The streets were quiet Thursday night leading to a feeling of post-apocalypse. (click to enlarge)
I keep wondering if it weren’t for the set of circumstances that led me to be in Chicago… would I have gone anyways? I can’t honestly answer that question one way or the other… And I don’t know if I’ll ever know the answer…
A few weeks ago, my good friend Dan called me and said he had an extra hotel room in the city starting the Wednesday after Memorial Day for a week. Dan works in the medical field. He said he knew how tired I was, how trying to pastor a church in a time of pandemic was starting wear on me, and how it was potentially burning me out. For weeks I’d been a one man recording studio writing, lighting, recording, and editing worship and sermons often by myself and then sending the chunks to Jeff, our Communications Coordinator, to add the Children's’ Chat and work done by our Associate Pastor and the music that people were recording at home to edit into one service with a flow. I’ve been trying to figure out how much time it actually takes to put together an online worship service each week from start to finish. It has to be close to 80-100 hours if you put the time of everyone together. I needed a break. I needed a few days just to get away to relax, collect my thoughts, and try to refill my cup a little.
These buildings will forever be known to me as the “Wlico Cover” buildings because the first place I saw them was on a Wilco album and not in Chicago.
As the date approached to head into the city, a funeral for a close friend’s relative was scheduled for that Friday. My wife and I talked. She could see I was worn out. We’d talked about it a lot. She encouraged me to go up to the city Wednesday, take my camera, relax and explore, come home Friday for the funeral, and then the two of us would head up together for some time away Saturday through Monday. It’s one of the advantages to having a service recorded ahead of time. You can do things on a weekend when the work is done.
I met Dan in the city Wednesday evening and it was fantastic and strange. The city seemed almost completely empty. There were times we’d catch ourselves just walking down the middle of what would normally be a crowded street talking and taking photos. It was surreal but incredible to see and witness. Thursday brought some rain and Dan had some work to do during the day, so I explored alone. I had my mask on. Social distancing was super easy because barely anyone was out even during the day. It felt good. It felt good to be moving and active. It felt good to be outside. It felt good to be taking photos and not having a timeline or someplace I had to be. It just felt good. Friday I got up, worked on the funeral, straightened up my stuff in the hotel room, grabbed my computer and laptop, left everything else in the room, and went to the lobby to request room cleaning because my wife was coming. I didn’t need the lecture about how I can make a hotel room messy in less than 36 hours. I headed back to Munster for the funeral.
Even fashion has changed in the time of Covid. Many of the stores in the loop feature mannequins in the latest fashion with matching face masks. (click to enlarge)
By the time I got back to the house after the funeral, it was around 7:30pm. I hadn’t been home since Wednesday night. I made a very intentional decision not to listen to any news in order to unplug. I walked into the house to my wife asking me if I had heard about what was going on in Minneapolis. I turned on the news and couldn’t believe it. My friend Bryce who was guest preaching for me that coming Sunday and I started to exchange texts about what he’d say and his sermon. I went back into church where he and I spent almost 2 hours on zoom talking and processing what was going on.
When I got home, my wife and I began to talk about Chicago. My stuff was still there. I HAD to go back. There’d probably be protests but would they be all that bad? Should she still come with me? We woke up Saturday morning. She kissed me and decided that with kid schedules and everything going on she’d stay behind. She told me to be safe. She said she understood who I am, what was going on, and that I had to go if for no other reason than to gather my stuff from the room.
She said she knew that if anything should happen, if things flare up in Chicago, that I couldn’t just stand by; that if I thought I could make a difference, be a voice of calm and peace, and minister to people she knew I’d be there in the middle of it trying to do what I thought was right. She kissed me. She told me she loved me. She urged me to be safe. She supported me and trusted me to discern and weigh the difference I could make vs. putting my safety at risk. Not every spouse would be that brave and selfless as someone they love leaves to potentially end up in a protest during a time of pandemic. Sometimes love gets proven. Beverly Worthington proved to me yet again that she loved me - warts and all.
She didn’t ask me to change who I am. She supported me and I took her courage and strength with me as I left to go back with no idea what I was going to find.
A homeless man seeks refuge in the doors of St. Peters in the Loop Thursday evening. (click to enlarge)