TS Eliot began a poem saying April is the cruelest month. Sometimes I think it’s May. We get teased with the heat and sun of summer and reminded of winter with snow mixed in the cold rain.
We want to be out in the parks and beaches and swimming pools, yet for half the days most years we experience rain and 40 degrees F.
And our souls become restless, yearning for the pace of summer.
To add to the restlessness, most of us are 60 days (or even more) of some type of stay-at-home order.
The books that teach us discipleship all extol the virtue of patience. But living through trying times when you are so close to the end, but not quite there, pushes our tolerance for patience to the limit.
Still, we’re not the first humans in history to live through one of these. Just humans with no one around with experience living through one this widespread. I remember stories from my grandfather of 1918. But I never imagined it happening to me.
It did.
We always recover and life goes on. And my grandchildren will tell their grandchildren about life when a virus with no known cure sweeps around the globe.
The only response we can make is search for the presence of God and maintain our daily routines. And wash our hands.
Faith Venture 
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