If, however, boredom is our principal complaint, we certainly can't claim to be suffering. I hate to admit it, but I've even grumbled about the inability to get a haircut. But for most of us, to encounter true suffering we must look beyond the walls of our homes. Millions of Americans have lost jobs and, as they wait for government assitance, are unable to make ends meet. Hundreds of thousands of small businesses, the true engines of our economy, have shut down and their owners worry about their ability to restart once things improve. Of course, thousands of Americans have contracted this nasty illness, COVID-19, and far too many have died as a result. I'm not downplaying the effects of their deaths on their families, because the death of a loved one, especially when that death comes suddenly and unexpectedly, is always tragic. But by focusing so much attention on the virus and its immediate effects, we can lose sight of the tragedies and suffering that have continued unabated and are experienced by so many more.
According to the latest revision of the virus' predictive model, our nation can expect 60,000 deaths as a direct result of this virus. But sometimes it's useful to put such huge numbers into proper perspective. For example, nearly 50,000 Americans will commit suicide this year. And an even greater number will die from drug overdoses. Close to 40,000 Americans will die in automobile accidents. And hundreds of thousands will die from the effects of cancer.
Donna was the manager of the Wildwood Soup Kitchen and, like all soup kitchen workers, she was an unpaid volunteer. Diane and I have volunteered there for over 16 years, but while we worked every Thursday, Donna was there almost daily, doing whatever had to be done to keep the kitchen functioning at full speed. She not only worked tirelessly for the good of others, but she did so with a smile. Indeed, it's hard to recall Donna's face without that beautiful, disarming smile. So often I'd approach her all grumpy about some petty irritant, and Donna would just nod understandingly and flash that wonderful smile, as if to say, "It's really not that big a deal, Dana. In an hour's time you'll have forgotten all about it." Of course she was right. She had a way of bringing me back to reality -- to the reality of God's love.
As you might expect, Donna was a woman of deep faith. I was made very aware of this last year at a special Mass and healing service celebrated at our parish. I had been asked to preach and because of Donna's illness, Diane and I invited her and her husband, Vic, to attend. Both are active Christians, but neither Donna nor Vic are Catholic. But as she said to me later, "Healing is healing. We all seek it and God offers it." Diane and I met with them during the healing service and the four of us experienced God's loving Presence as we prayed for His will to be done in the shared life of this wonderful couple.
Interestingly, Donna and I had another connection. Some years ago, when she first joined the soup kitchen, someone told her of my past life as a Navy helicopter pilot who had been involved in the recovery of Apollo astronauts. She asked me if I knew Glen Slider, her brother-in-law. I couldn't believe it! Back in 1970 Glen was a Navy Chief Petty Officer in our helicopter squadron, HS-4. He was also the first crewman of the primary recovery helicopter for the Apollo 13 recovery operation. I happened to be the co-pilot of that same helicopter. This was truly one of those remarkable "small world" situations that remind us of how interconnected we all are.
On Tuesday our loving God called Donna to Himself. He took her from the anxiety, the pain, and the cares of this life and carried her to the glory of eternal life. When I think about her now, in my mind's eye I see her resting in God's loving embrace. And that smile? Yes, it's even brighter, inviting us to set aside our sadness and remember to share God's love with all His people, especially with those in greatest need.
In a paradoxical, but very real sense, Donna's death has lifted me up. It has freed me from worry about this pandemic and reminded me that the rest of the world hasn't been put on hold. Donna knew that life continues as it always has and we are still called to do God's work in our troubled world.
In the words of the "Song of Farewell," so often sung at the end of our Catholic funeral liturgies:
May the choirs of angels come to meet you;
May they speed you to paradise.
May the Lord enfold you in His mercy;
May you find eternal life.Rest in Peace, Donna.
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...and for those who might be interested. Here's a link to a video of my homily at that Mass and healing service last year:
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