He is tired. Exhausted, really. It’s not enough that he is having to deal with this pandemic that has already killed so many and will certainly claim many more before it is finally defeated.That effort alone would wear out the strongest individual. But suddenly he’s apparently responsible for catering services, too. At the conference today, attended by thousands, his team found out at the last minute that the venue was not planning to provide food. So he’s a physician, a public speaker, and now also a food service director. Of the three, its hard to say which hat fits least comfortably. A man of many talents, he can do all these things, but some seem to have more immediate impact, to be more immediately successful. Take the food service effort, for example. He’s satisfied that everyone ate; no one left hungry. That’s a success, right? And there’s no doubt he’s a successful physician. He’s dealt with many cases other doctors, and even specialists, had long since given up on. But the public speaking thing? That’s a bit more problematic.
He’s a good speaker, that’s not the issue. He’s an expert in his field, and he speaks with a calm, clear, conviction that conveys an absolute mastery of his subject. The problem is so many in his audiences don’t want to hear what he has to say. He’s tried to educate them about the disease, its projections, its expected outcomes. He’s explained over and over about the need to practice self-care, to follow the guidelines laid out by the highest authority in the field. He’s done his best to explain the reasons behind the admonition and warnings. But sometimes . . . well, sometimes it just seems people don’t want to hear what he has to say. He can’t decide if their recalcitrance comes from true, deep-seated, conviction, or just from a dislike of being told what to do. In the end, it doesn’t matter, he knows. Sincere error is still error, and the results are just as catastrophic.
Today, at this conference, it was more of the same. Everyone praised him for his good work with the food, but no one really seemed to appreciate his message. It was as if they would be perfectly happy if he opened a full-time catering business instead of doing what he was called and trained to do. Even his team was having a hard time really understanding the seriousness of the pandemic he was trying to combat. What’s that old saw about good help being hard to find? Or doing something yourself if you want it done right?
So, finally, he just sent his team off on their own, shook as many hands as he could, said his goodbyes, and slipped away into the night. To come up here. Alone. Practicing what he preached, really. Self-isolation? Here it is, in spades. Honestly, even surrounded by the crowds and his team, he often felt isolated and alone. But out here, up here, in the hills, under a clear, star-filled, night sky, he is truly apart, no human companionship within the sound of his shouted voice. Up here he could rest. Who wouldn’t want to self-isolate? To be alone in a place like this?
He’s also practiced social distancing, just as he’s told his team to do, just as he’s lectured attendees at his gatherings to do. Once, one of his team members had to be strongly reminded of the importance of social distancing—and of keeping focused on the mission. Social distancing and self-isolation—key elements in the fight against the pandemic. Avoiding those who would transmit the disease—knowingly or unknowingly—is the first step in the process of self-care and self-protection.
Of course, now that he is here, in these hills alone, he has a wonderful opportunity to take advantage of the solitude. The crowds, the duties, the demands of his position—they all make it very difficult, impossible even, to stay connected to his father. But up here, in solitude and surrounded by quietness, he has a chance to reconnect with family. There’s a storm blowing in from across the lake. He can feel it in the gentle, rising, wind. It will likely be a fierce storm, and he can see that in the near future he’s going to put on yet another hat—Coast Guard Search and Rescue, but for now its just the whisper of a possibility. Right now, he is where he wants to be. Alone. Self-isolated. Socially-distanced. Undistracted by the cares of the world below, he can think about his father. He needs to talk to him. So he does. He collapses on the ground, lays his weary head on his arms, soaks up the stillness of the night and, eyes closed in prayer, makes the call.
