Pandemic Parables: Gone!

Pandemic Parables: Gone!

Friday May 29th 2020

The large, grey, cuddly bunny holding an enormous bright orange carrot has gone from the window of the gift shop in the hospital where I am working as a Resident  Chaplain until the end of August. 

Gone!

The shop has remained closed since a couple of weeks before Easter. It will probably remain so until the second week of July when I have heard that volunteers will once again be allowed back in the building.

The bunny was there yesterday morning. 

In the afternoon on my return from doing rounds he was gone. 

I stopped in my tracks. 

All the chocolate rabbits were still in place, so were the other decorations frozen in a permanent Easter display. But there was a yawning space on the shelf where the bunny had been. 

Then I saw dark shapes within the store. 

The bunny nappers!

More likely women from the wonderful Hospital Auxiliary Guild who run the shop allowed in for the afternoon to dust. 

“The bunny has gone!” I announced to the other startled Chaplains as I burst into our shared office. 

Uncomprehending looks greeted me. They had never noticed the bunny in the window that seemed daily to slump further and further towards his carrot. I always thought he was bowed down by the daily changes, burdens, and anxieties brought about by this pandemic. A symbol of all that was happening around us. 

I knew how he felt. 

On the outside, I nurtured, listened, laughed, and learned throughout my days at the hospital. Inside I often felt like that drooping bunny.

I checked the next morning. He was still gone. Of course he was! Then I realized I really missed him. I asked myself why was I feeling bereft over a stuffed toy?

One I had no intention of buying. 

I couldn’t formulate an answer. 

Other things were gone also. 

The 24 hour Covid Command Center situated inside the hospital will be disbanded this weekend. It’s supplies of cloth masks, and PPE already distributed to department heads. It’s intense operations no longer needed. 
The Zen Den is no more. The area set aside for exhausted hospital workers to relax and let the tension of being surrounded by the Coronavirus drain away. It’s very presence was an act of understanding and kindness by the hospital’s Service Excellence team who turned their attention during this intense virus season to nurturing the staff. 

I discovered the Zen Den's absence earlier in the week when I had a sudden longing for a dim, comfortable, quiet place to rest for a few minutes after a particularly intense, sorrow-filled patient visit. 

It was no more. Gone. 

With the return to same day surgeries the area has reverted  to being an restorative exercise area for the physiotherapy department. 

Then two days ago I walked into the isolation wing on the third floor to be met by a long straight phalanx of hospital chairs standing to attention against the wall. 

As I turned the corner I saw that there was blue tape across the doors of the rooms where the Covid-19 patients had been. 

Except for a couple of staff members, including the wonderful nurse manager,  the place was deserted. 

“Where is everyone?” I said in shock. 

“The patients have gone to 3B” said the floor secretary.

“We are in the process of deep cleaning. Then a team will come with ultra violet lights to zap the whole place before it returns to being an orthopedic unit.”

“I thought that wasn’t happening until next week?” I said. 

“We had to get it ready,” replied the nurse manager. We were going to have a reopening event but it didn’t work out.” 

The isolation wing has gone. 

Sliding into non existence. Just like that. 

I trotted off to 3B to see how they were coping.

Two nurses were coming out of different virus patients rooms. 

“These patients are really sick," said one. “We do what we can. We are all still learning about this disease. The protocols are changing daily.”

I sensed her nervousness mixed with compassion. 

“It’s a big challenge but we are hanging in there together. That’s all we can do,” said the other. 

This area’s Coronavirus curve has just begun. 

As I went back down to our office I passed the gift shop and saw the Volunteer Shop Manager inside its still locked doors. I waved at her. She smiled a large welcoming smile. She was clutching a stuffed monkey. 

Through a crack in the door I said:

“What happened to the bunny? The one in the window?”

“I didn’t know it was gone,” she replied. “I’ve just arrived. I’ll find out for you though.”

“Thank you” I said, pausing, wondering if I should continue. Wondering if she’d think

I was an idiot. I took a risk. 

“For some reason he seemed to sum up all the difficulties of the last weeks,” I said. “All the Feast Days and celebrations we’ve been missing. All the stress and tension. I wanted to make sure he’d gone to a good home.”

She nodded. Kindness and understanding in her eyes. I hope she has many grandchildren. She will be such a safe place for them. 

“I’ll find out for you,” she said, stroking the stuffed monkey in her arms. And I knew she would. 

I took my ridiculous self off, relieved. Silently laughing at my folly. 

Why was I so emotional about a missing bunny? 

An AWOL stuffed toy who had made a bid for freedom after being cooped up for far too long?

Then I realized his escape was very biblical. In the church calendar this Sunday is Pentecost, the official end of the Easter season. 

Easter bunnies can’t hang around after Easter. 

I recalled that years ago, on the first Pentecost, the disciples were hiding in the Upper Room absolutely terrified of the Roman terror that lurked outside their doors. Suddenly there was a sound like a mighty rushing wind, they saw tongues of fire flit over each other’s heads, and they were filled with courage and zeal. The Holy Spirit had arrived with glorious drama. And they plunged out those locked doors into a whole new chapter of their lives   

So too with us. (Perhaps without the plunging!)

Many of us have been hiding inside in a comforting small world while evil prowls on the outside. However things are slowly opening up and we will have to leave the safe cocoon that we have woven around ourselves in these Coronavirus days. 

There has been sorrow at the missed Feasts, festivals, celebrations, paychecks, and empty grocery store shelves, yes. But refuge and perhaps even comfort tinged with quiet joy in the enjoyment of newly established gentler routines, close relationships, common purpose, safety. 

All of those things, the bad - but also the very good - will be put behind us as we slowly re-emerge, back into our former lives. 

Back to the familiar, but that will somehow have changed. Because we have changed. 

I realized that this was why I was so unsettled by the disappearing bunny. His absence highlighted that while the old had gone the new was yet to arrive. 

May we all have the strength and grace to let go of that which is not part of this coming season. And patience to wait for the new to unfold. 

May we too be filled with the Spirit so that at the right time we may go forth with new purpose, grace, and conviction. 

The bunny has gone. 

The shop window, eventually, will have a new display. 

The store will be open. 

The future will unfold. 

May it be good, and sweet, and fulfilling. And overflowing with love. 

Amen.