What's mine to do in a global pandemic?

 I've been mulling over David Lamotte's "what's mine to do?" whilst feeling somewhat overwhelmed by the great need right now - in my close circle, my community, nation and world. So many folk are struggling: I've cried at the news this week of a migrant family dying trying to cross the channel, I've despaired that there is so much global and national poverty, and my social media seems to be full of polarised people as to what should be happening to tackle covid19 amidst so much loss (of life, health, work and hope).

I've been pulled in to conversations about how countries compare in the approaches, and I finally remember that actually I don't want to be right, I want to be kind. The truth is I don't know what the right way forward is in terms of lockdown  - but I don't need to know. I'm not running a country. Its not mine to do. So whether I think a leader is doing it better or worse than elsewhere, I don't need to put my energy into defending or disputing it because I can't change it. (Which is not to deny the value of contacting our politicians, voting , or even revolution - these all have their place).

So what is mine to do? I can choose to keep noticing where my encouragement is needed. Where I can show love. It's completely possible (if I keep working on my own feelings too) to show compassion to all those who need it right now. To those who are grieving their various losses, to those afraid of redundancy or the virus, to those struggling with the restrictions as well as those who feel not enough is being done. I don't have to pick "a side" but just love wherever that love is needed.

As well as my listening/ encouraging skills, I have other resources too I can keep looking out for ways to share. I don't currently have time to help out at the food bank but I have been able to set up a direct debit for example. Thinking intentionally about where I spend, and give, continues to be within my power. I'd be foolish to think I can change the whole world at once, but I can play my part in those small changes that ultimately do change the world.

It's always helpful to remember I don't have to do everything, just what's mine. Sending you much love in your discerning as to what's yours  - you don't have to do it all either. 

Divine midwife

 I was in need of something uplifting, and so was especially delighted to read this excellent post which encourages us to consider if our theology might be rooted in patriarchal imagery. Instead of an interventionist God believed to take charge and rescue, called upon to take our pain away, what if God is present alongside us, guiding us to access our inner resources to manage that pain? She quotes Brene Brown "I hoped faith would be an epidural for pain. Turns out to be a midwife who says 'Push. I'm here. Sometimes it hurts.' Dammit."

https://www.facebook.com/673255819772915/posts/1063791314052695/

On love and marriage and records

Last year I got to hear an illuminating presentation on the history of marriage. Many people talk of the current incarnation of marriage as if it’s a God-given institution enshrined in the Bible without realising that men in the Bible had many wives. As I understand it, the modern day concept of marriage is born out of a patriarchal requirement to record rights of ownership and linked to taxation and only in more recent times had anything to do with love.  

My partner is delving into lots of historical records at the moment and I’m dismayed at what we have thought worthy of recording and what is not. Whilst I concede that the date and location of our births and deaths potentially reveals something about us, I’m not convinced that if or who we marry should have any more significance than other facts about us. In our society we privilege romantic relationships over others when science shows that it is our connections that matter and that friendship and attachment to caregivers are crucial - a married relationship may or may not be one of those connections but why would it be viewed in isolation? We never know the full impact of any relationship we’re not in ourselves, but like any relationship between two people a marriage might be liberating and help us be our best selves, or it might be limiting or abusive. We are called to love one another, not to just love one. If people are looking for Biblical guidance, we’re told the greatest commandment is to love God with all our heart and to love our neighbour as ourselves - so that’s loving God, neighbours and ourselves. Being in a marriage maybe enable us to do those three things more fully, or it may not, but to my mind the key thing is the love.

It brings to mind again the song ‘seasons of love’ which asks: 

“How do you measure the life of a woman or a man?

In truths that she learned
Or in times that he cried
In bridges he burned
Or the way that she died

It's time now, to sing out
Though the story never ends
Let's celebrate
Remember a year in the life of friends...

Remember the love
(Share love, give love, spread love)”

I’ve never watched Rent, the musical it’s from, I’ll try and remedy that. 

