Here is my nothing of sexual harassment

Here is my nothing of sexual harassment.

The incidents that are invisible, intangible and don't exist in any record apart from my mind and heart.

Every woman reading this will have a list like this too.

It starts early. 12-year-old boys rooting through our bags in breaktime classrooms, gleefully finding our stash of Always and pulling it out with a jeer. What were they laughing at? Our wombs? The very organs that gave them the breath in their lungs that they now use to embarrass us for having female bodies.

I was an awkward, gangly, bespectacled, train-track wearing girl, painfully aware of my utterly unbeautiful self. Male hands poking you. "What's that on your chest? Oh, nothing!" accompanied by guttural laughter and kudos.

Fast forward a while. I've learnt how to be pretty now and work as a waitress. It's a nice pub. A middle class pub. Still full of men who hate women.

I bring the pudding menus over, written in chalk on mini-blackboards (it's part of the mass-produced quirky charm). "Are you on it love?" The bellows of drunken laughter echo round the table. No man would ever say this on his own. They work in packs; it's all about the power play. I never tell them I've heard their hilarious joke several times before. I don't say anything. Ever. Especially not when they ask how big I like my steaks. I scuttle, embarrassed, around the table, not meeting their eyes as I clear their plates, trying to lean in beside them as little as possible, feeling eyes combing over me. 

I walk into the glass-wash and there's my boss, pressing himself up against another waitress again while his wife works in the kitchen, thinking he's funny, thinking it's a game. He hates racism because he's from a traveller background. Misogyny's working out well for him so far though.

None of us say anything. We congregate in angry whispers around the dumb waiter instead, by turns ranting quietly, by turns each making fun of the men who've abused us to cheer each other up (ask him if he wears his steak on his head). 

I like going out clubbing most weeks. I love dancing with my friends. The entry price of the inevitable groping hands on your bum and unwanted crotch grinding up against you is silently accepted by all of us.

After shoving once such hand away on a night out a few years later I angrily point to my engagement ring. (Now I'd call this capitulation; is the absence of a ring acquiescence to sexual assault?) I quickly find out I'm a FRIGID BITCH - should I let my husband-to-be know?

I walk around my university city crossing the road to avoid any scaffolding and the hi-vis jackets that are filled with cat-calling men. 

You can't avoid the vans though... you're fair game to them. Horns honk, words are shouted, sometimes inaudible but enough to let you know you're not worth anything. Walking down the street becomes a game of roulette. My heart pounds whenever I'm anywhere on my own.

Apparently I don't smile enough.

I edit the university newspaper and leave the office at almost midnight every Wednesday after sending it to press. Walking alone through the pitch black campus I speak to my boyfriend the whole way home, giving him minute by minute updates so he can call the police with my exact location if I'm assaulted. We were all given rape alarms on arrival at university. I wonder if the boys were given instructions not to rape anyone?

Second year brings an online, anonymous, ongoing campaign of harassment on my public blog. One of the most memorable messages I received read, "We want to see you raped by a gang of syphilitic sailors who cut your legs off so you hobble around on the bloody stumps." 

Everyone tells me to go to the police so I do. They take it seriously but there are no resources to police anything online then so it peters out.

I take the pile of printed out evidence to the University harassment office. The woman who's Head of the department has stepped out but her colleague flicks through the sheaf. "This is just what you have to expect if you're editor of the paper", he says. My stomach drops. 

The Head of the Department walks in and asks to see what's going on. She takes one look at the papers and tells me it's harassment pure and simple. I feel relieved and broken.

Nothing comes of it. They can't formally identify the students even though I'm pretty sure I know who it is. I'm told one option is for me to tackle it myself in a team meeting.

For a while I'm dazed, paranoid and highly anxious, not knowing when the next comment is going to drop, not knowing who's writing the stuff but knowing they're close to me, totally unable to relax in any situation. 

Since I've been married and had kids the incidents have been far fewer and farther between. Save for a drunken man shoving himself up against me on a seat on a train and stroking my leg while singing to me, and a few cat calls, life is calmer now. 

But every time I get in the car I check the back seat.

Every time my car's idling and a man's walking past I flick the lock switch.

Every time I have to walk past a group of men my heart still pounds.

I don't walk anywhere at night on my own, save around my immediate neighbourhood where I know someone on every street.

If I hear footsteps behind me on brief walks when I have to walk in the dark, I pretty much have an anxiety attack.

A few weeks ago a man stared at me in town and said, "so pretty, Jesus Christ". I felt weak, violated, and panicked, and my first thought was "it's my fault for putting some nice makeup on today". 

That epitomises what it is to be female. To feel used and devalued and to blame ourselves, because of how society has been set up.

Throughout my teenage years and twenties, my peers and I just accepted that was how things were. You went out, you got groped. You walked down the street, you got yelled at. We never liked it but we never ever questioned it. It wasn't until the #metoo movement that I think a lot of us woke up to the fact that this was never ok, and for myself I not only felt anger at the men who had conducted this gross wrongdoing but anger and upset at myself for accepting it. 

The point is that none of this stuff is a statistic. None of it is a rape or a murder and I'm not coming close to suggesting it's anywhere on the same plane and carries anywhere near the level of trauma that has been inflicted on survivors of these things by male perpetrators.

