It’s been an interesting day. Day 79. 11 weeks and 2 days of lockdown for our family.

Today I woke up feeling horrendous. A splitting headache, feeling nauseous, and generally rubbish. I’m not very good at feeling bad. I don’t seem able to take to my bed, not because I can’t, I just don’t. I take tablets, and hope no one speaks to me. Which is ridiculous, because, hello, have you met my family?!

So although Liam was more than happy to let me hide, and is perfectly capable of managing, I stayed downstairs to enjoy all the fun of the fair. Yes, I have control issues.

The younger three children had been sent a Gratitude Scavenger Hunt to do for ‘Well-being Wednesday.’ This involved me reading out instructions like ‘find a toy you love’, and they would run into the lounge, collect the first teddy they saw, and bring it back to me like excited puppies. The objects they returned with bore no relevance whatsoever to the clues. ‘Something that smells nice’ was an old, musty teddy. ‘Something you love to play with’ was a wooden pear decoration.

We reached new lows when for ‘something that tastes nice’, Micah headed to the toy kitchen and returned with…an old, slightly squishy, real potato. How it got there or for how long it’s been there, no one actually knows. And what about that clue prompted him to fetch it is a worry to us all. At that point, on the verge of slight hysteria, I told Liam that well-being Wednesday was definitely not making me feel well.

I self-medicated coffee and half a brownie, and got out the paint to attempt the art for the school virtual exhibition. To be fair, that actually went far better than I anticipated, and took us to nearly lunchtime. I hid in the lounge for half an hour to recover, and tried to watch the Welsh Government’s announcement about schools. It unfortunately had technical issues, with no sound and a big banner over the screen, so whilst I was frustratedly trying to find it elsewhere online, Liam ironically received a phone call telling him exactly the news I was waiting to hear.

So as it stands, Welsh schools will re-open in some form on June 29th. What that will look like in the three different schools our children go to we don’t yet know. I have an older child who is stressed about who she might end up in a class with, one who thinks a lot and says little, one who is excited. And younger ones who are all over the place and have no real idea of what it might entail. So suffice it to say that the general school conversation along with the rain, had them absolutely wired this afternoon. And my pounding headache along with the tension of the news and the children’s wobbles reduced me to some sad tears.

And then we prayed and I blew my nose and Liam told me to sit down with a cup of tea and crochet whilst he took the kids out in the rain to get wormery ‘ingredimemts’ as Theo would say.

Then as the WhatsApp messages and social media groups started to go a bit crazy with discussions over how people feel, what people will do, what schools should do, what the government should have done…these verses popped into my head.

‘You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you. Trust in the LORD forever, for the LORD GOD is an everlasting rock’. – Isaiah 26:3&4

So I put the phone away, got out the crochet, and asked for peace and faith. For wisdom over when and how to navigate transitions. For patience whilst we wait for more information. For faith that God knows my kids and He cares for them way beyond my ability. For humility to acknowledge that I don’t have control and that actually that really is a good thing for all of us. For peace over the next few weeks as we juggle heightened feelings in everyone.

And then Liam and the kids came home, and Micah snuggled next to me whilst I crocheted and slept and then wet himself and me. So I changed him and made dinner and it was loud and crazy and I couldn’t overthink because I couldn’t really hear myself think anyway.

Then I had a stand off with a naughty squirrel who keeps attacking my sweet peas and realised that I must be getting older when I worry about things like that. And also realised that life carries on and I have the choice over whether I make the next three weeks and beyond a constant stress or whether I keep counting my blessings, being grateful, and staying my mind on Him, the One who offers perfect peace.

And planning strategic war on the squirrel, too, of course.

It’s hard to believe we’re in the last half term of the school year. Tomorrow brings an announcement from the Welsh Minister for Education, where we may have some idea of return to school plans for the children, and in all honesty, I’m not really sure quite what they’ve learned in the last few months, academically, anyway. But we keep trying, and you never know, maybe something’s gone in. At least they know how to bake. That will always get them far in life in my opinion.

