THE THIN WHITE LINE: the history of a future avian influenza pandemic

Chapter 4: "The End is Near"

Interview with Pastor Nichole Thomas

VANCOUVER, BRITISH COLUMBIA

[Pastor Nichole Thomas ministers a congregation of about 80 people at a downtown church. When I meet her at the flu orphanage, she looks exhausted, but happy, particularly when she watches the young children running and playing in the room, which is littered with toys and games. My first impression is that this is a woman at peace with herself. The flu orphanage resides at a downtown hotel requisitioned by the City during the epidemic; it has since returned to being a hotel, with the orphanage continuing to operate on one floor due to a contract between the City and the hotel’s owner.]

    Sometimes, when a person’s faith is tested, the right response is not more faith, but good works. As it says in James 2:20: “For as the body apart from the spirit is dead, so faith apart from works is dead.” I have often read these words but didn’t really know what they meant until the epidemic tested my own faith. Good works is where the rubber meets the road when it comes to having a real relationship with God.
    In the early days of the epidemic, ministers of the church were incredibly busy. They advocated for the poor and homeless to receive assistance, went to houses where people were sick and prayed with the families, presided at the many funerals, passed along information about who was sick and who had died and who needed help.
    During those weeks, I never felt so needed. I felt alive in my faith and my mission. It’s a horrible thing to receive satisfaction amidst such tragedy, but that’s what I was feeling at the time.
    When the first member of my flock died, a nineteen-year-old girl named Mary, any pride I had died with her. I had baptized Mary when she was a baby. I had watched her grow up. I had given her first communion. I had hoped to preside at her wedding, baptize her own children. As more people died or became incapacitated by the flu, I could feel myself grow more and more exhausted and hardened against what was happening. And I began to question why God would do such a thing.
    Beth Duncan, an elderly member of my congregation, asked me the same question as she lay in her home dying from the flu. This happens in the movies: A dying innocent asks a minister why good people die needlessly—and Beth was good and innocent. In a movie, it’s poignant, good drama. But when it’s happening to you, it’s different, it’s visceral. A good friend you’ve known for 20 years is dying in front of your eyes, slowly drowning in her own bloody phlegm, her breathing thick and rattling, and she asks you——you, who dedicated your whole life to being one of God’s messengers——why a loving God would inflict this much pain on the world.
    And behind this real question, haunting: Can a loving God live in such a world? Where is God now? Have we been abandoned?
    A dozen textbook rationalizations for God allowing evil jumped into my head at that moment, I remember, but I didn’t say anything. I was weeping for my friend. I didn’t want her to die.
    And then Beth did something remarkable. Trying to smile, she asked me, Nichole, you’ve always been good at giving but who’s looking out for your spiritual needs?
    She died hours later, her eyes red, crying tears of blood that rolled down her cheeks.
    Soon after, the government announced that it was shutting down the churches as part of its public ban on gatherings. My phone rang constantly——the congregation was outraged. These were dark times and getting darker, and people needed spiritual sustenance from God more than ever. I prayed on the phone with them, recorded sermons, doubled my visits to the sick houses, gathered up food for a homeless shelter where the poor were dying like flies. But I wanted to do something more. My own spiritual needs as a Christian demanded it, which meant God demanded it. I had heard of ministers turning their churches into makeshift hospitals, of others who went to the fever clinics to tend to the sick.
    The answer came within days. Carol, a member of the congregation, called to tell me that her neighbors had both gone to the hospital with flu; the husband had died and the wife was barely holding on. They left behind two children and a pet. Carol could take the dog, but she had three kids of her own: Could I find someone to take in the children?
    I placed a number of calls and heard of other children who had no homes and were being taken in by strangers. And that was how the flu orphanage came into being. I talked to the City and they requisitioned a hotel for us. Members of my congregation and other volunteers joined together to run it. We literally moved into the hotel with our families. My own children are grown up, so it was just me and my husband Jack. Jack’s retired now, so he was able to make a full-time commitment with me.
    As word got around, a lot of children got taken here, as young as a few months old to as old as early teenagers——who pitched in and became the most dedicated staff we have. People donated food, toys, games, whatever we needed. Over time, parents recovered from being sick and came to reclaim their kids, but still more came who had no parents. Now that the epidemic has been over for a few months, we have only orphans.
Some of these kids have special needs as a result of their recovery from the flu. That boy there——his name is Tyler. He caught the flu and got better, but he hasn’t been the same since. Now anytime he runs or plays too hard he quickly ends up breathless.
    We take special care of Tyler. We welcomed all children here during the Pandemic. Whatever they need, we try to give it to them.
As for me, Jack and I are happy here, and we’ll stay until these children find new homes with their extended families or other willing parents.
    I once wondered how God could live in such a cruel world, and where he went when we needed him most. Too late to tell Beth, I now understand that God allows evil to exist to test our ability to love and help each other through good works. There is no stronger expression of genuine love and faith.
    See Tyler laughing, there? Look at his face. He’s alive, healthy, as happy as he can be right now, all things considered——the result of so much love from so many people.
    For me, that is God. He’s right here.