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.

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).