We started today with the recommended episode of Numberjacks, then tried to copy the ordering number games from the programme. Theo of course found it much more fun to be the villain who goes around messing up the order, than putting them right again, but Micah likes a challenge so he set those numbers straight!

Maddie’s story this week is Superworm, so she set about measuring woolen worms, I’m not sure I’m brave enough to create a wormery, like her teacher suggested. I might leave that one to Liam.

Theo’s story and learning is all around the book ‘What the Ladybird Heard’, so after we’d read it and attempted the learning ideas set out, I decided to just set the story scene up and hoped they’d imbibe something useful in learning through play. It’s a good job I don’t have targets to meet.

Given the dubious upcoming weather forecast, I felt we should make the most of the sun today and we can attempt the art competition homework we’ve been putting off all half term until tomorrow. Thankfully, on the whole, they were happy to potter around the garden today.

Except for when they came in to be mermaids, and then requested individual mermaid homes. If you look carefully there are three children to spot in this photo, a bit of a live action Where’s Wally. Don’t mistake them for the overflowing teddy basket.

We had some letters to post, so whilst Liam took Toby and Micah for a bike ride, the older girls and I did the scooter walk. Naturally, one child fell off with an epic sideways roll before the end of our street, and needed great persuasion to get back on the scooter with the grazed knee. And both children needed pulling up the hill.

Having helped in the fun of two scooters on a walk, Megan and Maisie decided they absolutely will not be allowing their children to own them. To which I said I’d buy them for the grandchildren then, because isn’t that the role of a grandparent, alongside buying the really noisy toys?! But it turned out that despite their apparent issues at pulling the scooters for their reluctant siblings, the big sisters were not unwilling to get back on their Flickers for old times sake.

Maddie was happy with her worm-themed offering for pudding tonight, and making mud and worm desserts definitely appealed to me more than watching the video of a worm lifecycle. I don’t think I’m cut out for this teaching lark, unless I can have support staff to teach all the boring and unappealing bits.

I bought some bargain Peonies in Morrisons yesterday, which looked like they’d barely last the day, but today are absolutely stunning.

This gives me hope, because I feel a bit like the buds of yesterday, discoloured around the edges, looking wilted and not very promising.

These weeks at home have highlighted some of my fears and flaws, and I find it easy to start getting bogged down by them. Aware of how easy I find it to judge my neighbours for having family over. To feel jealous or insecure when I start to wonder which friends might be messaging or meeting up. To be a proud perfectionist with my family instead of a gracious cheerleader. To let my fear be bigger than my faith. To be self-focussed instead of outward looking and loving.

But I’m grateful that God sees our weakness as well as our potential, and He gently snips off the end of the flower stem to allow me to drink from His living water, and bloom in the ways He’s designed me to. He highlights those areas that need refreshing, and He chooses to keep shining His light on my stubbornly closed petals, opening them gently so I can lift my eyes to Him. To be who He has made me to be.

I love the words of this song, reflecting my ups and downs and His faithfulness.

‘I’ve been strong
And I’ve been broken within a moment
I’ve been faithful
And I’ve been reckless at every bend
I’ve held everything together
And watched it shatter
I’ve stood tall and I have crumbled
In the same breath

I have wrestled
And I have trembled toward surrender
Chased my heart adrift
And drifted home again
Plundered blessing
Till I’ve been desperate to find redemption
And every time I turn around
Lord You’re still there

I was found
Before I was lost
I was Yours
Before I was not
Grace to spare
For all my mistakes
And that part just wrecks me

And I know I don’t deserve this kind of love
Somehow this kind of love is who You are
It’s a grace I could never add up
To be somebody You still want
But somehow
You love me as You find me

Who am I
To think Your glory needs my praises
But if this borrowed breath is Yours Lord
Take it all
You are faithful and You are gracious
And I’m just grateful
To think You don’t need a single thing
And still You want my heart.’

(Hillsong, As you find me).

Saturday dawned, as the days still have a habit of doing. It was slow and we were lazy and that was good.

