It’s strange how life has changed over these months. Suddenly the little jobs I would have classed as errands are now a major feat and take up half of the day. This morning I felt like I was juggling priorities – the kids needed someone to sit with them to do schooling, I wanted to hang the washing out before the weather changed. I had several parcels to weigh and measure and print labels for, before going to the post office and Morrison’s. Which is always more than a ‘popping in’. And of course the usual dishwasher emptying, laundry sorting and getting everyone going with school work.

Thankfully there’s another team member here with me, so Liam successfully got Theo making sand letters whilst I ran around.

Maddie was having a wobbly morning, and it’s hard to learn about maths or frogs when you’re feeling all the feelings. And I knew me leaving the house was going to be an issue if we couldn’t find a calming strategy. So I dug out the magic painting book I ordered the other day, and it proved itself magic indeed. The excitement of the colours appearing, the delight over the woodland pictures, and the soothing paint strokes all seemed to help, so she settled herself there for a good while.

Older children have wobbly days too, but the chicken falling asleep on his lap cheered Toby up, and then he got to go with Liam for his first real life interaction with friends in 3 months. I think like me, he was nervous of the thought of all the changes, but thrilled to see friends and play.

The Wii fit told us it hadn’t been used for 256 days which I’m sure isn’t true…but it was good to see them enjoying it together. Apparently inspired by all their film favourites, they practiced ski jumping like Eddie the Eagle, and bobsledding Cool Runnings style.

Theo meanwhile decided to make the most of the sunshine, and opted for bubbles. He wasn’t satisfied with these ones through, and pleaded for the bigger ones. So I dutifully got the Dr Zigs ones out, and ran around the garden with them for him.

He then decided he should sit in the swing whilst I made bubbles for him there. And how happy he was, living his best life whilst I waved the wand around at his demand.

The other kids came out at the mention of ice creams, and Micah insisted on pulling up a chair with the big girls, and joining in the chats.

We watched the thunder clouds roll in and Maddie kept an eye on me dashing out to get the washing in at the first lightning flash and thunder roll. The children all disappeared then, up to Megan and Maisie’s attic bedroom to watch the storm from there.

I felt a little like the weather today, moving between calm skies to storm clouds and back again. The pressures of the morning, the peaceful afternoon, broken by another tricky update phone call, making the months ahead as uncertain as ever. Knowing that I don’t need be anxious, but aware of how I resent change and that feeling of the unknown. And a wondering if I’ll ever get five minutes peace before Christmas!

I decided to run tonight, the final run of week 6 being a full 25 minute run with no walking. I left in light rain, and ran for 23 minutes in heavy rain before it eased off for the last two minutes. I learned the pros of running in torrential rain are keeping cool and hydrated and a sense of freedom. The cons being the very steamed up glasses meant I didn’t see the huge puddle coming up and my shoes are more than a little damp. The picture doesn’t do justice to how wet I was at the end!

Seven weeks ago I could barely walk up to the girls attic room without feeling unfit and out of breath. And I wouldn’t have imagined having the motivation to get to this point. Admittedly the half hour escapes from the house are definitely a selling point, but the reality is I’ve just plodded through the plan. One run at a time. And it works.

And really that’s all we can keep doing in these weeks too, isn’t it? Keep plodding, one foot in front of another, one day after another, and like Laura on the podcast kept telling me, ‘trust the plan’.

It’s not the government plan I trust in, but the plan of the One who knew this time would happen before time began. Who’s been faithful through every upheaval and challenge and loss and financial hardship and bad day and good day I’ve been through before, and will be again.

The thunder and lightning reminded me of God’s power today, that He who came to fight our battle for us will equip us for every day that feels like a battle.

1 ‘Blessed be the LORD, my rock, who trains my hands for war, and my fingers for battle;
2 he is my steadfast love and my fortress, my stronghold and my deliverer, my shield and he in whom I take refuge, who subdues peoples under me.
3 O LORD, what is man that you regard him, or the son of man that you think of him?
4 Man is like a breath; his days are like a passing shadow.
5 Bow your heavens, O LORD, and come down! Touch the mountains so that they smoke!
6 Flash forth the lightning and scatter them; send out your arrows and rout them!
7 Stretch out your hand from on high; rescue me and deliver me from the many waters…’Psalm 144:1-7

I spent a long time this morning researching colour mixing activities that didn’t involve paint mixing. But after all my google searches, here is where we ended up.

But for all my resistance to the inevitable mess-making, the sheer delight on their faces as they stirred and watched the magic happen made the fact that the boys then painted their noses red and did nose prints on the paper worthwhile. I think.