The point is that it may be invisible but it's absolutely life-changing. 

Assault and abuse doesn't need to get to the stage of rape and murder before it traumatises someone because it IS violence and it traumatises and traps and makes women slaves to fear even at this level. If a man is happy to swear at you in broad daylight, how far would he go in a dark alleyway at night? We're enlightened enough now to understand, to the extent that the law recognises it, that abuse can occur with no physical scars. But when it comes to misogyny and sexual harassment, we as a society have for too long completely ignored and failed to recognise the impact that sustained, life-long abuse has on women's quality of life, even when it doesn't make it onto a police report. It leaves scars.

I believe that Jesus Christ, when he was on earth, was a radical when it came to women and is a radical now who invites women to come to him and be unconditionally loved. The gospels show him time and time again valuing women where society vilified them, welcoming women where powerful men spurned them, comforting women where others ignored them, and honouring women where others disparaged them.

It's no coincidence that women were the ones that God chose to first have the privilege and blessing of seeing the resurrected Jesus. A woman was the way God chose to bring his Son into the world. 

I wholeheartedly believe in fighting for societal change because I believe that God's pattern for humankind was not the mess of misogyny and inequality we have currently. 

But realistically we're going to be left with some degree of this mess until Jesus comes back. So ultimately it's God that my comfort comes from. I know that the most powerful Man in the universe sees me as a precious, loved and valued woman. He created me with this body and this mind and this soul and he never, ever makes me feel hurt or devalued or worthless. In fact, he gave his life for me and for anyone who trusts in Him. 

I woke up this morning feeling utterly exhausted. The news of Sarah Everard's senseless killing, allegedly by a male police officer, the subsequent outpouring of women's trauma, the sense of people refusing to listen and the sense of despair was last night capped off by the Met police violence in response to the peaceful vigil. It's left me and many others feeling again the weight of the problems we face and the brokenness of the world. 

God cares. He sees. He will have his way and he will right every wrong one day. In the meantime, we wait, we comfort one another and we do what we can to fight for what's right. While we work and grow weary, I found this song really helpful tonight. While I am a woman and I am tired and I am sad and I am tempted to despair I will lean hard in his everlasting arms. 

He lavishes grace as our burdens grow greater
He sends us more strength as our labours increase
To added afflictions He offers more mercy
To multiplied trials He multiplies peace

When we have exhausted our store of endurance
When our strength has failed and the day is half done
When we've reached the end of our earthly resources
Our Father's full giving is only begun
Our Father's full giving is only begun

So lean hard
Lean hard
Lean on the everlasting arms
Lean hard
Lean hard
Lean on the everlasting arms
Lean on the everlasting arms

His love has no limits, His grace has no measure
His power has no boundary that's known unto men
For out of His infinite riches in Jesus
He giveth and giveth and giveth again
He giveth and giveth and giveth again

So lean hard
Lean hard
Lean on the everlasting arms
Lean hard
Lean hard
Lean on the everlasting arms
Lean on the everlasting arms

You lead me beside still waters
Your goodness restores my soul
I know that you'll never leave me
I know that you won't let go
You lead me beside still waters
Your goodness restores my soul
I know that you'll never leave me
I know that you won't let go

So lean hard
Lean hard
Lean on the everlasting arms
Lean hard
Lean hard
Lean on the everlasting arms
Lean on the everlasting arms
Lean on the everlasting arms

Covid:19 - How do we actually "take each day at a time"?

Schools are shutting, again. With this announcement comes the all too familiar mix of dread, anger, sadness and worry for parents and children up and down the country. This time we know it's for a minimum of seven weeks, bringing us to February half term. Seven weeks in Covid-homeschool-land feels like millenia. Having homeschooled my three in Lockdown 1.0 (the original and the best), and gone through a fair few bubbles bursting and isolations, I totally get it. What started off as a novelty quickly became an anxiety-riddled, loud, messy mess for most UK households.

It's easy to call to mind the old adage, "take each day at a time". It's never been more important, both for our spiritual and mental health, to put this into practice. Seeing the next seven weeks, or the next few months of pre-vaccine territory, as one giant depressing block, is unhealthy for us all.

So how do we actually just take each day at a time, when it seems impossible not to let our minds wander to the future and consume us with dread?

First, we can take hold of Biblical truths, familiarise ourselves with them, meditate on them and keep reminding ourselves of them. Second, there are some more practical tips that I have found helpful I will share.


Biblical Truth #1 - Do not worry about tomorrow... seek first the Kingdom of God

The Bible has its own version of the phrase "take each day a time".  It says, "Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own". (Parents everywhere can agree on that one!) Now I want to be the first to say that when Jesus says this in Matthew 6 it is not in a condemnatory way to shake a stick at those who worry. It's a reassuring and loving verse in which he's talking about his Heavenly Father's provision for us. God is a conscientious, generous and loving provider for his people. "Look at the birds of the air, for they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? Which of you by worrying can add one cubit to his stature... But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added to you."

So, we need not worry because God is a loving Father. And our focus needs to shift from obsessing over our own needs to seeking first the kingdom of God. I can't tell you what that looks like for you, but for me it means striving to point my children towards Christ during this tumultuous time, growing my trust and faith in Him even when it's hard for me, and keeping anchored in the word and in prayer each day. It means being outward-looking to others in our church and neighbourhood in how we can care for them.


