Bet that’s a headline you haven’t seen. At least not much. Especially not lately.
Okay, I’m not grateful for the virus—but I’m very grateful for its effects. And I mean that. Here’s why: crises and catastrophes—like 9/11, like tornadoes and floods, like the coronavirus sweeping its way across the world—tend to bring out either the very best or the very worst in people.
We’ve all seen the worst. My friend commented that during his trip to WalMart to get a few things, the two women behind him in line had filled their shopping carts with every cold and flu medication in the store. Every single one. Didn’t leave a single package behind for anyone else. You’ve probably seen other examples, chief among them the empty grocery store shelves and the guy trying to sell rolls of toilet paper for $100 each in New York City. Or the guy who bought out all the hand sanitizer in town and planned on selling it at a substantial markup—until he started getting death threats, that is.
But that’s all I’m going to say about the worst in people—the hoarders and the people who threaten them. Because I don’t want to focus on that. I want to focus on the best in people. And I’ve seen that in spades during the last week or two. You probably have too. French surgeon, sociologist, and biologist Alexis Carrel, the Nobel-winning doctor who invented the first perfusion pump that opened the way to organ transplants, wrote, “Hard conditions of life are indispensable to bringing out the best in human personality.” To read more, click the button below.
That’s what we’ve got right now: hard conditions. Indispensable for bringing out the best.
I say it’s time to notice all the good that is all around us right now. And it’s worth it to notice, because as columnist William Arthur Ward wrote, “When we seek to discover the best in others, we somehow bring out the best in ourselves.” After all, as J.R.R. Tolkien wrote in The Hobbit, “There is more in you of good than you know, child of the kindly West. Some courage and some wisdom, blended in measure.”
More people than I could name on my Facebook feed have demonstrated exactly what it means to bring out the best. My friend Jackie in St. George acknowledged the food shortages in stores and invited anyone who needed it to “come ‘shop’ our food rotator racks or choose from our long-term storage for things you might need and can’t get for a while at the store. Don’t hesitate to shout out if you need something.”
And then there was my daughter Jessica. She offered to shop for people who couldn’t go themselves. Then, realizing that her daughter Brooklyn is turning seventeen during the social-distancing-and-no-gatherings-over-ten-people edict, and that Brooklyn wouldn’t be able to have the party she had been looking so forward to, Jessica realized there were probably other children in the same boat. A professional cake baker, she offered free birthday or celebration cakes to other kids.
My friend Daryl, who moved from Texas to Cedar City, found this on her front porch. Sharing the picture, she posted, “I love this town!” (A few days later she sagely posted, “I’m loving experimenting with my long-term food storage, but is it possible to have too many lentil recipes? Testing the concept.”)
I have also been the recipient of what I’ll call random acts of virus survival. On the first day of my physician-ordered quarantine, Jessica brought two cases of my favorite protein shakes and a cluster of bright tulips. My neighbor Maggie brought toilet paper with a card that read, “When ye are prepared, ye shall not fear.” And Jenn, Margaret, and Tracy brought a delicious dinner of lasagna, homemade bread sticks, green salad, and Jenn’s famous chocolate chip cookies. All of these bring to mind what Lewis Howes wrote: “Each day you’re presented with a choice. You can either keep your greatness hidden under a pile of fears, regrets, and excuses, or you can let it out. So the best way to begin unlocking inner greatness is to make a conscious choice to live out the rest of today, with the best you.”
Some have responded with humor, making the burden lighter for all of us. Daryl’s lentil recipe musing is a great example. Here’s another: my friend Stephanie in California wrote, “Well, jeepers. Our county is now under a ‘shelter in place’ order, which basically means don’t leave your house unless it’s necessary. Things are real weird, but don’t even worry: I already bought Reese’s Peanut Butter Eggs. Also, I’m a toilet paper hipster: I stocked up before it was cool.” The next day she posted, “Sheltering in place, Day 1. I have broken into the Reese’s Peanut Butter Eggs. Brian [her husband] took pictures of himself with the cat.”
Even businesses have caught the spirit. At a time when they are losing customers and patrons, many are reaching out with unprecedented acts of generosity. New York’s Metropolitan Opera began offering free digital shows every night. And a dozen famous museums worldwide are offering virtual tours you can take on your couch at home while “sheltering in place.” They include the likes of London’s British Museum, New York’s Guggenheim, the National Gallery of Art in Washington, the Musée d’Orsay in Paris, and the J. Paul Getty Museum in Los Angeles.
It’s here, all around us—the best in spirit. The people who love. My friend Chelsea wrote what I have been feeling but could not have expressed as eloquently: “Life is crazy. We are going through things we never thought we would. Grocery stores are empty while hospitals are filling up. Schools and churches are closed. People are fighting over toilet paper and hand sanitizer. Panic is spreading. It could be very easy to spiral into a manic depression as I quarantine myself. However, I choose to spread the light. I choose to see the good in others. I choose to focus on the good. I choose my family, my friends, my Savior. I choose to be grateful. Whatever happens will happen. But because of these people, I know I’ll be okay.”
My talented friend Margaret Blair Young summed it all up much better than I could. “This I believe: We are never alone,” she wrote. “Even during isolation or self-quarantine, we are divinely encircled. We are surrounded by love and in our best moments, we are able to not only feel but to express it. I suspect that though mortality includes individual experiences, most of what we do is communal, and perhaps the most important thing we do is to identify and transcend tribalism and learn what a godly community comprises. . . . Therefore, in moments of emergency or need, we are invited to resist the urge to hoard and instead to turn to our ‘better angels’ and serve.”
