A month ago we could celebrate birthdays, visit a new mum in hospital, attend a wedding, have coffee with a friend.
A month ago we could go to the doctor, have a hair cut, catch public transport, walk into a store "just to look".
A month ago we could buy flour and baking soda (although, apparently, not toilet paper or hand sanitiser).
A month ago we were still as innocent as young children. We laughed and played and had no idea what was around the corner.
A month ago we could meet with other believers at church, go to work each day, go for a drive for no other reason than to enjoy the scenery, go hunting or tramping, or go to the gym.
A month ago we could chat over the fence to our neighbour, walk around the block, drive to the beach or the lake or the park, or pop into town and talk to acquaintances on the street or in shops and cafes.
A month ago.
A month ago the headlines were still hopeful, people made plans for the future, we learnt how to hand wash properly, and we thought we were safe.
A month ago we could hug our children and cuddle our grandchildren. We thought nothing of smothering sweet baby faces with kisses or breathing words of love in close proximity. A month ago we enjoyed the wet slobbery kisses of children and held them close without fear.
A month ago.
Today it's a different story. Today there is no flour or baking soda in the shops, we can't move outside our bubble, and the news scares us with updates of COVID-19 cases and deaths and debates about establishing a one world goverment to control this menace.
A month ago we could buy thread and fabric, potting mix and firewood, paint and furniture. We could shop online or in person. We could send and receive parcels.
A month ago I could post photos overseas, or, better still, plan a trip overseas.
A month ago.
As I've been writing this I've been reminded of a song we sang as teens: I wish we'd all been ready. One line particularly stands out: A piece of bread could buy a bag of gold.
I suspect we weren't ready for this. Not a month ago. Not now. Will we then be ready when it really counts?
Lord, You have been our dwelling place in all generations.
Before the mountains were brought forth,
Or ever You had formed the earth and the world,
Even from everlasting to everlasting, You are God.
You turn man to destruction,
And say, "Return, O children of men."
For a thousand years in Your sight
Are like yesterday when it is past,
And like a watch in the night.
You carry them away like a flood;
They are like a sleep.
In the morning they are like grass which grow up:
In the evening it is cut down and withers.
For we have been consumed by Your anger,
And by Your wrath we are terrified.
You have set our iniquities before You,
Our secret sins in the light of Your countenance.
For all our days have passed away in Your wrath;
We finish our years like a sigh.
The days of our lives are seventy years;
And if by reason of strength they are eighty years,
Yet their boast is only labour and sorrow;
For it is soon cut off, and we fly away.
Who knows the power of Your anger?
For as the fear of You, so is Your wrath.
So teach us to number our days,
That we may gain a heart of wisdom.
Return, O Lord!
How long?
And have compassion on Your servants.
Oh, satisfy us early with Your mercy,
That we may rejoice and be glad all our days!
Make us glad according to the days in which You have afflicted us,
The years in which we have seen evil.
Let your work appear to Your servants,
And Your glory to their children.
And let the beauty of the Lord our God be upon us,
And establish the work of our hands for us;
Yes, establish the work of our hands.
Psalms 90, NKJV
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