‘Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labour:If either of them falls down, one can help the other up’ (Ecclesiastes 4:9–10).
Today I have enjoyed my monthly catch up with three other writers. We take time out to ask each other how we are generally, and how our writing is going. There was a common theme in our conversation, which I have noticed with other interactions I’ve had in recent days – we’ve had good days and bad days.
It was a breath of fresh air for me, as I have had a little run of harder days. We each need to remind ourselves that we all have our ups and downs, rather than feeling like a failure on the down days.
Particularly during this time of ongoing crisis, which continues alongside the monotony of being stuck indoors, there are days when we just don’t seem ourselves. It is OK to admit that – both to ourselves and to others.
I love the sense of being there for one another when we fall down, which is described so well in the Ecclesiastes verses. Last week I had what I would describe as a complete meltdown – everything seemed too much: work, family, church, relationships. I felt like I was totally spent and yet was still being pulled in every different direction possible.
Firstly, I needed to voice how I felt to God, and then to my husband. That helped. But I had a catch up chat booked in the same night with my close friends, and I struggled to decide whether I should share the same information with them, as they are in the church we lead. And yet, as soon as I did, I felt something lift.
Afterwards, I worried that I had overburdened them, although we had each shared honestly about our struggles as well as our joys. But I hadn’t. It highlighted to me, once again, that we are meant to live in relationship with others. We need each other, and in this time of isolation we need to find ways to be honest with those we trust about how we are coping, or not coping.
When one of us feels like we have fallen down, those around us can hold out a metaphorical hand to pull us back up. And we can do the same back to our friends when they need help and encouragement. Let’s not be too proud, ashamed or fearful to be honest with the people we trust. While it might be more difficult in this time of social distancing, we can still find ways to support one another.
Prayer: Thank You Lord that You have created us for relationship. Help me to remember that You long for me to be honest with You, but also that my friends and family are often Your hands and feet, helping to support me in practical ways. Help me to be the same for them, even during this challenging time.
‘He was waiting for the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit was on him’ (v25).
In Luke 2, we read about Mary and Joseph taking the baby Jesus to be presented to God at the Temple. Inside the Templeare two elderly servants of God – Simeon, a devout, righteous man, and Anna the prophetess, aged 84, who had been widowed after only seven years of marriage. The Holy Spirit had revealed to Simeon that he would see the Messiah before he died. I wonder what his expectations had been before that day – I can’t imagine that he had envisaged a young baby born to a poor couple.
It was vital that Simeon heard the prompting of the Holy Spirit, both in leading him to the Temple on that particular day at that specific time, and also in recognising who Jesus truly was. How much time must he have spent in preparation for that day? In prayer, waiting on God, listening to His voice? Did he wait patiently? Did years pass uneventfully before God prompted him on that day? We are not given such details.
And, for Anna, the pain of losing her husband so early on in her marriage must have been excruciating. The details we are given of her really challenge me – right from that moment up until the age of 84, she spent each day worshipping, praying and fasting. Both were faithful in their waiting, and it took many years for them to reach this moment of joyful recognition of their Saviour.
Whatever age you are, God wants you to hear His voice. If He makes a promise to you a period of waiting may be involved, and the answer may not come in the way you expect.
Perhaps, like me, you’ve become quite tired of the lockdown: the endless monotony of days stuck at home, juggling work with ensuring the kids are doing their school work too. Evenings are then taken up with zoom meetings and FaceTime, as well as preparation for church meetings. Life actually seems to be more intense and busy than usual, with little space to process what is going on. The cry of my heart has been, in recent days, ‘How much longer, Lord?’ As well as, if I’m being totally honest, ‘I’ve had enough – I can’t do this anymore!’ For some of you, a similar cry will have gone up, but for very different reasons. Perhaps you have spent lockdown alone, and are desperate to see people in the flesh again. Or maybe you are a key worker, pouring yourself out daily for those around you, but tired to your bones and in need of proper, extended rest.
I know that God is moving in this intensely difficult time, and that the waiting, however painful, is not being wasted. There is so much we don’t understand, but many of us are re-evaluating, having been stripped of what usually brings us security. We don’t like what we are seeing all around us, our hearts are bleeding for the huge losses and resulting heartbreak, but God is at work even in the midst of this horrific crisis. There seems to be a new hunger for prayer – but, alongside that, some of us are having to try and find new ways of connecting with God as we don’t have the same opportunities that we used to. For others, a kind of stagnation has taken place, as we struggle to find the impetus for anything, let alone prayer.