Biblical Truth #2 - Cast your anxieties on Him

Here's how we really know Jesus wasn't telling his followers off for worrying... Elsewhere, in 1 Peter 5:7, we are told "Cast all your anxieties on [God], because he cares for you". God knows that we will have anxieties! Worrying happens. But we can take it to God and entrust him with our cares. When our minds start to wander to those big dark blocks of time, we must take it to Him. This can be hard, repetitive work, especially on bad days. But he's right there waiting to listen, ready to care and take our burdens on himself. God is sovereign over everything and he's bigger than Coronavirus and bigger than homeschool so He's the perfect person to talk to about it. Just as our children trust in our care and provision for them and prove so adaptable as a result, we can trust completely in our Heavenly Father's care for us. We can cry to him, we can tell him how terrible we feel, we can ask him for help, we can praise him for the good things no matter how small - all is welcomed by Him.


Biblical Truth #3 - the Israelites were only allowed to pick up enough Manna for each day

Exodus 16:4 - "Then the Lord said to Moses, “I will rain down bread from heaven for you. The people are to go out each day and gather enough for that day. In this way I will test them and see whether they will follow my instructions. On the sixth day they are to prepare what they bring in, and that is to be twice as much as they gather on the other days.”

This may be #3 but this is the truth my mind has turned to more than any other over the years. When the Israelites were wandering in the desert, God sent manna - white, bread-like wafers - down from Heaven to feed them, along with quail. They could collect what they needed for that day, and then the manna would fall again tomorrow. On the day before the Sabbath they could collect two days' worth to tide them over so they didn't have to work on the Sabbath day. But if they tried to pick up extra and store it at any other time, it would be full of maggots the next morning.

Why? God wanted them to trust him daily. Not to have a backup plan or an insurance policy in case his mercy and goodness didn't come through. Every night they went to bed, having to trust that tomorrow the manna would come again. And it always did. Because "The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases... his mercies never come to an end. They are new every morning" (Lamentations 3:22-23).

God's mercies truly are new every morning. And we must not try and make the grace for each day cover all of our tomorrows. His grace is new each day and we get up each morning and trust him for that day. I'm not saying we don't plan for the future, but those plans rest in His sovereignty and grace for each day.



I hope these Biblical truths are encouraging to you. They have been a huge comfort to me for years and especially during this pandemic when everything is so uncertain.

Now here are some practical tips that I find helpful and may help you too.

Tip #1 - Start the Day Well

I know this isn't for everyone, but I try and get up before the kids. I have a cup of tea while it's quiet and read my Bible and pray. I know others like to simply watch the sun rise or meditate. The Biblical truths I wrote about above easily slip away from our thought patterns, and sometimes it takes effort to keep recalling them and anchoring our days in them. If I'm rudely awoken by the children and go straight into full throttle family life, my brain never gets into the right gear, meaning not only do I forget everything I know about taking each day at a time, but I'm more likely to be impatient and frustrated with the children too. Everyone is different but this works for me. If it's better to get the kids breakfasted and dressed and plonk them in front of the TV for half an hour while you focus, do that.


Tip #2 - Plan for a week, break down to a day

There are generally things we know we have to get done each week, and it would be foolhardy not to have some kind of big picture plan going on. For example, this week I know I have to make a two-tier birthday cake with matching cupcakes and macarons, schedule a service visit for the house alarm, meal plan, pay money into the bank, shop for ingredients, complete the church accounts, and so on. So I write this list out and then I allocate tasks to each day.

Breaking it down into days means it's less overwhelming and I can stop worrying about when I get stuff done because I've planned it. If things need to be flexible, of course it's fine to swap tasks if appropriate on the day. It's better than just writing a big list out without any focused idea of when you'll get stuff done, and it's better than not writing a list at all and just winging it, because if you're anything like me both of those options mean massive stress. I literally plan out hour blocks when I'm going to do specific bits of my work and plan activities for the kids then (e.g. kids watch a movie - I ganache and cover a cake in fondant). Try and plan your tasks according to your energy levels. We all do way better in the mornings so I plan for more standing up tasks then and then after lunch more low energy jobs like computer admin. Some days it will all go pear-shaped. That's ok too - try and have some contingency in so there's some leeway.

Tip #3 - Accept that some days it will all be terrible for a while

Let's cut ourselves some slack. We're living through something no one else has ever faced before and our poor kids have borne the brunt of a lot of it. When I find my perfectionist standards rearing their ugly heads I just have to tell myself, come on, give us all a break. I'm not saying don't have any boundaries as that will only backfire on you, but definitely pick your battles and sometimes just accept that everyone's going to have a difficult day. I find it's best on those terrible days to offer everyone chocolate and lots of TLC and do whatever feels kind to ourselves. At the end of the day we are all just trying to survive and get through this and knowing that some days won't go at all to plan is essential for our mental health. Having a terrible day does not mean all the days to come will now be terrible. If there's anything Coronavirus has taught us, it's that life is a rollercoaster and we just gotta ride it.

