Yes, it’s day sixteen. And in South Africa, we have just had our lockdown extended to the end of April.

Well, I could be sad and miserable. I could be angry at God, at the government, at the disease. I could even throw up my hands in defeat.

But …

I am a daughter of the risen Christ. There is hope even in this, for Jesus cried in victory ‘It is finished’ on the cross and that cry echoes down the years. One day we too will cry ‘It is finished,’ as we step out of our front doors and greet our neighbours, visit our families, shop for ourselves, browsing, taking our time, greeting those around us.

I can rejoice at the dove in my birdbath, splashing and drinking without a care in the world. I can be grateful for the neighbours I can see across the road who wave and call ‘good morning’. I can wonder at the dragonfly that came into my house and made its presence obvious by its clattering against the window pane trying to get out. And the moment of silence as it stopped whilst I opened the window to set it free, marvelling at its beautiful colours.

I can spend time in silence with my God. I can stand in awe at the foot of the cross as my Saviour gives up his life for me. I can dance around the room, the house, in celebration, as I remember that morning, that Sunday morning, so long ago when the tomb was open – and empty.

I can sit in my garden in the early morning sun, or watch the raindrops on a wet day of welcome rain. I can eat when I want to, limiting my intake, aware of so many others who cannot, and give thanks for God’s provision. I can sing at the top of my voice. Amazing Grace how sweet the sound … in the garden. There is no-one to hear but God. I can be saddened by that – or I can rejoice that in spite of it all I still have an audience of One.

I have a choice, you see. Sadness or joy; despair or hope. And as I sit and write and look out of my window, birds are singing, a cat strolls up the road, and the sun breaks through the clouds.

I have made my choice. I am a daughter of the King of kings. I live in hope.

What about you?