Healing is a large task. I am not sure how to begin. Part of it is the times we live in. The current pandemic is a worldwide trauma. I always want to find absolutes, universal threads, that explain hard times and tie tragedies together, so we all understand. But it doesn't work like that. We are all trapped in distinct, intertwined timelines that each fall on its own schedule. And they simultaneously make perfect sense and feel entirely haphazard, like birds dropping seeds. I want the symmetry of a movie, that puts on a sweet soundtrack in the painful moments, so we feel understood.

But it isn't always like that. What alarms me most about my ectopic pregnancy, was not hearing ominous music, while I was resting, waiting to feel better, but unknowingly, actually bleeding to death. Thankfully it didn't get that far. But it would have, had we not intervened. Bless my husband for checking on me and getting me to the emergency room in time.

Life, and nature, is full of spectrums. Most of the time there is nuance. Except when there is not. You take one action: death. Another action: life. In a world of nuance, this reality is shocking. Everything looks different in the face of such.

The same reality is in the face of a pandemic. People wear masks, they take precautions, or they don't. They believe in what has happened or not. But each action has consequences, and one was the life of my uncle Dave. That still just doesn't seem right. That must have been a mistake. But here we are. Thinking of actions taken by public officials. If we had started wearing masks sooner, if people hadn't gone to Trump rallies and Florida spring break, how many more would be alive? I don't know. But I can ponder endlessly the calculation of lives saved or lost, blossoming outward mathematically.

Sometimes the fact of consequences from human actions just freaks me out. I want some form of justice, righteousness or balance, and I don't have that reassurance. The apparent cruel randomness of everyday life can crush my faith. And I'm not Christian, or even monotheistic, but I still have faith.