Tip #4 - You're going to lose the plot sometimes and that's ok

I have yelled, so much, at my kids during the last year. Well let's face it, during the last 10 years. Despite having just written Tip #3, I still have plenty of days where I just lose it and scream at my whole family when it all gets too much. In these times I come to the Bible and read with hope the words "If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us". I can't take it back but I do ask my children for forgiveness, with no strings attached. I know that actually it's important for them to see us mess up and ask for forgiveness, because they're also going to mess up and they need a model of how to deal with that mess. They do not need perfect parents. They need parents who are sorry and humble when they make mistakes. So yes, be sorry, but do not beat yourself up with a standard that's impossible. It's important not to have it in our heads to strive for a great streak of perfection. Part of taking each day at a time is that no matter what went before, each day is a new day. Thankfully.


...And forgiveness seems like a good note to end on. The next seven weeks of homeschool are doubtless going to contain a lot of yelling, a lot of messy behaviour, and sin, and resentment, and despair, and arguing. (Hopefully they will also contain a lot of precious and fun moments too.) But God knows we aren't perfect and He's right there waiting with forgiveness, and a clean slate each morning. He loves us so much, in our imperfection, that he sent us His Son to take the punishment for all our sin and give us his own righteousness. And nothing can separate us from that if we believe in Him. I'm praying that truth will be the rock we all build on in the next few stormy weeks and months.

Different reactions can be equally glorifying to God

You may have guessed I'm a bit of an emotions junkie, judging by blogs I've written before touching on sadness and grief. If you've spent any time with me in real life, you'll know the English stiff upper lip eludes me - my upper lip is usually wobbling in preparation to cry in response to anything that demands sympathy, and if I'm joyful, enthusiastic or indignant, you'll probably know about it.

I've spent a lot of my life feeling guilty about being so emotional and feeling like it's incompatible with being a Christian to embrace these feelings. I think this is more to do with British culture than the Bible; the human beings we get to know in both Old and New Testaments exhibit the full raft of strong emotions, and lived in cultures that were far more expressive than ours. Death was greeted with weeping and wailing, victories were celebrated with dancing, and arguments were thrashed out passionately. To be honest I think David, Job and the Apostle Paul would have been made to feel pretty uncomfortable in a lot of our English churches! 

When we go through tough times in life, I think we become even more self-critical of our responses as Christians - and probably as people in general. We aspire to a calm serenity in the face of trouble, looking to be "strong" like "a rock" (rocks don't have many emotions last time I checked). Being uncomplaining in the face of physical discomfort is especially venerated. These cultural values mean that displays of sadness, upset, confusion, anger and frustration can often be interpreted as sinful or immature.

I've been reflecting recently on how a whole plethora of human responses can be equally valid and wholesome. As Christians, what should our responses be? Glorifying to God. And there is no one size fits all way to achieve this. Being God-glorifying rests on trusting Him, submitting to His sovereignty, and enjoying his good gifts and attributes in the midst of human life - both in our joys and sorrows. And all these are possible while experiencing the whole spectrum of human feeling.

As a microcosm of this, I want to reflect on the last few days in our life, when my husband has been quite ill with Covid. The difficult backdrop to this can be found in this blog here, in which I outline just how difficult the last months of restrictions have been for us. After a strenuous and exhausting year, we're capping it off with a bout of horrible illness and exhaustion and a Christmas spent in isolation.

When we first got Aidan's test results on Sunday, I had an overwhelming supernatural peace. I had to take the decision to cancel and refund all the Christmas orders my home baking business had booked because it wasn't safe or legal to work on and distribute them. I had to tell dozens of customers that their Christmas goodies were being cancelled. Yet I had total and utter peace about this decision. I didn't even feel upset. I lost hundreds of pounds worth of business and felt a strong reassurance from God that this was all in his hands.

I was able to be completely at peace and selfless on Sunday and it was easy. I know so many people were praying for us that day and I attribute this peace to God entirely. One could say this is definitely a "God-glorifying" response in the culturally defined way, and I hope that is the case.

The next day, Monday, I woke up feeling absolutely hopeless and wretched. After months of not being able to socialise with other humans and weeks of not even being able to go to a café for a cuppa, the idea of being confined to the house single-handedly looking after three grumpy little humans, nursing a very poorly husband, running the house and getting ready for Christmas seemed a pretty desolate prospect. I was anxious that I would catch the disease and also get poorly (I am asthmatic) and not be able to cook Christmas dinner! I was conscious of the possibility of the long-term effects of Covid on Aidan. All day that day I felt like I was on the edge of hysteria; that if I stopped and thought about things too much, I'd burst into tears, so it was best just to keep going.

Both days I had got up and read my Bible and prayed. Both days I kept throwing myself on God and his grace. Both days I was reminded of His goodness, faithfulness and His unchanging nature in the face of the storm. Both days, I am sure people were praying for me.

So why one day the peace and the next the turmoil?

First, because God made me who I am! God made me with all these emotions and responses. He knew what He was doing. To fight against that and berate myself is actually to berate God for his idea of what this creation should be. And because he made me like this, it must mean that...

Both can be equally glorifying to God in different ways. One day the peace came easily - that was God's good gift. The next, I had to fight to cling on to Him - that was God's good gift of me growing in maturity. When people texted me on both days and asked me how I was, I had completely different responses. It was probably more uncomfortable for them to read my more upset messages on Monday than the happy peaceful ones on Sunday, but actually it means that they know what I'm facing and can see that I'm still trying to trust God and keep going in the face of adversity.