Please know that, whatever stage you are at, you are not alone. There will be others feeling like you do. And God hasn’t left you, however it feels right now. I can’t imagine how hard it must have been at times for both Simeon and Anna to keep on going, keep on holding on to the promises God had whispered to their souls. And yet the joy of that day, when they finally saw Him, the Saviour of their souls!
My prayer for each of us is that we will remain faithful as the lockdown and the necessary waiting get harder, that we will hear God’s voice and notice the prompting of His Spirit. While our world seems to have changed almost beyond recognition, thank God that He remains the same yesterday, today and forever…
A pencil drawing my daughter did recently, which I think evocatively captures the fatigue and despair we can feel when we do not understand what is going on.
Reflections based on Matthew 1:18–25.
‘… he had in mind to divorce her quietly. But after he had considered this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream …’ (vv.19–20)
It is interesting to pause and consider why God revealed His plans to Mary and Joseph at different times. The angel Gabriel first spoke to Mary. So why didn’t God give Joseph his dream, which confirmed His plans for the virgin birth, on the same night? Then, when Mary and Joseph spoke together, they would have been able to reassure each other that they had both heard from God. That would seem to make sense, but God chose not to do it that way.
Joseph ‘had in mind’ to divorce Mary privately, to avoid public disgrace. He knew about her pregnancy, but could not bring himself to accept the explanation of divine conception. His was a perfectly understandable response, considering it had never happened before – in fact, he was being very gracious by considering divorcing her quietly. It would have been a difficult time of emotional turmoil for both of them, so why did God allow the delay?
In a similar vein, today we know why Jesus delayed turning to Bethany in order to heal the dying Lazarus, because it meant that God’s glory would be revealed to so many more through the much greater miracle of raising him from the dead. But for his sisters, Mary and Martha, the four days between Lazarus’ death and resurrection were full of grief, pain, confusion, anguish – and possibly anger towards Jesus (John 11:1–45).
There may be no obvious reason to us as to why God allows a delay. His ways and timings are not ours and we can be perplexed by the ways He does things, and the timings He chooses. You may well be currently living through what seems like a painful delay in your own life.
For us all, the global pandemic has us experiencing loss, confusion and pain. I don’t understand why God seemingly delays, although, amidst the horrors, I have also seen and heard of His faithfulness. Like Mary and Martha, we don’t know the end of the story – but He does, and we can trust Him even when we also want to rant and rail about what is going on. Incredibly, He also comes and sits with us in the pain, inviting us to be honest about it. John 11 shows us that Jesus feels deep emotion too – He is willing to be the one that we cry on, but will also cry alongside us. There is something deeply mysterious but also beautiful about this.
Like Mary, the mother of Jesus, and Lazarus’ sisters Mary and Martha, when we are perplexed by what seems to be inexplicable delay, let us hold on to the knowledge of God’s perfect love and His never-changing goodness.
Prayer: Father, when everything in me cries out for You to act and yet Your answer seems delayed, help me to cling on to the fact that You are good and that You love me more deeply than I comprehend. Your delays are for a purpose, even when I can’t see that.
‘“I am the Lord’s servant,” Mary answered. “May it be to me as you have said.”’ (v.38)
As we continue to look at how God’s supernatural timing affects our lives, we turn now to the story of Mary. God certainly cut across her plans – to marry Joseph and set up home together. She was a young betrothed teenage girl, full of hopes for her future; she would never have imagined the scenario she now found herself in. And yet. She still submitted herself totally to God’s will and timing. However, she must have been wondering how her parents, Joseph and wider community would react to her pregnancy.
Today, we can look back at her story, knowing that God chose her, a virgin, to fulfil Old Testament prophecy concerning the Messiah’s birth (Isa. 7:14). He knew her character – her love for Him and His purposes, and her obedient, servant heart.
Many other biblical figures experienced God breaking supernaturally into their lives, such as Moses, Gideon, Samuel. So might we. Sometimes this happens because our plans are not quite He had in mind. We can be very focused on our own well-being, but God wants us to be a part of His ongoing story of salvation and love – to be His hands and feet to reach this world.
