Micah had a temperature 3 weeks ago, back when an ill person should self isolate for 7 days. So everyone else carried on with school and work, and I kept him at home. On day 8, Megan and Maddie got ill. Except that now meant the whole family isolating for 14 days. And now we’re here, at the 14 days, and the whole country is isolated anyway. So we’ve reached our freedom to…go to the supermarket! Which was actually not the terrible experience I was expecting, but it was a bit surreal and eerie. It was very quiet. There were lots of awkward moments of doing a social distancing dance with the staff doing shelf picking. Some people wore masks and stayed well away, one lady had no inclination of worrying about the 2 metres and I couldn’t shake her off. I thought about coughing but was afraid of being escorted out by security. I made an effort to smile at people, and to chat to the cashier behind the screen. Especially as she was nice enough not to question my full trolley and accuse me of stockpiling. The problem was all those kids I stockpiled. They keep wanting to eat.

Anyhow I raised some smiles by bringing home the things they’d sneaked onto my shopping list. Cool Doritos for Toby, Mug shots for Maisie, and a watermelon for Megan. I bet Liam wishes I was that easily pleased. My shopping list for the end of isolation involves a holiday, weekend away with my mum and sisters, and a repeat of Mother’s Day, Easter, and every other festivity we’re going to miss. Not too much to ask, surely?

I think Theo was really excited about the school work I gave him today. I sense enthusiasm and dedication beaming out of this piece.

The little ones found great entertainment in wearing other people’s wellies and marching around the garden singing a song about…wearing other people’s wellies.

It occurred to Liam and I that we’d forgotten to bury Kiwi, and she was still tucked up in the garage. Whoops. So we called the children for a little moment, where we shared memories. Of her sweet little face. The fact that Liam always called her Hammie. And the way she ferociously bit anyone who came near her. They seemed satisfied with the service, and went their separate ways. 5 minutes later, whilst we were still comforting Maddie, an angry Micah appeared to tell tales on Theo, who wouldn’t let him on the trampoline, ‘and is being really mean. AND, Theo killed Kiwi!’

It was really really hard not to laugh. Actually Liam did. A lot. We *think* this was just an extreme effort to get his brother in trouble, however so far we don’t know if Theo’s alibi of ‘no I didn’t! I was in Maddie’s bed!’ is actually true and will stand up in a court of law.

Today is my Dad’s 73rd birthday, so it called for another Zoom session with various family members, to sing and watch him open his present. It’s definitely not the same, but I am so grateful for technology that means we can still sing happy birthday badly and all talk over each other. I love my dad. And if staying at home keeps him and all the other dads like him safe, then as much as I miss family hugs, I’m ok with it.

Today was a peaceful day here. Obviously there were moments, as there always are, but I started the day reading Isaiah 41, which says in it, ‘You are my servant, I have chosen you and not cast you off. Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.’ And I felt upheld. And even if tomorrow is fraught and we’re fed up of each other and I’m afraid or sad, I know we’ll still be upheld.

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.

This isn’t just because I felt the need to have a picture of a teeny baby on this post, although pictures of teeny babies do always make me happy. But it occurred to me earlier today that it’s the 3 year anniversary of moving into our home. Which is when this picture was taken.

Just over 3 years ago we knew Micah was due to be born, but the condition that he could come home to be with us was that we had to move house. As many of you will know, on his due date we had a phone call to say that was the situation, and that very day this house came up to let. We viewed it on the Monday, put the deposit down on the Tuesday morning, and by the evening a newborn Micah was home with us. So 3 years ago today, when he was a few weeks old, we found ourselves moving house for the 5th time in 8 years.

And we were so grateful. For the answer to prayer. For the space. For the garden and the river and the safety, and for the provision at the very moment we needed it, to keep our little ones together.

Fast forward to last summer, 2 and a bit years later, and I started to lose sight of all the good things about our home, and all the reasons why it was a gift. I was frustrated with renting and the problems it brings. Envious of people who could buy a home and decorate it how they wanted. Ashamed of being nearly 40 and still not being in a ‘stable’ position. I wrestled with it and sulked and told God and good friends my frustrations and asked for contentment and a thankful heart.

