Author: ruth180

An Easter Sunday like no other…

An Easter Sunday like no other…

This Easter Sunday is different.

It is somehow cold, lonely and deadly.

In my day job I work with a team of healthcare educators. We have been busy teaching how to put on and carefully take of PPE. How to fit masks to protect our ‘front line’ staff, we have been involved in debates as to who should wear which PPE, when should we wear PPE. We have been in discussions how to cohort patients, which wards, how to segregate ITU, when do we stop elective surgery, do we have enough body bags, how do you use a body bag. We have been upskilling nurses who haven’t been on the wards for a while, to enable them to undertake direct patient care once again, we have been skilling staff to undertake roles they wouldn’t normally take – finance teams delivering supplies, QI teams portering. Then there’s Gold Command, Silver Command, Bronze Command all working to ensure that our people (both patients and staff) have the care and protection they so deserve. I am very fortunate we work as a team, professionals all together. We have had some amazing people donating gifts, food, drinks, visors, googles, smellies, lots of staff to help makes lives easier. It been a long difficult three or is that four weeks.

My family is on lock down. The hubster working remotely from a week before lock down, his employers seeing the coming storm before others. My 17 year old, permanently resident on the sofa, fingers attached to his laptop. His cool calm demeanour disguising the anxiety of unknown results of exams not taken, University places lay discarded unsure of how this will play out. My other two cherubs are elsewhere. One on University campus the other at the boyfriends, stuck where they were when lockdown was announced. So like thousands of families the world over we chat (and bicker) over whatsap or publically over twitter and fb. Twice I have seen my daughter (both chocolate related) through the glass of the porch doors as gifts exchanged on an empty cold grey driveway. When she moves away I watch as my arms ache to hold her. I wait each day to see photos or the amazing ‘lockdown updates’ from the firstborn, trying to ascertain his mood and/or anxiety levels, and yet I can only helps with words.

So yes this Easter Sunday is different.

Having listened to today’s data another 737 people have died, totalling 10 621. These large numbers don’t include all. Only those tested positive and have died in hospital, not those poor souls in the community, or nursing/care homes.

How to make sense then of Easter Sunday.

The first year in so many not to be in church. not have had services during the week. not to have met, networked, discussed, shared in our faith. Does this mean my faith is less because I need others in which to share?

So this lonely dark cold Easter Sunday I wonder into the front room, slowly open my laptop and don my head phones, listfully looking for the tunes which will lift the spirit. I allow the music to choose it self, to shuffle in it’s own sphere of what should be.

As the Sidewalk Prophets slowly grow in my ears, and penetrate my thoughts, I take a moment to listen

We all start on the outside. The outside looking in. This is where Grace begins

As the words begin to flood my consciousness – come to the table, sit down, be set free, no one is unwelcome here, let mercy draw you near…

The weariness of my being begins to settle, the fog within my brain becomes clearer.

Amazing Grace (Chris Tomlin) fills the air. As the Easter story plays out in front of me, from the texts on screen, I hear … Grace my fears relieved, My chains are gone, My Saviour has ransomed me, Unending Love, Amazing Grace.

This Easter Sunday begins to make some sense. How did Jesus feel in the Garden of Gethsemane, as his friends slept, knowing what He must face? When he was arrested, alone and cold, whipped and made to carry His own cross to His ultimate death on the very same cross. And yet even in this story there is hope, Simeon who carried the cross for Jesus, of the criminal hung on the cross nearby, who asked for Jesus’ forgiveness, of Nickodemus, of many more…Here my Saviour ransomed himself for me, an unending love indeed.

The sweet sounds of Hallelujah (Pentatonix) gives me space to think more clearly, to make more sense of the days gone by, of the actions I have taken, of the interactions I have been part of and how we have moved forward.

Into my thoughts the hymn ‘Here I am Lord, is it I Lord’ permeates to the centre of my being…. almost as if ‘I have heard you calling in the night’ This hymn always gives me peace and a sense of if I listen You will answer. I realise that during the past couple of weeks, where I have struggled He was there, where I was looking He sat beside me, when I was rushing He walked behind me, and when it was all just too much, it was then He held me close. I only had to look.

Be still for the presence of the Lord, the Holy One is here. Be still for the glory of the Lord is shining all around. Be still for the power of the Lord is moving in this place. No work too hard for Him, In faith received from Him. Be Still. One of my favourite hymns reminding me just to be still. Perhaps in recent weeks I have forgotten to be still and know my God, I have rushed around trying to be all things to all people, and not taken the time to just be still.

This Easter Sunday has been different, but that’s not a bad thing. We need to be shaken up once in a while. Perhaps understand the scriptures we think we know so well, in a different way.

Without even being aware of the difference in beat, I am dancing around the room, dancing to the beat of His heart. The words of Graham Kendrick’s tune, these words stand out most: ‘teach me to love with Your heart of compassion teach me to trust in the word of Your promise’

This Easter Sunday I have understood about Your compassion, and that’s not a easy journey, I need to show more compassion and trust in the word of Your promise. A Love so great You gave your only son to die for me

The final words came from Keith and Kristyn Getty , words that shows the Love from the Word which allows me to be me, and in being me I am enough.