This global pandemic has interrupted all of our lives in ways unimaginable just a few short months ago. Alongside the bewildering grief and pain, it has also provided a huge opportunity for the Church to be scattered once more; to reach neighbours and friends perhaps in a completely new way.
We cry out to God to break in and stop the devastation the relentless virus is causing. What if He also wants to break into our lives afresh, and to the lives of those around us – perhaps through us?
Mary willingly submitted to God when He interrupted her plans to reveal His plan for her life. How will we respond, if He breaks into our lockdown experiences?
Prayer: Lord we don’t understand fully what is going on in the world today, but we know we don’t have to understand to be able to trust You. We pray for Your mercy and Your love to reach far and wide. And help us to be attentive to what You are doing in this time. Help us to recognise when You do break in – and to be humble enough to do what You ask of us. Amen.
It seems like an appropriate time to return to the study series we had been doing weekly: ‘God’s timing in our times’. And this one seems particularly apt too, as we are in the sixth week of lockdown. So many on social media are talking about a sense of struggle this week – and I know my family are feeling it too. We are in a time of waiting, and it’s difficult. So what can we learn from Elizabeth?
Elizabeth has so much to teach us about waiting. She must have suffered a lot throughout her early married life, childlessness, in those days, was believed then to be a curse from God – and yet she was a descendant of Aaron and married to a priest! Her neighbours and friends must have wondered what her great sin was. At the very least she would have been the object of pity.
God’s delay in Elizabeth’s life may have been, in part, because it was not yet time for her ‘miracle son’ to be conceived. Mary, her younger relative, might have needed the encouragement of another God-initiated pregnancy at the time of Jesus’ conception. She was only a teenage girl, while Elizabeth was ‘in her old age’ (Luke 1:36). So Elizabeth lived through long, painful barren years while Mary grew up. When they were reunited in pregnancy, the baby inside Elizabeth leapt at the sound of Mary’s voice!
The women then spent three months together, during which time I am sure they prepared for their sons’ births and prayed for each other. But what can we learn from Elizabeth today? In her time of waiting and suffering she remained a faithful, worshipping woman.
Too often we can allow our pain and suffering to turn us away from God. As we become more impatient during lockdown, as things seem to be harder and drawn out, more of us are turning to past-times that numb us: Netflix, binge-eating, excess alcohol. It is important that we acknowledge when we are finding life tough – when relationships within our homes are getting strained due to the close proximity, when we are concerned about relatives and friends on their own, when we hear of people close to us having to deal with the virus – either in themselves or others.
But we can also remember to look to the Word of God to bring us life and sustenance. So many characters within the Bible struggled as they faced immense difficulties. Their stories are included so that we can learn from them and draw encouragement and hope. Today, let’s look draw strength from Elizabeth’s example and trust in God’s goodness as she did, even through her pain.
Prayer: Lord, when I don’t understand what You are doing in my life, and in the world around me, please give me the grace to remain strong in trust and hope, and faithful to You.
I have held off writing about the current coronavirus pandemic, mainly because I haven’t really had a chance to formulate my thoughts much before now. Working from home (which I usually do but now there’s an extra workload), as well as helping my kids navigate online schooling, there are precious few moments of quiet in any given day. I think it is important not to simply jump on the bandwagon of making a comment without having something to say. There have also been some incredibly helpful articles out there, that I have really appreciated (as well as some scaremongering that I’ve learned to ignore).
I also know that I’m in a process of grieving – for my mum, for my dad who has not only lost his wife, but has lost all sense of community since the lockdown and is so, so lonely. It breaks my heart every time I think of him alone, surrounded by the memories of mum but with no one there to process it with. I long for him to know his maker…But that is all mixed up with a general sense of grief and loss for what is happening right now, across the world. I know there are so many who didn’t get the chance to sit next to their dying relative, as we did, and I can’t quite imagine what they are going through now. And so many who are unable to attend a family member’s funeral – how difficult not to have that closure; it seems so cruel. My heart bleeds when I see the news (so much so that I made a conscious decision not to watch it every day anymore, as I sensed my stress levels rising).
Our world has certainly been stopped in its tracks. And, while I don’t believe God has brought the virus as judgement upon us, because God sent Jesus not to judge the world but to save all those in the world who put their faith in him* (John 3:17–18), I do believe there are lessons we are meant to learn as Christians from this time. Of course, we are meant to learn at every other time too, but this certainly seems more urgent (but also more difficult for many of us – those working around the clock in hospitals, care homes, schools and supermarkets barely have time to rest their bodies let alone nourish their spirits. But God has grace for each one of us, in our specific situations too.)
