I did.
And they could.
My mom was in Seattle visiting her aunt and uncle when news of the shooting came in. And the nation stood still. Glued to their TVs with nonstop coverage on every network, they waited impatiently for more information. Was the president alive or dead? Who shot him? Was anyone else hurt? They waited. Day by day, piece by piece, the story unfolded.
It seems in every generation, a defining moment like this pierces our lives and our souls, and no, we never forget. I thought mine was September 11, 2001, as I sat in my bedroom in Mt. Vernon, Washington, propped up with pillows, nursing my one-year-old son, my other four children already at school. Gerald came in and told me, "A plane just hit one of the Twin Towers in New York City." He grabbed the remote and turned on the TV in the bedroom just in time for us to watch the second tower attack. This was no accident. Once again, the nation stood still. Day by day, piece by piece, the story unfolded.
Today, we live through another life-defining situation. This time it didn't happen in one instant; it was more gradual, and yet, it seemed to escalate so quickly. A week ago, I was still teaching my regular, face-to-face classes at SLCC. Rumors of school closures were just that. In one week, life as we knew it has shut down. Hour by hour, we receive reports of closers and cancellations, warnings and admonitions to remain inside as much as possible, to wash our hands thoroughly and often, to refrain from gathering in groups of more than 10. This list goes on.
Once again, the nation stands still, this time not just one nation. As perhaps never before, we are reminded that we are first and foremost, world citizens, a global community. We are called to sacrifice our own convenience to protect others' lives. We are called to act in charity.
As I stood in line for over an hour to enter Costco hoping to find some much-needed bath tissue, I wondered why people took to hoarding the stuff in the first place. Come on. Everyone needs bath tissue, but we only need so much of it.
Even so, with what looks like greedy hoarding, I see far more evidence of a united response to the call to charity. I see parents, who never imagined they would be, suddenly homeschooling restless children, who just want to go to school and play with their friends, rather than struggle through Common Core math at home with parents who don't understand it. I see at-home moms offering to help with homeschooling for kids whose parents still need to go to work. I see teachers, given no notice, sacrificing hours to create online lessons in attempt to meet students' needs and provide some sort of academic consistency.
I see many who are blessed with abundant resources donating money to compensate for salaries of those who can't go to work. I see communities, churches, and social organizations reaching out to offer help, wherever and however it is needed. I see grace in action. I see the Savior.
Most revealing, I see kindness. In the grocery store. At the gas station. On my daily walks. People smile. Though practicing safe, social distancing as much as they can, they still smile. They say hello. They ask how I am. Plagued with uncertainty, I find hope in this outpouring of human kindness. It helps me remember that we are all in this together and that one who is wiser and greater than all of us in ultimately in control.
We will come through this. Possibly my favorite line, repeated hundreds of times in The Book of Mormon:
"And it came to pass..."
This came, and it will pass. And we will be better for having experienced it. We will have learned things about ourselves and our fellow humans that we did not know before. We will be stronger.
And when the next generation of children come home from school and ask their parents, "Where were you and what were you doing during the COVID-19 pandemic," their parents will know.
They will know.
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