I am a little stunned to discover it is more than a year since I last wrote a piece or uploaded a sermon here.
Where has this past 12 months gone? There was the relocation of course; and the getting to know a new congregation, a new Presbytery, new ways of doing things, new people, new neighbourhood... the list goes on and on... and then, when 2020 was in its infancy, the world faced one of its biggest challenges: a global pandemic, the like of which we have not seen for more than a century.
In January I joined with dear friends and went (as is our want) to the Caribbean for a cruise. Whilst there we talked about this flu thing that seemed to be going around, and speculated how it might cause some challenges. Never dreaming what could have happened! A week home, and we heard of a cruise ship, quarantined, all the passengers confined to the ship, and gave thanks that it wasn't us.
Mid-February it became clear that this was no ordinary flu; this virus had some major complications, and news of deaths began to percolate through. News of infections in the UK rose, and bit by bit people began to be afraid. By early March we were avoiding shaking hands, we were using hand sanitiser - and the shops ran out of toilet roll. (It's a flu-like virus- why toilet roll?!!)
On March 15 we celebrated communion in church, and I felt the fear. The way we did things changed, and I was relieved to come out into the spring sunshine at the end of the service, saying goodbye to our congregants, hoping that all would be ok. Just two days later, churches were closed, and less than a week after that the whole country was confined to home. LOCKDOWN.
The last week of March I began to have an ache in my side when I breathed. I spent an anxious few hours trying to talk myself in and out of the virus; but then I began to get a raised temperature, by April 4th I had been diagnosed as Covid Symptomatic: no testing available unless you were needing to be admitted to hospital... it was the day before Palm Sunday, and I had already recorded the service for sharing online. Looking back at that service, it is possible to see my decline over the day.
The next two weeks were lost to me; fever; coughing that wracked my already aching body; pain in every single joint; exhaustion like I have never before experienced. The worst night; the night my fever went over 39 degrees, I wept because I hadn't written letters to my sons; I didn't know if I'd ever see them again, I wanted desperately to hold my husband, but he was in the next room, with his own fever, and his own wracking cough.
Fast Forward. It is now almost the end of September. I am still not 100% well. Exhaustion is my constant companion. I have to work really hard to pace each day, to not over commit, to make sure that nothing in my diary is so set in stone that I cannot find a sub or postpone an event. I give thanks every day for the support and love of my church. Their encouragement and care has kept me going. They are not afraid to tell me when I work too much, or look tired on the Facebook reflections; we now meet virtually, we have a new vocabulary, new ways of being church with each other.
This past Sunday, 20 September, I led worship back in the church building. It was six months and one week since we were last able to gather. How different it looked! Designated seating. Everyone in a mask; music but no singing; a phone camera recording the service for those who were unable to attend. Numbers were restricted, but we were not over subscribed because so many people are still unsure, feel unsafe, feel afraid. Life is very different.
The numbers of infections, which seems so well controlled after the restrictions of the spring, are now beginning to rise again. People have got used to the new normal and are beginning to relax, perhaps a little too much. Autumn is here. Flu season is round the corner and we wait with bated breath to discover if we will once again be confined to home.
I have learned many new skills this year. Things I never knew I would need to do. Things that seemed to be unnecessary for ministry. And yet... here we are.
In all of this I have led worship, reflected, sought God in this new way of being.
In all of this, God has been an ever present comfort. In the depths of my despair the Psalms filled my heart with words of lament, and comfort, of fury and joy. Where I am, God is. And God is GOOD.
I hope, and pray, it will not be another year before I write another post!
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