Our Best Shot

I have faith that I will be taken care of.

There are plenty of things that we put our faith in.  Key right now should be science.  Study a bug, research it, try to conquer it.  And science has been doing a rather gangbusters job the last year.  I think it is a miracle that people have been able to come up with a vaccine for a disease that did not exist in the last decade.  (Why we cannot cure the common cold or AIDS; that escapes me.  But one miracle at a time.)

Yes, miracle.  I believe in things unseen.  In the winter of 2019-2020, I had all of my needs met.  If I had not undergone a significant change, I would have probably spent much of 2020 stressing and job searching.  Instead, I made out fine.  I have been blessed and helped in ways that I can only attribute to God.  If nothing else, last year gave me proof that I will be taken care of.

Which is it?  Do we have faith in science or faith in God?  My faith is always going to be in God.  I am with Einstein.  Science is the study of God’s works.  Science can be a tool that God uses. 

I spent too much time being caught up in the Big Bang vs. God vs. Evolution vs. How Old is the Earth -drama.  I eventually found a stance that made sense to me.  If God wants to use an explosion billions of years ago, who am I to argue?  If God wants to make monkeys and then make man, who am I to give a crap?  I was not there.  I cannot create universes or lives myself.  I do not see science and God as mutually exclusive.  God can use science, or anything else He chooses, however God wants.

I am biased by my family.  We breed pastors.  We like God, love God, and try to obey God.

At the same time, we are science buffs.  Even when that seems to rub people the wrong way, we trust in God and pursue science.  My dad was once told that he would have to choose between theology and a career in science.  He almost spent part of his career at Los Alamos.  He spent decades in labs.  One of his laboratory friends was working on protein treatments that would later help presidents recover from Covid. He participated in, and later judged, science fairs.  All the while he was going to church and listening to God.  My mom was a nurse.  She cared for people in and out of church.  She has used both needles that inject chemicals and needles that sew quilts to help others.

I have faith that I will be taken care of.  My bosses are doing their best to get their employees immunized.  They have made their proclamations to government officials, written open letters; the head honchos want their staff poked in the arm.  As soon as possible, I will get my vaccine.

I am eager, but I am not anxious.  My body has shown no signs of shutting down in the last year.  I have a rather healthy immune system and a pretty boring medical file.  I am not high-risk.  Let others go first.  I have faith that I will be taken care of.

Photo from Wikipedia

What if I do not get the shot?  What if everybody else in the world needs it more than I do?  Then I will keep wearing a mask.  (This two-mask approach is murder on my ears. But if that is what it takes, so be it.)  Thus far it has worked.  No one has come up and spat in my face.  I have no phantom smells or chest pains.  All is well.

“Okay, but what if you do get Covid?”  I want to believe that it would not be too big a deal.  A flu on steroids, if you will.  (Later treated with steroids, possibly.)  I might take a hit, I would be reimbursed by my time thanks to my bosses, and I would come back from it.  I have faith that I will be taken care of.

“Sure, we all want to believe that.  But some folks with no previous quirks get hit hard.  What if you end up on a respirator?  What if you go down for the count?”

I… want to have faith that I will be taken care of.  I confess, that one causes me concern.  Being in a hospital would be a great stressor.  I do not do well when I cannot walk about.  I had a dizzy spell a few years ago and I never knew I could be that anxious.  I was kept sane by having family in town and a cat I could squeeze. 

Honestly, being on a respirator, having a tube down my throat, not being to move, being confined to a bed; that scenario causes me concern.  Scares me.  Which, let me tell you, is strong motivation for me to keep wearing a mask.  That is the alpha-level, ultimate, “Why God, why?!?!?!” -ending. 

There are plenty other uber-threats that could threaten my life.  There could be an earthquake and the three floors of apartments above mine might collapse and squish me dead.  My bus driver could decide that enough is enough and drive off the freeway bridge and plummet us hundreds of feet into the lake below.  (And I cannot swim.  So bye, y’all.)  A rabid lemur could escape from the zoo, bite me, and infect me with some sort of flesh-eating bacteria.  If I spent every second of every day worrying about the “coulds”, I would never get anything done.

I am going to do my best.  I am going to give people space and wear my mask(s).  And if I do get it?  If I get hit hard?  Then I will try to trust in God.

There is no promise that my life will be perfect.  I have found that the 80’s family sitcoms that I was raised on misled me.  Covid may kick down my door and hold me hostage.  (Which, admittedly, would make for a unique DreamWorks movie.  “Plague Party: Where the Hilarity is Contagious!”)

God said He would take care of us.  God did not say that we would never get sick.  If we could not die, then we would be immortal.  You think we are overpopulated now… Oy.  We all die sometime.  And if Covid is what does me in, it does not mean that God loves me any less. 

I do not have faith that I will get everything I ever wanted; that I will never need to visit a doctor or pharmacy.  I do not have faith that my life will be trouble-free.  I do not have faith that I am immune to everything going on around me.  But I do have faith in God.  Because of that, I have faith that I will be taken care of.

About Cosand

He's a simple enough fellow. He likes movies, comics, radio shows from the 40's, and books. He likes to write and wishes his cat wouldn't shed on his laptop.
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1 Response to Our Best Shot

  1. Pingback: Fear of (Being In) The Dark | …Of Course, this Could All Go Horribly Awry

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