Life Interrupted Part 2: Be Still

The sun is setting across the Bay from us, clear and bright and cloudless. We are sitting inside an old wooden hunting lodge, near a fire that we keep stoked for warmth. It’s been just over a week since we last posted and the contrasts between what we left and where we are could not be starker.

It had been an intensely stressful week, watching the pandemic unfold around the world and on our doorstep. I was having difficulty breathing –but nothing to do with any physical illness. So many decisions to make with not enough information too quickly. On our final Sunday in Arusha, we decided to take Sabbath with the kids in ways that we would not be able to for months to come. We went for an early morning swim at Gymkhana, all of us getting some much-needed exercise. Then Paul and the boys did some golf practice with one of the caddies (who washed his hands very well and professionally beforehand). We welcomed a remnant of our Bible study group to meet on our newly-roofed stone patio, at 2 meters apart. Those of us who could come really needed the time of debriefing and prayer. We and another woman were planning to leave (she’d just booked her ticket that afternoon) and the other couple was counting on staying. A few other families were still in town, not yet gone, but worried about leaving home. We struggled to sing some songs of encouragement and faith for this time, and speaking for myself, there were more tears than musical tones. We prayed fervently for the time when we would be able to be together again, reading and studying and singing and praying.

In the evening, we had worship together as a family. I was really encouraged when the kids requested songs for worship, some I hadn’t expected. We read the lectionary scriptures for the week and closed a day that was a needed respite from the tension we’d been dealing with.

Monday and Tuesday included a lot of preparations to leave. We needed to meet with all our colleagues together and discuss a few key issues. There were papers to sign. I took the cat to the vet (a somewhat heroic feat, in and of itself, getting that animal into his travel crate!). I was so incredibly thankful for our neighbor Kay, who was willing to keep an eye on Tramp while we will be gone for this extended period. She will share that task with our housekeeper –it’s better to have two possible people for every task these days. As Paul said, I had been preparing for a long lockdown at home, and so many things needed to be undone and given away. We needed to pack and prepare the house for a very long absence in which anything is possible – people might need to house-sit or find refuge. We were deciding which things we really loved and needed to take with us if we were to be gone longer than we anticipate. I decided that I just couldn’t leave my guitar and my music files, collected over many years. David had some special toys. Oren had about 23 kilos of schoolbooks alone, but also wanted to include a few projects to do when he got to the US.  

On Wednesday morning, Paul and I went back to the office to say a last farewell to Sharon. It was very strange to know we were seeing each other for the last time after working together for nearly three years. No time for a farewell party or a long preparation. It’s even harder for her, leaving Tanzania on such short notice after a five-year term, packing up her life and getting it all into 3 suitcases. We were glad that our Tanzanian colleagues had acquired small solar back up power systems, which will hopefully let them work from home in the likely case of a lockdown. We talked briefly, prayed and departed.

We left home before noon, with our trusty taxi driver Japheth, and had little trouble getting checked in to our flight. We were trying to be very careful, not touching any surfaces before wiping them down, social distancing, etc. But as soon as we got on the flight, we realized how futile it was. The flight to Doha was at least 2/3rds full, and then filled up completely after a stop in Dar to pick up more passengers. We had a few masks, left to us by my cousin Julie when she visited 2 years ago, and I was grateful we could wear these on the flight. We arrived to the crowded Doha airport about midnight, and struggled to find any secluded place where we could spend our 9 hour layover. In the end, we had to settle for an unoccupied aisle of chairs. David crashed out on a blanket on the cold hard floor, and I joined him. Paul and Oren did their best to sleep sitting up in the chairs, when the floor got too uncomfortable. Thankfully, by about 2 am, the airport was much less crowded and we were less worried about breathing other people’s air.

