Monday 30 March

It's Day 15. We've been waiting for news of further restrictions to be implemented by government, and the ways they might impact on us. I'm just hoping we will still be able to walk the dogs.

In the meantime, the days continue as normal. If you can call it that. For half of the day, I felt like I was fighting a sort of lethargy that made me want to stop everything I was doing and go to sleep. In the end, I did just that - passed out cold on the bed for 2 hours, missing a call from my best friend in the process. For the other half of the day, I was in online meetings (maybe that accounts for the fatigue, come to think of it).

At some point, a colleague asked me what feels different about the ways I am engaging with people during these days of lockdown. Even ongoing conversations in online spiritual direction do feel different, somehow. I tried to describe how it feels, that the energy in my body is moving around at a faster vibration than normal. (I don't want to sound weird, but then, this is a weird time.) And as I settle into conversations, I realise that these days I am feeling very small in the grand scheme of things. The boy with the five loaves and two fish was surely better off than I feel. What do I have to offer, really?

It is strange to be confined to these rooms when, laid out before us from our sitting room window, we can see a valley and a city that is experiencing so much heartache. Why are we the ones sitting at home? Why are we so limited right now, so unable to do much in the way of help?

As I sit with that feeling, of frenetic energy mixed with a sense of powerlessness, I am reminded that I can only hold what I have been given. And the way I hold my portion does matter, it does make a difference. In fact, for each of us, the weightiness of this period in history can teach us that, while we carry our part of the weight differently, every hand is needed. The way I traverse this time is significant - how I am a parent and a partner during this time of confinement; how I engage in my circles of influence to bring about positive connection; how I prayerfully support those on the frontline; how I use my words to encourage and build faith - it all matters.

So I don't know what you have in your lunchbox. Maybe you feel solidly provided for with five loaves and two fish. Or maybe, like me today, your picnic is a little on the thin side.

How would it be if we all just offered what we have, crumbs and all? Do we believe that God is able to work something wonderful with these few loaves?