ARK

Over breakfast, most mornings, the children and I have “Bible Time.”

It was instituted in 2006 when we began our home schooling journey.

I was expecting our 9th baby then, and in spite of the close ages gaps of our first 8 children, life being full of nappies and nap times , we were excited to begin a new chapter.

Whether I was a saint or certifiable is up for debate, but despite all the excuses I could have made at this busy, at times exhausting phase of our lives, Dean and I acted on a strong conviction: that we were to sow deeply and daily into the lives of our children, while we could, to prepare them as much as possible for the challenges their adult selves would face.

Our most earnest concern was that they would be so very deeply rooted in faith, that whatever storms they faced, their faith would be rock solid.

An immovable object. A mighty oak.

We realised that whatever we may achieve in our lives, if we didn’t raise our children with eternity in mind, we may spend it without them.

While ultimately, we can’t make that decision for them, we knew that by feeding our children daily with His bread, they would grow with His word woven into their inner fabric. It would become part of their spiritual DNA.

We didn’t have to home school to achieve that, but like everything we did and do- in for a penny, in for a pound!! We were after a life- style, saturated in prayer, presence and praise.

As I taught, sometimes grappled with, the elements of education, enjoying my strengths and frustrated with my areas of weakness (Maths), everything was approached from a platform of faith. We all grew together.

Our ‘Bible Time’, when we opened the day together, was not easy.

I found the children often distracted, jiffly. Our small children would fret, wriggle, climb on the table. So many times I’d close the Bible in frustration, inadvertently gluing the pages together with Weetabix, leaving the table feeling a failure.

Yet, unlike some areas of our school day that were re arranged, this, I knew, had to stay.

I found a Children’s Bible that told the stories more fully and tackled some of the trickier stories too. I would use this as a springboard for conversation. The children became more involved and some deep and searching questions came up- and I found Holy Spirit would drop in to my mind exactly what to say.

I found, that no matter how I felt- up, down, brain fog, baby brain...if I made the effort to push aside the cornflakes and open the book, tell the story; Holy Spirit would ALWAYS drop a thought in, a corresponding scripture, verse, or a story I’d read, to illustrate or elaborate a point.

I realised I might not be standing before a congregation or crowd, but the same Holy Spirit who inspired the Bible, shows up to help any who would teach from it, as well as those with ears to hear.

I also learned that there was a deeper level to just listening and learning .

Something was being imparted. The children seemed to soak up the words.

I’d hear them repeat a lesson or story , even months later. It wasn’t just remembered and regurgitated like a history date, or grammar rule.

Those words had landed in good soil and taken root and begun to grow.

We saw faith sprouts as the warmth of God’s smile covered us.

After 9 years, we found ourselves in a different season. By 2015, our older sons had grown up and gone to University. They were all standing firm in their faith and finding their feet in the world as well as their future wives!

I was in my 40s and expecting our 12th child, after a season of considerable loss and heart ache.

We had moved to the suburbs of Lincoln, leaving behind the countryside . Dean had started a new job in management and was thriving in it.

The pregnancy was complicated. I needed a lot of care, rest and far more hospital appointments than previous pregnancies.

I sensed the wind blowing in a different direction, spiritually speaking, and began to feel it was time to explore sending our children to school. There was a CofE village school nearby, with a Christian Headteacher. She gave me a tour and the atmosphere of the school was tangibly peaceful. I felt a huge sense of rightness in my spirit and Dean agreed we should place our primary aged children there. Our teens found places in a local Catholic School and because I’d followed the national curriculum at home, the children slipped into place easily. The adjustment was grace- blessed and I enjoyed some time at home with our youngest, leading up to her entrance into reception class, later on.

We kept the Bible Time though. It became even more important, to ‘feed’ the children with something from God’s breakfast table each morning. For those who recall the old Ready Brek commercial, where the children went off to school with a red glow about them having received a warm, healthy breakfast- for me, this was the spiritual equivalent.

And so we continued. God added a 13th child, Abraham, in 2017, as well as 4 gorgeous daughters in love, 3 grandchildren and many adventures , leading up to the pandemic in 2020.

Along with thousands of parents throughout Britain (and beyond), we were suddenly thrust into home- schooling. Unlike most of them, I had the advantage of experience and in many respects it was easier because it was all supplied. It was different this time however, in as much as my body is not only older but considerably more busted. I live with 2 chronic pain conditions which make life harder work.

And like other parents, I had my plans suddenly shelved.

As we began the 3rd lockdown in the height of winter’s limited daylight and wet weather making outdoor activities more difficult, I was more subdued. There had been a growing sense of confusion over what was going on out there. 10 months of no church, Life Groups and Bible study groups moving to soulless zooms (don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful, but its a poor substitute for real human contact), and I was feeling detached, disconnected, disorientated.

I felt the comfort of my family’s safety, but the sense of being completely cut off from out there. With so many conflicting accounts and opinions, we were wary of media reports and were constantly asking the age old question..”What’s the TRUTH?’

Through the fog that had enveloped us, I knew clinging to Jesus would be the only way.

I felt lost, but also, safe.

While the world was being shaken to its core, there was a stillness in our home; a peace, that was even- restful. I still couldn’t articulate what I was feeling though.

When January had dawned, I’d started our Bible Time from Genesis again. As we read about Noah it was like a light went on in my head. I understood what I was feeling.

We had, at that point, 11 of us currently home. Dean and I, 2 uni students, 4 high school students, 2 primary aged children and a preschooler- in an ‘ark.’

Did we care that the world appeared to be drowning? Absolutely. No detachment from reality here. No burying of empathy either.

How did Noah feel? Did his relief that his family were safe make him indifferent to the cries of the drowning? Or did the noise of the rain drown them out?

THERE WAS NO VIEWING GALLERY ON THE ARK.

Any windows were small, made for air and presumably, mucking out. While Noah was oblivious to whether his ark was floating above a mountain or a valley, a town or a forest, his attention was turned inward to the job in hand. He cared for his family and the animals in their care, and exercised patience in abundance as their lockdown persisted a great deal longer than 40 days and nights of rain . In fact, they were in that ark for around a year!

While the people outside in the days of Noah were a lost cause, that is not the case today. While we ARE in a flood of trouble, upheaval, realignments and redirections, the rainbows we painted last spring and that adorn many shops and buildings now, remind Christian and non Christian alike, of hope for the future. God promised he would not flood the whole earth again and no catastrophe has wiped the earth of its inhabitants since.

Many of us are just “floating,’ waiting to land, dreaming of what it will be like to re emerge and feel the sun on our faces again.

Perhaps many of us, like Noah, will build an altar of worship and thanks that we came through it and have a future. We hope the ‘air’ will feel clean and fresh again, as we breathe deep, without masks.

For now, however, although Dean is a key worker and very much ‘out there,’ I am ‘in here.’ My focus is inside the ark- the ones in my care need feeding, mucking out (spiritually!). This ‘ark’, for all the rain out there, will be dry, warm, safe.. God is right here with us, just as He is out there.

So we can be content, at peace, as we float and dream about where we may land.