THIS UNBEARABLE HOLIDAY: COPING | DAVID BRACEWELL

“Be merciful to me, O God, be merciful to me,

for in you my soul takes refuge,

until the destroying storms pass.”

Psalm 57.1

Everything changed on March 23rd when an uncharacteristically solemn Boris Johnston appeared in the corner of our living room to tell us we were now under indefinite house arrest. “Stay home!” he commanded. “You might as well” he could have added “because from tomorrow there will be no school, no shops, no pubs, no restaurants, no large gatherings, no travel, no holidays, no church.”

So, what did that leave? The corner shop for essentials, a brief stroll in the park for fresh air and a queue at the supermarket if you really must. A few days later we got a letter from the government saying my wife was a problem (I’ve always known that but it was good to get official confirmation!) and that being a person at high risk from the virus she would need to stay firmly in doors, and avoid all face-to-face contact for up to twelve weeks.

As I write we have had fifty days of this “unbearable holiday” which is a mere blink of an eye, but in fact feels like a lifetime, during which we have learned a whole new vocabulary: pandemic, COVID-19, lock down, PPE, social distancing, track and trace, the R number and much more. Then on Sunday evening Boris visited our living room again with a bedtime story. “Stay alert” he urged, as he thumped the desk, “control the virus and save lives.” Stay alert? I’ve never felt quite as weary as I do at the moment. Control the virus? If only. Our Prime Minister looked very tired which is not surprising and somehow he is less convincing when he’s being serious. But the nuanced message of “Stay alert”, which is code for “use your common sense”, was fair enough I suppose. In the face of this vicious, invisible enemy, we can only do our best to keep safe.

So I’m not looking for clarity because no one knows how this is going to play out, but for something rather more modest, how best to cope. I’m uncomfortably far into my seventies and my fundamental urge is to manage this weird time as well as I can. The virus is a killer. Last night I watched a hospital special about the fight to save lives at the Royal Free in London and ended up in tears. If you are working on the front line of care, if you are in intensive care struggling to breathe, if you are mourning the death of a loved who could well die alone, then you know only too well what is at stake.

However, the Psalmist says that the “destroying storm” he is enduring will pass - and so will ours. But it may be a long passing and so the question persists: how do I cope? It may not sound particularly revolutionary or spiritual but for me one small point of light on the path (there are many others!) is being able to put the Coronavirus in its place. Endless exposure to media reporting keeps me up to date, in fact overwhelmed, with the power of our invisible enemy, but I also need to be reminded of the limitations of its hold over us.

We have just celebrated the 75th anniversary of the end of the war in Europe in which over 350,000 soldiers died. The traumas experienced by the war generation far outweigh our present travails. For six weeks we have lived in fear of a silent killer, they lived for six years, on and off, with the fearful sound of droning planes dropping bombs from the sky. We have our face masks, they had their blackouts regimes, we long to hug our grandchildren, they waved them goodbye as they boarded trains for distant locations not knowing when they would be reunited; they lived with meagre rationing, we wait anxiously for the next Ocado delivery.

So, for the moment I want to gain perspective, to find a foothold, a place to stand so that I can, in the words of Her Majesty, “never give up, never despair.” COVID-19 is not unlimited in its power and it will pass. The Psalmist talks about taking shelter in God until the storm has passed and then, in a haunting phrase, he says the time will come when he will “awake the dawn.” One day we too will awake the dawn and what rejoicing that will bring, but for the moment I can’t see the way forward and I need a light to navigate the darkness that has descended.

“Lighten our darkness, we beseech thee, O Lord;

And by thy great mercy defend us from

All the perils and dangers of this night;

For the love of thy only Son, our saviour Jesus Christ.”