We ate waffles and played Penguin Pairs and hung out in the hammock. The children were excited by visitors, and bravely waved umbrellas around to shield us from the germs.

Maddie and Theo hid little wooden insects in homes under the tree, and then we spent an hour looking for the lost one that then turned up in the lounge.

I went for my run in 26 degree evening heat and went straight for the paddling pool on my return to sit amongst the algae and sand to cool off.

Saturday night Marvel film viewing was unfortunately divided for the parents, due to very long settling of younger siblings, we rotated dinner eating/children settling so we now both have half an understanding of Black Panther. Which, to be honest, is enough for me.

Sunday brought more blue skies and a beautiful walk with friendly horses.

We battled the backpacks the children absolutely needed to bring, and shared the piggybacks for aching limbs.

I was grateful for these moments, for the time and space and the sun-kissed cheeks and the sun-bleached hair.

And we got home and watched church and I cried through the songs. And as grateful as I am, I feel emotionally wobbly at the start of this week.

I love these days and I resent these days and I miss our old life but I don’t want it back, and I dream of our new life but I’m afraid of it too.

The new regulations have unsettled me more I think, because as dreamy as it sounds to meet another family, the reality is that the children cannot cope with it. They cause chaos on every zoom, they shout when people are at the door, and they fight and cry when they leave. Until we can see people without all the rules, it feels even harder somehow.

And then there’s the world of hurt out there. Truthfully, I woke heavy hearted today, weary of Covid and it’s impact, and saddened by a world still riddled with inequality and discrimination, where people kill other people, where the vulnerable are still hurt, and where many live afraid.

I don’t feel like I have the wisdom or the words to begin to voice my thoughts or opinions on matters I can’t even comprehend. So instead I wrote a prayer. For a world in fear of a virus and hurting from injustice. To the God who cares so much that He has our names engraved on His hands. (Is 49:15)

Father God, I cry to you for our world, broken by a virus and broken by viral injustice. Broken by sickness and sin. God who split the Red Sea, would you split the seas of division and racism and create a road of justice and redemption. Creator who made man in Your image, help us love the image of You in the faces of the people we meet.

Saviour Son, would you rescue the people in the world you came to save, from the pain of pandemic and the posture of pride. Jesus who came and taught and loved, teach us how to love one another. You who healed the sick, would you heal the sadness of a world in need.

Spirit who is here as our Helper, help those who are hurting and grieving and lost. Spirit who prays on our behalf, would You plead peace for the storms that are rocking our home.

Father, Son and Spirit, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace, thank You that the story isn’t over yet. Give us patience in the waiting, hope in the despairing, gratefulness in receiving, and love for the hurting. In Your Name, Amen.

This is Lily. She’s gone to work a night shift tonight, and she’s hoping the fans are working on the ward because it was sweltering last night. She’s feeling groggy – it wasn’t easy to get sleep today, with the heat and neighbours cutting the lawn, her children interrupting her rest, and thoughts of that patient’s family on her mind. She feels honoured to be there at the most intimate times of people’s lives, to be trusted to care, but it’s exhausting at times too. Communities did their last big ‘clap for carers’ last night, but carers will keep caring, whether they’re in the limelight and surrounded by rainbows, or whether it’s in the dark of night surrounded only by the pain and tears of others. And as the sun rises, she goes home, putting the emotions of the night to one side, to keep caring for her own family, to trying to catch some sleep, before she gets up, and goes back to do it all over again.

I feel sobered tonight, by the thought of all the ‘Lily’s’ in our country, and all the families they are caring for, day in, day out. Sobered by the story of one of those heartbroken families I read today. And I’m sobered by how easily I can forget the world outside, and get pre-occupied with my own little corner. And how easily the pre-occupation turns to complaint. And I forget to be grateful.

I was in the kitchen today, and for what felt like the sixtieth time in five minutes, Maddie appeared at the back door, dripping wet from the pool, looking cross. ‘I’m getting out! Those boys are being mean!’ So I dried her, again, dressed her, again, and off she marched, footsteps with attitude. Only to be followed by Theo. ‘I need to go with Maddie! Maddie! Maddie! We need to play princesses! Mum, change me QUICKLY! I need to go with Maddie!’