Our first flight was a wonderful 787, but the second flight was completely full and a much more cramped. Again, we wiped down everything around our seats and kept our masks on, but there was always the possibility of touching something or someone as we walked to the restroom or tried to keep moving. There was really nothing to do to make the 14 hour flight more bearable, except to escape to Hollywood. Actually, Paul and I both had the time to finally explore the recent films about Fred Rogers, both the one starring Tom Hanks, and the documentary. We found his approach to life and his transparent goodness really inspiring, a reason to pay attention to the person right in front of us, as someone worthy of respect and love.

Doha airport sculpture

Washington-Dulles airport was as deserted as I’d ever seen it. Health screening amounted to a few questions from the immigration officer. No tests, no thermometers, nothing. This doesn’t really inspire confidence, I must say, but maybe that’s because the USA became the country with the highest number of Covid-19 cases in the world the day we arrived. I guess they realized that travelers were not really the problem at this point.

My parents had gone to heroic lengths to get things ready for our arrival Thursday evening. They drove both their cars down to the airport, and waited for us in the parking lot (so as not to enter the airport). We had a few minutes to talk and share at a distance—it was really hard not to hug each other or have the chance to spend the time driving together back north. But, we were very tired, so we needed to hit the road. And that was another shock. The DC beltway was deserted, and there was little traffic even on I-95. No one was commuting back home from work. No rush hour whatsoever. We made a trip that would normally be 3-4 hours, in less than two hours, to a point an hour north of Baltimore on the northern tip of the Chesapeake Bay.

When I was 8, my parents joined with a number of families from their church to purchase an old hunting lodge and turn it into a small church retreat center, rather than allow it to be developed as condos. Charter Hall has been a place that I’ve always been able to come home to, throughout my life of travels here and there. Recently, it’s been hard to even get a weekday night when we could stay in one of the small cottages, because it is fully booked and rented. But with the coronavirus, all the normal groups using the lodge had to cancel. And so the owners agreed that we could stay in the lodge for the time being.

We found that my parents had been gracious once again in stocking the cupboards and the fridge, making up the beds, providing games, puzzles and sweatshirts. My dad had figured out solutions for internet access. Cousins had shoes and sweatpants ready for David, and a basketball pumped up. We walked in the house, showered and went straight to bed. We woke up the next morning in awe of where we had landed and how well-prepared things were for us.

So, the past few days have been kind of a blur, trying to get through jet lag, keep active, get settled. We’ve gone through a period of intense stress, to a time with few boundaries. We do have work to do, keeping up with our MCC projects, and the kids will start online school in earnest next week. But meanwhile, we’re trying to learn to be still. We are enjoying the marvelous wildlife around us. A red fox calls this point on the Bay home, and we’ve seen him four times. A pair of bald eagles seem to be courting just about the boat dock. We’ve spotted a river otter swimming home, and a black rat snake in the stack of cord wood. We’ve already taken about a dozen walks up and down the farm lane, the best exercise available to us (we really miss our lap-swimming!!!). David is in fishing heaven. Oren is trying to figure out what to do with all the free time.

We’ve had two highlights since we arrived. Yesterday, Sunday, we were able to participate in a worship service with our home church, using Zoom. There were probably 50 households who logged in, each from their living rooms. The pianist played from her home, our pastor preached poignantly about Ezekiel and the dry bones and invited us to write about our fears and hopes in the chat function. My brother’s family offered special music, led by my niece. The worship leader led us to share prayer requests aloud. It was an innovative way to share as a community and to be grounded in power of the resurrection, in this time of fear and separation.

This afternoon, my parents couldn’t resist coming out for a visit, and to bring a few more provisions. We all were very disciplined about maintaining distance, sitting outside to chat for over an hour. All of us were glad to have time to talk with someone else besides the person(s) we are living with full time.

So, tomorrow, we really begin to work in earnest towards a schedule, a routine, making sure that we pay attention to the needful things. Our governor today declared a total lockdown of the state. No non-essential travel, not even after we are finished with quarantine. We are going to be here, on the Bay, probably till the end of April. It’s time to learn to be still and know that God is God.