I mourn no more my vanished years:
Beneath a tender rain,
An April rain of smiles and tears,
My heart is young again.
The west-winds blow, and, singing low,
I hear the glad streams run;
The windows of my soul I throw
Wide open to the sun.
No longer forward nor behind
I look in hope or fear;
But, grateful, take the good I find,
The best of now and here.
~ John Greenleaf Whittier
(My Psalm)
We now have 63 confirmed cases of COVID-19 in our town. I cannot find statistics on the number of deaths, except by county. For my own future reference, our county (New London) has 498 confirmed cases and 31 deaths.
One model mentioned on NPR thinks June 9 would be a safe date to ease social distancing in Connecticut. Somehow, with these numbers still rising, I don’t think I will be ready to leave my bubble by then.
The joyful poem is a juxtaposition of the horrid news of how many Covid cases are in your town. Our county – Middlesex in Massachusetts – has many more. I stopped reading the numbers because it can produce anxiety, as well as deep sadness for those who have the disease.
But Whittier leaves us with hope for the future.
Life is such a bittersweet mixture of joy and loss. It’s interesting that knowing the numbers produces anxiety in some people, but for others of us it has the opposite effect. For me, the numbers are a realistic picture which keeps my imagination from running wild and panicking. I like to know what I’m up against and how best to proceed. Perhaps that’s the “scientist” in my DNA. But I do understand why others feel differently.
May we all, in our own ways, be ‘grateful, take the good we find, the best of now and here.’
🙏❤️