As night arrived in St. Louis, I started to feel sick. Unpacking was already difficult, but doing it sick was even worse. At the start of my new journey—graduate school—I came down with the sickness that was taking people out all over the world. I thought I couldn’t get Covid because I was vaccinated, but I got it the week I moved into my new apartment. But, by the grace of God, what I caught didn’t kill me.
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When I first moved in, I had boxes upon boxes, and it felt overwhelming. As someone with a type A personality, I wanted everything to be done. But I was encouraged to take it slow. And being sick made slow my only option.
I unpacked my boxes day by day, and it was encouraging to see what once felt insurmountable slowly being cleared from my living room. Rather than focusing on everything that I had left to pack, I encouraged myself to look at it from the perspective of all that I had cleared away and how little it was compared to yesterday. Rather than, “I have so many boxes left to unpack,” I thought about it as “I have made so much progress from the day before. Now I can see more of my floor!”
As I continued to slowly unpack, I noticed that I was getting sicker. I moved in Tuesday night, August 17th. And on Wednesday and Thursday I had a sore, dry throat and a bit of a cough. I even had a runny nose. I thought it was the usual cold, so I drank lots of honey-lemon-ginger tea and sucked on cough drops (shoutout to my cohort mate for kindly dropping them off). I spoke with a friend on Saturday and told her about how I had been feeling, and she asked if I had been tested. It didn’t cross my mind to get tested since I was fully vaccinated. But when I told her that I had been exposed to someone who had tested positive earlier that week, she encouraged me to get tested even more.
I was afraid that if I got tested, I would receive a positive result. But reality was not going anywhere and I needed to be responsible and exercise my faith in these circumstances. I grew up with the mentality that, “unless something is really bad, don’t talk about it or get checked out” because “what you don’t know can’t hurt you.” Nevertheless, my friend urged me to consider the risk that having Covid could endanger those around me—even if they were also vaccinated. So, putting my big girl pants on, I called nearby testing centers that Saturday night, and I found a location that would test me the next morning. This was not in my plans at all. I really could have ignored the possibility of having Covid, but I chose to get tested because someone reminded me that there is power in truth.
I woke up at 6 AM on Sunday morning to register for a line at the urgent care. Luckily, I was third in line for the test. So I got tested and, as I sat in the waiting room, I remember praying, “Lord please don’t let me have Covid, but even if I do, I trust you. I pray the test is true, whether it be positive or negative.” Then the doctor walked in and said, “you have COVID.” And I thought, “wow, what are the odds? God must have a purpose for this.” And He did.
After getting that news, I was told to quarantine until the following Sunday (August 28th) and my classes started Monday, August 30th. I was thankful that I would be free before classes began, yet I was bummed that I’d miss my in-person orientation. I’m a huge fan of social events and free food (I love food). So, catching Covid at that time felt like the absolute worst timing. However, what felt like the worst situations actually turned out to be pretty ideal. Let me explain.
Similar to my approach to unpacking, I looked at the week of quarantine as an opportunity to focus on the emails I needed to send, classes I needed to pick, and readings that I needed to finish before the first week. Since my default is to be on the go and socialize, quarantine was a blessing in disguise.
Dr. Dharius Daniels, one of my favorite pastors, once said that “faith isn’t avoiding reality, but acknowledging reality and believing that it will change.” And that’s exactly what I needed to do. The reality was that I had Covid, but I had faith that I would regain my strength and still have opportunities to meet the people in my program. And I did.
Healing did not occur overnight, as I may have hoped, but day by day, as I continued to pray, God healed me and I got stronger. More importantly, Covid didn’t kill me. My therapist reminded me that it was a miracle I didn’t die. Many of those who contract the virus either die or remain hospitalized for a long time, yet by God’s grace that wasn’t my experience. The experience taught me that my life is truly in God’s hands and that He has a purpose for me. For instance, God’s faithfulness was not merely the absence of the virus, but His presence and healing in the presence of the sickness.
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In this life, we will go through challenges and tribulations. And oftentimes, it can feel like the trial is evidence that God is not with us. But both His presence and help in the trial is what allows us to endure it. Isaiah 43:1 NLT says, “When you go through deep waters, I will be with you. When you go through rivers of difficulty, you will not drown. When you walk through the fire of oppression, you will not be burned up; the flames will not consume you.”
Though Covid caught me, it could not kill me because the Great I Am was with me. The Lord is my healer, my strength and the reason I am still alive today. He’s got us y’all and He’ll be with us forever.
How is God supporting you despite the difficulties you face?
Writing Song: He Always Provides by One House Worship ft. Chandler Moore (love his worship!)
WhollyRebecca 