Jesus wept. I think of that verse so much. Jesus didn't live on this earth and ascend to Heaven to intercede for us so that our humanity lost its defining features. He got angry, he got sad, he got hungry and tired, he loved, he laughed and he cried. We have a great high priest who sympathises with our weakness. When we are weak, when we are sad, God is strong; he comforts us.

Yet we spend so much of our time trying to pretend we don't have this weakness! And therefore because we so often don't share these feelings and experiences, the idea that everyone else is a rock of stability grows and so does the guilt about our own difficult times.

For too long we have measured our glorification of God by our outward suppression of emotion. Actually what demonstrates our trust in God is not whether we are crying or putting a brave face on it, but whether our hearts are His. External calmness and "peace" can often be a veneer which hides a lot of anger and turmoil underneath too. God sees our hearts. He knows whether they are trusting in Him under the tears that are falling or the lip that is stiff. 

This is so encouraging to me. He has made each and every one of us completely unique. No two people can glorify God in exactly the same way; this is one reason each life is so precious. We all reflect a different part of our Creator. Whether we are naturally calm, or naturally emotional, we are all wonderfully made. Getting to know each other and understand each other in this may be challenging at times, but ultimately it's God-glorifying as we understand how each of our personalities reflects his image. And whether we are that "rock" or the emotional shipwreck (me), what matters is where our hearts and heads are at. 

Trusting in God may sometimes mean calmer waters and sometimes it may mean clinging on for dear life as we are buffeted around, and sometimes it's a bit of both. Thankfully he is the anchor in the storm no matter what. 

No Man is an Island

I wrote this piece for the Thought for the Week in Keighley News a while ago, which unfortunately isn't available online, so here it is in blog form.

“No man is an island”, said John Donne a long time ago, and then the main character played by Hugh Grant in About a Boy more recently. 2020 has definitely shown us just how much we need community and relationships. Some of us have spent weeks without the touch of another human being; mothers have found themselves constantly accompanied but feeling lonelier than ever without support; children have been separated from their friends; and grandparents have sorely missed the noise and mess of their grandchildren.

It’s a scientific fact that loneliness is bad for us – research has found that it increases the risk of premature death by around 30%. We need each other, and as great as Zoom is, it certainly doesn’t live up to a hot cup of tea at someone’s kitchen table or a shoulder to cry on.

Why do we need relationship so much?

The Bible tells us that we were created for relationship. God himself, as Father, Son and Holy Spirit, has always loved and been loved, spoken and heard. Genesis tells us that we are made in His image. We are each precious and we are not meant to be alone. We are designed to be in relationship with God, and with each other. Sadly the mess and madness of this world are often barriers to this. We may not know God and we may disappoint each other. But if the last few months have taught us anything, it’s just how important it is to love and be loved, to speak and to listen.

That shoulder to cry on might have to wait for now as we face more restrictions, but thankfully nothing, not even Coronavirus, can separate us from the love of God. He invites us all to be in his family: Creator and creation, Father and child. As his children we aren’t alone; he gave us each other. And one thing’s for sure: I’m not going to take any of those cups of tea for granted ever again.

 

What I want to give my children this Christmas

ETA: At the time of writing this, we were awaiting my husband's Covid test results as he had been really poorly with the symptoms. I obviously didn't want to publicise this on the blog in case it was negative! However, a few hours after writing this we got his results and he is positive. We had to tell the children straight away then and they realised immediately it meant Christmas in isolation. While I am afraid that one child did say 'stupid Boris Johnson' when I informed her the plans would have been ruined anyway due to the Tier 4 announcements, they bounced straight back and entertained themselves making funny and sweet videos for each other. They also said that they knew we would make it the 'best Christmas ever' even with the disadvantages. I was so humbled once again by God's goodness and generosity and so glad that I had woken this morning with the urge to write this blog. I never realised how much it would encourage me throughout the day. Here's to a Merry, if somewhat haphazard, Christmas.

Here's what I was desperate to give my children this Christmas: a shot of normality. We had plans to welcome my brother and mum here for Christmas Day, and then travel to my Dad's to stay with him, his wife and my step-brothers. We were looking forward to a change of scene, celebrating with family, hugs, fun and a much needed respite from the slog of the last 9 months.

Living in the Bradford area, we've been harder hit than most of the country by the Covid restrictions. Post-lockdown 1.0, after a blissful 30 days of being able to be inside a home with one other household (which we very much made the most of), on July 31st the government put us in local lockdown and we have never since been allowed to have another household inside our home. When the Rule of Six was introduced, as a family of five this meant we can't meet more than one person even for a walk on the moors. Our kids have no other kids to run off and play with or talk to, we can't even meet two grandparents at the same time: and it's all on us to entertain them.

We have three children, whom I homeschooled for three months, until they could return to school for three weeks in the summer term as my husband is a keyworker. He is a Deputy Headteacher and has endured all the stressful ups and downs of dealing with ever-changing government policy, incorporating new restrictions, acting as a Test and Trace centre and going into work every day knowing he could be bringing the virus home to his severely asthmatic wife.

