Quarantine journals: April 5

312,245 cases

8,503 deaths

15,021 recovered

*****

I remember

the Sunday school teacher handing out branches,

thick, green leaves rustling like crinoline as we

held back our glee about going to Big Church and

singing and waving for the grown ups

HOSANNA!

How long ago this was, how long ago it seems

we went to church at all.

How hard to find a way to praise this day

when the worst is coming.

Is this how Jesus felt inside as the palm branches waved

in Jerusalem? He knew

His doom awaited.

But still He rode.

Because He also knew the way the story ends.

And so we sing

hosanna

in small voices that tremble.

hosanna.

hosanna.

hosanna.

“So they took branches of palm trees and went out to meet him, crying out, “Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord, even the King of Israel!””
‭‭John‬ ‭12:13‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Quarantine journals: April 2

242,182 diagnosed.

5,850 dead.

8,991 recovered.

*****

I’m really thankful

today

for friends who have more faith than i

who post truths my head knows full

well, but my heart

falters.

Just sharing one of those

today.

Waymaker. That’s what we sing.

Even when sorrows like

sea billows

roll.

“…for God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control.”
‭‭2 Timothy‬ ‭1:7‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Quarantine journals: March 31

184,183 diagnosed.

3,721 deaths (more than 9-11).

6,043 recovered.

*****

A calm hovers over the panic.

Do you feel it?

People helping people.

People cheering us on.

Several local Sunday small groups made signs for us nurses, signs saying we are brave and strong and heroes, and when we came to work Monday morning they were hanging all over the walls to welcome us when we arrived.

I’ve never thought of myself as a hero.

Just a nurse.

When I think about heroes I think of Band of Brothers or 911 first responders, Frodo or Batman, or Ryan White or Ruby Bridges.

Not me.

But I will say

all my best friends who are

nurses are heroes to me.

The ones who pick up shifts even when they’re

scared;

the managers who encourage anxiety-ridden staff and build their teams even

stronger in the midst

of chaos. The ones who are in the ERs and ICUs who wear

body fluids like regular old daily accessories

and think

nothing of it. Even now.

They are the heroes. Always

have been. Always

will be.

I guess I am one of them too. Twenty-seven years under my belt. But the title still seems

reserved for them, my comrades,

my beloved friends

in the trenches

with me.

With each other.

Always.

So bring on the signs and hero-calling and late night mask-sewing-sessions. None of us

are good

at taking compliments. But I can tell you

your encouragement matters.

The battle is unforgiving, unrelenting, unimaginable, and unreal.

Keep telling nurses

they are heroes.

If you say it enough we just may

believe it.