And when Theo then considered perhaps he could get involved in pulling Santa’s sleigh next Christmas, he point blank refused to have his nose cleaned for quite some time.

But it was still worth the joy. Honestly.

Maddie worked hard today learning about frogs. We borrowed Toby’s book to learn some facts and then painted a picture with the leftover paint. She comes up with some classic faces for the pictures to send to her teacher. I *think* she was trying to enact the frog’s bulging eyes that we’d been talking about.

We finished off our frog lessons with baking, obviously. We found frog muffins in the Gruffalo recipe book, which were good fun to make, and a few of us thought they were delicious. The ones who don’t trust green food weren’t convinced, even though I told them spinach was superhero food. Micah would have happily picked all the eyes and tongues off and munched his way through those though, if I’d let him.

Toby practiced his graffiti art with a logo for the Olympic Games today. I wonder how long it’ll be before he starts on his bedroom walls.

And yes, the haircut is still under discussion.

Today involved sitting down with the children and explaining the detailed plans for school and working out what their fears are, how it might look, and what the pros and cons are. In a lot of ways it’s helpful that the older children are able to communicate their perspectives. For one morning a week, it seems like nothing, but I can understand the big feelings that go with the unknown. Because that’s the bit I struggle with too.

A few months ago I was wondering how this September would feel with Micah starting nursery. After 14 years of little people at home, it feels like a big change. But now it’s the not knowing what September might even look like that is hard to get my planning head around.

But once again I was reminded today that I don’t need to be anxious about September. Or January. Or tomorrow. In February, I had no idea that Covid-19 would take over our lives and our world. And honestly, I’m glad I didn’t. Worrying about it wouldn’t have changed what we’ve faced, and would no doubt have taken the joy out of the good days we did have, celebrating Micah’s birthday and Liam’s 40th.

I don’t know what the next weeks and months will look like, how we will all continue to adjust, but I’ll keep looking up, trusting and waiting, and we’ll keep plodding on. And baking. Always baking.

1 ‘The LORD is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The LORD is the stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?
2 When evildoers assail me to eat up my flesh, my adversaries and foes, it is they who stumble and fall.
3 Though an army encamp against me, my heart shall not fear; though war arise against me, yet I will be confident.
4 One thing have I asked of the LORD, that will I seek after: that I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the LORD and to inquire in his temple.
5 For he will hide me in his shelter in the day of trouble; he will conceal me under the cover of his tent; he will lift me high upon a rock…

13 I believe that I shall look upon the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living!
14 Wait for the LORD; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the LORD! – Psalm 27:1-5, 13-14

Well here we are again, week 13 and heading for Midsummer. Another new week, another weekend passed.

Saturday was a leisurely start, with some serious equine play to start.

Followed by mid-morning art lessons with Toby. They produced some magnificent pictures of pizzas and unicorns, everything they hold dear.

We decided to risk the possible showers and go for a walk in the afternoon. Despite this idyllic picture, the path was heaving with walkers and cyclists, so it all felt a bit stressful to begin with.

Once we wandered off the main path we found the less populated parts, with the tempting river for those in wellies. Despite Theo’s best efforts at wading in to swing from the vine, I managed to keep my eagle eyes on him and foil his plans.

Obviously there were ructions. The oppositional child had a strop every time we had to choose which way to go, because he was adamant that we pick the other one. There were arguments surrounding the Saturday Marvel film watching, when an older sister discovered we weren’t watching them in the recommended order, which was horrifying to the rule keeper. But this of course upset the order-chooser, who was adamant there were no ill motives of only watching their favourites at work.

At which point I considered suggesting that we scrap the whole thing as I could think of much better ways to spend my Saturday evening. However I knew that would be unthinkable in the already tense atmosphere.

So we managed some mediation and negotiations, and wandered out into the open field.

Where suddenly everyone was friends again and Theo stole a sister’s phone and shouted ‘selfie!!!’ at them all.

Then we made our way back, with a couple of crying children and seriously holding up both the speed and the peace of the people behind us.

We agreed we would slot back into the Marvel watching plan as best we could, and so the evening’s entertainment was Captain Marvel. It held my attention a little more than the previous films have, which could have been the plot or it could have been Jude Law. Liam suspected the latter, but I could neither confirm nor deny these accusations.

Sunday started with a stack of pancakes, and a table set by Maddie, who completely surprised me with her attention to detail including table mats and actually setting the knives and forks out. Given the normal table ‘throw it all one table setting standards here, I felt this moment should be documented.