Over the last few weeks I’ve kept thinking about families in flats, in the middle of cities, who are spending these weeks struggling for space and freedom. And today I looked out at my garden, and was reminded again just why I should remain thankful that 3 years ago we were given this home. Far bigger than the one we’d come from, and just when we needed it. And why I can be thankful that we are still here. We are isolated yes, but we are not confined. We are lucky to have lots of rooms and a garden and to look out on a river, and to have a sense of space and freedom. If nothing else, I hope I’ve gained a fresh perspective in these weeks, and am not so quick to complain.

Other than that reflective moment of the morning, I can’t honestly say I did a lot today. I was cold and tired and felt more like hibernating than I have done so far. I dug out some classic piano music, channelled my inner teenager, and played an iconic isolation tune, ‘On My Own…’.

Liam and I stood in the kitchen and watched a video of the sea, and pretended we’d been on a day trip back to Cornwall.

I finished a blanket for a special little girl, which I was asked to do quite some time ago. Nothing like a bit of quarantine to push you into finishing all the projects.

We had to say a sad goodbye to Kiwi, who had lived to the ripe old age of almost 2 years. The kids were appropriately sad. Maisie, who is a tough cookie and prides herself in not crying, was very emotional, and informed me it’s because she likes the animals more than the people at home. I think this nearly 13 year old is enjoying having so much family time. After about 10 minutes they all perked up and starting asking for a puppy. Oh how I laughed.

I came across this and wondered, if this was me on day 3, what hope is there for me on day 12? Thankfully friends have understood my basic needs and kept me stocked up in wine. I hear off licences are actually classed as an essential store now. It’s a funny old world out there.

Liam (who is feeling a bit better today) took two of the boys off for a walk where they enjoyed being chased by sheep, and I feel like I’ve actually stopped, for the first time in a while. And I was grateful for these verses, reminding me of God’s grace and understanding in my bad days and grumpy days, and how gently and kindly He knows and cares for me.

11 For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his steadfast love toward those who fear him;
12 as far as the east is from the west, so far does he remove our transgressions from us.
13 As a father shows compassion to his children, so the LORD shows compassion to those who fear him.
14 For he knows our frame; he remembers that we are dust. – Psalm 103:11-14

I’m grumpy today. I’ve tried not to be. No one has done anything, I just am. I feel like I’ve done my time. I’m frustrated and a bit bored and anxious and feeling the isolation. I’m still grateful for the sun, for our health, for being safe, for being with people I love, but I’m in a grump. I’m sad for other people, for those who are working so hard, for those who are lonely, for those who are grieving or scared. And I’m missing community.

But that aside, there have been good moments today. The sun’s still shining, a friend brought us more food. The littles were excited to have post and a wave from their buddies. I completed day 5 of PE with Joe without swearing at the TV.

I had lemons to use up so I suggested to Theo that we make a cake with them. I got the recipe books out for him to choose-lemon cupcakes, lemon bars, lemon loaf…he looked at all the books on the shelf and said sadly, ‘are they ALL lemon? Aren’t any of them chocolate?’

So we compromised and made both.

I tried to relieve my boredom by colouring my garden wall. Then I scootered on the driveway. Liam got on his skateboard and we had races. The kids were nowhere to be seen. There’s a chance the neighbours think we’re losing the plot, and if I’m honest, I think they might be right.

In the afternoon I had this great idea that would make isolation much more fun. We’d set up a restaurant for dinner, the kids could make signs and menus, we’d make it posh and it would be a nice change to the monotony. I was inspired and enthused and called them to join in.

Two of them caught the enthusiasm, they named the restaurant (The Lurker Lounge), and started creating a menu, including starters of veg sticks and garlic bread, followed by pizza and pesto pasta, with cupcakes to finish.

Unfortunately it didn’t end up quite as insta-perfect as I’d dreamed. One unnamed assistant picked up an open bottle and shook J20 all over the kitchen as we were dishing out. Mr Lurker developed a splitting headache and retired to bed halfway through the meal. I ran between sorting food, checking his temperature, and clearing up dishes. Only to have a small but destructive child squirt antibacterial spray into my glass of wine. I’d like to think he was caring for my welfare and protecting me from any Covid germs, but his smirk at my distress leads me to believe otherwise. He was just being a little (insert chosen adjective here).

I’d like to say it improved, but unfortunately the three small people had loud meltdowns when I tried to put them to bed, bringing a pained looking Liam out to help. Now they are quiet he’s returned to sleep off the migraine. The older kids are watching some terrible American sitcom, and I’m forced to watch quarantine memes and drink the rest of Liam’s wine.