My business was hard hit as it's weddings-based, two of my 20+ booked in weddings actually going ahead this year. Towards the end of the year things have picked up for me, which has coincided with the virus finally reaching our school and us living day to day not knowing which of our children would be sent home next. In this autumn term, I've had one child at home with me for 5 weeks of it, struggling to juggle work with their needs. Every time they isolate, we can't leave the house or garden, so I haven't met with another adult for around six weeks and haven't been for proper walk for over two as I write. It's one thing to entertain your children inside for a whole day at the best of times: doing it for nearly 4 months this term is quite another and often I wake up feeling completely hopeless and helpless at the start of the day.

Our children are old enough to understand both the reasoning behind the restrictions and to struggle very much emotionally with the constantly moving goalposts and uncertainty and anxiety that brings. They've had birthdays where lockdown was imposed two days before, haven't even been able to have a friend play even in their garden for much of the last nine months, and haven't seen one of their grandparents for more than five hours in total this year. They've been hugely upset and disappointed at every twist and turn that's defeated our fragile plans and have been left baffled and frustrated that we keep following the rules when so many around us are breaking them. One of our children has additional needs and struggles with changes in plans and routine a lot, often resulting in physical meltdowns which are very draining for the family.

Reading this, I'm sure many of you can relate to these experiences. Through lockdown, somehow God has kept us afloat, kept us sustained, given me more patience and love than I could have known, and always been there to forgive us and comfort us when we lost our rag. I'm fully aware that things are so much better for us than so many people. That doesn't cancel out the difficulties but it gives some perspective.

So when I say I was desperate to give my children a shot of normality at Christmas, being honest it wasn't just them I wanted that for, but all of us.

When Boris Johnson told us all yesterday that Christmas as we knew it was going to be cancelled, a flood of emotions engulfed us, as I'm sure they did many of you. Anger at the way the decisions had been made, heartbreak that we were not to see each other, disappointment and despair that we have to slog on alone, and most of all, devastation that we had to break the news to our children.

We still haven't told them this morning as we are waiting on other elements of the family to decide plans so we know what to say to them for "certain". But in my worry and upset over how to shepherd them through this latest crisis, my thoughts turned to this realisation:

It is not my desire to give my children happiness for Christmas.

It is not our goal as parents to make our children comfortable.

It is not our job to make the world safe and sound for our children.

It is our job to equip them for life in this broken world, to point them toward the refuge of God's love and to give them resilience through trust and faith in Jesus Christ.

This Christmas we may not be able to fulfil their expectations, but we can help them grow in love and understanding for our Saviour, the light of the world whose incarnation we especially remember in this darkest time of year.

That's uncomfortable for us as parents. I hate seeing my children upset and, let's be honest, I hate having to deal with it. It takes sacrifice to guide your children through tough emotions and disappointment. I need to model what I want to teach them - that I know what it feels like to have your hopes dashed, to die to self, crush my own desires in order to love them well, finding my joy and satisfaction in Jesus rather than in the comfort of happy kids who let me have a cuppa in peace.

Yes, our children have lost a lot of their childhood this year. But they have gained a lot too. They've seen us, their parents, being held up and strengthened by our loving Father God. They've seen our faith acted out in ways we haven't had the opportunity to demonstrate before. They've seen what it is to obey God even when it's excruciatingly difficult, trusting him to honour those choices. We've had many conversations around the meal table about just how much we have to be grateful for, focusing on the bounty of God's providence rather than complaining and griping about what we don't have. They've seen their parents upset and listened to us talk about our very real feelings and how we take those to God and find refuge in Him. They've been brought to the anchor and certainty of God's love on the Cross which holds in the stormiest of seas. They've been made to reflect on just how blessed we are materially, emotionally and spiritually, and grow in gratitude when it's tempting to moan. And they've been taught what it is to respect our politicians even if we wholeheartedly disagree with them (no, you can't call Boris Johnson a stupid man...).

So when we break the news to them about our changed Christmas plans, it won't be pretty, but I know I have a path we can walk with them. One that shows us this is happening because we live in a broken world, and the good news of the gospel is that Jesus came into that brokenness to give us salvation from it. This may be one of the darkest Christmases we will ever have, but the light of the Son shines even brighter because of that. The ground may be shifting beneath our feet, but his sacrifice on the cross and resurrection has won the victory securely already. It hurts living in this world. But we know the Man who will restore everything to perfection one day. I pray that instead of losing themselves in the short-lived comforts of this world, they would put their trust in Him and find eternal joy instead.

God's Sovereignty is not a Get-Out-of-Politics Card for Christians

Hours ago, the President of the United States stood up at a press conference and told lies. He lied about the postal votes in the US election being illegal, he lied about controlling the Senate, he lied about the Democracts stealing the election and he lied about voter suppression and interference. Ironically, the one truth he told was concerning the record number of Republican women being elected - seeing as just days before the election he sniggered while warning that it would be terrible to have a Democrat in the White House - "especially female".

It is tempting for Christians to invoke the sovereignty of God as a comfort blanket that we put over our heads to block out the noise and roar of worldly politics. God is in control, so we can passively let the elections happen and the leaders speak. We can cast our vote and do our bit, we may email our MP once in a while - but other than that we accept bad stuff will happen, they'll mess up and we chalk it up to living in a broken world that Jesus will come back and fix one day. For now, we'll just muddle through.

