Chronically Ill During a Pandemic: Will You Still Remember Me on the Other Side? {guest post}

By Heather Legge | Instagram: @heatherand2girls

As a person with serious chronic illness, I’ve been asked how the Coronavirus has affected me. To be honest: not much. These hard circumstances we are facing as a country are sometimes the daily norm for the chronically ill. Even in times when we’re not facing a pandemic, as a whole we tend to struggle with loneliness, isolation, financial insecurity, and more. For many with chronic illness, we’ve had years to come to terms with our circumstances. You haven’t. So I want to encourage you as we continue to live out this (to quote my HR director) “adventurous time.”

A huge percentage of the country is experiencing job loss, financial insecurity, fear, isolation, loneliness, and uncertainty. Feeling lonely, stuck, and unable (or scared) to resume ordinary life is difficult. Your feelings are valid. You may feel anger, sadness, or fear. But you also might feel relieved that you don’t have as many places to go; your to do list is cut short. It’s okay to feel these emotions. And they may change minute to minute, hour to hour, day to day. It’s a new (hopefully not forever) life, and it takes time to get used to.

The pandemic hasn’t been a big disruption to my life, it’s more of an extension of the way things were. Some days I forget about Covid-19 because it’s fairly usual for me to not leave my apartment often. While I experienced anxiety when the virus started to ramp up, it didn’t take long for me to realize my daily life wouldn’t be much different.

I do want to be clear that I have been privileged during this time to keep my job (and work from home) and to have found a bit of financial security (I was approved for disability literally right before life shut down). Chronic illness leading to reduced work and financial problems are sufferings I struggled with for many years and I’m thankful to have some resolution and peace. They are also hardships that didn’t happen overnight, but over an extended period of time. And resolution was over a long period of time too. You may find yourself in your current situation overnight. We all need endurance for our struggles, and this might be the beginning of your struggle.

The answers won’t come quickly. My heart has been incredibly heavy for many people experiencing hardship right now, and the ways I have been able to help in even the tiniest way is to be able to look at my own suffering and see and remember how God provides. Physical healing hasn’t been a reality for me, but God’s provision has looked like peace and acknowledging at the end of each day I had what I needed. What I think I need each day is different from what I have, and that’s also part of the acknowledgment and remembering of God’s provision.

I’ve learned how to sit with my suffering, and this has been especially helpful during shelter in place orders. When I find myself becoming anxious over data and news reports, I retreat to a quiet place and remember that each breath and moment is a gift.

While most of my days are currently unchanged, what is different for me is that I feel more noticed and more like a valued human being. I had become accustomed to being forgotten at times. The pandemic has opened my life up in a new way because I can more easily access activities. For example, there were many Sundays I didn’t go to church because I was in too much pain or was too exhausted, and now I can choose to watch the service online.

I’ve also noticed lately that people in the community have remembered me. There have been times in the past where I’ve laid on my couch, so sick, and unable to cook or get groceries and needed help. Now, because I am considered high-risk for the Coronavirus, there are friends and coworkers who text me when they are going to the grocery store to see what I need. I appreciate this immensely, but I struggle with why we didn’t care so much for each other until now–myself included. I can do a better job at remembering others.

What has become customary in the midst of a pandemic, I hope will be remembered when we emerge on the other side of social distancing. I will remember how my work showed me hospitality and kindness by making sure I was safe at home and how it is possible to have get-togethers remotely. I’ve enjoyed zoom groups. It’s easier for me to commit to a remote meet up when I don’t have much energy. What if in the future our small group in-person gatherings could also include someone calling in from their computer or phone? I’ll remember how people showed me love by making sure I had what I needed. I’ll remember conversations via Facetime, deepening friendships I may have missed out on.

These are difficult times, and more than ever, I have seen people loving one another and people reaching out to those who cannot leave their homes. When life re-opens in stages, let’s continue to love our neighbors. Let’s continue to extend hospitality, maybe in more ways than we thought possible.

About Heather:

Heather Legge is a storyteller at heart with a desire to create a warm place for people who experience loneliness and feelings of isolation during hard circumstances. Sorrow and hope, suffering and joy, grief, and love; all can coexist. Raised in New England, she lives in Virginia with her two middle school aged daughters, two cats, and a hedgehog. Heather has several serious chronic illnesses that have shaped her story and her desire to truly live each small moment. Heather graduated from Wells College in 2001 with a B.A. in Public Policy, concentrating in social policy and bioethics. You can find more from Heather at www.livingthesmallmoments.com and on Instagram @heatherand2girls.