So I change him, dress him, and off he goes.

Enter Micah. ‘I’m getting out! Dress me!’

So I wrestle him into clothes as he squirms and wiggles, trying to run away whilst half dressed.

Two seconds later, Maddie reappears. ‘They followed me! I wanted to be alone! Can I go back in the pool now?’

This scenario played itself out so many times I lost count, and I started to get frustrated, considering banning the pool/locking the back door/running away/insert other suggestions here.

But as I thought it, I realised how petty it was, and how much I need to practice thanking instead of complaining. I’m the lucky one, to be here, with my family, safely together. To get to be the one who dresses and undresses them on multiple occasions, who reads their stories and kisses them goodnight.

To have watched Theo and Megan playing silly ‘I love you’, ‘no, I love you more’ games this morning.

Or to watch as Megan helped all three younger ones make Rocky Road, marshmallows flying everywhere, with the patience of someone twice her years.

Or to cheer Toby on as he finally persisted in catching a running chick to hold.

I’m so grateful to get to hang out in the garden with them as they eat their afternoon ice cream, to hear the little conversations that go on between sisters in the swings.

To laugh at Theo as he came to lean on my knees, doing his fake grumpy face, as he asked for yet more snacks.

Or to watch Maddie making little games of herself with two of her best friends, ‘we’re going to the park, there’s no Coronavirus now, and we can have a big hug.’ It’s poignant, yes, but I’m so grateful that this girl has those friends who make her laugh and who she’s looking forward to seeing again, who accept her for who she is.

I can get so caught up with bemoaning the mundaneness, or wishing I could do something more useful, something more noble. But I remember the verse from the prophet Micah is named after, the verse that lives above his bed –

‘He has told you, O man, what is good; and what does the LORD require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?’ – Micah 6:8

That’s what I’m called to do. To do justice, to love kindness, and to walk humbly with God. And that starts in my own home. Doing justice, teaching justice. Loving kindness, showing kindness. And walking humbly. Humbly grateful for all I’ve been given. Humbly leaning on God for all I need. Humbly loving those He’s created.

Im grateful for all the ‘Lily’s’ around me, family and friends, who faithfully live out this calling in their work places and homes, whatever those roles might be. Doing justice, loving mercy, walking humbly. You are incredible, and you are seen.

Some days are relatively normal and slow in how they begin, other days you’re all up earlier and before 10am three children are in the paddling pool – straight from pyjamas to swimsuits- and you’ve done a chicken photo shoot. The brainchild of your husband (he claims) and a joint effort in achieving photos with no chicks harmed.

It was a productive day today. Liam had the older three helping out whilst the younger ones were contained in the pool. Toby was on decking cleaning, Maisie on bench painting, and Megan painting in the summer house. Two out of three were grumpy, so we’re celebrating the one chirpy child as a win.

The less productive part was when I was on FaceTime to my mum, and Theo had an epic meltdown. I’m sure there are lots of reasons why, but it involved many calming strategies from Liam then me, and a good long while before he calmed down properly. All in a morning’s entertainment.

After lunch I set to work on a project I’d been scheming to try and help Maddie with the stress of choosing her clothes in the morning. I’d done a bit of research for some ideas, and decided to reorganise her cupboards so she can reach everything herself, and I would take out of the cupboard anything not appropriate for general wear. That way she knows she can get up and get her own clothes without the worry of getting it wrong. She was very happy at this plan and eager to help, so I got to work deconstructing the wardrobe and reshuffling the room. Which of course turned into a major sort out, as it always does. But my sister rang whilst I was knee deep in the books off the bookshelf, so I chatted whilst I worked.

We’re placing bets on how long the room looks like that for. I give it until 7am tomorrow.