The children’s Bible story this week was the Last Supper, and I found some cute play doh mats for them to create it with. Given that this was Micah’s, I think his special meal at the bottom there might have been crafted by someone else. I noticed Liam was looking quite pleased with himself.

As Jesus, the Servant King, had washed the disciples feet at the Last Supper, we also did a little hand washing activity, and told each other things we loved about that person whilst we washed their hands. The sensory seekers absolutely loved this, and insisted on moving on to feet washing too. Theo was especially engrossed in this activity, enthusiastically telling Maisie how much he loves her ‘shiny teeth and weird eyes’.

I think she was grateful.

I spent a portion of the weekend making mini garden birds. Because what else needs doing on a lockdown weekend?! I think Liam’s nervous about the growing numbers of crocheted creatures he’s being surround by, and may start petitioning the government to lift lockdown on those grounds alone.

And now we’re back to Monday again. I feel more positive at the start of this week. I don’t know why, but I’m grateful. My learners still took a bit of persuasion, but we made frog week maths into jumping on lily pads and that seemed to help a little.

Tonight I was out running, on week 6 of couch to 5k. I was feeling ok on the run, once I got through the first five minutes of everything hurting.

And then I saw ‘her’. You know the one. She was confidently running along, with her tall and slender frame wearing Lycra shorts and a cropped top, her black ponytail swishing magnificently, across the road from me. I was the red sweaty mess, my mum tum sucked into my years old Aldi middle aisle running gear, my short frame never looking elegant, especially not with lockdown hair and absolutely never when running.

And I felt all the comparisons and inadequacies rise up, and then I remembered. I don’t know her story. She might have been running every day for a decade whilst I’ve been eating brownies and chasing toddlers.

I think it can be easy in lockdown to glance around and feel inadequate or jealous of someone else’s perceived experiences or successes. But we’re all just plodding through this in the places we’re in, on our own couch to 5k quarantine life. Walking sometimes, running effortlessly some days, dragging our weary bodies and tired minds along on other days. There are the days no one sees, the hard and lonely ones, as well as the garden camping successes, or the bake off delights.

It just made me think, let’s keep being kind. To ourselves, to others. It’s proving to be a long slow journey, and we need patience and encouragement and to recognise it’s different for everyone, but we’re all the same too. And we’re not alone in it. There is grace for today, and hope for tomorrow.

‘Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you.’ – Ephesians 4:32

Thursday morning and we’re plodding on. I had a good lie in which was very pleasant after yesterday’s early start. Maddie dug out her Bee book which I’ve read more times than I can count to help her fill in a bee fact file. My admiration for teachers has grown so much over these weeks. How they coax and enthuse and keep doing it day after day and help little learners learn is beyond amazing. With all those different characters in a classroom, the confident, the shy, the pleasers, the oppositionals, the excited and the frightened. Continually finding creative ways of sharing information and inspiring them to want to learn. Thank you, teachers.

Whilst Maddie and I wrote about bees Liam and the boys used a Frozen themed alphabet and the alphabet song to learn new letters. And then the three little ones used their name puzzles as a game. Which might have been slightly fairer if Micah’s didn’t have the letters printed both sides. For children that consider most things ‘not fair!’, they didn’t actually seem to mind this completely unfair method of playing.

I had a mess-related sulk this morning. It wasn’t mature or kind or pretty. Continual disorder is probably the thing I struggle with the most about having everyone at home. I get stressed by the mess and dirt but equally it’s been hard to be motivated to do anything about it when it’s a never ending battle. As I’m trying to sort one room, the others are being destroyed around me.

I know it’s only for a time, and I know one day I’ll be missing them being here, but for now, when there’s nowhere else to escape to, and there’s no break from it, it gets me down at times.

But we settled down. I had a long cleaning session whilst Liam patiently played games, made flower pictures, and then I went for a run. And getting out for half an hour was good for the body and mind.

I received a lovely message from Maddie’s teacher today which was helpful in the whole school decision dilemma. I’m grateful for people who get it, who care, who support, and for answers to prayers.

Earlier this afternoon I went into the garden and cut a few sprigs of lavender. This particular shrub is a standing joke between Liam and I. About 16 years ago, before we were married, and I had literally no horticultural knowledge or skills at all, I decided to plant lavender seeds. I took them seriously, watered them, and even asked a friend to take care of them when I went away.

Of that large tray of seeds, we still have two shrubs. They have been very slow to grow, but we’ve packed them up with us every time we’ve moved house, and Liam has faithfully watched over them. This is the first year they’ve been big enough or fruitful enough to really be considered taking any notice of. After 17 years!