Joking aside, apart from a genuine concern at Liam not feeling great, I know things will be ok. It’s inevitable to have down days, we’re being forced into a way of living that is foreign to the freedom we usually know. As humans, we’re social beings made for connection and relationship, and to be asked to distance ourselves is always going to be hard. So I’m accepting today’s feelings and being honest with you, with myself, with God. Really, I have little to complain about, and I know that. But at times it’s lonely and it’s boring and these people mess up my house and sabotage my wine, and that is hard to accept with gentleness and grace.

So I’m hanging onto the words of my favourite Psalm which I read this morning, reminding me that I am known and loved, on my best days and in my grumpy days, and that I am never ever alone.

1 O LORD, you have searched me and known me!
2 You know when I sit down and when I rise up; you discern my thoughts from afar.
3 You search out my path and my lying down and are acquainted with all my ways.
4 Even before a word is on my tongue, behold, O LORD, you know it altogether.
5 You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me.
6 Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is high; I cannot attain it.
7 Where shall I go from your Spirit? Or where shall I flee from your presence?
8 If I ascend to heaven, you are there! If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there!
9 If I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,
10 even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me.
11 If I say, “Surely the darkness shall cover me, and the light about me be night,”
12 even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is bright as the day, for darkness is as light with you.
13 For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother’s womb.
14 I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well.
15 My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth.
16 Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them.
17 How precious to me are your thoughts, O God! How vast is the sum of them!
18 If I would count them, they are more than the sand. I awake, and I am still with you. – Psalm 139:1-18

It’s 8:30 and the small 3 are asleep. Half an hour ago we opened the window and joined in claps and cheers with people all over the country to say thank you to our NHS. I have so many family and friends who are working hard, risking their own health, tirelessly to help us all. But this isn’t new, they didn’t just start in these last two weeks. They do it day in, day out, night in, night out, on bank holidays, at Christmas, in the snow. They go to work when they are ill. They go to work when they are going through personal crisis. They go to work when they are afraid of what they’ll face when they get there. I hope and pray that after the Covid crisis is over, the government and the country will not forget who we were cheering tonight.

In other news, we had a slow start today, and I thought I would be alone with Joe Wicks. But by 9:10 the troops had joined us, except for Theo and Micah, who hid in what Theo informed us was called the ‘Fairy Love House’. He never fails to entertain.

Next up whilst the older ones worked was ‘washing the car’ using a water pistol. You can imagine how long we lasted before he turned the gun on the rest of us.

Micah staged a protest in his car, on the road to nowhere, when he learned once again that we weren’t going to Grandma’s house. We made do with sending a video, but he really does blame me for all of this. (I blame Grandma, who confessed that she’d always prayed that her children would home educate. Powerful prayers from that lady.)

We decided we needed to get out, and bravely stepped beyond our four walls. We did encounter people. These are the scariest of species right now. Suddenly it feels like you should dive sideways into a hedge, turning away and avoiding sharing the same air or making eye contact at all costs, when faced with an oncoming homo sapien. That aside, it was so lovely to get out. To feel space and freedom and climb logs and throw stones and pretend we were in the Lake District.

There are so many small moments in each day that I’m thankful for. It doesn’t stop the scary moments, the frustrating moments, the ‘why do my kids still whinge when we actually leave the house after nearly 2 weeks moments’, but it helps to look at the good stuff. And the funny stuff. Like Maddie blurting out at the dinner table, ‘Megan, what does pregnant mean?’ Cue one embarrassed nearly 14 year old, who we left to it as she embarked on a biology lesson with an extremely inquisitive 5 year old. ‘I don’t understand the holes’, being my particular favourite moment.

On that high point I’ll leave it there for tonight. I hope your Friday brings equally comical or beautiful moments amongst the weirdness of our lives right now.

1 The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.
2 He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters.
3 He restores my soul. He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.
4 Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.
5 You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.
6 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the LORD forever. – Psalms 23

I’m starting to wonder what the world out there is like. The last time I went to a supermarket there was food on the shelves and lots of people and we were all squeezed into a queue together. If we went for a walk as a family we wouldn’t have had concerns the police might approach us for being too gang-like to possibly be a family group.

I stand in the garden in the morning these days and it’s eerie. Mostly because it’s so quiet all around the estate and I know that all the children are at home so I’m wondering what the parents are doing with them? Why is it only in my garden they sound like they’re murdering each other?

