For many in the Archdiocese of Baltimore, March 13 will bring an anniversary they would just as soon forget. As the coronavirus pandemic accelerated a year ago, students and workers left schools and offices, unsure when they would return. The next day, in-person Mass attendance was temporarily suspended. Remote learning, work and worship became routine. For some, they remain the practice.
The Catholic Review checked in on a home, a parish and a hospital to see how they continue to adapt to COVID-19.
Special needs
John John Grosskopf was 3 when he entered the Frederick County Public School system and first boarded a bus.
“He was just learning to walk,” said Maria Grosskopf, his mother. “It was so heartbreaking. I was doing daycare, and he needed to go on the bus. His whole education has been mainstreamed.”
Born with Down syndrome, the 11-year-old thrives on the social aspect of education that has been denied to many children during the pandemic. That void is filled by his parents, Maria and Steve; his brothers, Thomas, 18, and Mark, 12; and Brian Sin, a friend of Thomas whom the Grosskopfs have taken in.
“They all definitely help each other,” Maria Grosskopf said, “but John John has suffered dramatically. He can’t go run off by himself and play.”
Before the pandemic, he was diagnosed with Type I diabetes, adding another layer to his care, some of which has shifted online.
Steve Grosskopf is an engineer. His sons thrive in math and hard sciences; John John is fascinated by numbers and the workings of the solar system. He was among the students with special needs in Frederick County who attended class in person for a stretch last autumn. The school system delivers materials to the Grosskopf home, but John John requires constant stimulation.
“He’s a tactile learner; he has to see, feel, touch,” Maria said.
The Grosskopfs worship at St. Peter the Apostle in Libertytown, where Maria taught religious education in her 20s, and where Thomas helps lead Vacation Bible School. That fell by the wayside last summer. The flip side of disrupted routines and virtual worship is that Maria has time to pray for an hour in the morning.
“We’re blessed tenfold,” she said.
While most in the archdiocese complained over Christmas about slow mail delivery, the Grosskopfs’ dealt with Thomas being quarantined in home with COVID-19.
“Thomas has a special love for John John, who was so frustrated,” Maria said. “He wanted to know why we were shutting down different parts of the house.”
OLF on the fly
Andrea McGill Reddinger is director of Children’s Faith Formation at Our Lady of the Fields Parish in Millersville, which in normal times has approximately 600 children enrolled. The duties of Mary Beth Loeffler, its director of Youth and Young Adult Ministry, include preparing as many as 100 for confirmation.
By now, both are accustomed to working on the fly.
A confirmation retreat, traditionally held at the Shrine of St. Anthony in Ellicott City, was moved on campus and split into two groups. One was scheduled for Feb. 12, but Mass and adoration went virtual because of an ice storm.
Remote learning became the practice in Anne Arundel County, but not all catechists were able to make the leap.
“I did lose some who couldn’t make the transition,” Reddinger said. “There’s a new skill set involved.”
Beth Murray taught religious education to all five of her now-adult children. Preparing second-graders for first Communion, culminating in small groups, recalls the opening of “The Brady Bunch,” with a series of grids of faces.
“We’re still doing some of the same activities, even though we’re meeting online,” said Murray, who emphasized students’ need for community. “Some of the children are neighbors, who attend the same (public) school. They enjoy seeing each other, and can’t wait for class to start, even though we’ve been online for a year now. It’s been challenging, but they’re doing phenomenal.”
Reddinger notes the creativity of catechists, shorter classes, “computer fatigue” and family support.
“Two-thirds of the course load has fallen on parents; they’re assuming greater responsibility,” she said. “There’s a learning curve for everyone, but the kids who are already doing this for school follow the etiquette, are polite and wait their turn to speak. It’s not ideal, but they know how to learn virtually.”
‘B.C.’
Father Louis Asobi is the vice president for Mission Integration at University of Maryland St. Joseph Medical Center in Towson. When the pandemic arrived, he held a similar position in Sacramento, Calif., which led to an awkward exchange as he prepared to move east.
“One of the men from the moving company asked, ‘Do you mind if I don’t put on a mask?’ ” Father Asobi said. “I cited the director of Health and Human Services telling us to do that, and said, ‘I’m sorry, you have to.’
“When things get tough, those who are determined will do what is necessary. With COVID, the sun still rises, and sets. The medical director for the NFL said, ‘We have to figure out a way to get through the pandemic,’ and they did. It takes courage, stamina, but let’s do it.
“Remember when a hug was no big deal? COVID has made us appreciate the little things,” Father Asobi said.
A priest of the Diocese of Onitsha, Nigeria, Father Asobi’s interest in starting a pediatric clinic there brought him to the United States. He is charged with providing spiritual direction for a hospital, a challenge, he said, that was different “B.C.” – Before Covid.
“I liken it to the web of a spider,” he said. “Whenever you drop something on the web, whether it’s prey or dinner, it will begin to vibrate. The spider has to figure out which way to go, and the pandemic has required that same kind of juggling.
“My biggest challenge has been how to keep morale up, not only among doctors, nurses and personnel on the front line, but among executives. Everyone has to know they are not alone. No matter how tough things seem, God is here with us.”
Email Paul McMullen at pmcmullen@CatholicReview.org
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