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I wrote this story a few months ago, in May 2020. I am publishing it today as a part of my personal commitment to “Document the Days” of the COVID-19 global pandemic.
May 2020
It was time for our second daily walk.
Since the Spanish government let the kids out of their family arks, my husband and I have been taking regular walks with our 7-year-old, Pierre— several times a day.
It has been glorious and refreshing! It has drastically changed the dynamics in our home. We are so thankful.
Our favorite spot to walk is by the big dog park. The paths are overgrown with weeds, wild flowers, and trees, but it’s where we love to wander.
In the near distance, we can see the high mountain peaks. This space takes us to another world, a place where we can forget—for just a moment.
I was walking with Bernie on a leash, and Pierre was happily riding his bright orange bicycle. We passed through the little park with fountains (still hushed since the beginning of the pandemic) at the end of our road and prepared to walk across the street towards the dog park.
Stop, Look, Listen
Thankfully, we stopped at the cross walk—remembering to stop, look, and listen.
In Spain, most people don’t stop, look, and listen before crossing the street at a pedestrian walk. I don’t know what the police fine is for not heeding to pedestrians, but it must be pretty hefty.
People walking rarely stop. They just barrel out in front of cars and expect that people will abide by the rules and stop to let them safely cross.
Drivers better be vigilant and cautious. If they don’t stop, they can easily run over a mother with her baby in a stroller, a child on a scooter, or a man riding his road bike. I am speaking from experience! We have had many close calls!
Being that I am still very American, I didn’t just cross the street with my 7-year-old on his bike and my dog on his leash. Rather, I followed my instinct and the neural pathways that are deeply paved in my brain.
I stopped. I looked. I listened.
Pierre followed me and did the same.
Thankfully, we did!
A car came barreling through, racing across the pedestrian walk where we patiently stood in the middle of the street.
Shock!
I was shocked! I had never seen that happen in Spain.
My first reaction was anger and irritation with the driver, and I waved my hands in disgust and yelled at him in a strange foreign, incomprehensible mix of English and Spanish. I think I even threw in some Arabic, because that it the foreign language that first comes to surface in the heat of a moment.
He didn’t stop. He didn’t care. He didn’t see. He didn’t notice.
As we crossed the pedestrian walk in disbelief, I rejoiced. My heart was full of gratitude for God’s protection—once again—upon me and my loved ones.
We continued to our “special path” (as we like to call it) to enjoy the shade of the trees and the crooked dirt paths. Those are much more adventurous than the straight and even-paved sidewalks. Boring. Pierre and I like excitement!
Self-Examination
As we wandered through the weeds and wild flowers, I reflected on the incident with the driver.
“Are we becoming selfish in this pandemic?” I asked myself.
I included myself in the question.
It wasn’t a reflection on the man and his selfish actions. It was a reflection on me, on us, on our society as a whole.
Are we becoming more and more ME-centered in this global COVID-19 crisis?
Self-Protection
I have found myself more fearful than ever—afraid of people, scared that me and my family members might become sick, worried about our future, concerned about our finances.
I have become protective of my belongings—my family, my possessions, myself.
I have become self-protective.
My gaze has turned inward, and I don’t like it.
Living and working among marginalized communities, my focus—both personally and professionally—has always been outward focused. I like to serve the hurting, the poor, the broken, the forgotten, the silenced, the unheard, the rejected, the dying.
When this pandemic swept over us, my sight changed. I have found myself looking at my own needs and problems, my own disappointments, my own worries, my own family, my own future, my own everything.
Me, Me, Me
Me, me, me.
I have become selfish in this pandemic. That driver has become selfish in this pandemic.
He no longer saw me, my child, and my dog on the crosswalk. He only saw his life, his car, his destination, his plans, his direction. He only saw what was near him and in front of him. He could no longer see beyond himself, beyond his little world, beyond his vehicle.
He didn’t see us. He didn’t notice us.
What am I no longer seeing? What am I no longer noticing?
How do I change my gaze? How do I turn my eyes away from myself to others? How do I replace my ME-centeredness with OTHER-centeredness?
It’s not going to come naturally—at least not for me.
You Can Have My Respirator!
A few weeks ago, I was challenged by an online, Sunday church service message. The theme was “You Can Have My Respirator.”
It was during the time when many countries were struggling with the needed supply of respirators to meet the demands of those sick and dying of COVID-19 in the hospitals.
Here in Spain, we had simply run out. Germany was fabricating and sending mass amounts of respirators to aid in managing the pandemic that had overpowered the land.
In the message, the pastor addressed our mindset. Did we have a ME-centered mindset or did we have an OTHER-centered mindset?
A ME-centered mindset would be self-protective, self-focused, selfish.
An OTHER-centered mindset would be called to help and protect others, turn our gaze upon others, and put the needs of others before our own.
I was convicted. I confessed that I had become selfish and self-focused during this pandemic.
The pastor challenged us and created a mental scenario for his teaching. If we were sick and dying of the Coronavirus, in the ICU of a hospital, if we needed a respirator and so did the person lying in the bed next to us . . . what we would do if there was only one respirator?
Would we selfishly take the respirator or would we give up our respirator and say, “You can have my respirator.”
I don’t know what I would do in that case. I honestly can’t imagine.
Turn My Gaze
However, I was challenged, challenged to think outside my little world, challenged to look at those around me, challenged to get my eyes off myself and onto those in need.
I’m encouraged and inspired by those around me who are OTHER-centered, who are turning their eyes towards those around them.
—The pastor who challenged us to put the needs of others (a respirator) before our own.
—Two local friends here who help on Saturdays with collecting food at the church’s food bank and distributing it to those in need.
—The family who has “adopted” our Iranian refugee friend, inviting him to live in their home, to share meals with their family, and to work each day on their house project so that he can make some money to send back to his family in his homeland.
—The director of the safe house where I work who gives of her time, her energy, her everything day after day to care for broken, traumatized women who have been rescued off the streets of Spain.
There are so many more I could mention.
Outward Focused
I am inspired and encouraged to look outward.
Today, I’m picking up the phone to call my dear North African friend in the local safe house who is dying of cancer. She doesn’t have anyone near her who can speak her heart language—Arabic. She needs me.
I could do other things right now. I could continue writing this story. I love writing.
I could begin planning dinner for my family. That needs to be done tonight, but that can wait.
I could take another walk. It would be so refreshing to exercise and to breathe some fresh air.
I could sit down on the couch and enjoy watching one of my favorite TV shows.
I could spend some time reflecting on my family’s future, dreaming about what lies around the corner for us “on the other side” of this pandemic.
I could sit down at the dining room table with my husband and continue planning our upcoming move that doesn’t seem likely for quite some time—until the borders open into France for us to retrieve our personal belongings.
I could get out my guitar and play a few fun songs. That always makes me happy.
I could go down and make some oatmeal scotchies—my favorite cookies in the world!
I could do a lot of things—FOR ME.
But, I won’t. I’m going to do something for someone else—FOR OTHERS. I’m going to stop writing this story now and pick up the phone.
My friend needs me. I’m going to fix my gaze on her right now.
I’m sick and tired of being selfish during this pandemic!
—THE CULTURAL STORY-WEAVER
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LET’S WEAVE CULTURES!
Are you feeling more ME-centered or OTHER-centered? Where is your gaze—on yourself or on others? How can you turn your gaze to those in need around you?
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