In that time I’ve not gained an awful lot more gardening skills or knowledge, but I’ve successfully bought lavender plants much further along and even grew a huge lavender border at one house. But these little babies kept moving with us, in the hope they’d eventually grow big enough to be something lovely.

When I was running today I thought about those shrubs, and their slow, slow growth to reaching their potential. And I thought about myself, and how much I dislike the growing and learning process.

I have a tendency to not want to make mistakes. And so I’ve been reluctant to try things, in case I fail. Crafts, sports, diets, skills, speaking in public. I’ve been too proud to want to risk the humiliation of failure. Like the famous line from Apollo 13, ‘failure is not an option’.

But here’s where I have to learn to accept my humanity. Because I do fail. And I’ve made big mistakes. And I’m learning that if you don’t, you’ll never become who you’re meant to be. Who God has made you to be. If we’d thrown those spindly looking lavender shrubs away over the years because they were a bit pathetic and not flowering well, I wouldn’t have them here now, a reminder of allowing time for growth. Reminders to not be impatient with myself and others over our failings and flaws and slow growth, but seeing how gentle care and nurturing can produce beautiful flowers.

The potential for growth give me hope. For me, in my good days and bad days, in my slow progress, and for my children. To remind me to keep being patient. To keep tending, nurturing, learning how to best care for them, watering and feeding them well, and to keep loving. And to keep trusting the One who created us, waters us, is growing us, and is ever-patient with our weaknesses.

I listened to these words from a song today:

‘I stand upon the solid
Rock of faith in Christ
This steadfast hope shall not
Break apart within the trial
I am assured His promises will never fail
As long as life remains He is faithful

God is patient
God is kind
He does not envy
He does not boast
His ways are higher than my own, His thoughts consume the great unknown
Of this alone I am sure
My God is love.’ (Elohim, Hillsong worship)

I often fall down at the list from 1 Corinthians 13. But God doesn’t. He is patient, He is kind. He is love.

I was woken early today – somewhere near 6 kind of early, which is really quite unacceptable when it’s only been 7 hours since you said goodnight to the oldest child. Anyway, I heard the delicate tones of three small people loudly arguing on the stairs. So I decided in the interests of all other sleeping family members, I would take them downstairs and we would sleepily watch the telly.

We had an amazing early morning delivery of fresh eggs from our friends, so Liam cooked eggs in 3 different forms before school, which meant we were already on leisurely timing for the school day.

But then morning didn’t go quite as planned. I’m trying to gently chat to each of the children about school. How they feel about going back, what it might look like, what we should do. I started this conversation with one of the older children, and was completely unprepared for how emotive it would be. The anxieties, her fears, the many thought out reasons why she absolutely doesn’t feel ready to go back. We talked and hugged and I promised we hadn’t decided yet.

I moved from that tricky conversation to coaxing Maddie through maths she wasn’t keen on, despite my creative efforts at making bees to help with wing addition. Actually it was only bribery of baking a bee chocolate cake that helped the situation.

And of course as soon as the small boys got wind of chocolate and stirring they were insistent on being involved. Which always makes for an entertaining baking experience.

Maddie pranced around at some point this morning with her wings on, and I overheard her trying to encourage Theo to play with her.

‘I thought you wanted to play with the most beautiful and best owl ever – Me.’

I think that sold it to him.

Later she appeared in the same dress but had put a pair of tights on. ‘Mum!’ She said, ‘have you seen the new me?!’

I could do with a pair of those tights.

There were a few ‘incidents’ today. The paddling pool began to deflate and created a puddle, or a ‘swamp’ according to the kids. Which I looked out of the window and saw them knee-deep in. Shoes, socks, trousers soaked.

A little while later I answered the door to a delivery driver, and as I shut it, I heard Micah crying from upstairs. It turned out he was attempting to get clean socks, and had tried to climb the chest of drawers, which he was now holding up as it leaned precariously on him. That child is ageing me faster than the other five put together. It’s a good job he’s got super strength in those arms.

We recovered with some afternoon tv which two children thought would be better watched upside down. To be fair, we’ve watched Trolls so many times maybe it would be more entertaining from a different angle?

Maddie, Micah and I finished decorating the bee cake, which she insisted on adding larva at three different stages of development to, along with the adult bees. She’s committed to accuracy, this one.

Today has been a strangely emotional one, where it’s felt like all of the children’s different needs have been heightened and required patience, care and attention. Whilst at the same time the question of school is weighing down on us.

Two schools have sent surveys asking if the children will be attending which have to be completed by tomorrow, but we won’t get the details of plans regarding how school will look until Monday. Which makes it a little tricky to make a decision with not a great deal of information. I can see so many reasons both to send them back and to keep them home, and it’s not overly simple which might be the best option for each child.

