As heroic moves into disillusionment (see last week’s blog on these stages of lockdown) don’t we need some hope, something to look forward to? What better than to start planning for a Great Family Reunion. Or a get-together with friends. Or neighbours. Or everyone.

Me, I’m still hoping (against hope) that we can have Cousin Camp this year. All 6 grandchildren for two nights and three days, without their parents, who are allowed to go off in their pairs and enjoy some child-free time. We, the grandparents, do it every year, for as many of the grandchildren as we can – with 2 of them living in the USA it’s not always possible to have all 6, but this summer the American contingent were due to be coming here for a few weeks. This will be our fifth annual Cousin Camp; they love coming and anticipate it excitedly asking what this year’s theme will be and can they eat jelly with chopsticks again please please please.

I first heard about Cousin Camp from my dear friend Susan Yates, when we lived in the USA. She and her husband John have 21 grandkids and have been celebrating Cousin Camp for over a decade. She has shared ideas and creativity and suggestions about it; and I’ve gratefully translated them into ‘English English’ (as opposed to what ‘American English’ Cousin Camp might look like).

Imagine my joy when she told me she was writing a book about how to do it! And kindly asked me to contribute some of my ideas.

“COUSIN CAMP - a grandparents guide to creating fun, faith and memories that last.”

The book is easy to read, packed full of ideas and suggestions and is applicable not just to Cousin Camp but also to family reunions, friends’ get-togethers, marrieds or singles hosting …. There are pages for your notes, suggestions as you read through on how to implement your own ideas and re-create those of others. In fact, it’s a treasure trove and I highly recommend you hop on over (to your favourite on-line bookseller) and get a copy and start planning for your own event so that as soon as we’re able to see family and friends you’re ready to go with the Big Celebration. Looking forward to that with Hope and expectation!

What are you planning to do once lockdown is over?

AND – there’s another special box set available for you, to read while you’re not able to go for long walks.

Virtual Pilgrimage: 3 authors on their own pilgrimages: a box set with over a third off the retail price. Full details here. Only 20 sets available - GOING DEEPER, the first set, sold out in a week, so order this one soon.

TAKING MY GOD FOR A WALK by Tony Collins - battling inner turmoil while battling blisters on 400 miles of the Camino de Santiago

THE MAKING OF US by Sheridan Voysey - walking from Lindisfarne to Durham, while coming to terms with booked dreams and plans

WALKING BACK TO HAPPINESS by Penelope Swithinbank - crossing France on foot from the Mediterranean to the Atlantic, rebuilding a marriage one step at a time

If you’ve already got a copy of one of them, why not give the new copy to someone for a birthday or Christmas gift?

Or order a set to be delivered to a family member or friend with a birthday in April as a lovely surprise parcel !

order your set here

September 23, 2011 A year ago, my mother died. Swept away, the one person who had known me, carried me, kept me close to her heart. The one who was always there for me, urging me on, supporting me in my crazy schemes; who nursed my children, prayed for them night and day, held their teenage confidences when I could not. The one who adored her great grandchildren and prayed for them too. One moment she was there, a feisty ninety-year-young who cared ceaselessly for others, drove old ladies to church, talked non-stop on the phone to her friends and family whenever she could.

And the next she was gone.

Swept away by an out-of-control driver who could not, would not, stop.

And I stood there frozen, helpless, unbelieving; stunned from having been hit by the same car just a few minutes before. Stunned now by what I was seeing; not understanding, not believing.

Deafened by the shouts and the screams of the passers-by. Deafened by the sirens. Deafened by the silent scream inside.

Maybe I should have cried.

Maybe I too should have screamed.

But I kept it inside. And my tears turned to ice and my scream was frozen deep within.

At first, I thought of the hours and days she would have of convalescence; of how she would battle to walk again and fight for her independence. I looked at her face, ground into the road; at the white broken bone protruding from her leg; and her outflung arm, clawing frozenly at the tarmac. My heart froze too.

Then came the helicopter crash team; they rolled her over and their scissors ripped her clothes and their drips penetrated her body - and I knew. I knew.

They pumped and pushed and did their best. But she was gone.

I stood at her feet and asked for her to be covered; I could not bear to see her naked chest. They pulled the blanket to her chin; and I tried to pray for her, aloud. Tried to thank God for all she was and had been to me and others; tried to ask Him to take her to Himself; committed her to the One who loved her the best.

And the paramedic had tears in her eyes. “I’ve never heard anyone pray out loud before,” she said. “Would you like her teeth? And her watch?”

I took the watch and turned to thank the paramedics and the police and the passersby. People were so kind; so very kind.

But I was frozen.

How to plan a GFR for after lockdown

A Twelve Month Journey Begins