At Ice cream time, the three younger ones could be found still in the pool, and I extracted the older three from the dark recesses of the house. Two situated themselves as lifeguards by the pool, and one opted for the shade, whilst practicing balancing, she said.

This evening’s entertainment was a fire pit with Megan, Maisie and Toby, including popcorn, marshmallow toasting, and S’mores. There was a fair amount of singing, a game of truth or dare where we couldn’t extract the truth from teenage girls, and a lot of laughter.

I do love summer nights.

I went for my end of week 3 run tonight, and I was feeling pretty fed up to be honest. I’d listened to Boris Johnson’s update, and was more than a little jealous of my family and friends in England, now able to hang out in the garden, whilst we’re still some weeks behind. It’s been 10.5 weeks now, and I would really love to hug my family and hang out with some friends.

I was running along telling God how fed up of it I was, when I looked up and saw the path ahead of me, stunning light streaming through the trees, the river glistening beside me.

And I started thinking about the Kingfishers. When I was growing up, my Dad had a legendary tale of the time he’d seen a kingfisher in the middle of a city, of all places. The story became familiar, but the part that stuck with me was just how special this memory was. And how precious that moment was. So although I’m far from being a bird watcher, I’d prick my ears up if people said there might be a kingfisher. To me, they were a rare sighting, something to be noted.

And then we moved next to a river, and Liam, told me he’d seen a kingfisher on the river right next to our house. So I kept looking, and eventually I started to see them too, from time to time.

Kingfishers still hold special meaning for me. My dad’s story holds its place in my heart, as does the memory of the family walk we took just after Dan died, where we all watched a Kingfisher in a tree as it flitted back and forth, a glimmer of hope in a pain wracked time. And I find myself now, every time we walk by the river, eyes open, watching above the water for the telltale flash of blue.

And it made me think about keeping my eyes open, to keep watching for the good. Whilst I’m distracted by my complaints, head down, pounding my feet on the path, I’m maybe missing the special moments right next to me. Whether it’s the light or the kingfishers or the small moments of joy in our family, or the kindness of another, or the ways in which we’ve been provided for, if I’m not looking, I’m going to miss the moments.

I get a sense that the days of my daily updates are numbered, as gradual changes to lockdown start to take place, and life may start to pick up again. But what I don’t want to change is the way that writing every day has helped me open my eyes. To the little details to be thankful for in the quiet days. To the goodness of God in the mundane moments. And the way it’s pushed me to keep seeking, to keep looking and listening for His presence in my home.

Whatever the weeks ahead hold, I know His plans are good, I know He hears when I call, and I know when I seek Him, I see Him.

11 ‘For I know the plans I have for you, declares the LORD, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.
12 Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will hear you.
13 You will seek me and find me, when you seek me with all your heart.’ – Jeremiah 29:11-13

In stark contrast to yesterday’s beautifully lit, dreamy eyed child staring out of a window, here is today’s messy and miserable, grizzly and grumpy, refusing to have his photo taken, chocolate moustache wearing toddler. Here’s my confession – this morning I didn’t even bother setting the table for breakfast. I waited until they were hungry and offered them toast. Just so I could stay sitting in my chair whilst they watched tv and ate. I’m hindsight, maybe that’s why he was grumpy. Although you’d have thought Nutella for breakfast would cheer anyone up.

Unfortunately the downside of leisurely mornings with children who do better with routine, is that there are often wobbles come mid morning. After we had another choice-making dressing challenge, we then had some struggles over what to do. So I gave out three tote bags, and sent them off on a soft and hard object scavenger hunt. It provided sufficient entertainment to distract for a while, and also the emptying of my entire shelf of crocheted teddies. Which I’m trying to not be precious about.

Meanwhile Megan and Micah developed lockdown game number 342: ‘Tray Football’. Despite the significant size difference between their chosen trays, Micah did surprisingly well in the competition.

