Diary of self-isolation

JUST KEEP SWIMMING! DIARY OF SELF-ISOLATION WEEK 10 Major Karen Sandford (Harlow) continues her day-by-day account of life in lockdown

DAY 64

Tuesday 19 May There were some strange noises coming from the garden this afternoon. After a little confusion, I was pleased to discover it was Nathan – the garden is where he does his gym workouts.

I think it’s hard for teenagers in education at the moment – especially years 11 and 13. They’ve spent most of their years focusing on exams, so there’s always been something to study and revise for, until now. Add to that the lack of socialising and sport, and the world as they know it is completely different.

I wonder if young people have been overlooked a bit – they’re so happy on their screens after all. (Note to self: get in touch with the ones from our corps.)

DAY 65

Wednesday 20 May Wednesdays are probably our most predictable day. We pick up food and take it to the hall for the food bank, and we deliver worship sheets and have pastoral conversations.

The day usually runs like a well-oiled machine. It feels good to have something familiar to ground us in the middle of the week.

DAY 66

Thursday 21 May I have ongoing health issues that flare up from time to time. This one has been a long time coming, but I have a strategy to deal with it. In my vulnerability I was reminded of these words by Scott Stabile. I offer them in the hope that they may help you too: ‘I see you. I see your strength and courage, your hesitations and fears. I see the way you love others, and your struggle to love yourself. I see how hard you work to grow, and your dedication to heal. I see your vulnerable humanity and your transcendent divinity. I see you, and I love what I see.’

DAY 67

Friday 22 May One of the important things I’ve learnt to do, in managing my mental health, is to take each day as it comes.

The past few days have been tough, and yesterday involved a bit of a meltdown, but it wasn’t the end of the world. It just meant I had to make adjustments, and go to bed with a clean slate.

Today, by complete contrast, I’ve been able to work effectively, spend time with people pastorally and even throw in a bit of admin for good measure. I don’t feel 100 per cent but it’s OK.

It’s Ryan’s birthday and I’m looking forward to us all being together later when work is done. We’re adjusting to lockdown celebrations. Today we’re having a curry, and the marshmallows are ready for the firepit. Happy 26th birthday to my firstborn.

DAY 68

Saturday 23 May I felt a little put-out this morning. The lake I swim in every Saturday has recently reopened. I swim there every Saturday all year round and two evenings a week during the swimming season. I’ve been swimming there for more than three years, so have viewed it as my swimming place. Until now.

Today the car park was full to bursting. Everywhere I looked there were people in wetsuits who don’t swim there usually. Some of them have even turned their noses up at it in the past.

I know I don’t own it. I know they pay their money like I do. I’ll admit I’m prejudiced – sorry.

If I’d been six I’d have shouted, stamped and stormed off. As I’m a grown-up I only shouted and stamped inside, then drove off for a socially distanced swim in the River Beane with a couple of friends. It was heaven. The temperature was just

right, it was easy to get in and out, and if you swam in one direction for a minute or two it gently swooshed you back like a lazy-river ride. And it was free!

It’s easy to be judgmental at times – to feel a sense of entitlement and complain that things aren’t as they should be. I’ve felt like that a bit this week – but sometimes there is something better just around the corner.

‘No eye has seen, no ear has heard and no mind has imagined what God has prepared for those who love him’ (1 Corinthians 2:9 New Living Translation).

DAY 69

Sunday 24 May We had a good Zoom meeting today, including a Scripture verse that hit me between the eyes. We are the body of Christ: ‘In fact God has placed the parts in the body, every one of them, just as he wanted them to be’ (1 Corinthians 12:18).

Every one of them. Just as he wanted them to be. Let’s take a moment to rejoice in who we are. Let’s rejoice in who God is – and who we are because of him.

DAY 70

Monday 25 May After Nathan’s special bank holiday breakfast, it was time for a swim, followed by a long walk with Daisy, before the day ended with the obligatory barbecue.

It’s hard to stay positive at the moment. Today has been a lovely day but it just feels like Groundhog Day. After ten weeks in lockdown together, I guess that’s to be expected. We don’t get out much.

So, three things I’m grateful for are: the beautiful sky today; the feeling of being totally surrounded by nature, as if I were forest-bathing in the woods; and having sons who can cook.

Insights from the inside

The Salvation Army has 26 chaplains visiting 32 prisons in England and Wales and four Cameo co-ordinators in three establishments. Two of the chaplains tell us about their work.

