Vanessa Kirby and Elaine Paige

From Dave Tomlinson, writer and vicar at large:
You may think I’m trying to earn brownie points here, but what I most admire about my wife Pat is her down-to-earth, ‘just get on with it’ approach to life. Me, I’m more of a big gesture person. I want the latest smart phone while Pat’s happy with one that still works perfectly well. I get an upset stomach and think I’m about to die, so she feeds me indigestion tablets. I’m afraid the audience I just addressed hate me – she says, ‘Sit down, love, have a nice cup of tea!’ Over the past year, through the pandemic, we have both had our moments of anxiety and panic – for our friends and loved ones as well as ourselves…not to mention, the world at large. 
But we process our emotions differently, and what constantly helps me (though I still rebel against it) is Pat’s attention to daily ritual, life’s everyday details: ‘We can only do what we can do’, she’ll say. It’s always been like this, with us. When I’ve been sweating over theological conundrums, Pat responds (with a twinkle in her eye), ‘When you’ve decided what we believe, Dave, just let me know.’ Because, for her, religion or spirituality does not lie in abstract ideas or pious practices but in living the best sort of life that you can in the circumstances. 
The 17th century monk, Brother Lawrence, had a similar outlook. For him, prayer consisted in what he called ‘practicing the presence of God’. Along with his fellow monks he fulfilled all his required religious practices, but he felt equally close to God pottering in the garden or washing the dishes, serving his brothers. It was his form of mindfulness – focusing on the wonder of everyday life. I’d love to wave a wand and make the present situation disappear. 
But Pat and Brother Lawrence show me the way: attending to the little things in order to protect ourselves and others; finding comfort in daily ritual as a pathway toward freedom, staying alive to the marvels of mundane existence even when we wish our circumstances were different. I reckon it’s the small (often familiar) things in life that bring hope – once we learn to notice them.