Those ponderings aside, today has felt long. Liam found out he can’t order from Wickes unless he’s providing an essential service. Apparently my jobs list doesn’t qualify in the list of hospitals and care homes. So now I need home education ideas for a 40 year old who’s highly likely to play truant and be found drinking beer behind the shed.

He did at least join in with PE today, unlike Theo, who is increasingly reluctant to be schooled, unless it is on his terms. Which is limited to making cakes. Although he was very into making ‘Dragon Dough’, which passed a good half hour and created an hour’s worth of cleaning.

He’s a tricky one to entertain that one. My creative brain is a little overworked today. He didn’t like my colouring idea, but Toby and I enjoyed it and we can’t please everyone. There’s plenty more fence to be covered. Hours of fun right there! Theo, it turned out, would much rather lie in the Heather bush.

But one particularly frustrated child aside, there were some very lovely moments along the way. Glorious sunshine is always a winner. Micah stroking a teary Theo and offering to go and get his favourite toy ‘Batty’ for him. Then when Theo nodded yes, please, Micah turning around and delegating the job to me. He might be the youngest but he rules the roost.

Sisterly love always makes me smile. As did Maddie lying on the bed and watching and re-watching her teacher reading stories to her with a contented look on her face. I’m so grateful for the effort their lovely teachers are going to to keep a little bit of normal for them.

Happy post arrived in the form of brownies, one of my ‘good deeds’ in supporting a local business. This one was a real sacrifice for sure. And even more special was the hand written letter with lovely words that the postman delivered from a friend. And the long distance sighting of and chat with my lovely sister and brother in law. It was a challenge to keep the kids away, but so good to see their faces. I do miss hugs.

It’s good to keep in touch with other people. As it’s starting to feel like we’ve been here for a while now, and are losing touch with the world, it’s helpful to keep perspective and keep looking outside my own circumstances to what’s going on with other people. I’m not sure I’ll ever love FaceTime or Zoom, but I’m so glad we’ve got those options and I want to keep hearing from people. The good stuff and the hard stuff. I don’t want to emerge back into the world in a few weeks or months and feel like people are strangers. It might be a bit more effort right now, but it is totally worth it, even when it’s just a WhatsApp feed full of other slightly crazy isolated people who all need a laugh. Or cry. Or a song. Or a verse. Or a YouTube suggestion. Or food shopping. Or just to not feel alone. Thank you to all of you for being those people, you are a gift to me!

‘A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for adversity.’ – Proverbs 17:17

It’s only Tuesday so obviously we started enthusiastically. We were there ready for Joe at 9. We were all more motivated today. Well, all except the two small boys, who thought it was far more fun to get all the balls from the basket and throw them at me whilst exercising. Like a 30 second plank wasn’t challenging enough, without having rugby balls aimed at your head.

PE complete, we settled down to work. I thought I was doing well setting Maddie some time-telling challenges. It turns out she knows how to tell the time and flew through that in 5 minutes. In that time I attempted to give the two boys activities which they threw across the table, and Toby had a sad little meltdown over missing school and his friends and generally being fed up of our new normal.

So we left the big girls to it, we found cardboard and paint to go outside for the little ones, and phoned a friend for Toby to chat to.

And that was really how the day went. It wasn’t bad, but we were just all a bit droopy. So I just went with it. The small ones played in the garden until lunch, the bigger ones did a bit of work, and then after lunch we chilled.

Which I think is what everyone needed, judging by the naps on the sofa. They watched films, Liam had some important jobs to do in the garage, and I pottered in between laundry, housework, and connecting with family and friends.

It’s such a strange time of feeling like I’m not really doing anything. It’s like going camping, when making a cup of tea seems like a monumental moment in the day. But at the same time it’s frustrating. I’m a doer, a fixer, a helper. I left the health service 8 years ago, but I’m watching everything that’s going on and wishing I could do more than just being supportive. I stopped fostering 3 years ago, but knowing there are so many vulnerable children and families out there makes me feel helpless.

So I do what I can. I pray. I try and care for my people. I try and connect with friends and family and see how they are. Because these days are difficult for everyone. No matter who you are, there’s an impact. And like someone said in a text today, what is tough looks so different for everyone in this. In so many ways I feel like we in our little corner are getting away lightly. All we are being asked to do is to stay at home, safely, together. And my heart aches for those who are facing much harder days. Grief. Loneliness. Illness. Job loss. Anxiety for their own vulnerability or someone they love. Going to work not knowing what they’re facing.

