I’m angry. I know I am not alone. We are angry. Lots and lots of us are angry. We stayed home. We stayed away from people, including those we love. We wore masks. We worked from home. We took care of children, elders, and friends. We got vaccinated. We did our best to be informed and make hard choices.

But now, the numbers of COVID-19 patients are rising fast. The conflicting voices and opinions about the pandemic led to low rates of vaccination in many parts of the country. Active campaigning undermined the perceived worth of the vaccine and the gravity of this novel disease.

At the same time, those who cannot get the vaccine and those with additional health concerns are more at risk. Healthcare workers are in harm’s way again. More of our children are hospitalized every day.

You have a right to be angry.

And – there is more than anger.

We are sad. We are depressed. Anger often is an expression of these feelings, particularly when we cannot find relief from or a direction for such sadness.

I am so angry I can’t hardly name it. I can’t feel it.

Behind that anger is sorrow. I remember the loss of my very active life as the world closed down in March 2020. I felt that deep misery for all of us.

That loss remained with me as I found creative ways to help my family and my church endure. That depression was a steady companion as spring moved into summer and the promise of vaccinated life helped me breathe with more joy and ease.

Now I am sad at this summer’s end. I wanted this summer and this fall to be delicious. I wanted to see more smiles in person. I wanted to be around crowds and that feeling of life again.

I am sad because I am so disappointed in people. My heart breaks for those who suffer under leaders whose choices will cost lives. I weep for those who are ill with COVID-19 and learn that no vaccine will save them.

Naming the sadness, the depression, and all of the feelings behind the anger allows me the room to grieve. I feel less bound up inside. I am more able to pause before I react to the people around me. A teacher in my life talks about her personal goal. Her annual goal is to add one second to her reaction time, especially to emotional triggers. After 20 years, she would have a space of 20 seconds. Acknowledging grief adds a few seconds to my reactions. Truly, I do not want to push my anger on other people.

In that pause amid the grief, I find enough quiet to think. In that pause, I realize how much people continue to care for themselves and each other. So much good work is in process. There are paths through the struggle. I am not alone. Neither are you.

I am not ignoring the sorrow or the anger. There are times for shouting, raging, sobbing, whether by ourselves or with others.

Then we breathe. We stop. We ask, “What now?” And we find a new way.

The Rev. Jennifer Innis is with Universalist Unitarian Church, 3000 W. Richwood Blvd., Peoria