Many people have commented that they don’t want to go back to normal once this is over – indeed it has been said so many times that some are getting tired of hearing that statement. For now, I think God is calling us back to him, calling us to repent of the ‘gods’ of materialism, busyness, individualism – and anything else we’ve allowed to take his place, even in small, subtle ways. He is a jealous God, but also a loving one, and, if we take time to listen, he is calling us back, calling us closer.
I sense a need for repentance in my own life, and collectively in the Church, but I also know God is wooing us with gentle tenderness, offering comfort and hope – so that we can offer the same to those around us by pointing them to Jesus. I keep being reminded of these verses:
Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God. For just as we share abundantly in the sufferings of Christ, so also our comfort abounds through Christ. (2 Corinthians 1:3–5).
I know that this is a bewildering, difficult, painful time for so many of us, punctuated with some unexpected moments of deep joy as we see the sacrifices people are making for one another, and the rise in a collective sense of community. Let us be those that draw close to God in order to receive the comfort that we need, which may mean giving ourselves permission to rant and rail when we need to, to sit and howl at the desperate plight of so many (perhaps ourselves if we are currently battling the virus in our family or friendship groups). But let’s also give ourselves time to be reminded of the ultimate, eternal hope that we have in Christ Jesus, who: ‘For the joy that was set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God’ (Hebrews 12:2).
We might not understand what is going on right now, and we may have myriad questions for God about the situation, but we can be reassured that Jesus is on his eternal throne, and he will never be shaken from it. That is the secure place from which we can wrestle and allow ourselves to accept the difficulties and darkness of this time – and be open to the transformation and change God may have for us in it.
*I love this quote from Phil Moore’s excellent piece on what we can learn from the message of Revelation in the upcoming May issue of Premier Christianity magazine: ‘World history is not going to end with a deadly virus or a nuclear holocaust. God’s plan for humanity will not end with a funeral, but with a wedding.’ That is a sneak preview, as I’ve been helping out with the magazine – it is packed full of helpful articles about the virus and church in this time. You can request a free copy of the magazine – wait until Monday to ensure you are getting this issue, if you would like to, but then click here. You can, of course, also sign up for a subscription…
Happy Easter! Below is a poem that I will be sharing in our online service today. It was written by my mum when I was just ten years old – I discovered it after she had died, which makes it all the more special to me. She is in the place that Jesus prepared for her, enjoying ‘light, joy, peace and eternal gladness’. What a future we have to look forward to!
Jesus, the Son of God, Laid in an empty tomb. A cold, dark, lonely place, Reminder that when life is done We go just as we came, with no possessions. All we enjoy while we live out our span Is gifted from our loving heavenly Father The greatest gift He ever gave Was Jesus, God made flesh And man destroyed His human flesh, And thinking ‘twas the end of Him Laid Him to rest, deep in that tomb And, just in case of trickery, They rolled a stone, and set a guard to watch If it had ended here, What purpose would there be in life? To live a span and then into a tomb? But God, our wondrous Lord, divine creator, Could never be restrained within a tomb And, following, that dark and dreadful Day of crucifixion Comes the glorious day of resurrection joy He rose, He walked and talked and shared With those who loved Him And then He went once more to reign above Where now He has a place prepared for you and me. So, take no thought for earthly possessions Nor, even what you eat, or what you wear, Our heavenly Father will supply all earthly needs, And at the end No empty, lonely cold and solemn tomb But light, joy, peace, eternal gladness. Let’s join our Saviour, Resurrection Joy!
It is Easter Saturday, that day of waiting, of anticipation for those of us who know the full story – but surely a day full of deep disbelief, despair and confusion for those within the story. To finish what I started yesterday, here are the thoughts that I wrote on the day of mum’s funeral, as well a poem written by her that describes the agony of a life coming to its end – as well as the promise of new life to come…
I have been awake since the early hours, with a feeling of dread in my stomach. I have this overwhelming thought in my head: I don’t want to go. I’ve been desperate to get to my dad, to make sure he is OK now we are isolating, but now I want to hide away and pretend this isn’t happening. Because we can’t do what mum wanted, and there are so many people who can’t be with us today.
