We are living through strange times.

I’ve watched the story of the Covid-19 virus approach from afar over the past few weeks. And now it’s here.

We’re advised not to go out or meet with others “unnecessarily”, in an attempt to slow the spread of the virus. To self-isolate if we are old, vulnerable or showing symptoms of illness. To avoid cafés, bars, pubs and gatherings.

I’m not going to comment politically on the decisions, actions (or inactions) of our government. Suffice to say I’m not a fan of the current incumbents of office. It doesn’t really matter what I think; it is what it is and things are what they are. I’m someone who, as I have got older (and particularly after having a child) has developed a tendency to worry about stuff. Usually its small stuff that’s not really worth worrying about, but at the moment there are things definitely worth worrying about. Not that worrying will help at all.

I’m seeing self-employed friends fearing for their futures: gift shops wondering whether – or when – they will close; cafés losing the bulk of their customers in one fell swoop; artists forced to cancel workshops, and galleries and fairs close or cancel events. A friend’s daughter’s vital medical operation has been postponed indefinitely. It’s frightening and there is, as they worded it on the radio this morning, “no exit strategy”. In other words, we don’t know how long this will go on for, or when things might go back to anything resembling normal. It’s like we’ve been dropped into the plot of a disaster movie or horror novel – although we can’t even see the source of the disaster and we have few weapons with which to fight this invisible monster.

I feel myself to be one of the fortunate ones. I work from home anyway and live a pretty quiet, somewhat socially isolated life. Our family has a little money to tide us over. My partner works for a sympathetic and responsible employer and can work from home. We have no especially vulnerable or elderly relatives to care for or protect. At this point in time, we all remain well.

But my worries for others less fortunate keep turning over in my mind…

I make small things (the most recent of which are pictured here). I will carry on making small things, whether or not anyone is in a position to buy them. I love small things. But I don’t love the fact that this situation makes me feel small. It’s hard to know how to respond when something so big is happening.

But perhaps small is part of a solution…

We are all small cogs in the big machine that is our society. Wherever you are and whatever your circumstances, you will have your own small part to play in this big story. If we all do small things with care we can make a big difference. We may not be able to make everything all right, but we can help to protect ourselves and our communities. We can make small gestures and provide small services to others to help them to survive. We can use the power of the internet to connect with others online and turn small acts into small wonders. I am going to try not to give in to worry and negativity; to try to post helpful and cheerful content online when I can, and to act locally to help others less fortunate than myself.

As a small fish in a very big pond I can’t solve this situation, or save people. I only wish I could.

All any of us can do is, in our myriad small ways, make whatever contributions we can – and be thankful for whatever small wonders we can find amid these difficult and strange times. ♥