Resurrection from COVID 19
This last weekend, I went to visit my mother, with my three children. They live in an old house in Arlesheim, a beautiful old city with a cathedral. My parents live together in an old house which used to be the bishop’s guesthouse.
As we got close, I drove up in front of the building, and pressed my horn as I usually do, as a greeting. When my mother leaned out of the window, my blood froze. What I saw reminded me of paintings I have seen of Jesus on the cross. I was looking into the eyes of death. She was pale, her hair was all over the place, and she looked 10 years older than her actual age of 87. She had such a deep frown on her face, that created such deep furrows that she was unrecognizable.
We drove around to park the car and then walked back to the house. The children enthusiastically rang the doorbell and ran up the old wide dark wooden staircase. My mother was at the top of the stairs, obviously in dire straits.
She just muttered a “hello,” in a weak, timid, and broken voice.
“What is going on, Mom?” I asked, trying to calm the panic I was feeling. “What is happening to you?”
“ I don’t understand this world,” she said. “Where have you been all these years? I haven’t seen you for so long.”