We have 100 orders of service sat here in a box, which my husband designed beautifully. Will we get to use them one day at a later celebration? Who knows… For now, we will meet and do a stripped back service, simply there to honour mum and this particular moment.
It all feels so harsh – and I’m so heartbroken. I have had a flurry of messages today from friends and one really struck me – it’s something I am going to try and cling on to as I pray for the Holy Spirit to be with us in this most awful of days: “praying you will know that you have God with you as the guest of honour bringing his comfort”. I know I need to turn to gratitude, as I try to so often when I feel myself spiralling. And I am so, so glad that we can still do today, especially as I heard yesterday of someone whose dad died alone due to the virus, and only a couple of people can be at the funeral, standing far apart. And a friend is unable to attend her grandfather’s funeral tomorrow due to symptoms in her household – but neither can the rest of the immediate family so the crematorium will go ahead without them. This is only going to get harder isn’t it? So cruel; so difficult to deal with.
Lord, all I want to do is scream: “Why? Why is this happening? Can’t you step in and do something?” I know you are still sovereign and you are still in control – and that one day we will understand, but I certainly don’t right now. Suffering, death, isolation, loneliness is all around – and it is suffocating…
Travelling down
I was expecting to write how eerie it was, with no one else on the roads, but we have passed many cars. I have found myself pondering what everyone else must be doing. We passed one car full of orange-jacketed men, presumably construction workers off to a job. Should they be? And did all the rest of the people we have passed have legitimate reasons for being in their cars? How many were travelling to funerals just like us…and how many were flouting the guidelines to go for a drive in the country?
My thoughts were cruelly interrupted when we passed the entrance to the crematorium, zooming past in order to pick up my dad. For three years or more, we used to leave my parents’ house and, as we passed that spot, I would often have a little cry, as my immediate thought was: “Will the next time I come here be for my mum’s funeral?” That is actually coming true today…
The service
We pulled into the crematorium, to find more cars than we were expecting. We checked the list of funerals, and which chapel we would be in – one chapel had back-to-back funerals, but mum’s was the last in the chapel we were going to. We milled around outside, the eight of us waiting for our timed slot. My mum and sister’s pastor arrived, desperate to hug us but staying a distance away. My sister’s fiancé, who works in a care home, hadn’t thought he could come, but appeared and, again, kept his distance.
Due to the social distancing rules, we had to wait for the pall bearers to carry mum’s coffin in and depart back out before we could go in. The chapel was big – sadly, we know the room would have been packed in normal circumstances. We were invited to sit on the front row but had already spoken to the pastor and elected to all stand together, in a spaced horseshoe around mum’s coffin (apart from my sister’s fiancé, who stood away from us all, at the back).
We had decided to keep the entrance and exit music mum had chosen but take out the songs we were going to sing together. So, after the pastor welcomed us and prayed, my daughter and niece read a poem that mum had picked. Then my husband read out a Bible passage and spoke a few words, in which he mentioned how the current physical limitations we are all experiencing are perhaps offering us a little insight into what mum, and others who suffer from chronic illnesses, face day by day, year by year with no let up.
It was then my turn. I read some memories of mum that my son had written (on the first day he had had off school – I took him out a few days before his school officially closed, so that we would all have the best chance of remaining healthy for the funeral day). Then I shared a poem that mum had written 13 years ago, describing the physical struggles she faced daily, but also the future hope she clung to. When I was searching through her poems a couple of years ago, as we were planning the funeral together, I had stumbled across it and asked if I could read it. I felt it would give all those who attended a real insight into her daily life. Sadly, those of us who were there had already seen those struggles up close, but it was still very special to read ‘Goodbye Death’ in honour of mum (the poem can be read below).
The pastor then shared further thoughts, including some of the things mum used to say to her when she did her weekly visits once mum was housebound. The tears flowed freely as she told us how proud mum was of us. We each smiled as the exit music came on; an upbeat jazz number that mum had chosen specifically to make people laugh after what she knew would have been an ordeal for some. When well, mum had danced some Charleston moves to that particular song; part of us wanted to do so right there in the chapel – but tears flowed again as a wave of sadness of not being able to share that moment with so many friends and family who should have been there overtook.
