Tag: lockdown

Love and loss in lockdown

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It is my pleasure to introduce Tony Horsfall to my blog today. Tony is a wonderful, wise writer. This year has been particularly difficult for him, and yet he has shared with such honesty not only here, but in his new book (pictured above).

During 2020 the experience of lockdown has impacted all we do, and in particular caring for loved ones who are terminally ill, and grieving those who have passed away.

My wife Evelyn had been struggling with a recurrence of breast cancer for over four years when she was eventually told in February that her condition was terminal, with just months to live. The cancer had spread to her spine and she quickly deteriorated. We tried to care for her at home, but it became increasingly difficult, so she went into the local hospice. Because of visiting restrictions, I was allowed to go and stay with her. After a week she had improved sufficiently to be transferred to a local care home. Again, I decided to go with her – Evelyn in nursing care and myself as a resident – otherwise I would not have been able to see her.

DEALING WITH THE UNEXPECTED

The transition to a care home was a huge shock to the system. It was hot, noisy and full of hustle and bustle. It took us time to adjust, but gradually we got into a routine and had six good weeks together. Evelyn’s condition was deteriorating daily, and it was painful to watch. She needed a hoist to get her out of bed, and was slowly losing control of her bodily functions, which was a huge loss of dignity. We were aware of the risk of coronavirus in such a setting, but it was a risk we had to take.However, we both caught the virus. Surprisingly Evelyn recovered fairly quickly, but my condition worsened and I ended up in intensive care.

As I fought for my life, I thought I would never see Evelyn again. Intensive care was a lonely and frightening place. No visitors allowed; you were on your own. Across the room from me two other patients were on ventilators. I cried to God, ‘Lord, don’t let me have to go on a ventilator.’ A stream of prayer was going up for us, and with this and the medical care, I began to recover and after two weeks was allowed to return home, but not to the care home.

THE PAIN OF SEPARATION

I was physically very weak but what hurt the most was that I could no longer be with Evelyn. We had an occasional phone call, which was far from satisfactory, and soon she began to be confused. One afternoon the home called me because Evelyn was disturbed and wanted to come home. They asked me to reassure her that she was in the right place. Patiently, with tears rolling down my cheeks, I explained to her why we had taken the decision for her to be in care, and she calmed and seemed to understand. It was one of the hardest things I have ever done.

I began to feel guilty that I was at home and recovering while Evelyn was still in the care home and struggling by herself. I could be with our family, and see the grandchildren, but she was denied that pleasure. I felt I had let her down, that I had failed, since my aim had been to be with her to the end. Fortunately, God spoke a word to me: ‘She was mine long before she was yours and I won’t abandon her now’, he said. That lifted my despair, and I began to entrust her to the care of her heavenly Father.

SAYING GOODBYE

After a month of separation, we were allowed into the care home to see her as she neared the end. It was a healing time, even if a painful one. I was able to sit with her, hold her hand, feed her sips of water, give her a little food to eat and pray with her. Slowly she slipped away. Her lasts words were, ‘Thank you Jesus, you led me all the way.’

We held a Thanksgiving for her life over Zoom, which was strange but enabled people from all over the world to take part and mourn her passing. Then we had a service at the graveside, where about 70 attended, socially distanced. It was a moving tribute to her life, which was lived for Christ from a young age.

ADJUSTING TO LIFE ALONE

Grieving has not been easy during lockdown. I have missed seeing friends, being hugged, having the chance to share memories of Evelyn. Just when you most need your friends, they are not able to visit you. I have had to learn how to cook for myself and manage the house and garden. I have found eating alone especially difficult as I adjust to being single. 

Looking back, although it was a traumatic time, I can see how much God helped us. Our story is a story of love, the love we had for each other after 46 years of marriage. But also, the story of God’s love, from which nothing can separate us. Time and again he comforted me through Scripture, worship songs, acts of kindness and amazing provision. It is a story of the love of friends – those who prayed in tears, sent cards and flowers, wrote letters of encouragement, shared our journey. It is also a story of the love of strangers, of those health service professionals who cared for us, showed us kindness, went beyond the call of duty.

Perhaps this is the great gift to the world from the pandemic – the reminder that love is the most important thing of all.

Tony Horsfall is a retreat leader, author and mentor. Finding Refuge tells this story more fully, and is available from the author at tonyhorsfall@uwclub.net

Time for…rest

Reflections based on Psalm 23:1–4.

