By Cristie Gardner

More Lessons from the COVID-19 Days

In Hamlet, Act 2, Scene 2, Hamlet tells Rosencrantz that Denmark feels like a prison. Rosencrantz replies with something along the lines of, “If that’s how you see it, then the whole world is a prison.” Hamlet responds with one of Shakespeare’s most quoted lines:

“Why, then, ’tis none to you, for there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so. To me it is a prison.”

There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.

For all Hamlet’s unraveling, he was right about this: our thoughts shape our reality. Two people can experience the exact same event and walk away with completely different interpretations—all based on the meaning they assign to it. The experience itself just is. Not good, not bad. Just... what happened. And according to the Law of Relativity, we only know what something means in relation to something else. It’s our thoughts that create the story.

An old folk tale illustrates this beautifully:

A farmer’s horse ran away. The neighbors said, “Oh, what bad luck!”
The farmer calmly replied, “Maybe it is; maybe it isn’t.”

The next day, the horse returned, bringing three wild horses with it. “How wonderful!” the neighbors exclaimed.
“Maybe it is; maybe it isn’t,” said the farmer.

Then the farmer’s son tried to ride one of the new horses, was thrown off, and broke his leg. “How terrible,” the neighbors sympathized.
“Maybe it is; maybe it isn’t.”

Soon after, the military came to draft young men into the army. Seeing the son’s broken leg, they passed him by. “What a stroke of luck!” the neighbors cheered.
Again, the farmer responded, “Maybe it is; maybe it isn’t.”

What the farmer understood was that each event carried potential, but its true value could only be seen over time. He stayed calm, let things unfold, and refused to be reactive. That kind of peace is rare—but powerful.

During the COVID-19 pandemic, we saw this same dynamic play out. Some mourned the loss of connection and normalcy. Others leaned into the stillness, finding clarity and new purpose in the pause. Jeffrey R. Holland said it beautifully:

“Things are going to ‘come right.’ They are undoubtedly on their way to ‘coming right’ already. But we owe it to our Father in Heaven to be a little more grateful, a little more thankful, and a little more inclined to remember how many problems are resolved because of God, angels, covenantal promises, and prayer.”

He also called the global pause “a rare time of enforced solitude,” comparing it to a Sabbath:

“This is a rare time of enforced solitude when we don’t have a lot of trivia or superficial busyness distracting us from considering the truly important things in life… Such times invite us to look into our soul and see if we like what we see there.”

Personally, gratitude has always been my lifeline. When I feel like nothing is working, when frustration threatens to take over, I stop and deliberately shift my focus to what is working. That one habit can transform your entire outlook.

Thomas Edison once said, when asked how it felt to fail 10,000 times while inventing the light bulb:

“I didn’t fail 10,000 times. The light bulb was an invention with 10,000 steps.”

It’s all perspective. Some say we learn more from failure than success. Maybe we do. Maybe we don’t. But either way, what we think about those steps makes all the difference.

Abhijit Naskar put it this way:

“Water has the potential to grow life even in the barren desert, and it also has the potential to flood an entire city destroying countless lives. Fire has the potential to give heat in the freezing winter, and it also has the potential to burn an entire forest to ashes. Potential is neither good nor evil, it’s our intention that makes the distinction.”

Our son Nathaniel started a nonprofit in Tanzania several years ago. He’s traveled there annually (except during travel restrictions), bringing teams to work with the Maasai tribes—building clinics, installing water systems, teaching hygiene, and helping entrepreneurs. He lives in the bush for months at a time, eating as they eat, living as they live.

And every time he comes home, he marvels at the luxuries we take for granted: carpeted floors, hot and cold running water, shoes.

Children in the villages craft toys from trash—plastic bags bundled and tied into soccer balls, bottle caps fashioned into cars. And yet, Nathaniel says, they are happier than many people here. They find joy where we see lack. They’re not comparing—they’re living.

As Richelle E. Goodrich wrote:

“Isn’t it strange how a lamb can feel like a lion when comparing itself to a mouse, whereas a lion feels like a lamb when measuring itself against dragons?”

Even money is subject to the Law of Relativity. A one-dollar bill and a hundred-dollar bill are made of the same paper and ink—the only difference is the value we assign.

When I was little, my older siblings tricked me into trading dimes for nickels and pennies—because they were bigger. I thought I was getting a great deal! That’s the Law of Relativity at work. And some people go their whole lives thinking “bigger” means “better,” never realizing the true value of what they already have.

Yes, it’s good to want growth and improvement. That’s part of our divine design. But growth doesn’t always come from chasing “more.” Sometimes it comes from deepening our appreciation for what’s already here.

Albert Einstein once said:

“I speak to everyone in the same way, whether he is the garbage man or the president of the university.”

Some criticize others for being “too Pollyanna.” But Pollyanna’s story has power. As a young orphan, she made it her mission to always find something to be glad about. She transformed a bitter, complaining town by teaching people how to play “the Glad Game.” Gratitude was her secret weapon—and it worked, even when life was hard.

Things could always be better. But they could always be worse. Life just is.

Take BYU’s basketball team. They were finally headed to the NCAA tournament after years of hard work and setbacks. They had even beaten Gonzaga—one of the nation’s top teams. Then, just before the tournament, their coach got the call: the entire NCAA season was canceled.

The players were devastated—especially the seniors, who wouldn’t get another chance.

On the radio, an interviewer asked Coach Pope how his team handled the news.

His response was gold:

“The same way we react whether we win or lose: it’s how are we going to bounce back? We have some bad losses, some great wins, but in each case, we have to decide how to bounce back.”

Roy T. Bennett said:

“Attitude is a choice. Happiness is a choice. Optimism is a choice. Kindness is a choice. Giving is a choice. Respect is a choice. Whatever choice you make makes you. Choose wisely. Instead of worrying about what you cannot control, shift your energy to what you can create.”

So—was the tournament cancellation good? Maybe. Was it bad? Maybe.
COVID-19 sent us all home. Was that good or bad? Maybe. Maybe not.

The real question is:

How are you going to bounce back?

It’s okay to give yourself grace. It’s okay to take a moment to regain your footing. But as my husband, Stan Gardner, M.D., reminds us:

“We are supposed to walk through the valley of the shadow of death—not pitch a tent and camp there.”

So ask yourself:

What are you dealing with right now?
What can you be grateful for?
And most importantly:

How will you bounce back?

Because in the end, everything—absolutely everything—comes down to how you choose to see it.

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