Afterwards
Then it was over; we had booked a double slot because our programme had been so packed – we managed to fill half an hour, but it all seemed to be over so quickly. There was a sense of relief, but also of how unreal it seemed. Without all the others; without the refreshments we had had planned at a local vineyard for us to be able to mingle with everyone else, sharing memories and the photo montage we had pulled together, it did seem incomplete. Instead, we drove dad home, and spent the afternoon playing some of mum’s favourite games that we always played when we gathered together as a family. At one point, we discovered that most of us had been awake at 5am – that was the time mum had died on 2 February, and so it felt fitting we had each marked it mentally on the day of her funeral.
So, the day was intimate, touching, painful – and surreal. We managed to laugh as well as cry together so, in that way, it was a fitting tribute to mum. Ultimately, we had already said goodbye to mum by her bedside as she died, and the body in the coffin that was on show, was just the empty shell. We knew she had already enjoyed almost two months of dancing with her heavenly father – the service brought some sense of closure to us, but we still hope to celebrate her life with the wider group who should have been with us later this year…
Here is mum’s poem, which describes the desperate journey of her body giving way, of longing for release – and the joy of the promise of resurrection with Jesus…
Goodbye death
It’s cold in here, A cold that reaches deep inside the bones. The normal warmth of flesh Is ebbing, receding, withdrawing From a body, racked in pain. It’s had enough, this body It’s ready to let go, To walk right in To the grisly spectre of death Beckoning, calling to failing breath. Flesh, no longer responding to life. Hands, unable to grasp or reach To hold a loved one. Time, ticking away. How many more rasping breaths Until – Release.
No longer struggling, lungs relaxing Letting go, it’s time now to depart. Death has conquered the flesh It no longer has the will to live. But the spark inside, the soul, the spirit Reaches out, towards the beckoning light. The light of life is waiting, calling Into eternal life, into everlasting day. No more darkness, no more pain, No more fighting the enemy, the disease, But life again, a new abundant life Free from pain and sorrow. A body new, to dance, and sing and laugh Join with the angels round the throne. Life on earth has finalized Now is life eternal All promises fulfilled A life now with our Saviour God In heaven’s glorious light.
A photo of mum and I, taken back in 2014 for a Woman Alive article we both wrote.
I know that I have mentioned in previous blogs that my mum died a few months ago. As it is Good Friday, and we are focusing on the agonising death our saviour experienced for us, I am taking a break from the weekly series I am currently sharing on my blog. I feel it is right instead, to lament. And, as so much of my grief has been tied up in my mother’s recent death, I am going to share more deeply about the process of planning and then going to the funeral of a loved one in the midst of this global pandemic. I know that many people are unable to be near their loved ones as they lay dying, and some are unable to attend funerals – I held off sharing because of feeling sensitive to this. However, I was specifically asked to write about my experiences – and then found I was unexpectedly left with the material available for me to use personally. I know my writing is raw, deeply personal and painful at times, but I also feel we are in a stage of collective grief and I hope and pray that my blogs today and tomorrow may help give some people voice to their grief, as they recognise some of the emotions I describe.
This year has not been as any of us anticipated, despite all the new year hype about it being a new decade. However, for my family, the change from usual routines began in January, with the news that my mum was nearing the end of her life (something we had been told for the last two and a half years could happen any time).
I was travelling back from a meeting when I suddenly had a call to say that I needed to get down to my parents’ house as soon as possible. But then, in typical mum-style, she hung on for another ten days, during which time I was able to sit by her bedside, share with her and, in fact, finish writing the devotional I was in the process of writing. It is on loss and disappointment, which was certainly very up close and personal to me during that time (when I was asked to write it, I had an inkling that I was about to walk through personal grief – but I had no idea of the collective loss we were about to face as a nation). It was, in fact, very cathartic to write while I was with mum and, now the COVID-19 pandemic is literally everywhere, the mixture of lament and hope I gleaned from scripture seems so apt for us all.*
Ever-changing arrangements
Since mum’s death, I have been emotionally very up and down. The whole process of mourning for mum has been difficult because her death certificate was not released to us for over a month (due to complications with doctors). It meant her funeral could not take place until the end of March, which put us slap bang in the middle of the lockdown and all the other implications the pandemic has caused.
I can look back now and say I am so grateful that my mum was taken before the coronavirus broke out (as she had a lung disease so would have been super susceptible). However, I have to be honest and say there have been days when I have struggled with the fact we had to wait so long for the funeral, and the changes we had to make to it because of the time lapse.
