I’ve been wearing my glasses these days. For those of you who wear glasses too, you know that when paired with a mask, the combination is not ideal. Usually, I wear contacts 97% of the time, so it may seem counterintuitive that now would be the time I make the switch. But at its root, the reason I’m wearing glasses more often than usual comes down to the same reason I’m wearing the mask: COVID. More specifically, I’m on my last bottle of contact solution brought from the States. Since our country’s borders are closed, I’m not heading back to get more solution (or anything else on the “America List” I keep in my notes app) anytime soon. 

Not being able to travel as planned this year is a loss for more reasons than just not being able to replenish our supply of the things we normally bring. The biggest loss is that our baby turned one this year and her grandparents haven’t seen her since she was three weeks old. As this year comes to a close, I’m sure many of you are grieving your own losses.

Trips that had been planned long ahead – whether for fun or furlough or to see family (maybe all of the above.)
Visitors that should have come.
Loved ones passing away and having to grieve from afar.
Moves that had to be quickly reworked, and the goodbyes that were missed because of it.
Work or ministry unable to happen like normal, and the worry that support funds will drop.
Feeling trapped by closed airports and feeling uncertain about the next steps.

COVID has shaken up our lives and feelings of normalcy, and there is much to grieve.

But even as we hold those losses in one hand, I would imagine many of us can also recognize some of the unforeseen blessings this season has brought. And we can simultaneously hold those things gently in the other hand.

For us, the unforeseen blessing is that we moved into a new house. Instead of the stressful two-day affair it was going to be in between our last day of work and leaving for the States, we’ve been able to slowly settle in and make it home. In addition, as there are currently no tourists, many destinations around my host country have dropped resident rate prices, meaning we can explore and stay in places we typically wouldn’t be able to afford.

As I think through the ways this pandemic has affected me, I would be remiss to not mention the final resounding realization it has brought: a new perspective on my immense privilege, especially during this time. I think it’s fair to say that, as expats, we are always living out of privilege — even being able to call ourselves expats instead of immigrants highlights this. But the differences between my COVID experience and many of my neighbors’ emphasizes this reality all the more.

To put things in perspective, I’ve only had to worry about the logistics of having to postpone a trip, rather than stressing over losing the ability to feed my family because I can no longer go out to find work each day. I can point to having to wear glasses with my mask as one of my biggest annoyances, rather than fearing getting sick like those who don’t have the luxury of remaining financially stable if they stay home. The very act of social distancing — of being able to stay isolated in my spacious home — is not feasible for the majority of people in my host country who live in close, crowded quarters. 

I don’t say this to make us feel guilty. It is valid to grieve what COVID has taken, and it is not helpful to compare losses, as they are indeed felt subjectively. But I think it is important to recognize the tension: to be aware that things are difficult and at the same time we are privileged. Maybe the next steps would be to see where we can leverage that privilege for the good of the places that are so graciously allowing us foreigners to live within their borders.

May this season of interrupted plans, unexpected stillness, and space to process also be a chance to look around at our reality — the good, the bad, and the privilege — with new eyes and a fresh perspective.