The Sovereignty of God is more like a two-edged sword than a comfort blanket. It cuts to truth through lies. It's a lamp exposing the darkness, setting a standard far above what we can expect on earth. In an age where truth is at stake and the very concept of truth is being eroded, the existence of God is what we pin our belief in truth on as Christians. We know God to be just, and justice to have an absolute definition. We know him to be good and to demand fair treatment for the poor, alien, fatherless and the widow. God's sovereignty is what gives us a moral framework that we believe to be an absolute truth.

Why do we fall into the trap of using God's sovereignty as a get out clause to not engage with politics? Several reasons I think.

Firstly, in the post-war era we have lived in a time where in the Western world, there has been a general political and social consensus that is fairly moderate. Leaders such as Thatcher, being clearly more to the right, invoked far more unrest, but generally speaking we have not seen a fascist or communist threat having any chance of power for decades. This has lulled Christians and probably the population at large into a false sense that we can sit back and relax. Unfortunately, with populist far-right parties on the rise and polarisation intensifying, this is no longer true.

Second, we have fallen into the cultural trap of thinking "they are all the same". With lies and corruption periodically exposed, such as the MP's expenses scandal in the UK, there is a growing feeling that all politicians are as bad as each other. The Christian community has even more impetus to think in this way as, adhering to a set of beliefs that are at odds with societal norms, we have a sharp sense of being culturally different anyway which throws the political realm into less focused perspective. 

Third, we often forget that eternal life starts in this world. There can be a false sense of just "passin' through" this life to get to eternity. In reality we are saved now, life to the full starts now, and God's kingdom is coming on earth now. Even the new earth will be a real, physical place. The physical world we are in now is designed for us to steward, subdue and rule, in line with God's good principles. This is particularly pertinent to issues such as environment. Simply because we know God has promised to renew or remake the earth is not a free pass to destroying the planet. Rather, because we know God values the planet so highly, so should we.

There are probably other more general reasons like politics sometimes being difficult to understand and there being a regretful lack of education on this area in our school system and homes. It can seem like a different realm for a different kind of person, and the people who have the power tend to want to keep it that way to protect their interests.

Here's why God's sovereignty propels us into political engagement rather than away from it.

1) God is truth and as his people it's our calling to proclaim this in the world. What is truth? This very notion is under threat. Yesterday Trump's tweets were labelled 7 times by Twitter as spreading misinformation. When the most powerful person in the world can stand straight-faced at a Press Conference and lie about facts that are so easily checked, it is obvious that truth is under threat - and sadly his followers buy into everything he tweets and says. Social media has enabled evil people to weaken truth with its lightspeed dissemination of misinformation and our lack of propensity to check what we are reading. I've fallen into this trap as I'm sure you have too. If you watch The Social Diliemma, their rallying call is to find truth, interestingly. As people of the Word, we know what truth really is. This means calling out lies when we see them. For a UK example, take the lie in the Leave campaign that the NHS would get £350 million extra a day from leaving the EU, and Tony Blair's illegal Iraq War was based on the lie that Saddam Hussein had weapons of mass destruction (he didn't). We went to war on an untrue premise which cost hundreds of thousands of lies and has left Iraq (and the Christian church there) devastated.

2) God is just and he calls out injustice throughout his Word in the strongest terms. The evil that God spends the most time denouncing, both in the Old Testament and as the man Christ, is unjust and cruel treatment of the poor. People often talk about the "moral issues" being of Christian concern, meaning abortion and gay marriage. The economy IS a moral issue. How we spend and organise our money as a nation is the most fundamental and far-reaching moral issue in question. We must pray for justice and act for justice, knowing that that either outcome will be applied to our Christian brothers and sisters as well as every precious human being in our nation. The recent report about anti-semitism in Labour under Corbyn, written after hundreds of survivors of systemic racism within the party submitted robust evidence of the mistreatment they had suffered, should shock, sadden and motivate us. We must stand with them and other survivors of injustice.

3) God is good and he defines goodness. He is kind, he is loving and he values each human being. Compare this to Boris Johnson calling black people "piccaninnies", gay men "tank-topped bum boys" and compared Muslim women wearing the niqab to "letterboxes". Donald Trump has boasted of sexually assaulting women, saying, "Grab 'em by the pussy...when you're a star, they let you do it". What a heinous abuse of power. He said these things before he got elected. Not all politicians are the same. There are men and women who are kind, and good, and have integrity - more than others. John McCain, the Republican who lost to Barack Obama, made one of the most gracious concession speeches in history, praising Obama, rejoicing over the election of an Black president and calling for unity. Simply because everyone is sinful and the world is fallen does not mean it is impossible to find people with better characters than others. Again, because we have lived in an era of relative democratic consensus and peace for several years, people tend to think that now all politicians fall into an area of moderation. They do not any more. We are on a real trajectory towards nationalism and authoritarianism and unrest and if we do not speak up for these values then we contribute towards a very dangerous path.

The one time that Christian leaders do most engage in politics is when our own freedoms are at stake. The basis for this activism is usually that the government's actions are violating our own constitutional law, such as the most recent move to argue legally that churches meeting is an essential service and that lockdown of our services violates freedom of worship. If we believe it's worth fighting for when it affects us personally, surely we should fight for justice when it affects the most vulnerable? There are many Christian organisations that do this; Hope at Home which works to protect the human rights of trafficking survivors is one such example. But I do not think that these issues should be solely the domain of specific charities. If Christian church leaders speak up when the injustice reaches our mostly middle-class, affluent churches, should they not speak up for the most vulnerable too and speak out against the utter evil and lies that are being propagated by those with the most power?