Fortunately I think the way people in the future will research our lives won’t be limited to just official records. Our prolific use of technology will mean anyone interested will hopefully be able to see what, and maybe who, mattered to us. It is our actions that reveal our love, not who we were born to, not if we married, and not how long we lived. The records that matter are stored in our hearts, and those of our neighbours and God. Unlike machines, those records can’t be accessed but to me at least they are the most important. As Beth Nielsen Chapman sings, 

"All that matters when we're gone 

All that mattered all along 

All we have that carries on - is how we love"

Why church?

These strange times give an opportunity to reflect on what’s important, why we do what we do, and to figure new ways of being and doing when old ways are not possible. 

And so I’ve been musing on what it is about church that has it so significant in my life. For me it’s never been about a building. I don’t believe God is any more in one place or one human than another. And so I get to worship and pray and give thanks 24/7, just as easily when I’m lying in bed or picking up one of the amazing leaves currently being shed. There’s lots of material online and in my house to inspire me to think deeper about God and my response, so I don’t feel I have to go somewhere for input, tho it’s a helpful discipline to have a regular place/time to engage or otherwise like my yoga, I could just not get round to it.
There’s something good about doing all that in community tho and in particular one reason I go to a service is to sing collectively. That’s not possible in a Methodist church building at the moment, but it’s still enjoyable to put harmonies to hymns in online worship even tho I can’t hear the voices of everyone else attending. 
The key aspect is that it’s in community. An embodied Body of Christ, that usually literally stands alongside, sings together, hugs. Whilst we’re not for now able to mingle with one another before, during or after a service, I’m not getting chance to listen to how others are, show my love, and indeed share how things are for me and be shown love. I know community is not just about my needs tho, so I have offered to help out if help is needed rather than just say it’s not for me. However I still need to figure ways of staying in community with folk from church whilst the mingling is not allowed. I’ve had contact with those in my contacts... but there’s plenty of folk I don’t have a number for. 

I’ve managed to find new ways of staying connected with my other communities. Book group, choir, the volunteers I supervise, a white people challenging our racism group- we moved online. And yet I’ve not fully found a way to be church when I’m not going to the building. I think whenever we’re joining God in Gods work we’re being church so in some ways things haven’t changed tho it feels a bit more solitary right now. I’ve found new ways to show love and support (that rely heavily on Royal Mail - hurrah for post!). I’m not keen on the gendered nature of the word fellowship, but I’m curious to notice the places I’ve felt this given that I’ve not been in a local church group for many months now. Being out with others in my town in a community litter pick was the nearest - united in a common act of service. 
So what does this mean? I’m passionate in my belief that the church is not something external to me - we are the church - so if I feel something should be different then I need to be that difference. And I constantly have to remind myself that we’re all doing the best we can, that adapting to a global pandemic takes energy and we can’t do everything. Maybe it’s enough to notice for now. Tho I am aware I can’t be the only one wrestling with how to stay connected in these tricky circumstances.

This pondering has prompted me to take action, so hopefully that's a good thing!

The great outdoors

 Like lots of people I'm weary now. I've read useful articles on the 6th month wall, and on surge capacity. I'm also trying to be gentle with myself as I grieve losses and adjust to life without my daughter here, figuring new ways of showing my love. 

My partner shared some wisdom that's really resonated. That human beings are not meant to be indoors all the time, but to seek occasional shelter to sleep for example. This makes so much sense to me. I love life when camping, the vast amount of fresh air. Yet most of my existence is currently cooped up. So these last few days I've made more of a determined effort to get out and I feel much better for it. I'm aware this is going to get increasingly harder so I'm going to have to prioritize it. Breakfast on the backdoor step. A walk regardless of the weather. Days off meaning days out. We discovered a beautiful weir on Sunday and a shout out on Facebook has generated a whole list of as yet unvisited Lancashire delights.