For Wilshire Baptist Church
I wasn’t going to write about getting the COVID vaccine because so many other people need it and should get it before me. But I cut in line – just stumbled into it actually – so here I am.
The short story is I volunteered to drive LeAnn to her authorized, scheduled vaccine appointment, and during her preliminary curbside screening, the nurse looked at me through the open car window and asked if I wanted the vaccine too. I don’t know if it was because of my gray hair or the fact that it was late Friday afternoon and maybe they didn’t want to waste any doses at week’s end, but she asked. I told her I wasn’t old enough, but she said they’d take me if I wanted it. I said, “Okay.”
As I’m writing this, I’m still trying to get my parents into a vaccine line somewhere. They should have gone before me and maybe I should have declined as a matter of principle. I can only rationalize it by saying that I will be in better shape now to be around them safely for their sake as well as mine.
Anyway, they gave us clipboards with paperwork, directed us back out to the parking lot where we filled out the forms, and then we walked back and entered the clinic. And that’s when it hit – a wave of emotion that filled my eyes with tears and fogged my glasses. I felt like the only thing preventing me from sobbing was my mask. It wasn’t a feeling of relief; it was a feeling of gratitude. Having walked through all the workers and volunteers outside, and then finding more inside — logging people in, directing them down hallways to rooms and chairs to ultimately get the shot – there was no mistaking all the effort that had gone into this enterprise. I was intensely aware of the longing and hunger that had brought all of these unconnected people to this one location. And then in my mind I could imagine this same scene being played out in locations all around the state, the nation, and in fact the world.
I also was aware of the compliant, almost childlike way that adults my age and older were going where they were told to go and doing what they were asked to do without question. There was a buzz in the air but also a gentle calm as people moved from one piece of the process to the next. Somewhere in those moments I had a flash of memory: standing in line in the hallway of an elementary school on a Sunday after church to receive a little paper cup holding a sugar cube that had been dosed with the polio vaccine. I don’t recall the taste; I just recall the trusting, “follow-the-leader” feeling as I stood in line because it was something important to do.
I don’t know where we were in the timeline of the polio vaccine on that day years ago, but I know the administration of COVID vaccines is not yet organized as well as it should be and will be. Some of that is because it’s all happened so fast; some of it’s because health and government administrators maybe have over-promised their ability to deliver supplies that they don’t yet have; and most certainly some of it is because “we the people” are anxious and rushing the doors like a 6 a.m. Black Friday sale. We all need to step back a little and give the administrators some time and space to get the systems and controls in place.
The church has an important role to play in all of this – from urging members and the community at large to get the vaccine when available, to counseling patience and trust while waiting our turn. We can help each other get to the vaccine when our names and numbers are called; I’ll gladly provide a ride for anyone who wants one, no matter the location. And churches need to open their doors or parking lots to host clinics if their states and counties allow that. Texas is not on board with that yet, but other states are, and many churches are showing the true love of Christ through their gift of hospitality.
The goal in all of this is to stop the illness and death that the virus has brought and to finally come to a day when we can pull off our masks and get back to normal, whatever that means. But we can only do that at the pace that supplies and distribution will allow. While we’re waiting, we can do our part by giving our leaders and our healthcare workers a little space and a whole lot of grace. From what I saw when I cut in line, they’re working really hard and they’re as ready as anyone can be for all of this to be over.