Saying “Thank You” Isn’t Enough Anymore
As I sat down to write today I noticed an icon on my desktop. It’s been there since early 2020 when wearing face masks, social distancing and remote work was a new reality. The icon was a link to an article in Harvard Magazine by Jacob Sweet entitled The Loneliness Pandemic. In the beginning of this pandemic, the challenge was loneliness and disconnection. A year and a half later some of that remains, but if I were to write a new article, it’d be entitled The I’m Just So Sick of This Pandemic Pandemic!
Earlier this week two long time nurses shared about how difficult it is to be hopeful these days. It feels like they’re being hit with one debacle after another, another COVID surge as a result of another COVID variant, increasing staff shortages due to mandates, exhaustion and resignations, endless conversations with people who will not get vaccinated, including some who are religious colleagues, medical peers or nursing students. They are confused, frustrated, exhausted and more hopeless than they have ever felt in their entire careers as nurses. On top of all that, in Rochester we’ve had a string of violent deaths that just add insult to injury. The heaviness shows in their aching backs even as they trudge courageously on. Saying “thank you” rings hollow after all this time pushing forward. They need something more from us.
Both found themselves going to their spiritual wells to find the energy to keep moving forward. One said, “I have to remind myself that there have been other hard times in our history and people have survived them.” These hard times don’t last forever, even if it feels like there’s no end in sight. Both are Christians, and they talked about how they rely on favorite scripture passages to give them comfort and hope. They look to God’s providence and caring for the world and for them personally. They pray for the community and themselves. Their relationship with God is the only constant they can count on in the midst of so much ongoing chaos. Sharing their sense of despair with one another and with the few others on that Zoom call felt like it brought them some relief. A burden shared is half the burden. Talking about it dispels the loneliness and isolation that suffering in silence can generate. The relief makes room for hope to find a foothold, especially if that hope is shared by someone who gets it with them.
Maybe it’s time for us to step up. Maybe it’s time for the rest of us to listen to the healthcare workers who have been making do for months now, to name their struggle and their sacrifices, help them articulate the pain and frustration. As a community we have relied on them to continue to care for us. Maybe now, it is time for us to be more than grateful. They need to know that we hear them … and respond.