Beneath the cross of Jesus

I find a place to stand

and wonder at such mercy

that calls me as I am

Through My Eyes…

    Today your words stung, your giggles hit home in a way I have not felt in so long. So here I am sat drinking coffee alone with my thoughts unpicking my reaction to your thoughtless actions.

    It is not often I allow the deeds of others to affect my sense of being, fleetingly maybe but not for long.

    As I dressed after swimming, I was aware of the slight giggle from behind me. Thinking nothing more I carried on, until I turned and realised the whispered mutterings were pointed at me. What was I thinking? This overweight, short old (53) woman in this young vibrant atmosphere. It was almost as if my being there tainted the air.

    I agree I am not the most attractive or fittest of the species neither am I unworthy to take my place in your space.

    This body, whose excessive skin folds you took such offense to, has carried and nurtured three amazing human beings to adult hood, three sensitive, funny, kind, understanding and caring individuals who would not stand and stare.

    These feet have walked thousands of miles up and down wards and departments, caring for people in their most vulnerable of hours.

    These hands have held the hands of others in their final moments, have helds the hands of the bereaved as they gasp the air around them working out how to move on without they very love they need.

    These hands have washed, fed, dressed, cleaned, held, hundreds of amazing people who have needed care and understanding.

    These eyes have watched the light die, and final breaths taken, they have observed and assessed professionals of the future as they learn and carve their craft. These eyes have seen a world turn, develop and move on in ways unfathomable when created.

    These ears have heard traumatic accounts of the scared and lonely, the anxieties of the vulnerable, the joys and excited whelps of new beginnings, of adventures in planning and the gasps of delightful celebration at the end of beautiful journeys.

    This heart holds dear years of experience, of acquaintances, of dearest friends, of people long since departed, of the memories of joys and despair each of which have taught lessons of life rich tapestry. This heart holds on to the adventures completed and waits in earnest for adventures still to come.

    This whole being holds a faith so deep I know not where is begins and where it ends, but I know that it guides me so I don’t find myself in a gym changing room judging those around me.

    So ladies, as you have judge me for what you see in front of you, all I am guilty of is in the years of caring for others I forgot at times to care for myself.

    My prayer is that you both live lives of fulfillment, of adventure and in giving to others you may find peace in yourselves just for being who you are.

    The Power of Love

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    Three White Roses

    Today was not the best of days, it was never going to be.

    Today I watch my little brother carry his son in a wicker basket adorned with blue flowers to his final destination. Luke James was born asleep on the 7th May, which also happened to be my 53rd birthday.

    My brother walked side by side with his amazing lady, grief etched across their whole bodies, yet strong in each other to give their son those final moments he so richly deserved.

    This moment of immense pain should never be carried by any parent, and yet less than three years ago this exact scenario played out, my little brother carrying his first born son James William in his arms for his final journey to God’s arms. James was born on the 5th July 16 and stayed to say hello for one single week, growing his angel wings on 12th July.

    My fb page one month after his final journey reads:

    This day one month ago, I watched my baby brother carry his own sweet child on his final journey.

    I watched with a broken heart, the strength he had to hold his child and say a final goodnight. I watched through blurry eyes as his beautiful lady stood beside him in support as they regaled the ups and downs of James’ tiny life here with us…

    I sat square on the hard wooden seat and wondered how life could be so hard at times, how love simply wasn’t enough…

    And here we are the same hard wooden seats, the same broken hearts not yet pieced back together in love of James, now smashed in grief for Luke.

    Both laid to rest on the 22nd of the month, on born 5th of the 7th, the other born on the 7th of the 5th – the glimpse of hope that these two little brothers will play together in heaven’s playground and wait for us all to join them.

    Later in the day I journeyed by train to the south. Pondering the fairness or lack of it of life, thinking of the strength my brother and his lady have with each other to carry two sons, to never have heard them cry, or giggle, to never see them smile, to wonder always what might have been…

    My mind wandered to the children I too had carried and never met, what might they have looked like, what would they have sounded like, would they have children of their own… I have been blessed with three amazing children, already defining life in their own ways, being their own true selves in every way.

    Still there are the days, due dates, when my mind will wander to the what might have beens, how the dynamics of our family would have been different

    Like thousands of other mums, I didn’t get to meet all my children, but in my heart of hearts I knew them all. I hold them deep within my very being where no one else may see. I think of them each moment of achievement of my children and wonder how they might have grown, what their achievements might have been.

    The grief of children gone before us is oft too much to bear, and yet we do.

    The strength of my brother and his lady, and those that support them was glowing even from the immense grief wracked around their beings. In the days to come when they wonder how this happened, how they can make it through to the end of each day, they will have each other. Their grief though different, will be understood by the other as they start to make their lives without their boys.

    Life isn’t fair. However as both my brother and his lady have proved, it can be borne with grace and dignity and care for one and another.

    My prayers this evening are for all who have and are suffering the bereavement of their children, those they met for a very short time and those they may not have met. My prayers that you have the support and love to grow in strength, to remember without the pain in gladness for the short time you may have had, to move forward with your own lives until you meet again.

    And to my baby bro and his amazing lady I am so proud of you both that you care so deeply for each other, for the amazing children/step children you share whose love for their brothers goes as deep as your love for them. Love to you all.