Wandering Through The Land Of Nod.

Roller coaster memories of the first Covid – 19 lockdown in England, with shock, anger, fear, worry, kindness, sadness, gratitude and admiration.

You can’t do that!

Once, there was a vicar of a group of English villages with eleven churches who shouted at the radio “You can’t do that!”  she wasn’t prone to shouting at newscasters, so why yell that day?  The reporter had announced plans to forbid everyone over seventy years old from going outside.  It wasn’t a dystopian nightmare; it was real life unfolding in March 2020.  The deadly Covid 19 virus invasion was underway.  We needed a battle plan.   

Lockdown.

Seventy-year-olds weren’t banned from leaving their homes, but on March 23^rd at 8:30pm a full lockdown was announced by Prime Minister Boris Johnson.  We had to stay home immediately, even though lockdown didn’t take full effect till March 26th, which led this vicar into lasting confusion. 

Rules about church took time to clarify.  Custodians of church keys dashed to and from their beloved buildings, unlocking and locking doors with each changing instruction. Weekday services were set up then cancelled following the decree that church lockdown wasn’t just for Sundays. 

The vicar, along with everyone else had to reinvent her life.  Church would carry on, but not as anyone knew it.   Overnight, she went from being surrounded by people morning, afternoon and evening, to wondering how to maintain contact, care and worship. 

Kindness.

Straightaway, kind, encouraging messages flowed to her.  Friends posted her chocolate as soon as churches were closed. Another friend promised a weekly Sunday afternoon phone call and kept that promise.  Jolly John Rutter music arrived, sent from a churchwarden.  The doorstep became a place of gifts; eggs, beer, flowers …

One day a group of ducklings arrived at the front door.  They’d got separated from mother duck and the kindly, traffic free road allowed them to waddle across safely.

You Tube is for everyone!

Classed as a key worker, she needed and wanted to keep going.  The villages needed a vicar.  With the help and encouragement of her husband and son (ie, you’ve got to do this, you haven’t got any choice!) she set up a You Tube channel and published films of services from her study, along with hopeful messages, children’s stories and Easter activities.  Yes, if you search You Tube hard enough, you will find a video of her demonstrating how to make a Palm Cross from paper!

Along with everyone else, she was hurtled out of every comfort zone.

Unmute!

This vicar had never used any video calling system, but Zoom became a lifeline for meetings, evening prayer, Bible study and entertainment.

She looked forward to weekly family quizzes, friendly get togethers and Pilates classes.  In the summer, she celebrated their ruby wedding anniversary on a family zoom to which everyone wore the grandest hats they could find!

Working via video, zoom and telephone was hard work.  Conversations were not shared in the same way; the vicar couldn’t read the room or sense how someone was by the way they arrived or where they sat.  She hopes that those things aren’t lost now that we’ve adopted online meetings as normal.

Sadness and anxiety.

Covid 19 brought with it disease and death, isolation and fear and this vicar felt shock, sadness and anxiety. 

What was sad?

• Funerals where she hadn’t been able to visit the family and which were attended by very few people, sitting far apart and not being able to talk before or after the service.
• Postponed weddings.  Who wanted to get married with only three people in attendance?
• Talking to a man on the phone while he sat in the hospital car park where his wife was dying.  That was the closest he could get.
• Very vulnerable people living alone while their health, mobility and confidence declined.
• Awareness of so much suffering.

She was anxious about her children, who were all key workers.

She was helped by this verse from psalm 73, which she made her Covid motto:

“My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart.”

Awesome admiration.

The vicar was bowled over by the wonderful church and community spirit.  Straight away, things got organised.

• Village coordinators made sure that everyone was in contact.
• Shopping and prescriptions were delivered.
• Pubs delivered meals on wheels.
• Mothering Sunday flowers and cards appeared on doorsteps.
• Church craft and story kits were delivered to children.
• Hospital scrubs were sewn.
• Easter gardens and decorations appeared in churchyards.
• Countless phone calls were made.

Gratitude.

This vicar knew she had it easy.  She lived in a vicarage with a big garden.  The weather was beautiful in those early lockdown weeks, and she had plenty of good, green places to walk.  In the Vicarage garden was an apple tree and she would arrange drinks and dinner dates at “Ye Olde Apple Tree!”

No prizes for guessing that this vicar is me.  It’s been quite emotional and difficult to write this.  I wonder if we’ve even begun to realise the effect that lockdown had on us.

I want to express my sincere thanks and admiration for The East Trent Group of Churches, who kept church alive and cared for so many people with cheerfulness and creativity. 

I’ve only talked about the early weeks of lockdown; there is so much more I can say about what happened later on!

Thank you also to my family and friends, who’d have thought we’d live through that?

Now, in retirement, I wonder what I would volunteer to do if it happened again?  If I’m allowed out that is!  What are your thoughts and memories of lockdown?

Wander well,

Mandy.

Things I love:

• Warm spring weather.
• Ducklings.
• Open churches.

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