Mothers Day in a time of Pandemic

The past two weeks have been surreal but nothing brings home to me how extraordinary the present situation is than, for the first time in as long as I can remember and very possibly since I was born, I have been unable to go to church on Mothering Sunday,

And the Prime Minister, quite rightly, has asked those who have living mothers who don't live at the same address not to visit them, for those mothers' own safety from COVID-19.

It is quote possible that my mother would have taken me to church on Mother's day as a baby and then as an infant: certainly from the time I was old enough to do so until her death I would collect a spray of flowers for her during the service and take it to her (usually immediately, as she would almost always be at the same service.) From then on it was important to me on this day to remember my mum's memory, and of course, since my own wife has been a mother, to remember all that she does for our children.

I am already suffering withdrawal symptoms from all the meetings and services I would normally have attended over the last few days and which have been cancelled: it is the biggest wrench of the lot not to be in church today.

Indeed, I can think of no better illustration of the country's move from normal life towards a partial lockdown than the pattern of church services over the past four Sundays.

Three weeks ago was pretty much business as usual.

Two weeks ago the rector made a point of washing his hands before conducting the service, people were asked to use a non-physical means of sharing the Peace rather than shaking hands - I did a "court bow," most of the rest of the congregation did that or some form of wave. Those members of the congregation who would normally dip the wafer in the wine were asked not to do that, and those of us who decided to take communion in one kind only (That means taking the wafer representing "bread" but not sipping from the communal chalice of wine) were assured that this was spiritually sufficient, but that week this was an option, and I was one of comparatively few who chose not to take the chalice.

One week ago - though it seems like an eternity - we found a table set up at the porchway of the church with a bowl for everyone to wash their hands on entrance. The rector was now self-isolating, the lay reader took the service and a retired priest came out of retirement to act as celebrant. Instead of going around the church to greet one another at the sharing of the Peace, we stayed in our places, repeated the grace together and looked around at one another and smiled. Communion was in one kind only for everyone.

And this week, no physical service at all, Church of England services, and those of most other denominations and religions have been suspended until further notice.

 It is sad but necessary for us to restrict social contact except for the most essential things to the telephone and internet. Humans as social animals and this will be difficult for us all. But the alternative is a lot of avoidable premature deaths.

And today we can  all still remember our Mothers and everything they did or do for us.

Those of you who are fortunate enough to have Mothers who are still living will mostly be able to send a card: those of us whose mothers are no longer with us can light a candle in their memory.

God Bless all mothers.