I call the coronavirus the Moral Virus because what it asks of us – other than surviving it – is to make moral choices about our responses.

Do we help others? Do we give other people more than we offer ourselves? Should we stay inside, and for how long? Do we value and protect the elderly? Save the economy? Try to keep others out of danger even as we struggle to do the same for ourselves?

Who do we trust and listen to? Self-aggrandizing bloviating politicians or knowledgeable scientists? When should we return to work, and how much should we sacrifice to this disease?

I don’t have the answers to all of these questions, but I  think about them. And I thought about them again today. The virus will force me to define myself and, hopefully, in a moral way. We will all be changed when it’s over.

There is a woman who lives around here who I think might be an undocumented worker – I don’t know for sure and won’t ask. She makes a living doing odd jobs on farms and cleaning the houses of people who can afford that.

Today she came to our house, and I saw her taking some cans of beans and soup out of the Little Free Library, where we have been putting them along with the books we give out.

I know without her cleaning jobs, she will have little or no income. And so now, she has no income.

She dropped some of the cans and I went out to help. I could see the fear in her eyes.

The farmers are hurting as badly as anyone.  I can’t imagine how frightened and alone she must be or how cruel a country we have become.  There is little chance of people finding work right now.

This is a question about one of the most elemental needs of any human: food.

I asked her how she was doing, and she told me – trying to smile – that every one of her house-cleaning clients had asked her to stop coming because of the coronavirus.  Her business and income had crumbled.

I have no quarrel or judgment about the people who let her go; everyone has to take care of themselves. There are good reasons to keep transient workers out of our homes right now.

It’s not a choice I could make, but it is an appropriate choice to make. Morality doesn’t require that we put ourselves in danger.

By now, I take the virus as seriously as I am being asked to take it.

I don’t need any further persuasion to stay away from people and stay inside. Other than my daily trek to Jean’s (accompanied by much soap and hand washing), I stay away from people. My guide is my governor, Andrew Cuomo, whose honest and empathy allow me to trust completely.

I watch his daily briefing like a soap opera and do what he asks.

But I worried about this woman.

And I wondered just whose task it is to worry about her?  Talking to her, I thought the women Dorothea Lange photographed in the Great Depression, so along with their poverty and hunger. When will we learn how to treat people?

I asked her to wait, and I went into the farmhouse and got some of the gift cards that I bought myself for the Bishop Maginn families. I got four $50 Price Chopper cards (I will buy four more to replace them) and gave them to her.

At first, she shook her head, no thanks. She has a lot of pride; she is not used to asking for help or getting any.

Then I saw the look in her face and understood that she needed this money to eat. Her eyes teared up, and she thanked me with a gratitude that touched my heart, I felt it deeply. She was enormously relieved.

It was very different from most thank yous.

I think the most important moral choice facing me is how and when to help people in need. The need is overwhelming, and I will burn out quickly if I don’t focus on what I can do and what I can’t do. And I need to think about Maria and me.

We aren’t exactly rolling in money. What is the line in a recession or depression between the helper and the helped?

I can’t get this woman a bunch of new jobs or alter the trajectory of her life. I can’t get in that deep, even if she wanted me to.

I thought about asking for a cell number, I wondered if we shouldn’t reach out to try to help her in a more significant way. I decided not to. That’s not a path I can walk on right now. It would be sure to overwhelm me, and my life on the farm.

Is that selfish? Narrow-minded. I don’t think so. I’ve learned in recent years what I can do and what I can do.

I can make sure she has enough food to feed her family over the next few weeks. And speaking of morality, this hard-working woman, who has children to feed, is not getting any government check from Congress.

No government agency is tasked with helping her, or even acknowledging her existence. If she gets sick, she is on her own. So are her children.

She has no access to health care, or any means of paying for it, which means she could be endangering others if she continues to work for them in their homes.

She’s had some health issues, which makes her at risk. So I ask myself, what kind of people are we, who leave such people to their fate and brand them criminals and parasites? At the very least, she is entitled to food in the world’s most prosperous country.

Over the next weeks and months, I will be called again and again to make a lot of moral decisions; to help others while protecting my own life and safety. But I know I couldn’t sleep well or like the face in the mirror if I didn’t help this frightened mother.

This process, this virus and the choices we will have to make will help me become the human being I want to be. To like and respect the man I see in the mirror every morning. That is the most important moral choice of all.