Today I felt like I wished I could do more. But for now, here is where I am meant to be. So I made meatballs and chocolate mousse and hugged my people and even let Liam hide in the garage. (Sorry, he was doing jobs.)

And I spoke to friends and family and was grateful. And I listened to music and read verses like these, and I prayed that I can help where I can, and I that I love those around me whilst we all wait and hope.

20 Our soul waits for the LORD; he is our help and our shield.
21 For our heart is glad in him, because we trust in his holy name.
22 Let your steadfast love, O LORD, be upon us, even as we hope in you. – Psalm 33:20-22

I’ve been wondering what threats I can use on misbehaving teens now. Grounding them doesn’t seem to have the impact that it used to. We watched Boris this evening, I told the kids they should watch too as this was something important. Something their kids would learn about in history. To which Megan, queen of deadpan drama, said ‘well, we’ll probably be locked down for so long we won’t even be able to have children.’

You can use my eldest’s optimism to make your own judgement about how school went today! We started at 9 for PE with Joe, as did most of the country. I was by far the most enthusiastic, Maddie the most reluctant, Theo the most disruptive, and Megan and Micah competed for the fittest. Nothing new there then!

School started well, and lasted for at least 10 minutes before certain older members looked suspiciously like they were playing games instead of researching World War 2.

They all managed a piece of work though, so we counted that a success. And with the sun shining so beautifully I was never going to keep them indoors anyway.

I got a sense today that for those whom isolation is just beginning, you’re feeling like I was this time last week. I promise it will be ok. Don’t think about the long term, just do today. Or the next 10 minutes, if need be. Screens are ok. Hiding in the toilet is ok. Them not enjoying every online activity and bouncing on the trampoline is ok.

You will have enough food. Even Boris says you’re allowed to get food. There are 8 of us and we’ve been home for a week (plus a week before that in the daytime), and we haven’t run out of food. We are massively blessed with amazing friends and family who’ve offered help, who’ve been kind and generous, and we haven’t even run out of toilet roll. And there are people there for you too. We might have to be less British and ask for help. But that’s ok. (I have a food order booked next week if you need to add to it.)

I’ve been blown away by how lovely people have been. The nursery teacher and year 1 teacher who have children of their own, both putting little videos on for the children to see them and keep an element of familiar and normal. A mum from school offering to do a group story time so they could have some fun and see each other’s faces. The people checking in to see how we are. The social worker on the phone offering a daily call if we wanted it, just to support us in helping the kids through a time like no other. People doing our shopping and adding treats in. There is so much good to be found.

And there’s bits that are hard too. I’m grieving the holiday and conference that we can’t go on. Things I’ve been looking forward to for a year, crossed off the calendar. Postponed for another year, probably. And I know that’s nothing in comparison to the people having to postpone weddings, or other major events. So very very hard. It’s ok to feel that loss too. To quote the wisdom of Trolls, ‘it’s not all cupcakes and rainbows’. Although we’ve eaten a significant number of cupcakes, and I hear there are rainbows appearing in windows everywhere.

At the end of the day my missed holiday is a small price to pay for the safety of my paramedic sister, my nurse sister, my doctor brother. For the protection of my pregnant sister. Or the amazing elderly lady volunteering in the National Trust property we visited in Cornwall, the lady Liam actually wanted to adopt and bring home. In hindsight, it’s probably a good thing we didn’t. She may not have enjoyed lockdown with us.

I’ll finish with a verse and a song, because they’re what lift my spirits (also the Prosecco and chocolate next to me, but I can’t share them sorry. Boris forbids it.)

21 But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope:
22 The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases; his mercies never come to an end;
23 they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.
24 “The LORD is my portion,” says my soul, “therefore I will hope in him.” – Lamentations 3:21-24

And for a song, we all love Rend Collective’s My Lighthouse. Maddie particularly does an excellent rendition of this one:

In my wrestling and in my doubts
In my failures You won’t walk out
Your great love will lead me through
You are the peace in my troubled sea
You are the peace in my troubled sea

In the silence, You won’t let go, In the questions, Your truth will hold
Your great love will lead me through
You are the peace in my troubled sea
You are the peace in my troubled sea

My lighthouse, my lighthouse
Shining in the darkness. I will follow You
My lighthouse, my lighthouse
I will trust the promise
You will carry me safe to shore (oh-oh-oh-oh-oh)
Safe to shore (oh-oh-oh-oh-oh)
Safe to shore (oh-oh-oh-oh-oh)
Safe to shore

I won’t fear what tomorrow brings
With each morning I’ll rise and sing
My God’s love will lead me through
You are the peace in my troubled sea
You are the peace in my troubled sea.