In all honesty, these last few weeks have been incredibly difficult. As I’ve said before, life in lockdown has been so much busier than usual, there have been some huge challenges with people and particular situations, and I have also had my first birthday without my mum. All of that has meant that I have reached way beyond my capacity – emotionally but also physically. Last week my body started fighting back, with a notable upsurge in the degree of pain my head and neck have been in and regular nosebleeds (frustratingly often when I was trying to get to bed).

As well as taking the emotional difficulties to God to work through daily, I started trying to get to bed early. But, even when I did, I couldn’t sleep. It was a very frustrating week! Thankfully, although emotionally quite painful, my birthday also included some lovely times of celebration with friends and family. It was so wonderful to host my family again for the first time in a number of years (although I said to my husband afterwards that I’d forgotten what hard work hosting is! Lockdown has obviously gone on for far too long!).

When this week started, I could sense something had shifted. I realised that I had become engulfed in swirling waves of depression and darkness: my responses to things were not usual and I was becoming very negative. But, on Monday, that fog began to lift. Yesterday, I even felt a bit of relief from the head and neck ache – although that was short-lived. However, the sense of hope was quickening within me again.

As I started pondering a short message I will be sending to a women’s group that I should have been speaking to in person next weekend, I was drawn to a couple of verses in Psalm 23. But, after he had given me what he wanted me to say to them, God then reminded me of what it says at the start of the Psalm. That he ‘makes me lie down’ and ‘leads me’. I was struck afresh by how active those descriptions are – the first sounds a tad aggressive even (well, authoritative is perhaps a better word). But then that may be in response to my own actions…

I know I started lockdown with all the best intentions – helping my husband with the huge learning curve of getting church online and producing content each week, supporting our kids not only with online learning but also their spiritual health, keeping the groups I’m involved with in church connected via different online meetings and special events and being in daily contact with my family as we had just lost our mum/wife, as well as dealing with a heavier (but enjoyable) workload (which included finishing the book on marriage my husband and I have written).

It wasn’t really a surprise that there was a physical and emotional cost to what I was doing. I should have read the warning signs earlier but, even when I had, there was little I could suddenly drop.

I did enjoy a wonderful online retreat, led by the amazing Sharon Brown, in which I had space to process grief but also hear from God about my need for rest. But, as sometimes happens, directly after that, there seemed to be a kick back – life was suddenly more challenging and I found my journal littered with questions for God about why he would tell me to rest, when he knew what was going to happen!

I know that all I need is found in God, and he is always with me, but there are times when circumstances can seem completely overwhelming, even when we are doing all the ‘right’ things, connecting with him regularly and looking to him for direction and guidance day by day.

Fast forward to this week. When I can actively see his hand at work. Many of the evening activities that we had planned got cancelled and, just yesterday, I turned to my husband and said: “Maybe we are supposed to just rest in the evenings this week.”

It certainly feels like God has suddenly stepped in and said: “Enough is enough. Just rest.” It doesn’t mean that everything has stopped; I still have lots of work to attend to, and my husband is planning a new preaching series, plus writing his own preach for this weekend. We are also constantly discussing the next steps for the church, now that lockdown is beginning to ease. But, in the midst of all that, it does feel like God is beckoning us to lie down in the green pastures he has prepared for us. That he has refreshment for our souls.

I am reminded that Jesus was busy, but never harassed. He had found those “unforced rhythms of grace” that I long for at times (Matthew 11:28–30, The Message). He could sleep in peace on a boat in the midst of a raging storm (Matthew 8:23–27). The outer circumstances that can so often cause stress did not faze him. He also knew how important it was to take time away with his Father to be refreshed.

These are all things I know, and try to practise purposefully in my own life. But I am glad to know that, when my own efforts fall short, I can rely on the Lord my shepherd to step in to look after me; to make me lie down in order to rest.

Reflection: What about you? Does this resonate with where you are at? Is God leading you beside quiet waters today? Make sure to follow wherever he leads…

Waiting well

Reflections based on Luke 2:21–40.

‘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…

God’s life-changing interruptions

Reflections based on Luke 1:26–49.

‘“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.

Organising a funeral amidst the chaos

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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.

Feeling hemmed in?

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Reflections based on Genesis 39:20–23.

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.