Two of our children have medical/psychological issues that have been heightened during lockdown, and could cause more stress back in the school environment. One is deaf, and will struggle more than usual if teachers or pupils choose to wear masks, or even just in the 2 metre distance from others. Another is committed to finger sucking and abandoning a seriously germ-infested but much loved cuddle ‘toppy’ wherever she feels so inclined, perhaps defeating the object of any hand washing and social distancing school might attempt.

We had tears and discussions with two of the older children today, over various matters. Then I received a 50 minute video sent from the psychology service to adoptive parents regarding the return to school to watch, and later Liam received an email with updated furlough information from his workplace to look through.

And it just felt like a heavy sort of day. Albeit with comedy moments thrown in, like Theo declaring Megan ‘the Queen of poop. And wee. And toilets. And stinky!’ because he was a bit annoyed with her. You have to love four year old boys for their insulting yet mood-lightening abilities.

I stood in kitchen attacking the mammoth clean up operation whilst Liam sorted the kids bedtime, and I felt quite tearful with the weight of it all. But as I washed up, the music in the background played,

‘Rock of Ages, cleft for me, let me hide myself in Thee.’

And the verse that keeps popping into my head returned again,

“The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.”
‭‭Exodus‬ ‭14:14‬ ‭

And the one that says,

‘Trust in the LORD forever, for the LORD GOD is an everlasting rock.’ – Isaiah 26:4

And I felt peace. That the best thing I can do is to be still, to hide in the cleft of the everlasting Rock. Finding rest and grace for today there, and wisdom and hope for tomorrow.

There probably isn’t a clear answer on school, and the weeks may continue to be a bit tricky. But the Rock we stand on is unchanging and strong, and He is the One who is fighting for us, never leaving us alone in it. So even if it’s unsettling, I don’t have to be unsettled. I can be still.

The literal clouds may not have lifted that far today, but the emotional ones seemed to have left our house a little. Why was Monday morning so tricky and then Tuesday small people were back on board and accepting that we’re still here and doing this school thing? I don’t know why, but it was pleasant to have children who didn’t scowl and run into the other room this morning!

Theo’s letter of the week is ‘h’, so we enthusiastically read through his book finding the animals that started with ‘h’.

‘Horse! Hog! Cat!’

‘No, Theo, what sound does cat with? C-at, C-at?’

‘H?’

We fared much better with writing the letter. Theo often struggles with forming letters, so when he wrote it himself, we cheered so enthusiastically that he went red, told us he was embarrassed, and hid behind his paper. So incredibly cute.

We are loving bee week, Maddie-Moo and I. We watched videos of the life cycle of bees, ticked off the ones we spotted in the garden, did some bee maths, and made some bees to fly around the garden. Which were so popular that all three boys asked to make them too.

Whilst Maddie and I were engrossed with bee facts, Liam took Theo and Micah on a nature colour hunt. There are lots of benefits to having a husband who used to teach Forest School at home on furlough during these weeks. For all the uncertainties that come with it, I’m so grateful that we’ve had significantly better parent to child ratios than if he’d been in work. Obviously, we’re still vastly outnumbered. And although four of them may still be smaller than me, boy can they be fierce.

Micah is at the age where small boys should be prescribed crash helmets as standard precaution. He’s now sporting two good size bumps on the head – one is the first from a close encounter with the door post yesterday, and today a spinning incident got a little out of control and he landed on the kitchen floor with a thud. He was feeling pretty sorry for himself after the second headache in two days, and sadly cried for Grandma.

Those cries are still the ones most likely to tip me over the emotional edge. But we played with his new name puzzle, and then we FaceTimed Grandma. Who got to enjoy being shown all the artwork, the chicks, to wait on the side whilst I sorted children in the toilet, and who had a good laugh at the drama and fights going on between Maddie and Theo over a scarf. Almost as fun as visiting, I’m sure.

The chickens are growing fast and starting to look more like mini vultures, but still showing strong personality traits, and we can still tell them apart. Toby is the keenest and likes getting them out every day, and helping the younger kids to hold them too. It’s another thing I’m grateful we’ve had the time to do. Toby loves animals, and was heartbroken when his rabbit Hoppy died in October, but I couldn’t face another pet in all the busyness of life. We almost certainly wouldn’t have gone back to having chickens had we not had this time at home together, but they’re proving a lot of fun.

