Once, when I was a kid, my sister burst into my bedroom and yelled at me that my room was on fire. I had placed a rabbit puppet on top of my nightside table reading lamp, and there it smoldered as I read on, page after page, completely oblivious to my burning and beloved toy.

Brent either leads or participates in Morning Prayer via Zoom most mornings, usually sitting at one end of our dining room table. I have joined in, but this morning I read the paper instead.

I don't think I'll be learning macrame, or another language, or finally learning how to build a birdhouse during this time of being set apart and locked up and locked down.

The other night I drifted off to sleep with our neighbour's party music in one ear and Brent murmuring "The global death toll has now reached 10,000," in the other. I think our neighbours are definitely having more fun.

Even though I did just cut up a cantaloupe into bite sized pieces -- which is a bit of work, actually -- and placed the tiny bits into two matching bowls, and sprinkled them with kosher salt and cinnamon (who knows, really, how this will actually taste?), as a kind of surprise dessert, I am worried at how I will pull through for my family.

Last week I was in Winnipeg with Patricia, my writing buddy and co-author of Craft, Cost & Call: How to Build a Life as a Christian Writer. We visited Providence College & Seminary and spoke and shared with writing students in an afternoon class.

Yesterday I read The Minister's Wife: A memoir of faith, doubt, friendship, loneliness, forgiveness and more one last time, every word, each sentence, every scene, each stumbling thought.

With her newest book Shades of Light, Sharon Garlough Brown paints a picture of mental health challenges, anxiety, depression, grief and ultimately the hope and community and friendship she writes about so well.

Written with co-author Patricia Paddey, this new book is our love letter to writers.

Recently I texted "You're welcome" to a friend, who had thanked me for two simple things I did. A magazine I gave her and a conversation I had with her son, who is the same age and temperament as my son.

I presented a seminar at Urbana18 this year, on The Beautiful Intersection of Faith and Writing (writers can't have normal titles for their writing workshops). In preparation I asked for suggested writing books from my Facebook writing buddies. I asked. They answered.

During the first week of my master's studies, away from home and back in Halifax, I called Brent more than once, speaking in my weary, weepy, wavering voice.