My mum was so organised – her funeral ideas had been penned and ready for a couple of years. But we had still gone through the agonising experiences of visiting the funeral director, choosing a venue for after the service, pulling together the order of service and inviting guests. Each of those things, when you are exhausted from being involved in end-of-life care, as well as consumed by the enormity of grief, feels like it is one thing too many.
As the virus has spread, it has felt like each week brought with it the enormous weight of new and desperately difficult decisions to make. Sometimes the burden felt unbearable – and then simply pointless as, a few days later, the decision we had made was then made null and void due to changes to government guidelines.
One week we agonised over whether to make the funeral immediate family only. We were concerned some family weren’t sure they could travel any longer. Others had begun to self-isolate as they were high-risk. And most of mum’s local friends were over the age of 70 anyway. So we did decide to take the decision out of people’s hands, so they wouldn’t feel guilty for choosing not to come.
And then the lockdown loomed. We knew it was coming; we were just hoping it would happen after the funeral. Listening to Boris address the nation was horrific. I was literally clinging to a cushion, desperate to take in all he said and feeling more and more anxious as the announcements were all about shutting things down and staying indoors. But then came the news that funerals could still go ahead – for the moment at least. My heart leapt…but then I was left with many questions. Would the crematorium local to my parents still be allowing family to attend? How many of us would be allowed to go? Would different decisions be made in the few days leading up to the funeral, which would mean we suddenly couldn’t be there? After all, this has been such a fast-moving situation, and we’ve had to change things over and over again.
Speaking to my dad and sister, we continued with plans to bring the immediate family together, but decided to pare back the service as there would be so few of us. We may have a celebration service in the summer with those that were supposed to be with us, if the pandemic has ceased – but who knows how we will all feel by then, and how many others we will be mourning by then.
Thoughts from the eve of the funeral…
I have cried so many tears over the arrangements, and what we have had to change. But I have also reminded myself and my family that we were blessed to be able to be with mum when she made the journey from life here to life with Jesus. So many people are dying, alone, in hospitals. And I know there are those missing family funerals because they are having to isolate themselves due to symptoms. That can make me feel guilty at times, although I know that is one negative emotion I needn’t be feeling (although that doesn’t stop it).
The funeral is tomorrow and I am full of mixed emotions about it. I’m totally wrung out trying to navigate life with us all working from home; my husband and I already mainly work from home but now we have our children doing online schooling here too (just like most other families). But my husband is a pastor and so we have been navigating setting up online services, and trying to keep everyone connected. That has consumed his thoughts and most of his waking hours, so the run up to the funeral has felt pretty lonely too…
* Everyday insights into loss and disappointment is a 30-day personal devotional, being published in May by CWR.
What a challenging story! In the most extreme circumstances Joseph surrendered himself totally to God. He spent 13 years altogether in captivity (firstly enslaved, then imprisoned) before he became Pharaoh’s right-hand man.
For some of us, this time of forced isolation may feel like imprisonment. With strict instructions to stay at home, and only make essential journeys for provisions, those who live by themselves may be battling loneliness. Those of us with families may be finding their homes become like pressure cookers, with each person’s stress levels rising as we navigate being with one another 24/7 (we have had moments like that in our house this week!).
Whether we feel like the days are stretching out before us with no end in sight, or we are desperate for a bit of space to ourselves, I think we can learn from Joseph’s attitude to his difficult years. It seems that Joseph didn’t turn against God or blame Him for the unjust circumstances he found himself in. He may have been aware of God’s sustaining presence with Him, for we read: ‘… while Joseph was … in the prison, the LORD was with him; he showed him kindness and granted him favour … (vv.20–21). I pray that, whether you are struggling today or not, you will sense God’s presence with you.
And, whether we have a lot of time on our hands right now, or are having to snatch moments in between working and trying to help our children with their daily school tasks, I also pray that during this lockdown we will each have the opportunity to get to know God more deeply. That will look different for each of us. I have had to learn not to get frustrated by the lack of time I have currently – and my time with God looks different right now. We are each having to adjust; may we remember to include God in the decisions we make and in the changes to our daily lives, asking Him to order our days.
Prayer: Lord I thank You that You are not surprised by the strange circumstances that we find ourselves in currently. I pray that each of us will sense Your presence, and will find new ways of drawing close to You today.
