Sad Times

 My cousin Gill gave me this little decoration the year after we started buying Cornerstones - it's hung here ever since...

Maybe some people would dismiss as twee, or cutesy. But during this past year, many people have realised that their life, or their way of life, was not as secure as they thought it was. Sometimes things have proved fragile - easily broken, not always easily fixed.
A surprisingly large number of people I know have given up work because of Long Covid. Others have lost loved ones and had to cope with bereavement without the hugs and social interactions which might have helped ease their pain a little. Many people are waking up to the fact that the way we have abused the planet is affecting our life on it. 

We shouldn't take things for granted. When things get tough, I find prayer - conversation with God - does help me get things into perspective. Believe me, I've been doing a lot of it in the last six months, for one reason or another! 

Right now, my prayers are for my cousin Gill - tomorrow is her 65th birthday. She lives with her son, and is primary carer for her Mum who is in her nineties and lives round the corner. We visited them In September, when the distancing rules were relaxed. All was fine. We had a great afternoon together. 

That week, Gill developed a sore throat, then a lump . Eventually she got a GP appointment and was sent for tests which proved inconclusive. Monday October 25th Gill messaged me that breathing was difficult, and I replied Dial 999 NOW. She was admitted to hospital that night, and given the worst diagnosis. 

My dearest cousin, who is more like a sister to me, is now in the St Francis Hospice with a rare, aggressive and untreatable thyroid cancer. 

On Friday 29th, we went down to Essex and saw my aunt, and Gill's son [no visits allowed at the hospital] Wednesday 3rd November we were allowed to see Gill in the hospice. Gill is amazing - her body is very weak, but her faith is strong. She's not afraid of death, just concerned for those she leaves bereft. We talked, and reminisced, and laughed and prayed together. The progress of this disease is horrid, and heartbreaking, and so unbelievably quick. The next few weeks will be tough for my family. I'm living in a state of "Pretend Normal" as Liz calls it.

And I'm praying... lots.