filled a bag with the bread, some protein bars, a bag of Nutter Butters, and an envelope with $20 on which I wrote “Hope this helps.” Donning my face mask, I crossed the street and set the bag on the van’s hood while the man slept.
COVID-19 rages mercilessly on, impacting millions around the globe. My meager efforts that morning did nothing for them. I only helped one person. But afterwards, I felt a little less helpless, and somehow, even though I never even spoke to the man, I felt a little less isolated too. Though we remained separated, I felt a sense of connection to him.
This experience reminded me of a story. A boy walking on the beach found thousands of starfish stranded by the retreating tide and slowly dying in the sun. He began picking them up one at a time and throwing them back in the ocean. A man came along and said, “What’s the point? There are thousands of them. What can you possibly do? No one cares.” The boy simply picked up one more starfish and tossed it in the water, saying, “This one cares.”
You can’t solve the global pandemic. You can’t restore the economy, give everyone their jobs back, or feed the world. No one can do everything, but everyone can do something. Find what is yours to do. Not only will it make a difference in someone’s life, you just may feel little less helpless and isolated too. And you’ll take another step toward Becoming Yourself.
