Day 12: Who do I suffer for?

 Ok, so guys, this vaccine kicked my butt.

Driving home from my appointment, I made a mental list of everything that I still needed to do before symptoms kicked in. Pretty much every report I had read said it would be around 12 hours so I had that long.

I was already feeling like a cold was coming on by the time I got home. I debated making dinner. I took Tylenol. Felt better. Easy Peasy. Tackled a few things on my list. 

Took more Tylenol before bed. Woke up in the morning with a headache and what felt like a bad cold, but I was upright. Almost joyful because given my auto-immune disease and my 2 week struggle with the pnemonia vaccine last December, I felt like I was getting off easy. 

I didn't. I rolled in to full on "flu" mode -- fever, chills, headache, body ache -- all the things. I fell onto the couch in a blanket and peeked at the kids while I rolled around ideas for the blog in my head. I had planned to write posts from the couch... but my body didn't cooperate. So, I just thought a lot about it.

It came to me that this was a very small faith lesson.

I knew I was going to have some amount of suffering -- but I choose it.

Jesus knew he faced large suffering -- but he choose it.

To be honest. I choose to suffer for myself. As much as I knew that the vaccine would make me get sick, I also knew that Covid would likely make me very sick. I was so careful this year. Avoiding everything. Setting up filters in our home. Everytime I got some small cold or sinus infection, I would chastize myself for not being careful enough. I thought about what my children would do if I died. I was ready to put corona behind me. I didn't care if I had to spend a week or two on the couch.

But what if my situation were different? If I knew with certainty that Covid wouldn't be symptomatic if I got it but the vaccine would. Would I still choose the vaccine? Would I choose to get sick to protect others from getting sick?

I thought about stories of people who got Covid and ended up in the hospital or had passed away. I thought about the flag at half mass for the 500,000. This pandemic has been more than inconvenience and lost school. It's been heart-wrenching loss. It's been a reminder of a world full of human suffering.  I felt like if there was a small part I could do to help, I think I would.

I think I would. I almost guarantee to myself that I would.. but I don't know for sure.

There are so few opportunities in life where we are confronted with an opportunity to meaningfully, intentionally suffer in the place of someone else. Most of our self-sacrifice is gradual and the suffering part not too great -- raising children, caregiving for a parent, choosing a career that pays less but does more to help those in need. 

While I was sick, I stumbled across the story of Irena Sendler who smuggled Jewish children out of ghettos during the holocaust and thought about all the amazing people who had the courage to stand up and put their lives on the line during that horrendous period in history. I wondered what would my story be if I had lived in that place at that time? Would I have chosen the brave path?  

I don't have a conclusion for this post that resolves anything. More like an open chord, that makes me feel like the song should continue. 

I am left with a question -- Who will I suffer for and what would I openly choose to endure?

 I don't know the answer, but in this season of Lent, I add the prayer that I will not avert my eyes should suffering happen in front of me. That I will choose to be present in suffering and have courage to do my part of it is ever asked of me.