One thought from me:

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Today marks three weeks since a terrible tragedy took the lives of six children, and left three others injured at a primary school in the town where I live.

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In the weeks since then it has often felt like I have been parenting through a fog.

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I cannot imagine what the fog has been like for others in our community. For the children, parents, staff and first responders, for the people who were there on this awful day, for others whose lives will be forever altered by it.

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But of course, as I write this I know, it's not only our town that is suffering. There was already heartache in the lives of others all around us and there will continue to be. None of us can avoid suffering and pain. And, as we head into a new year, I think many of us feel like we are parenting in a fog.

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The third year of the Pandemic is here, and as Omicron cases soar, we are left with more uncertainty when we were already feeling overwhelmed and exhausted by it all.

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So how do we do it? How do we parent through the fog of hard days?

One of the most helpful practices I think is to not look too far ahead. To take each day as it comes. To meditate only on the next step. To do one thing at a time.

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Our next right step might be to call a friend, to take a moment to cry, to take a walk or make a cup of tea, or to sit quietly and pray. Maybe our next step is to do one small thing for someone who is hurting more than we are. Maybe it's to spend an hour lying on a picnic rug with the people we love and breathing in all that is still beautiful around us.

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I'm learning that each step is part of the process, that a step in any direction is ok and that each small step, one after the other, will take us forward.

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A quote from someone else

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In Luke 8, when Jesus brings a young girl back to life from death and everyone in the room stands there with their mouths, gaping open, perhaps they were ready to hear the grand and important plans that God might have for her young life.

But that’s not what happens.

Jesus doesn’t make things complicated or come up with a five-year plan for her life. Instead, he simply tells them to make her lunch, to give her something to eat. That was her next right thing. So we too are invited to eat, not just of the body of Christ, but of the bread and the butter... and the soup leftover from last night.

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- Emily P. Freeman, from The Next Right Thing Podcast, Episode 144 When you're feeling stuck start with your senses.

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And a few things I think you will love:

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So often, in the last few weeks, my next right thing has been to go outside. Go outside where the virus is less likely to spread, go outside where my kids can play and I can rest, go outside where a purple and orange sky reminds us that there is beauty even in the midst of all this brokenness. As per usual we're counting our hours each month, with a goal to spend 100 hours outside this January. You can catch up on our tally on my Instagram stories and, if you like, share your hours by tagging @ouryearoutdoors in your posts.

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Also, If you're feeling the fog and you're looking for something to help you hold space for sadness in this strange season, I highly recommend Kate Bowler's book No Cure for Being Human as well as this lecture, given by Timothy Keller at an event at Oxford University in 2019, called Living Life When it Hurts.

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As always, I'm grateful for you and so very glad to be back writing these emails to you this year.

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Hannah Alexander x

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Each week, I share 1. A thought from me,

2. A quote from someone else and 3. Some things I hope you'll like.

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