Although I was a bit concerned when I got back from a run and found them sitting on the hob. I wondered if Liam was prepping them for dinner, but it turned out they were just hanging out there whilst he was cleaning out their coop. Despite their noisy chirping and flapping antics, it turns out they haven’t overstepped the mark yet. Which is good, because I’ve got another 13 weeks to wait before they start earning their keep with some eggs.

After dinner (not chicken!), we decided the kids needed a walk, as it was all getting a bit hyper in the house, with the rising volume of over-excited children, anarchy over the telly, and Theo running around with both legs through one side of his boxer shorts, laughing hysterically.

As soon as we mentioned a walk, the two teens disappeared to change and sort their hair (‘we might see someone we KNOW!’), Toby raised objections, and one by one the younger three felt the need to change into costumes.

It was far from a calm and serene walk, there were dog poo incidents, children teetering on the edge of the river, and then heading straight for the road, whilst we attempted the social distance dance with several other walkers. I feel like Pride and Prejudice’s Mrs Bennett sometimes, reaching for her smelling salts and squealing, ‘Oh my poor nerves!’

And yet, as I made them hold hands for a completely posed but cute photo, I looked at them and thought how much I flipping love them. Each one. They’re exhausting and they’re changing me beyond what I ever could have imagined, but even after 3 months with them all. the. time. I still look at them and I am so overwhelmingly grateful for the privilege of being the one they drive mad. Of being their family.

“Sing to God, sing in praise of his name, extol him who rides on the clouds; rejoice before him—his name is the Lord. A father to the fatherless, a defender of widows, is God in his holy dwelling. God sets the lonely in families.” Ps 68:4-6

On the path by the river there is a large patch of sand, a lasting reminder of the February flooding. The first time I ran through it I was taken by surprise at how hard it suddenly was to lift my feet and to keep going.

The last week has felt a bit like that on and off. Nothing has really changed, but it’s felt a bit harder, slower, and uneven. Maybe it’s weariness, or boredom, hormones or iron levels, anxiety or sadness. Whatever the cause, it feels like we’ve all just been finding the days take a bit more effort to plod through.

Saturday morning was a leisurely start. Micah decided to wear his Rugby Tots outfit for the day. 3 months on and 3 year olds still miss their activities. And even though many classes are running online, my small people aren’t big fans of trying to replace the real thing. But over the last week they’ve taken to wearing school uniform on random days, sports kits, beach clothes, and party dresses. If you can’t go there, pretend you are anyway!

Saturday afternoon Megan, Maisie and I met our friend and her daughter for a walk in the park. I love how if we talk about our social interactions now, it was ‘I went for a distance’. Just to clarify to anyone listening that we’re not rule-breakers, distance is now an action verb. Anyway, we stood our teenage daughters either side of the path to help them maintain their 2 metre gap. How on earth it will ever happen in school is beyond me! If 13 and 14 year olds are drawn to each other like magnets – ‘can I just give her my phone to show her something?’, if anyone could keep my 4 year old from touching his friends that would be a miracle.

So we walked. And we walked. And we walked. It turns out there was a lot to chat about. We did four laps of a mile long track. And then I ran in the evening. My health app told me I went from 3,500 steps on Friday to 17,500 on Saturday. I didn’t know the numbers went that high.

Clearly the key to getting me to exercise is to remove me from people for 3 months and then only allow us to walk outside.

The good thing was that I was pretty tired when it came to watching our Saturday night movie. I think being barely awake helped me get through the film. Tell me it improves after Ant Man?! Clearly Marvel isn’t really my thing. The worst part of the experience was dreaming about hordes of bugs the night after.

Sunday involved all the unplayed instruments being pulled out during the kids worship songs-clarinet, flute, penny whistle, harmonica…you can only imagine the delightful sounds coming forth. It’s a good job the Bible says ‘make a joyful noise’ and not ‘make a melodious noise’.

The Sunday school craft was to make perfume, based on the story of Mary anointing Jesus’ feet with her precious perfume. So we went off on a walk/bike ride to find treasures to make perfume with. We came back with one child who’d ridden into a bush, one with a grazed knee, and the one allergic to stinging nettles had managed to find them. But we did also have a basketful of pretty and precious weeds, so that was counted a success!

It turns out when it comes to mixing with sticks, playing with food essences and colourings and putting it into a glass bottle, even the big kids can’t resist the fun.

Monday morning dawned again, and there were strong objections regarding any sort of learning. Even though bees are one of Maddie’s absolute favourite insects to read about-and she even had them on her dress, as soon as it became ‘schoolwork’, well, that was a different matter entirely. We did our best, she and I, playing a game in between writing a sentence. I lost Theo from the room completely whilst Micah loudly demanded more work, snacks, and attention.