I say it’s day 6, but who really knows? I have to consciously check my phone in the morning to know the day of the week now. Turns out today was Sunday – Mothering Sunday no less.

Although it was strange not to be headed to church this morning, and I missed that community, I’m so grateful for all I have today. I was surrounded by little and big people, some of them fighting to get as near to me as they could (that’ll be the older two boys, then). My big girls had gone to the shops and bought me something way back last weekend when we had that kind of freedom! Maddie and Theo had produced works of art in school which I then paid for to support the school, gave to them when they arrived, they hid them and I feigned extreme surprise when they proudly produced them this morning. And Liam had been very lovely and ordered some surprises off my wishlist (which I wrote so long ago that I forget what is on it), supporting small businesses (that always makes me happy), and somehow it all seems so much more special to receive gifts when you know it’s not as easy as nipping to Tesco the night before.

Maddie was insistent that because it’s Mother’s Day she should do the washing up. She stood there for an hour washing a handful of things, until her fingers went all wrinkled and she declared it was very tiring.

I had on my mind today all those friends for whom Mother’s Day is so hard. I feel blessed and humbled for all I have, and pray I always remain grateful and never take what I have for granted.

We had an epic family Zoom call to mum, in which I was largely pushed out of the way by my children, two people munched on snacks, Dr Joel couldn’t get the sound to work so had to join in via sign language and written messages, and no one really knew what anyone was saying. But it was hilarious nonetheless, and lovely to see everyone’s faces. We have little to complain about isolation when we live in a time like this really-my presents came via mail order, we connected together via the laptop, and the Dominos man brought my Mother’s Day dinner.

It was good to join in the National Day Of Prayer this evening, and spend some time whilst sitting with small people tucked up in bed, calling on God for hope and healing for our world. For protection for the staff who are caring for those who are ill. For protection for those who are vulnerable. For the leaders of our country to make the right decisions in managing this crisis. For the people around us to consider one another’s needs before their own. For comfort for those who are grieving loved ones. And for good to come from all of this.

6 ‘Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.
7 And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. – Philippians 4:6-7

That is a true story. Then he said ‘sit up or else’, and fired it at me. It’s no wonder at every massage I’ve had they said I was tense.

After I was rudely awoken, I had that feeling you have when something awful has happened. When you wake up and for a minute it seems normal (fart gun aside), and then you remember that nothing is normal.

Aside from a couple of wobbles this morning, on the whole it was a better day. The sun was shining, Liam was present and not having to work, the kids played outside and I cleaned. I realised we were either going to become hermits surrounded by tonnes of waste, or I’d have to move into manic cleaning woman mode. And the latter seems to be better for all of us. Especially you, when you visit in the future.

We were so kindly blessed today by amazing friends thinking of us and leaving gifts on our doorstep, by others asking if we needed anything. And I’m so grateful.

But today I feel sober too. It’s becoming increasingly apparent that despite all the pleas, people are still not really listening to advice about isolating and distancing. There are groups of teens wandering our estate. There are crowds at Barry Island and on Snowdon. It’s so tricky because we’re being told so many things, and we know we need to look after our mental health.

But this virus is taking people’s loved ones. Earlier today I was thinking about my brother Dan. He was a nurse, a flu-fighting champion for his health board. He was passionate and vocal and he would have had so much to say about all of this. And I was thinking how much I miss him. And how I don’t want to feel that heartbreak again, and how I don’t want other people to feel that pain of loss either. But, tragically, people already are facing a tomorrow without someone they love.

So if there’s anything I’m thinking today, it’s how important this is. Hard, yes. Unprecedented, yes. Lonely, yes. But worth it, to save someone’s life, absolutely yes. Life is a gift we so easily take for granted. Let’s protect it and treasure it by listening to what we’re told. Let’s love our neighbours by not going out tomorrow.

‘Love does no wrong to a neighbor; therefore love is the fulfilling of the law.’ – Romans 13:10