Image by Photo by Tim Mossholder on Unsplash

Revisiting Hospitality After Life Takes a Turn {guest post}

By Heather Legge | Instagram: @heatherand2girls

Hospitality growing up was backyard grilling, a living room full of people eating Christmas cookies after a local community concert, encouraging cards written to friends and family, bowls of popped corn for teenage sleepovers, and a listening ear. It was not unusual for neighborhood kids to be playing in the yard even if we weren’t there, or for a kid to walk in and open the refrigerator for a snack. I truly believed this would be the story of my adult life – partly because I have so many happy memories and partly because it was the example I was given.

In my early years growing up, my mom had an open door. Friends came in and out and all the kids of my parents’ friends were friends. If someone needed help, it was given without hesitation; everyone took care of each other. We moved to New England when I was eight and the houses were a bit more spread apart than the close-knit neighborhood I started life in. Regardless, if someone had a new baby, my mom was there.

If someone came over, the door was open.

When my friends wanted a place to hang out, it was our house. Even in the four years that she battled ovarian cancer, my mom opened her heart and home to others.

I moved south after college and quickly got engaged to be married. The easy-going way of hospitality that I knew was exchanged for china dishes, elegantly casual attire, formal wedding and baby showers, closed doors, unspoken rules, and enormous homes kept pristine by cleaning services. I was in culture shock and my mom had died a couple years before, so I couldn’t ask her if this was some kind of new normal and what was expected of me.

When I became a wife and then a mother, I was so overwhelmed that I rarely invited people over. I was ashamed of my house not being perfect. Even when people dropped off meals after my babies were born, I felt silent judgment for not having it all together. I was also confused because the visits seemed to be for the purpose of holding the babies and not for actually helping. This is not the way my mom did it. If she brought a meal to a new mom or someone who had been sick, she was also washing the sink full of dishes or doing a load of laundry.

I began a small rebellion in my late twenties by hosting college students and purposefully leaving dishes in the sink, piles of clutter lying around, and occasionally some laundry that needed to be folded. This was real life and I was determined to show that it was not about having an impeccable home and well-designed plans. I was going counter-culture and it felt good and right. I reclaimed my dream of my kids getting older and eventually having an open door and yard for their friends and my neighbors. We moved into a small neighborhood with cul-de-sacs and even though there were no kids nearby, I knew they would eventually come.

My home would be the one with the swinging door and coffee on the porch, backyard barbecues, and the sounds of kids playing. But, just as we all find ourselves in situations that were not what we dreamed of, so did I.

Divorce, moving from my neighborhood to an apartment complex, and a difficult illness took away my hopes of an open door and yard. I probably spent too many years grieving this and other losses, but that doesn’t mean that new dreams can’t be imagined.

It’s easy with a chronic illness to become isolated and lonely and to feel forgotten. I am exhausted all the time and my income is impossibly small, both of which make it difficult to go out or to provide for guests. I found myself not making plans to go out in my free time in case I didn’t feel good. I didn’t invite people over for the same reasons. I would sit at home, alone, feeling sorry for myself.

There are definitely times where rest has to be my number one priority, but I also need to revisit hospitality and what it means now.

My new-to-me-life equals new-to-me-ideas about hospitality. It’s more about opening my heart and making places wherever I am, whether at home, a coffee shop, at work, a friend’s house, or out in the community. If I am already going to be somewhere, I can find a way to make it a place of welcome; extend myself as a welcoming person. It’s even possible to do hospitality from afar by writing notes. Who doesn’t love finding a card in the mailbox amidst bills?

My heart softened a couple years ago when I had made plans to get together with another mom at my church. We hadn’t met, but had messaged on Facebook a few times, realizing we had some things in common. We made plans to meet for coffee. On the day we were meeting, I woke up feeling unwell. I texted her and let her know that I didn’t think I’d be able to go out and meet but that she was welcome to come to my apartment. She showed up, and I answered the door still in my pjs.

I welcomed her, handed her a blanket to use while sitting on my couch, and climbed back into my comfy chair under a pile of blankets and a heating pad. I felt like the epitome of a bad host, but I also didn’t want to pass up an opportunity to make a friend and to extend welcome no matter the circumstances. As my new friend got ready to leave, she told me she had never felt more cozy and welcomed than she had that morning, simply because there were absolutely no expectations. She could be completely herself because of how low-key it was. I was astonished. I could do this!

I lovingly refer to this now as “blanket hospitality.” If you come over, make yourself comfortable on my couch with blankets and pillows and conversation. We might have coffee or popsicles. All are welcome, and you will see my piles and messes, but maybe that’s just what we need to do to show others that no one is perfect and that the relationship is far more important than appearances.

About Heather:

Heather Legge is originally from New England, but currently lives in Virginia with her two girls. She tries to make places in her heart for those who are hurting. She loves reading, coffee, and is learning to play the violin. You can follow her on Instagram at @heatherand2girls.

Photo by Victoria Bilsborough on Unsplash

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