The world is a fragile place right now: record high unemployment reports, businesses closing, mistrust of authorities, conflict with neighbors, and loved ones fighting for life with breaths forced by a ventilator – People who felt stable and secure a few months ago have quickly found themselves at the edge of a precipice wondering if the cliff might crumble.

Even for those who are relatively financially secure and physically healthy, the unknown and the groans of “how long?” expose the aching discomfort of life experienced as truly out of your own control. Like a perpetual “time out” in the middle of the big game, it is a heart-crushing experience for people in the middle of the action to suddenly be placed on hold for an unknown period of time. Abruptly the investment of meaningful work, the chance to contribute to your community, exchange with neighbors, the practical closeness of loved ones, and the dreams of the future feel out of reach or at best drastically changed.

Don’t lose the memory of this moment. Don’t forget the discomfort you’ve felt in these days, no matter how fast (in reality) they pass for some of us. This experience of liminality without an expiration date can help so many of us with extraordinary freedom, choice, comfort, and privilege to walk in the shoes of those who have been living “on hold” for years or decades.

My mind wanders to the small one-room home of some dear friends of mine. They sit in perpetual uncertainty. They both have impressive educational, work, and linguistic qualifications under their belts, but their appeal to remain in a safe country has cost them years off their lives. For more than four years now they have sat – and waited – and prayed – and begged – and filed countless documents and court appeals, but still with no final answer. Meanwhile, their 30s fly by them with no chance to pursue work or see loved ones or even search for solutions to long-term medical complications.

Their exile to uncertainty started long before the current pandemic and will likely continue for some time. At this point all they want is an answer, a chance to plant themselves with some hope of a being given a real place in this world, but that seems too much to ask.

And they are not alone. They are merely two among millions of people who, long before the current crisis, were on the refugee highway, looking for a place to call home.

So I implore you, don’t forget. Don’t forget how only a couple months in relative abundance and safety can cause you to question your sanity and grasp for control in strange places. Don’t forget, long after new normals and firsts are past, that millions of people having fled terror and violence are stuck in years of quarantine without answers.

Don’t forget them.

It doesn’t have to be this way.