Given the general unrest, and the need for fight-minimising entertainment, I suggested we make name places for the table. My ulterior motive was not only to try and make sure they still know how to use a pen next week (I’ve heard scary things about their teacher this year), but also to try and lessen the table time battles over who sits where. Despite the fact there are designated seats, some family members struggle to find anyone they can happily sit next to, whilst others are extremely fickle in who their bestie is today. I’m hoping if it’s written in pen and ink it might be taken as law. Until someone screws up the paper and throws it out of the window. But I can hope!

After lunch the little trio made themselves homes under the climbing frame, whilst Toby and Liam cleaned out the paddling pool for re-filling.

Which the boys promptly made use of for the afternoon. For safety purposes I posted myself next to the back door with crochet and a podcast whilst I was on lifeguard duties. The sacrifices I make for my children know no limits.

Maddie joined them later on, and Liam raised the paddling pool to water park level with a sprinkler fountain.

Which he decided to join them in after a hot day’s work in the garden.

The pool was definitely the popular place to be this afternoon in the heat. It was one of those days where making dinner was hard just because I didn’t want to cook. But I’m so thankful for the weather. 8 of us in a house in weeks of rain would have been very very hard going. And there is so much fun to be had outside.

Maddie’s struggling to get to sleep at the moment, with the heat and light and worries in her head, but the Toniebox story reader she had for her birthday is proving brilliant, especially the little character we can record ourselves reading stories onto. Tonight she lay and listened to me reading three stories whilst I sat downstairs with wine and crochet. Absolutely genius! Obviously I did go back up and sit with her until she was sleepy enough to drop off, but for a brief respite, it’s a gem.

I can’t pretend it’s not wearing for Liam and I at times, being woken every night by different children, then getting up early with small ones, settling an older one at 10pm last night who asked me to stay with him, then as we were heading to bed at 11:30, our eldest reappearing with various issues including but not limited to – a finger pain/a broken blind/a moth or spider/a dripping tap.

And then through the day being mediator for the squabbles, counsellor for the worries, café for the endless hunger, whilst still trying to care for the house needs and have more than fleeting conversation with Liam over the cacophony of voices.

But then I’m reminded of words like these from Isaiah. God cares about the weakest and the vulnerable. He delights in hearts that love and care-and make ourselves available with eyes open to the needs around us, and the needs in our own families. More than ever right now I have the opportunity to be available. And the One who made each member of my family and knows their every need, who cares and loves far beyond what I can imagine, He’s the One who hears when I call for help. And He comes.

“This is the kind of fast day I’m after: to break the chains of injustice, get rid of exploitation in the workplace, free the oppressed, cancel debts. What I’m interested in seeing you do is: sharing your food with the hungry, inviting the homeless poor into your homes, putting clothes on the shivering ill-clad, being available to your own families. Do this and the lights will turn on, and your lives will turn around at once. Your righteousness will pave your way. The GOD of glory will secure your passage. Then when you pray, GOD will answer. You’ll call out for help and I’ll say, ‘Here I am.’” (Isaiah 58 The Message Version).

This morning I cried. It just all felt too overwhelming. From morning until night, I am giving out. I am needed, wanted. Small children wake before 7, and older children are still awake at 11. To say nothing of the nighttime wanderers. They follow me and want endless cuddles and food and questions answered. And every now and then, the lack of breathing space can crowd in and there’s nowhere to hide, to just not be asked a question or touched, for five minutes. This morning there were expectations that were disappointed. There was sadness at events that are now cancelled. I was missing seeing other mums, and my sisters, and my mum. So I walked into the garden and cried.

And even when I was out there, feeling a bit sorry for myself, and a bit weary of it all, I was followed by small people. And then I spotted some new wildflowers growing in amongst the last of winter’s dead leaves under the tree. And Maddie found the dying flower I’d removed from the vase and thrown in the garden yesterday, and to her it was the prettiest thing in the garden.

I went back inside and ate a fresh Cinnamon bun, and Theo brought me a handful of treasures he’d collected for me. Dandelions and daisies and feathers and paper scraps. His gift to me.

