The year of the virus

Dear son, have a seat. Let me tell you about the great pandemic of 2020.

You’ve read in your history books about COVID-19; or coronavirus as it was colloquially named. You know it began in Wuhan province, China, and that it spread across the globe in weeks. At the time, we believed this pandemic would alter our society forever. Did it? Let me share how it affected our little family.

At first, the impact of the virus wasn’t immediately felt. When Illinois Governor Pritzker signed the executive stay-at-home order, your mom and I were already self-quarantined for Royal’s birth. The uncertainty that plagued me wasn’t about how we might contract the virus or how I’d visit friends, but whether or not I’d keep my job. It turned out my concern was valid - less than two weeks after Royal was born, I was placed on unpaid leave for the next two months.

Although the initial shock of lost income motivated a budgeting scramble, as the weeks wore on it was clear to us that my full availability at home was heaven-sent. I didn’t need to sweat whether our savings could hold out because we were eligible for unemployment, had 40% fewer expenses without school and tithe, and received $2,900 from President Trump’s $2.2 trillion stimulus bill. More remarkably, twice we received unsolicited $1,000 checks in the mail.

I may have spoken on the phone with my younger brother Grant fewer than half a dozen times in my life, but during the virus, he unexpectedly called me to learn about my spiritual journey. This conversation led to another, which led to an invitation to a small group bible study.

Society may have ground to a halt, but disruption is ideal for entrepreneurship. It was in the midst of sheltering-in-place that I registered my freelance technology consulting company. Royal’s godmother, Kati Ray, was instrumental in my first client.

There was a miasma of fear in the air everywhere I traveled in the first month. I felt it when I visited the grocery store or walked by a mask-wearing pedestrian. Without effort, people began to look like potential disease carriers instead of humans. The only people I met who overcame this bias were those who loved Jesus. By week fifteen, however, Evanston began to come alive again. The streets were jammed with cars once more; the beaches and sidewalks flowing with pedestrians. Even park equipment, which from the beginning has been off-limits, began to fill with playing children.

What history paints has yet to be seen, but this was our story of that global pandemic.