Title: Shadows of Silence — Remembering the Lockdowns and the Healing That Followed

 

Subtitle: A Personal Reflection on the Social Toll of Isolation and the Power of Restoration

The year 2020 brought with it a silence none of us were prepared for. I’ve often believed that God created us to be social beings—wired for connection, fellowship, and community. But when the pandemic hit and the world shut down, that connection was ripped away.

We couldn’t go to church.
We couldn’t visit our loved ones in the hospital.
Our children were sent home from school, their laughter replaced with silence behind screens.
Businesses shuttered. Streets and stores stood empty.
It hurt—a lot.

It didn’t just hurt financially. It hurt spiritually. It hurt emotionally. Families were isolated, elders were alone, and the familiar rhythms of life in Southeast Alaska—our potlucks, our hugs, our prayers together—were all put on pause. And though years have passed, you can still feel the shadow of that time linger. It hangs in the way people keep their distance, in the cautious eyes of elders, and in the quiet hesitations of our children.

But I will never forget the moment when it began to lift.

One morning, as the world slowly began to reopen, I was driving to work. The schools had just resumed in-person classes. I passed by the local school and there they were—kids laughing, shouting, playing on the playground. The yellow school buses parked out front like a signal that life was trying to return.

I had to pull over.
Tears just came.
Not tears of sadness—tears of joy.
Tears for the little ones who finally had each other again.
Tears for the simple beauty of friendship and freedom.
And then… the song "Waymaker" came on the radio.

“He’s the Waymaker, Miracle Worker, Promise Keeper…”

I sat there in my truck, parked on the side of the road, overcome. I bawled. I praised. I thanked our Creator with all that I had. Because even in the darkest hours, He never left us. And He never will.

Even now, as I write this, tears are streaming down my face. The memory is still so raw, so powerful.

We were created for connection. We were meant to laugh together, cry together, gather together. The lockdowns showed us just how deeply we need each other—and how deeply we need God. As a community, and as individuals, may we never forget the lessons of that time… but even more, may we never stop being grateful for the return of the light.

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Sharing life, faith, and community from the heart of Southeast Alaska.