So I put the dandelions in a vase, and watched the sparrows on the bird feeder and considered how beauty can be found even in the messiness of family life, how dying flowers and weeds can be seen as beautiful treasures, and how even among the dead winter leaves there is a promise of hope. And how after every winter spring comes, the buds grow, the birds return, and the sun comes out.

After we had lunch and we’d all settled a little, we had home church, with exuberant dancing from some children, quiet amusement from others. We watched the story and made a craft, which always goes down well if it involves paint and scissors.

Everyone was just feeling worn out today I think. Lethargic and a bit miserable and tired (maybe all the cleaning they did yesterday). So I downloaded Disney plus, some people had naps, and we just all took a breath.

Which I think was what we all needed. It’s been an intense 20 days of illness and job stress and social distancing and school closing and home schooling and lockdown and learning how to zoom and all being together all the time. And now it’s the Easter holidays and life is completely different to how it was at half term, and our holiday is cancelled, and people are at risk, and we’re grieving life as we knew it. And it’s ok to feel sad and mad and find it hard.

Of course because the kids are the kids, things can never stay dull and gloomy for long. I had a zoom with my family during which Theo pranced into the room in a Cinderella dress, and then spent a good portion of the call trying to show everyone his glittery lipstick. And Micah insisted on telling everyone he’d done a ‘bottom burp’.

At dinner we were discussing whether we should get chickens, and what they should be called. Suggestions included ‘Harry, Ron and Hermione’ (thank you Megan), ‘Megan, Maisie and Toby’ (the younger ones are always original), and of course, ‘Poo poo’. Because that is an acceptable answer to any question if you are a small boy.

I managed to find space to listen to the message our church shared today, a talk that our pastor gave 9 years ago, and I clearly remember it being preached back then, partly because I’d posted those very same verses the day before the message was preached, which made me sit up and take notice in church. It’s a message of hope in desperate times. As I heard it again I thought of all the situations we’ve faced as a family in the years in between – fostering with painful beginnings and endings and challenging in betweens. Financial struggles and debt repayments. Relationship challenges. Caring for children with disabilities and trauma. Unexpected house moves. Grief.

The Hope we held on to through all those challenges hasn’t failed us. And even though things in the world around us seem to be unraveling, and even if things get worse, I can say with faith that ‘the steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is His faithfulness.’

Im grateful that tomorrow will bring new mercies. Hopefully there will be more sleep tonight, and we’ll all be a bit cheerier too, and there’ll still be some cinnamon buns left too. But even if not, ‘the Lord is my portion, says my soul, therefore I will hope in Him.’ (Lam 3:22-24).

🌷These tulips were a gift from my Mum last week. They’ve sat looking beautiful in my kitchen, and I’ve admired the lovely colour and slightly frayed edge to the petals. They’re getting older now and the colour is fading, but when I bent closer and looked inside I saw an amazing display of colour. It’s not obvious from the outside, they’re starting to look a bit tired. But now they are more open they are showing their hidden beauty.

🌷This gave me hope this week. I can easily feel so negative about myself. My lack of confidence, my insecurities, my failings, my body, my fears, my habits. I foolishly spend time wondering and worrying what people see when they look. And what my role is and what I’m achieving. And wishing I was stronger, better, nicer, more, more, more…

🌷And I was reminded that my beauty may not be visible. Some people will never want to know me well enough to find out who I actually am. Or they will see my frayed edges and fading colour and reject me. But the One who designed me before I existed (Psalm 139), crafted me (Eph 2:10), and knows me (Psalm 103), He doesn’t look at the outside, He sees my heart (1 Sam 16:7). He chooses not to focus on my weaknesses, because He is my strength (2 Cor 12:9,10). He forgives my worst moments and chooses to forget my failings (Heb 8:12). He loves me (John 3:16, 1 John 3:16).

🌷And boy this is freeing! I can walk with my head held high and my eyes lifted up to the only opinion that matters. The One who not only looks inside at the secret beauty, but was the One who designed my own individual colours to be what those He put near me need to see.

🌷And it’s true for you too-whatever kind of week you’re having, however you feel about yourself, know that you are loved, seen, and worth dying for.

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