The ever-evolving news on COVID-19 can feel paralyzing. The future feels uncertain.

We know to wash our hands, to keep our hands away from our face, to avoid large crowds. Yet we don’t know how many people will be exposed to the virus or how many will show symptoms or how many won’t survive.

We know that the world is changing daily, that the virus disproportionately affects the elderly and those with compromised immune systems. But we don’t know when the stock market will settle or how many industries will be disrupted or what the world will look like when this pandemic has passed.

What I am certain of: We have an opportunity to be light in the darkness.

We can speak with compassion for those who are exposed to the virus. We can keep quiet about inconveniences that might save lives. We can set aside selfishness and greed and purchase only what we need, leaving basic supplies for everyone.

There are times in our lives when we feel helpless — and many more times when we can be helpful. This is the time for communities to shine.

When my husband was ill and dying, I tried to keep track of all the gifts, favors and notes we received. For months I had every intention of returning the favors.

Eventually I realized that I wouldn’t be able to respond to each person in kind — at least not in a timely fashion. More importantly, no one expected me to do so.

It’s been more than 12 years since he was diagnosed with cancer and more than a decade since he died. I still haven’t repaid all that kindness to each soul who made our lives easier.

But I have tried to take care of mommas with new babies, friends who need a pick-me-up and strangers who need resources to get through the day because I will never forget how our community rallied around us in our time of helplessness.

Our heroes delivered homemade dinners and takeout meals. They took our young children to the movies and the playground. They folded towels and dried dishes with me. They grocery shopped, picked up prescriptions, changed lightbulbs. They wrote notes of encouragement and shared memories that made them laugh. They recommended favorite books and movies to pass the time and offered quotes and Scripture to strengthen the soul.

They carried light in the darkness.

Those gifts and words didn’t heal Steve’s body, but they helped to soothe his spirits. And when I feel overwhelmed by circumstances or bad news even now, my own heart is comforted by memories of family members, friends and strangers who represented the best of humanity.

How can those of us not yet affected by COVID-19 provide light in the darkness?

We can stay informed via trusted sources, discarding rumors in favor of truth.

We can keep a good sense of humor while refusing to make light of a virus that is responsible for thousands of deaths worldwide.

As more coronavirus patients are identified, we can offer support to affected families — meals, errands, handwritten notes, prayers.

We can recognize the heroes among us — medical teams, folks who swoop in to disinfect public spaces, caregivers at home.

We can even reevaluate our own priorities, recognizing the difference between true tragedy and trifling irritations. We can practice what we often talk about but rarely act upon — setting aside first-world problems, letting go of petty grudges, embracing the gift of a new day.

There are countless variables we can’t predict or control, but we can control our reactions, and we can model resiliency, compassion and reason as we form communities of help, hope and light.

Tyra Damm is a Briefing columnist. She can be reached at tyradamm@gmail.com.