For thirty-four years I lived on the south coast of England, about half a mile from the sea, with my husband Nick. It was where we brought up our three now grown up children, where we worked, where we worshipped at the local church, where we made lifelong friendships. It was easy to walk across the park to the sea or to cycle along the promenade. Then two years ago we moved six hours north to a village six miles east of Leeds. It was a semi-retirement/live nearer to extended family/chance to be hands on Nanny and Grandad to our two small grandchildren move. When we tell our story people often ask us if we miss the sea. My answer is always that living near the sea was lovely but I live here now.

The last time this happened, I started thinking about the fact that I wasn’t just living in a new area of the country. The whole world is living in a new place now that Covid is here and is likely to be around for a long time. In 2018 I was diagnosed with a chronic blood cancer, which although treatable was not curable. That put me into a whole other new place.

I’ve always been a “present” person. I choose to focus on where I am now, rather than looking back too much, or forward to what might happen. Sounds good on paper, but the practicalities of living in this New Normal are far from straightforward. For me, living with some peace and hope is really important. I started really thinking about how that was even possible, living with a cancer diagnosis in this Covid era. I realised that constantly fighting against things that I can’t change only leads to frustration and bitterness, the exact opposite of peace.

Many people will be aware of the prayer that says :

“God grant me the serenity to accept the things I can’t change,
The courage to change the things I can,
And the wisdom to know the difference”

Such familiar words, so hard to put into practice.

I’ve been thinking about situations I’ve encountered in my life where people have had to adapt to some really difficult circumstances, not of their own choosing. Sometimes unwanted and uninvited change is forced upon us. Watching my own parents becoming more dependent, particularly my very active father becoming much more limited after becoming severely anaemic, falling and breaking his back, then suffering a stroke. He was determined to find some joy, walking round his new neighbourhood when they moved to a more manageable flat, getting to know the locals, sharing a smile and a story, whatever the weather. He and my mum had to adapt to increasingly poor mobility, but with the help of walking aids they made a life in their new circumstances. I read a wonderful story of an elderly blind lady, who moved into a care home when it became increasingly difficult for her to manage at home. As she arrived for the first visit to her new home, she remarked to her son, “Oh it’s lovely!” “But Mum you can’t see what it’s like,” replied the son. The elderly woman paused and then said, “Maybe not, but I have already decided that I love it!” I’m sure many of us were brought to tears by images from the war in Ukraine. As families were forced into underground shelters, their resourcefulness in finding things to keep children entertained was astonishing. There were images of school lessons, sheets hung up to show films, makeshift toys and various performance. One little girl was filmed singing a beautiful rendition of “Let it Go” from the film “Frozen”. In the middle of an underground bunker while the war carried on above ground. The human spirit craves these opportunities for finding joy in the midst of incredibly difficult circumstances.

I’m not an advocate of being relentlessly positive – there are many times when I’ve had days which are best forgotten. These days and the emotions they bring are real and need to be acknowledged. For me, the challenge is not to let negative emotions make a home. One of my favourite mantras I repeat regularly, particularly when I have a day marked by fatigue or feeling unwell, is “This too shall pass!” However, I do believe in gratefulness and finding the moments of joy in the middle of where we are. The Bible talks about “Treasure of Darkness and the hidden riches of secret places (Isaiah 45v3)”. Some days it’s harder to find any treasure but I believe it’s there. Gratitude for even the simplest things can become a habit which boosts our wellbeing and changes our focus. I read something recently which said “Where your focus goes, energy flows.” In other words, things that we give all our attention to will take most of our energy. That’s not to say that we can ignore the many difficult things happening around us in the world and in our own lives, but we can gain energy from focusing on things that bring us joy, however small. For me that means countryside, playing the piano, coffee with friends, a good jigsaw, church, family, grandchildren.

The actor Richard E Grant was married for almost forty years to his beloved wife Joan. When she died in 2021, she set him a challenge to find “A Pocketful of Happiness” in each day. He has written a book by the same title documenting his efforts to do just that in the midst of very raw honest grief. He regularly talks about his journey on social media. It’s an amazing story.

The Serenity Prayer talks of courage to change the things we can. Some changes are meant to be permanent, whereas others are definitely temporary. Of course we should be petitioning for change where we see it’s needed. One of my personal challenges is being informed about what’s happening in the world, such as the war in Ukraine, or the ongoing battle with Covid (particulary for those of us who are more vulnerable), without being completely overrun by negativity. Adding our voices to campaigns or writing to our MPs can be a really good ways of trying to bring about change. But recognising the things which I cannot change and finding some peace in life as it is now is so important in my quest for good mental health. I have spent much of the last two years understandably focusing on my physical health as I went through my blood cancer treatment. But the time spent isolating and fearful of covid has taken a toll on my mental health, as I’m sure is the case for many in my position. I actually believe it is a hidden pandemic in itself. Right now my energy is on changing the things I can. Choosing not to live fearfully, being thankful daily for my family and friends, a warm comfortable home, food on the table, countryside to explore. Choosing to live more mindfully, at this time, in this place, not in the fear of what might happen. Please don’t think I succeed all the time. There are still many days which need writing off as I get into bed. I’m learning that those days are just blips, they’re not who I am. They’re not where I live. Tomorrow is another chance to find joy.

One of my favourite Christmas cards says “Peace – not to be in a place with no noise, trouble or hard work. It means to be in the midst of those things and still be calm in your heart.” Again great words, not so easy to achieve! As a Christian, my faith that God has my life in His hands helps me in pursuing peace. It’s something of an ongoing challenge, but one I won’t step back from.

Do I wish I could go back to pre-diagnosis pre-covid days? Of course! But I live here now.