I got a cryptic text from one of my “besties” this morning, telling me to download an app called Marco Polo, so she could send me a video. She’s that kind of person who, when she moved into the area five short years ago, made me feel so comfortable that we hit it off immediately. Even though there’s only a ten-minute drive separating us, we text and send goofy pictures of ourselves, making each other laugh throughout our days.  It’s hard for busy moms to get together, as you all know, quarantine or not.

This morning’s events definitely needed to be seen and not described via text. It made me smile so big in appreciation. Just to be a part of my friend’s morning, to see what she saw, and to hear her voice, lifted my spirits immensely. I told my sisters about this app, and we’ve been sending videos back and forth all day.

There’s something about seeing people—seeing their faces and hearing their voices—it’s so comforting. We are living in a time right now where the lack of visual contact with people is starkly noticeable. Texts are nice, emails are good . . . but human contact generally involves facial expressions and voice intonation. Texts and emails can be read in a myriad of ways, and sometimes we misinterpret intent or even falsely assign a judgment. At its worst, being separated from people can also make us question motives or re-think friendships. It’s dangerous to be locked inside our own minds for too long. Besides, there really is just no replacement for hearing and seeing your friend’s face light up and simply laugh and laugh. It may just be the best sound ever.

I think, too, that the longer we stay “separated” from Christ, the harder it is. I miss the sacraments; I miss confession, and most especially, adoration. To SEE Christ, to FEEL his love for me as I gaze in contemplation. What a gift! How blessed we are that God understands our need for this physical presence—so much so that he humbled himself and became man. He met us where we are, in our limitations and our brokenness, so that our measly senses could have the full experience of communion with him, long before our heavenly reward. What a sweet taste of eternity. And what a lesson we are learning these days. How loved we are, and how much this communion, with Christ and others, sustains us.

May we never lose this longing and forever hold these lessons close.

For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face: now I know in part, but then I will know fully just as I also have been fully known (1 Cor 13:12).