So instead I opted for ‘PE’, and set up a bee trail. Which was marginally more successful. And then we took the rest of the day off.

I think part of finding the last week harder was feeling bad about finding it harder. But the more guilty I get, the harder it is to turn grumpiness into gratefulness.

Today I acknowledged just feeling down. To myself, to God, to Liam, to a good friend. And then I read a chapter of a book about the unchanging God. The same God I’ve been reading about in Exodus, who had a rescue plan for the Israelites, who heard their cries, who led them to safety and guided them with His presence. He’s the same God who had a rescue plan for His people, sending His Son to bring salvation and hope. And He’s the same God now. Who still has a plan. Who’s still hearing our cries. Who still gives hope and a promise of a future without pandemics and racism and death and brokenness. He loves with an everlasting love, and He will walk us by a river on a straight path, where He will keep us from stumbling on the sand.

2 ‘Thus says the LORD: “The people who survived the sword found grace in the wilderness; when Israel sought for rest,
3 the LORD appeared to him from far away. I have loved you with an everlasting love; therefore I have continued my faithfulness to you…

With weeping they shall come, and with pleas for mercy I will lead them back, I will make them walk by brooks of water, in a straight path in which they shall not stumble, for I am a father to Israel, and Ephraim is my firstborn’. – Jeremiah 31:2-3,9

This week’s felt incredibly long and yet I’m still surprised it’s Friday. I felt like we were running low on school work this morning. We managed some worm number lines, and Liam set up a map for them to follow to find their snacks, which was very popular until they realised the snacks wouldn’t be replenished no matter how many times they completed the course.

I feel I need to make an honest confession here. I haven’t been teaching Welsh very well. Or frequently. Or much at all. Despite living here for 17 years my Welsh is still limited to numbers, colours, and useful things like coffee, toilet, hospitals, and the police, and whatever basic nursery level songs I’ve picked up along the way. Learning to speak it is on my to do list for when I have free time. Which, it has turned out, is not this year.

Anyway I felt confident enough in my pronunciation of ‘Ble mae?’ (Where is?) to play a game with Woody. The only problem being that all the answers had to be in English because I’m not that advanced yet. In hindsight I should probably get Megan to teach Welsh lessons. Still, the little ones didn’t seem to mind.

Today was a milestone celebration where I took my coffee mug and finally sat in a friend’s garden for a cuppa and a catch up. It was so good. When the lockdown rules were adjusted I wasn’t really sure how I felt about the idea of seeing people with all the restrictions in place, and whether it would feel too uncomfortable, but meeting up with someone helped me realise just how much I’ve missed that connection and community. And an hour away from the house and the oh-so-cuddly people who I love but needed a break from too, well, that was very pleasant.

It turns out I didn’t achieve a great deal today. But I spent time with people. I FaceTimed my family. I pottered around whilst they kids watched tv/napped on the sofa. And then I went to collect Friday night takeaway treats.

And there were six very happy children when I returned from the drive-thru experience. If there was one way to buy their affection on a Friday afternoon, this was definitely it.

Liam and I went a little more classy for ours. He even wore a shirt for our date night in the dining room. The ambience was lovely, good food, candle, Prosecco bubbling…the only downside being the glass doors between the lounge and the dining room. Trying to eat a grown up meal for two with a child making faces at you from the other side of the glass is about the best you can hope for in lockdown fine dining.

And once we’d eaten we concluded the date night by joining them to watch the end of Cool Runnings. Who said romance was dead?!

It’s been a good day at the end of a weary week, and for that I’m very grateful. Tonight I read the Creation story to Theo and Micah, and we got to day 7, where God rested. And Theo was surprised about that. ‘God? Had a rest?!’

And it made me think. About the pressure I put on myself to keep going even when I should stop. Even in these enforced weeks of slowing down, I can still choose to busy myself with housework, school work, any work, as if that somehow earns me points or validates my role. Even on days where I feel exhausted and weary, I stubbornly don’t want to stop, as if it’s a sign of weakness. I’m still on a journey of learning to accept rest, enjoy rest, and humbly acknowledge my need for rest.

‘It is a sign forever between me and the people of Israel that in six days the LORD made heaven and earth, and on the seventh day he rested and was refreshed.'” – Exodus 31:17

The God who gave a day for rest is the One who never slumbers or sleeps. He doesn’t need me to keep the world turning. In fact, He gives rest because He loves me and knows I need it.

‘It is in vain that you rise up early and go late to rest, eating the bread of anxious toil; for he gives to his beloved sleep.’ – Psalm 127:2

So here we are at another weekend, and I want to stop, to pause in the busyness, to notice the world around me, to be grateful, and to find rest.

