By Betsy Gonwa, 
There is an age-old conflict between personal freedom and group cooperation. I have experienced it in so many ways. Sitting on the beach, longing to relax to the sound of the waves, but subject to another person’s music; hiking or biking along a nature trail, subject to the litter dropped there by others; walking or biking along a sidewalk or city street, cautious for glass from a broken beer bottle, even in this age of plastic. I remember driving behind a car on a city street in which the driver dumped the ashtray out the window, and cigarette butts flew at my windshield, thankfully, not entering the car windows.
Even as children, it is part of our experience. In my middle school, there was a 10-minute break in the morning and a 10-minute break in the afternoon. Until there wasn’t. The behavior of some students in the grade ahead of me lost the privilege for all of us. The following year, even though those students had moved on, the breaks were not reinstated. When my children were in grade school, a whole class suffered the consequence of one student’s disobedience. “It’s not fair, Mom,” I would hear at the end of the school day.
“That’s the way it is,” I told my children. “One person’s actions impact everyone.” And it’s still true.
Recently, vandals at a Wisconsin state park stole hand sanitizer and toilet paper, and left graffiti on park buildings. Subsequently, 40 state parks, forests and recreational areas were closed. Social distancing was not being observed at Chicago’s lakefront. The lakefront was closed to everyone.
Given freedom, do individuals selfishly choose to disregard the impact of their actions on the whole? It does not make sense, for we all bear the consequences of our actions as a part of the whole. I invite us to consider another possibility. Perhaps people’s actions are not intentionally thoughtless. Perhaps we just don’t see ourselves as an interdependent and connected whole.
I wonder if this way of thinking is perhaps the fruit of a criminal justice system that labels inappropriate behavior as a “crime against the state,” taking the humans out of the picture and enforcing the law for the sake of respecting the law rather than respecting the victim and the community that the action impacted. Or was it, perhaps, this way of thinking that created the system?
What has become of the belief that all of our independent choices are to be made within the context of a common good? That my personal freedom ends when it impacts another’s personal freedom?
With a highly contagious virus in the air, the vulnerable are the ones at risk. The elderly, the immuno-compromised, those with preexisting health conditions, the homeless, the institutionalized, those in prison, health care workers and other essential workers. In those categories are my children, the elders in my family, my niece, my sister, my neighbor, my friend. My choices will impact my loved ones and the loved ones of others.
In our present situation, many are chafing at their lack of personal freedom. Others are crying out for the protection of the common good. Still others are silently waiting it out. And so, the age-old conflict continues.
With your freedom, what are you choosing?
For most of my life, with the freedom I had, I chose to do for others 75% of the time. Everywhere I looked, I saw instances of people looking the other way, just doing their own thing, and not taking the time to support or help those in need. I couldn’t look the other way.
I was on a mission to “rescue” everyone that crossed my path. But there is such a thing as going too far. For the past few years, I realized I had been putting way too much time and effort in trying to do right for others, to the point of becoming a codependent, being so exhausted physically, psychologically and emotionally, that I was putting my own life (and the lives of others, when I was behind the wheel of a car) at risk. Then along came COVID 19, and one day I was working two jobs (one as a teacher and one in a restaurant) and filling in what time I had left volunteering in the community and doing things to help my aging mom; and then the next day I was home with no jobs, no volunteer work, and only helping Mom. I delved deep into self-care, with rose colored glasses, thinking the rest of the world was doing the same thing, and we would all come out of the quarantine one big happy family. Then BAM! George Floyd died from police force, and people all over the country couldn’t take it anymore. Now as the heat of summer encroaches, so does the heat of a divided country.
What will I do with my freedom now? I choose to remain grounded in my faith in God and His plan to work all things good for His people, then listen closely to His voice inside me to shine forth His light in the darkness, offering my help and support in whatever ways I can. From the smallest of gestures, like saying a friendly Hello with a “smile” in my eyes from behind my mask at the grocery store to larger actions that will help unite people, and help others realize how interdependent we are. But like a lighthouse keeper, I need to take the time to care for the light inside me, not allowing myself to burnout.
Rita, Thank you for reading and for sharing your own story of learning to balance service and self-care. It sounds like you are learning and growing. Yes, keep listening to God’s voice in your heart and caring for the Light inside you so that God’s light can shine through you to others!