The Voice I Needed to Hear
THREE WEEKS INTO THIS TIME OF social distancing and my emotions were melting down.
Around the world, people were sheltering to prevent the spread of Covid-19. You’d think someone like me, a veteran at being alone, would have no problem with isolation. Since my husband John’s death from cancer seven years ago, I’ve managed our 468-acre farm and cattle operation on the North Dakota prairie by myself. I’ve learned to live with solitude, silence.
Yet this forced separation from my neighbors, my community and the cooperative farming arrangements that had taken me years to develop was stretching me to my limit. I was 67. Never had I felt so alone.
It was Maundy Thursday, four days before Easter. How I longed for John’s companionship, his hardy strength and clear-headed wisdom.
“Lord, please let me hear his voice!” I said out loud during my morning prayer time.
It was an unusually bold prayer. Ordinarily I am
