Dear God,

When I think of Your posture during this crisis, I imagine that You are in a seated position. 

You are sitting with those who are dying, hooked up to ventilators in ICU units. You are bedside, sitting with, watching over, holding the hands of the dying. 

You are sitting with those who are sitting at home alone, keeping them company, sharing a meal. You have no need to be afraid of sitting close.

You are sitting with those who long to be celebrated by, and with, friends who must stay away because of social distancing. You are sitting with those with birthdays, baby showers, graduations, final sports seasons, retirement parties, and especially weddings. You are the most desirable guest of all, and You are present. You are sitting, clapping and cheering in celebration.

You are sitting with the doctors and nurses in their break rooms when they get a few minutes away from their grueling labor to check in with their families. You are sitting at the nurses’ stations and in the work rooms of the exhausted doctors who are doing their best to keep up with charts and notations.

You are sitting across the desks of the pastors or priests who long to bring comfort to their flocks but actually just need to be comforted themselves. You are sitting in all the empty churches on Sunday mornings now, filling the absences with Your presence.

You are sitting with those who are sitting with babies who won’t sleep. You are keeping so very quiet.

You are sitting in our makeshift homeschool rooms, laughing a little at how sincerely we’re trying to make this work. You are rooting for us and also for our kids.

You are sitting at our desks and coffee tables and bedrooms-turned-office spaces as we Zoom and FaceTime and try to stay connected. You are sitting at our islands as we cook. You are sitting on the floor playing Plus-Plus with our children.

You are sitting in the shopping cart at Aldi where the babies and the toddlers used to sit when no one thought twice about bringing their kids to the store with them. You are aware of who needs what and who is going without. And You are still sitting there patiently, beside us, as we wait in long lines to check out.

You are sitting at our dining room tables with us as we have family dinner for the seventh night this week. Your ears perk up as You hear us name the things we are thankful for today.

You are sitting couchside as we forget our worries for an hour with Netflix or with a good book. You’re close.

You are sitting with those in AA who need to be sitting in a real circle, face to face. You are sitting with those who need a haircut or who need their grays colored. You are sitting with those whose surgeries have been postponed. You are sitting with the teenagers waiting to be rescheduled to get their braces off. You are sitting with those who are missing their therapy appointments. You are sitting with those whose study abroad semesters were cut short, whose mission trips have been cancelled, whose weeks of camp are already called off. You see and You know.

You are sitting with those in prison, who were already having to sit too much. You are sitting with every person who is stuck.

You are sitting with those who feel afraid, and sometimes You say nothing. But sometimes You whisper, Fear not. I have overcome the world.

You are sitting with those who are hungry, and You, the Creator of bread and of life itself, wonder which of your children with food or money to share will remember to find the hungry ones You are sitting with and feed them. You anticipate the joy to come to both the giver and the receiver.

You are sitting with those who don’t know how to move forward, who don’t know what to do with their time out of work, who wish to be productive but can’t imagine weeks or months of no work to do. You are sitting with them and showing them what it looks like just to sit for a while.

You are sitting with each one of us. You’re sitting close if we need closeness, or across the room if we need space. You’re not in a hurry. You’re not going anywhere. You’re giving us attention. You’re not making any promises, except to say I’m sitting here.

Love,
Ginger