John Piper recently wrote an article condemning "flagrant boastfulness, vulgarity, immorality, and factiousness" as "self-incriminating, but also because they are nation-corrupting. They move out from centers of influence to infect whole cultures. The last five years bear vivid witness to this infection at almost every level of society." He wrote that he would not be voting for Trump or Biden based on their values. This is sorely overdue and very much needed and welcome. The Christian church should and must be standing up against this kind of vile leadership.

We often shy away, or are told to shy away, from talking about politics or "being political" because of the risk of division. Of course, Piper has received a huge backlash, but that kind of division is the right kind. To oppose violence and cruelty we must divide. Jesus was incredibly divisive. He constantly called out the religious leaders for their hypocrisy, injustice and mistreatment of the people. He ended up being killed by them, he was that divisive. Unity in this sense can only accelerate us in a dangerous direction. Of course, when we talk about these things we must put every effort into doing so in a respectful and gracious manner - something that is difficult when the issues are emotive and the stakes are high, but all the more important because of that. We have the Gospel and Jesus as the source of grace to oil the wheels of conversation.

The Christian church is called to have a prophetic voice. We must speak to eternal matters, and eternal matters start now. What do we have to offer? The God we serve offers truth, justice and goodness and we must show that now. Unless that pervades the earthly sphere of politics it is meaningless to people, and rightly so. We've lost our voice in recent years, and it's no coincidence that meanwhile society has plummeted down a trajectory of untruth and corruption. We must pray and act so that we find it again.

Covid-19: Why I don't want to make a salad in 1 minute (or, will we slow down?)

Idly scrolling through Facebook as I am far too wont to do these days (these days where it's illegal for a person to come to my house), up popped an ad for a gadget that enables you to make a salad in just ONE minute - and all you need to do is chuck some money at some more plastic that won't fit in your kitchen.

I watched with curiosity for a few seconds, then realised I had no desire to make a salad in one minute. I'm quite happy taking my slothful five to ten, usually while chatting to my family or listening to a podcast.

This reminded me of the start of a book I read recently called In Praise of Slow, which germinated from a moment of epiphany the author had when he nearly hit the 'buy' button on a tome of '1-minute bedtime stories' so he could speed up story time with his son - before realising he needed to seriously question his life choices.

The lockdown and slow-down that Covid-19 has brought to our lives has come with many tragedies, sorrows and difficulties, and at the same time, some joys for many, one being more time. I imagine I'm not the only one who felt the rush of relief as the hamster wheel stopped in March. I've planted seeds and watched them grow (excruciatingly slowly) and felt the joy and wonder as I've picked lettuce, radishes, carrots, squash and herbs from my garden to serve at the dinner table. I've sat and watched movies and played endless games with my children without any other concerns distracting me, and I've happily let them spend hours playing with mud and snails in the garden, no school gates to run to or piano lessons to fit in.

Now I stand at the cusp of the end of this time and I can almost smell the freedom, taste that first solitary, hot, quiet cup of tea and feel the peace (and cleanliness) seeping into my house again. And I can't wait. But I'm also conscious that what our family has just been given was a gift, that we will likely never have again. And I'm not sure I want to give all of it back just now.

While we are still subject to local lockdown, with the new school term starting again my husband is back in school full time, working his usual long hours and negotiating even more complicated government goalposts than usual. The children are about to embark on years 2, 4 and 6, meaning secondary school applications starting and the usual joys and sorrows it's my job to share between the hours of 3-8pm. As Coronavirus restrictions ease further, groups will start meeting more, socialising will pick up again, and all too soon I can see our calendar becoming just as full as it was in February this year.

There are four books I've read within the last year, independently of each other, that have caused us to ruminate on our pace of life and question what we are trying to achieve with it. Quiet, by Susan Cain, develops our understanding of the importance of introversion and careful reflection, and the subtle power, strength and value of these qualities. In Praise of Slow, mentioned above, brings together a plethora of studies on fast-paced work and leisure around the globe and the impact upon our health and happiness, advocating a significantly slower and more fulfilling lifestyle that is ironically, yet unsurprisingly, more productive. The Gospel Comes with a Housekey is a Christian book that argues for open homes and hospitality to take a front seat in our churches and communities, with simple, yet plentiful, food being at the centre. And Animal, Vegetable, Miracle is a warm, interesting and funny memoir of Barbara Kingsolver's quest to live entirely off their farmland for one year, eating with the slow pace of the seasons, and opening their home regularly to share their company, and bountiful produce, with loved ones.

All of these books have in common that speed is not of the essence, rather, human beings, nature, and our connection with them. As we begin the long and slow journey back to some kind of post-Covid normality, I want the human beings we know and love to be around us, to connect with us, and that to be the centre of our daily life - preferably over bowls of tasty food.

So when it's legal again for you to come to my home, there may be salad on the menu. And I'll invite you to come and chop cucumbers with me, over a cup of tea, while we chat to our heart's content (possibly while refereeing our kids and feeding the cat). And if it takes 15 or 20 minutes instead of one, they will have been well spent. They won't make an ad for that, because it's priceless.