I started the morning by checking the time, obviously. Then going and checking the other clocks, because I never quite trust the witchcraft that is the automatic time change. After that I moved around the kitchen, wondering again how to change the time on the oven and the microwave, wondering why they can’t automatically change too, and questioning again why we even do this bi-annual ritual. Megan and Maisie were asking me about it at bedtime last night. I didn’t have great wisdom on the topic, except to tell them that if they ever work shifts, it is of great importance that they offer to work the spring clock change, and on no account should they ever request to do the autumn one. Because I did it back in my midwifery days, and you feel like you’re going to die. We then had a conversation about how you write the time change, and Megan, who likes to ask the quirky questions, said, ‘so if you had twins and one was born at 1:59 old time, then the clocks went back and the other was born at 1:00, which one would be older?’ At which I laughed and cried and wondered when they’re going back to school, because clearly educating at home isn’t doing us any favours.

After the clock changing fiasco I made pancakes, mostly because I actually had the right ingredients, which after two weeks of not doing my own shopping was fairly surprising. I waited half an hour to get dressed because there was so many people in my bedroom and bathroom. In the end I told the small ones who were finding it hilarious to give me no personal space at all, that I was just going to go and wait in Micah’s bed until they all left my room. And I did.

After a little bit of persuasion of family members, we had a version of church at home, starting by each choosing songs on YouTube, whilst Micah played every instrument he could find.

After lunch we went for our one allowed local walk, which was fairly quiet – except for us. And the hat trick of three small children all managing to go flying at different points. It seems they couldn’t work out how to walk on dry stony paths, having spent the last six months wading through muddy puddles.

I read this paraphrase of a Psalm this morning:

“You’ve kept track of all my wandering and my weeping. You’ve stored my many tears in your bottle—not one will be lost. For they are all recorded in your book of remembrance. The very moment I call to you for a father’s help the tide of battle turns and my enemies flee. This one thing I know: God is on my side!

What harm could man do to me? With God on my side I will not be afraid of what comes. My heart overflows with praise to God and for his promises. I will always trust in him.”
‭‭Psalms‬ ‭56:8-9, 11‬ ‭TPT‬‬

I was conscious today of being uneasy and anxious, and I wondered what it is, exactly, I’m afraid of? Probably for all of us during these strange days there are different aspects and elements on different days. For the man at the river wearing a mask, clearly the fear of illness was impacting how he felt about his daily walk. Perhaps he had health needs that make him vulnerable, perhaps illness just makes him anxious. Maybe it’s the financial impact of all this. We don’t really know what our finances will look like in the next few months and after that. And that is easily able to cause fear and uncertainty. Perhaps it’s how to manage working from home and educating your children. Or managing lots of different needs all day every day.

But for me, today, it wasn’t any of those bigger issues. It was the impact of isolation on relationships. You see, I’ve never been overly confident in friendships. I tend to have a few closer friends, rather than being a social butterfly. Over the years I’ve had to learn to push myself, to want to care for others who might feel the same by being honest and vulnerable and reaching out, and hopefully giving them the confidence to do it too. To risk rejection in order to gain community and fellowship. But still I sometimes struggle when I don’t see people regularly, to know where that puts our friendship. And as we all know, social media can cause a whole heap of identity insecurities.

Over the last few years I’ve become more confident in who I am, in worrying less about whether I’ve been misunderstood or downright annoying. I believe I’ve been created to be me, with my own gifts and flaws, and that I’m called to focus on who I can love instead of whether anyone loves me. I’ll brave writing a blog and leaving it there, instead of trying to over analyse whether it sounded silly or who didn’t like it. I actually have a lot of positive things to say about social media, but that’s a whole other discussion.

But this social distancing can flag up all those deeper insecurities can’t it? If we’re not seeing people, and our contact is all done virtually, it can become a mind game. If someone leaves a WhatsApp group, or it seems that someone else is on Zoom groups every night. Or if you messaged someone and they don’t reply for four days. Or you shared a meme and no one gave you a laugh emoji. Or if we start wondering if we’ll still be friends in real life after 3 months of being socially distanced. I’m aware that these thoughts are irrational, needy even, driven by the desire to be accepted and loved.

Those words from the Psalm I read were a reminder to me today that I don’t need to be afraid. I am heard, I am known, I am comforted, I am accepted, I am loved. God is on my side, here when I call, and He is trustworthy. He knows my needs, sees my fears, and doesn’t call me needy or insecure, but reminds me that He will never leave me. And whatever fears arise tomorrow, He wants me to hand them over to Him too. He loves me with a Father’s heart. And He loves you, too.