To be honest- I don’t know my days. Not that this is a surprise to anyone who watches Pop-up Prayer, where I prove daily that I can’t seem to hold the day of the week in my mind.

But these coronavirus days have me all over the place. Not only can I not quite tell if I am in a Monday or a Thursday, but my sense of time is completely messed up as well. When each day is both a blink and an eternity, can the clock or calendar quite be trusted?

So I will say, I think this all started in early to mid march- when the migration home started. I know that March 15th was our last public worship, and that the 8th was our last Sunday Eucharist. And my children’s last day of school at school was the 13th, making March 2020 the longest month of my life (though rumor has it April showed up, though this won’t be confirmed until I hit publish).

And so, in both an exercise to both fill time and capture it, here comes the blog. Come for the time stamp, stay for the stories.