Faith | He remembered palpable terror during the COVID pandemic, then peace and joy

I walk over to the third-story window and look down through the cold, New York morning mist at the two large human-body-refrigerators outside. I can hear the hum of their generators.

I see crazy Manny wheeling another corpse up the make-shift ramp and maneuver a tight corner to the unmarked trailer on the left. He pauses for a moment and takes a few deep breaths before disappearing into the macabre container. This is his sixth grisly trip in the previous three hours.

The terror is palpable.

The fancy antiseptic sprays and wipes typically afforded to a facility of this caliber have been replaced by buckets of bleach water and reusable towels. The skeleton staff that exceeded exhaustion weeks ago—many haven’t touched their children or kissed their spouse in two months for fear of passing on the infection.

I take a deep breath and approach the nurse’s station belting out a traditional Spanish folksong with invisible castanets in hand. The staff laughs.

In my mind I can hear Mother Teresa’s approval, “Spread love everywhere you go. Let no one ever come to you without leaving happier.”

This is the façade I have worn 87-hours a week since I arrived in Brooklyn.

That night, fatigued and emotionally empty, I knelt at the side of my bed. Instead of my usual request to be an instrument in his hands to bring joy and peace to others, I felt impressed to ask for a personal manifestation of his love.

Early into the following shift I was called to the emergency department to assess a patient on a ventilator. Another specialist visiting from the other side of the country stepped in. He came off as gruff and abrasive. However, as we conversed our story was the same.

Neither one of us were obligated to be here and would not be here of our own accord. He was enjoying the Arizona spring and I was planting snow peas in Pasco. But a force beyond our own reckoning was at work within us.

Tagore, a Hindu philosopher, taught, “I slept and dreamt that life was joy. I awoke and saw that life was service. I acted and behold, service was joy!”

To the Galatians, Paul the Apostle taught, if we live in the Spirit, let us also walk in the Spirit and the fruit of the Spirit, is love, joy, peace, long suffering, etc. (Galatians 5)

Despite the fear and mortal-risk, we both answered the call to serve in New York and our anxiety was immediately replaced with overwhelming peace.

We shared our individual testimonies with one another concerning our Savior Jesus Christ. We talked about his grace and basked for a moment in his infinite love. Literally, surrounded by death, inhaling this new and terrifying virus with each breath, we felt the joy that can only come by obedience to the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

With tears trickling down his cheeks, this linebacker of a man cried, “I’m a stubborn, hard-headed kind of guy. Just look at me; I’m rough around the edges.”

Putting out a COVID-covered, blue-gloved fist he said, “Thank you man, I really needed that right now.”

With a fist bump I said, “I feel the same. My prayer was answered.”

We took a moment to savor the feelings in our hearts and without knowing each other’s names continued on in our service, comforted by the words of an ancient Native-American king, “Behold, I tell you ... that when ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God.” (Mosiah 2:17)