Over the last few weeks I’ve been working on the little children getting themselves dressed. Now that Maddie can reach all her clothes and is happy that she can pick anything to wear, she’s keen to try out her skills. Micah is the ever confident youngest child, fiercely independent and reluctant to be babied in any way. So whether or not he has the ability, he’ll always defiantly shout ‘I do it BY MYSELF!’ And with Theo, it all depends on the mood. But he’s been happier to give it a go since I told him a few days ago that he’s four and a half, apparently a grand old age. So this morning, he danced around the bedroom whilst trying to dress, singing ‘I’m four-and-a-haaaa-aaaalf, I can do it because I’m four-and-a-half!’

We started schoolwork by playing a ‘Ladybird whispers’ game-effectively Chinese whispers. It went fairly smoothly to start with-I whispered to Theo, he went to Maddie, Maddie to Toby, Toby to Micah…by the time Micah found Megan, he’d forgotten what to say. So I whispered it to him, he went up to Megan’s ear…and said ‘I don’t know!’. So he was evicted from the game. We tried again, with Theo whispering to Maisie, who looked up, and said, ‘I don’t have my hearing aid in so I have no idea what he said.’

So that went well then.

We opted for making Cheerio worms instead, which had a mildly better success rate, except for the numbers that were eaten prior to making it onto the worm.

Poor Liam was the teacher in demand today. Toby required him for a compass related task. Then whilst I spell-checked Toby’s letter to Boris Johnson before realising it for posting, Liam was busily helping Megan build a marble run for DT which spanned all three floors of the house. Once she had the video footage required, he was then required for his worm charming skills.

Despite all the ground tapping and fork clanging, it turned out that the worms preferred to hang out with Jelly Beans the bunny in his run. That was where they hit worm jackpot.

There was great excitement over putting them in the wormery and feeding them. I feel a little nervous over the possibility of finding escapees sneaking around the house tomorrow morning, especially as Theo has declared them as ‘new pets!’. I’m praying he doesn’t feel the need for cuddles.

Toby has spent the day drawing picture after picture. It’s very nice to see he can still function outside of Minecraft. And we’ve all been given artwork-me, Liam, all the siblings, even the chickens have one above their cage. Plus there’s a few to go in the post. Maybe we’ll add one to Mr Johnson’s letter. I wonder if he’s a Baby Yoda fan or if he’s more keen on Lilo and Stitch?

Around 4pm today things started to unravel. There were soft toys flying past my head, a small child hanging upside down off the sofa, and my lounge was rapidly turning into a scene from a disaster movie.

So I declared a walk. This was not an invitation but an order.

And I’m glad I did. I think we all needed a bit of air and stone-throwing. Although with Micah’s wild and speedy shots coming from all directions, one has to keep paying attention.

I also have to keep paying attention to any new ‘pets’ Maddie might try and and sneak home, now she has a new-found confidence with worm catching.

My head still hurt a bit today, and I still struggled with feeling tense and anxious and like I’m done with all this now. Me and lockdown have about reached the end of a rocky friendship.

But I went out for my Couch to 5K final run of week 4, and the runs are getting a bit longer and I had to think about my breathing and push myself a bit harder, and I remembered. This is a marathon, not a sprint.

We live in a fast-paced world, where I get impatient with slow-running Netflix, and am used to my Amazon Prime next day deliveries. It would be nice to feel like we’d done our 12 weeks of lockdown and clicked our fingers to get back to normal, but it’s not going to be the reality, and I need to find peace with that.

To remember that the waiting isn’t wasted, in the same way as the pacing myself isn’t wasted on a run. I’m absolutely no running expert, but I know that I need to do the warm up walk before I run, that I need to follow the plan if I want to keep going through the weeks. Sometimes it’s the slow bit that is the key to what lies ahead. I often think of the line in this song, ‘He’s in the waiting.’

‘Slow down, take time
Breathe in He said
He’d reveal what’s to come
The thoughts in His mind
Always higher than mine
He’ll reveal all to come

Take courage my heart
Stay steadfast my soul
He’s in the waiting
He’s in the waiting
Hold onto your hope
As your triumph unfolds
He’s never failing
He’s never failing

Sing praise my soul
Find strength in joy
Let His Words lead you on
Do not forget His great faithfulness
He’ll finish all He’s begun.’ (Take Courage, Bethel Music).

There is a plan to all of this, and I’m grateful that there’s gold to be found in lockdown as much as in the future freedom. The last few days have been tough, but I know I’m not alone. And there is strength for tomorrow, because He’s in the waiting.