"Closing Churches? Unheard of in my lifetime!"

 I settled in my car, suitcase packed for what I thought was to be a ten-day trip, waved goodbye to staff, and with a deep breath, set off for my 8-hour drive up north. It was Friday, March 13, 2020. I was principal of St. Edward School, a small Catholic school in Nashville, Tennessee. I had just said goodbye to students and families for the start of Spring Break. But it wasn’t feeling like a typical vacation from school. As students climbed into their cars their backpacks were bursting with textbooks, electronic devices, and packets of work from teachers. Parking lot conversations circled around talks of canceled vacations, canceled baseball tournaments, and rumors of staff and students in the local high school who might have “the virus”. A feeling of uncertainty and apprehension hung in the air as staff wished each other well without the physical connection of hugs that we were all so used to. Then my trip to Grand Rapids began.

For months before, I had heard about the looming pandemic. Stories from India, China…. all seemed so far away! In the weeks before today, as this health crisis spread, I received repeated emails from the Diocesan Superintendent. “Step up your cleaning protocols, instruct students to limit physical contact, prepare for extended breaks from school.” And I had. I’ve got this, I thought. We’re going to be ok. As a long-time school administrator, I was used to taking charge and handling problems. And I did. Meetings with cleaning staff about bleaching and disinfectants, trainings with teachers about on-line apps and distance learning, notes to parents reassuring them of our procedures to keep children safe and healthy and a slight hint of preparing for a possible interruption were all now part of the routine. I purchased extra containers of Clorox Wipes and gave one to each teacher to wipe off any surfaces the kids may touch regularly. We had even stopped the handshake of Peace at Mass to limit physical contact and added extra prayers imploring God for our protection. We’ve got this, I so naively reassured myself. Even in the days before as I heard reports of the virus creeping closer; now Seattle and Los Angeles; I refused to admit that it was real for me. Things began to shift the afternoon of March 12. Administration made the decision to start Spring Break a bit earlier and close schools the next day at noon rather than wait until the typical 3:00 dismissal. The afternoon was instead to be used for staff to plan, pack and prepare for an extended break, just in case. But still, I wasn’t too worried. We had shut down for the flu before. How bad could this be? A couple extra days added on to Spring Break? Maybe an extra week or so? It won’t be that bad, I thought. We’re prepared. I’ve got this. The morning of March 13, I felt my controlled world begin to unravel. A frantic phone call from my daughter told me that they had just closed all the schools and daycares in Michigan. She was a Physician’s Assistant and her husband, a firefighter. They had two young kids – almost 5 and 18 months. They both had to work. “What am I going to do? “she wailed. Don’t worry, I said. “I’ve got this. I’ll be on my way at noon, and will be there as long as you need.” I had already been preparing to spend Spring Break in Grand Rapids and my car was packed for what I thought was a ten-day trip. I told my pastor about my daughter’s phone call and warned him that I might need to be in Michigan a bit longer than I expected. He understood and with forewarning said that maybe I might not even be able to come back at all this school year. “That sounded like a bit of an alarmist”, I thought, but I thanked him for his understanding, said good-bye, and rushed back to school to help close down the day. The drive to Grand Rapids began as a peaceful antidote to the craziness of the last two days. With no radio on and no one to talk to, I enjoyed the silence and beauty of this peaceful, sun-filled, afternoon. I put aside the anxiousness of the last few hours and soaked in the landscapes of this ride that I enjoyed so much: the skyline of Nashville, the hills of Kentucky, and the farmlands of Indiana. I was about mid-way through my drive when the phone rang. It was my good friend Mary who worked for the Archdiocese of Detroit. She relayed that Archbishop Vigneron had just announced to staff that they were closing all churches, canceling Masses and sacraments, and encouraging “spiritual communions”. They were just about to make this announcement public. This was the moment that I knew it was real. Closing schools for sickness or snow, I understood. Closing churches? Unheard of in my lifetime! I stopped for gas and called Father Dan, my pastor to tell him what I heard. He mentioned an upcoming meeting with Bishop Spaulding of Nashville to review the situation and relayed similar conversations with his priest friends around the country. “Maybe you’re right”, I said. “Maybe I won’t be back for a while.” Now I didn’t feel like I was in control anymore. This seemed surreal like I was living in a sci-fi thriller. I turned on the radio for the first time in four hours. For the next hour, as stations came in and out of range, I listened to reporters trying to give their spin on a story that they knew so little about. But the one thing that was certain was that our world was shutting down. Breaking stories from Louisville, Indianapolis, Chicago, and all the small towns and sprawling suburbs in between reported the same story of this exploding crisis The worldwide pandemic that I’ve been hearing about for months had now come crashing into my controlled little section of the country. I felt shaky and uneasy as I continued my drive. Now, racing to Grand Rapids and the comfort of family, I knew that I was walking into totally unknown territory and had no idea what was up ahead.