The evening scenes were insta-perfect. Liam spent the latter part of the afternoon pitching the tent, we cooked a bbq, he had beer, I had Prosecco, they had popcorn, and it was lovely. The views aren’t too bad at this campsite-hills to the rear and a river at the front. It’s a private pitch, and if you shut your eyes you can pretend the sound of the cars are waves crashing. If you have a good imagination, that is. Liam and the younger four children are out there now, intending to sleep. Although how much they’ll get and at what point I’ll have various small people posted into the house I don’t know!

It really was a lovely evening. But in the nature of authenticity, I have to be honest and say it was probably the worst morning we’ve had since the beginning of being isolated. Despite the cute picture of two pyjama clad blonde boys, which is why we can confirm the camera may not lie, but it’s truth can be twisted. Because one of those boys barely stayed for the picture, and then he went on a destructive mission. To either wind up or destroy. I tried to channel his energy into shooting targets on the wall, but that lasted for all of about 10 seconds, as did every other activity we tried to give him. And then everyone else wanted to do something different, and other people started arguing, and it all unravelled.

For whatever reason, and there are probably several, we just all lost it. There were tears, tantrums, fights, and meltdowns. It wasn’t pretty. I hid in the garage for a while. We had a subdued lunch. Then we talked about it. Then we prayed. Then we talked a bit more.

I’m not a psychologist, so I can’t give explanations about it all. And the reality is that in normal life, every now and then, there will come a day where the pressure cooker reaches its boiling point and the steam explodes. It is almost certainly heightened at the moment by all being together with no escape for 24 days. The loss of family and friends and freedom. The lack of structure and routines of normal life. Heightened anxiety over work and the virus and the risk of those we love being exposed to it. Little ones who live in a heightened state of fear anyway having some of the stability they rely on removed suddenly and they can’t understand why. It’s all likely to add up and tip us over the edge.

But in some ways, all the reasons why this morning we fell apart aren’t really the bit that I think is worth focussing on. Because there will always be days where it becomes too much. Coronavirus won’t take over our lives forever, and as much as we’re all promising that once it’s over we’ll be grateful for the small things and we’ll appreciate life more, when this is all over there will still be the days when life feels too much.

But just like I told myself yesterday, there is hope. We are messy people all living together, all having days where our boat is rocked and we’re struggling to hold on. And the good news for me is that we don’t have to do the holding on, because we’re being held. Tomorrow is Good Friday, and my hot cross buns are proving in the fridge tonight. The cross there to remind us of the One who came to hold us because we can’t hold ourselves. To save us because we can’t save ourselves.

It almost certainly wasn’t coincidence that today this arrived, sent by a friend, with words of encouragement. That today I received a parcel of Easter goodies from mum, including a tub of homemade mini egg caramel shortbread. They definitely tipped me over the emotional edge into happy-sad tears, but the reminder that I’m not alone was never more timely.

And I guess, if there was a reason I started writing these posts, that would be why. Because I want to remind all of us that we’re not alone. Which is why I try and be real about our days. Because I think we try and live up to a standard we set ourselves or we are falsely dragged into believing exists. Some days I feel like I’m there, I’m smashing the home schooling and the cleaning and baking up a storm. Other days, I’m hiding in the garage. Sometimes it’s all in the same day, that’s just how quickly the wind can change around here!

And today it changed for the better, thankfully. I had my cry, we had a family chat, and asked God to help us love each other better and to keep people safe and to end these tricky times. Then we made a plan of action for the afternoon, Liam started on the tent and I headed for the Tesco marathon. By the time I arrived home order was restored. Except for Micah, who unfortunately had a rough afternoon. He was accidentally poked in the eye by a sibling, so his eye was swollen and watery and looked like he’d had a fight. He woke up, needed a wee, walked with one eye shut to the bathroom, slid over in a puddle kindly left on the floor by his brother, landed on his bum and wet himself. And I thought my day was bad!!! Thank the Lord for the magic healing properties of ice lollies (and eye drops) I say.

This evening I read from the kids Bible the story called ‘The Captain of the Storm’, about when Jesus and his disciples went in a boat and Jesus fell asleep. And then a great storm came, and his friends were terrified and cried to him to help. And He woke, and the one who had spoken the waves into being commanded them to stop, and they did. The story (taken from Matthew 8) says that,

‘Jesus’ friends had been so afraid, that they had only seen the big waves. They had forgotten that, if Jesus was with them, then they had nothing to be afraid of. No matter how small their boat-or how big their storm.’ I have nothing to be afraid of. My boat (or house) might feel too small and enclosed right now, and the Covid storm outside too big, but I am not alone in this storm, just as I have never been alone in any storm I’ve faced before. And when I call out to Him, He hears.

1 Be merciful to me, O God, be merciful to me, for in you my soul takes refuge; in the shadow of your wings I will take refuge, till the storms of destruction pass by.
2 I cry out to God Most High, to God who fulfills his purpose for me.
3 He will send from heaven and save me; he will put to shame him who tramples on me. God will send out his steadfast love and his faithfulness! – Psalm 57:1-3