Locked doors at Langhorne Presbyterian Church, Spring, 2020

For the past six or seven weeks, we have read and heard many retrospectives on the events of three years ago when the coronavirus began to spread around the world. As I look back, this second week in March was the week the reality of a pandemic left the headlines and became real in my world. 

At church, we had worshiped as usual on Sunday March 8 and, in response to the news of a spreading virus, had modified our mid-week program on March 12, canceling dinner but holding classes and choir practices as usual. But by Sunday, March 15, the church doors had been locked and worship and all other activities cancelled until further notice – we thought it might be a couple of weeks; you remember, to flatten the curve and all that.

As I think back three years, though, it is not the politics of masks and vaccinations and lockdowns that I most remember, or want to remember.

Yes, I received a nasty email – but just one – about ours not being the first church in the community to announce cancellations. My correspondent was sure that I wished the death of many. There were some strange forwards about sure ways to avoid the plague and dire warnings about martial law and the toilet paper cartel.

Going back through my email file, though, I am impressed again with the wisdom, care, and kindness of elders and health care professionals in the congregation who helped us make decisions and fashion our responses and policies. I am struck by the faithfulness of church members who expressed hope and confidence through our Lockdown Devotionals (a particularly good example), and who created protocols and procedures to reach out to lonely members of the congregation and to keep our food pantry open and available to the community.

The church’s programs had been canceled, but in many ways my work increased as we mastered the learning curve for Zoom session meetings and Bible studies, as I polished my YouTube skills and delivered sermons to a camera in an empty room.

At home Becky quickly figured out the best where and when of grocery shopping, and we rarely missed an essential item, though she had to work around some missing non-essentials. Okay, truth be told: early on and in response to the machinations of the above mentioned toilet paper cartel, I “borrowed” some TP from the custodian’s closet at the church. LPC, I owe you six rolls.

Because I had no meetings to attend and visitations at hospital and home were not allowed, I walked to work every day, the streets strangely empty and the world wonderfully quiet. Becky often walked to meet me for the walk home in the afternoon, a good and sustaining memory.

And, yes, we were in the process of planning retirement and a move to Indiana. Fortunately, Indiana was less locked down than Pennsylvania, and construction of our new house continued without pause. Unfortunately, Pennsylvania was as locked down as Pennsylvania, and showing homes for sale and meetings to close escrow were strictly forbidden.

In time, the ban on selling houses was lifted and ours sold quickly. The congregation did not go back to in-person worship until after our departure for Indiana, and our goodbyes, those that were made, were socially distanced and done via an odd drive-by reception in the church parking lot.

There was more than just an adjustment to new realities and calming of real or often imagined fears, however. On April 4, the day before Palm Sunday, death visited our congregation. Covid took its first toll and it was particularly hard, certainly on the family but also the friends of the one who died.  He was a good and faithful servant of Christ.

The pandemic was real and the virus a tool of death defeated but still strong as it seeks revenge for Easter’s victory. If our memories are filtered through politics alone, we will forget much of what we must remember, for we must remember the fear we felt and the reality of God’s promises kept.

Three years ago this week, we entered that spring of locked doors. I want to remember it rightly.

These are some of my memories from three years ago. What are yours?  I would love to hear. You may use the contact form on the top toolbar.