SARAH-JANE GREGORY

HMP North Sea Camp

Bringing the light of the gospel

I AM part of the multi-faith chaplaincy team in this category D open prison on the outskirts of Boston, Lincolnshire. I take an active part in all the generic statutory duties required, but there are times when the specifics of being a Salvation Army chaplain come into their own. One example is the wearing of uniform, the visibility of which leads to residents calling out to speak to me. In the years I have been a prison chaplain, Salvation Army uniform has never been mistaken for a prison officer’s uniform, although occasionally people think I am a healthcare worker, which gives me a golden opportunity to engage with someone who might not approach a chaplain otherwise.

A surprising number of residents use the Army’s Family Tracing Service, which gives a particular opportunity for engagement if time is taken to work through the form with them, rather than

just send them away with it. The conversation that can be had in gathering the information required can be therapeutic for the enquirer. By staying alongside and supporting them with whatever the outcome might be, there is great scope for giving pastoral support and building a relationship, which is more positive than the infrequent encounters many may have had with a chaplain while in custody.

It is sad to see fear in a face because the immediate assumption is that you are bearing bad news, rather than simply wanting to have a conversation and offer support. I find it remarkable that governors and managing chaplains often request a Salvation Army chaplain, even though the chaplaincy team is usually composed according to the religious demographic of the resident population. Our ‘sleeves rolled up’, practical approach of faith in action is recognised as a valued addition to the team.

In conversation with our number one governor, the observation was made that an increasing number of people are registered as having no religion and there is no specific chaplain for them. The Army’s work in the wider community across the UK to many – which includes serving many more people than attend our Sunday meetings – was likened to

us being the church for the ‘no religion’ category.

I feel privileged to be engaged on the front line in the fight to change the pattern William Booth observed when he described people going to prison ‘in and out, in and out’, bringing the light of the gospel to what can be a very dark place.

MAJOR ALEX CADOGAN

HMP Kirkham and HMP Lancaster Farms

It’s not just bad news

AN irony within the prison estate is that the Christian chaplain, whose calling is to declare the good news of the gospel, is the person with the statutory duty of informing an inmate of bad news. In these days we’ve had more than our fair share of bad news to break. Not a day goes by, in either of my two prisons, when I do not have the task of informing someone of either a death or serious illness – and Covid-19 has made the situation so much worse.

Lockdown is a familiar situation, but in HMP Kirkham, a men’s category D open

prison, all visits have been cancelled and home leave (release on temporary licence) has been suspended. This has left more than 600 men locked up in billets (residential blocks) of about 20 men each, for roughly 23 hours a day. Naturally they are scared, and living in close conditions the rumour mill works overtime.

Because of lockdown restrictions, we chaplains are not allowed into the billets to speak to the men unless it’s to deliver bad news. So I’ve had to get creative in order to provide bereavement support and pastoral care to my flock.

As my regular Sunday chapel service is suspended I produce a sheet with a Christian message and an act of worship that the men who regularly attend my service can read in their cells

‘‘ I’ve been most moved when I see the prisoner also reach up on their own. I’ve been so blessed to be his hand to the window in prayer ’’ supported by prisoner volunteers who have ensured that fellow inmates get the service sheets.

I also go from billet to billet speaking with as many men as possible. I talk to them through their cell door window – a natural form of social distancing – and offer pastoral support and a War Cry, which they love! On many occasions I’ve reached up my hand to the window to bless them, and pray with and for them, and I’ve been most moved when I see the prisoner also reach up his hand to the window in prayer.

In HMP Lancaster Farms, a men’s category C closed prison, it has been rewarding to be able to spend more time with prisoners and staff. The regime has become simpler in many ways, with all movement off the wings strictly limited.

Many within the estate have serious mental health issues, and being locked up in their cells on their own for 23 hours a day, with no possibility of going off the wing for their usual work and activities, is contributing towards a rise in mental health problems.

I make a regular visit to as many of them as I can, especially those at risk of suicide or self-harm. I’m a nonestablishment face and I chat with them in a way that isn’t jail talk. It’s become a loving way of being with those who are imprisoned both physically and mentally. The War Cry is having a remarkable effect among the prisoners. I was struck by a comment made to me by an inmate the other day. He said, ‘I look forward to seeing you guv, cos it’s not just bad news now!’

Life is tough in prison, but it reflects the outside in that things have just got tougher for everyone. However, amid the pain, fear and loneliness, the role of the prison chaplain is asserting itself once more: to be a bearer of good news.

O To find out about becoming involved in prison chaplaincy email Prison Ministries Officer Major Paul Johnson at paul.johnson@salvationarmy.org.uk