Royal Mail!
Can't believe they've developed stamps that can't be peeled off and reused!! That was one of life's bonuses, like finding a tenner in the back pocket of your jeans, now it's been mercilessly taken from us. I really can't believe that many escape the franking machines and survive the furtive peeling-off exercise, surely their profits can't be suffering that much.
But they have gone and developed little cuts in the body of the stamp that make it impossible to peel it off in entirety from one direction...that's soooooo tight.
Boooo, booo, booo. Raaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!
Monday, August 24, 2009
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Simple Pleasures
Last week I missed out on a picnic of tea and cake on Stewkley rec. It was a gorgeous blue sky, sunny day and the thought of hanging out with friends was really appealing. It struck me how just tea and cake has been come a real ritual for this group and is the setting for sharing, much love and laughter. It made me think about the pleasure of simple things, following on from my carpet thanks giving.
On the same morning I saw a poppy growing out of the crack between curb stones, it's yellow pollen matching the double yellow lines. I was in too much of a rush to take a photo but just to notice it's brief quirky appearance was a gift. Another simple pleasure. The daisy above and miniature iris have self seeded in my back yard and today I had time to take a photo.
This all reminded me of a song on the theme by brilliant band Dolly Varden, one of the simple pleasures from my old job!
Simple Pleasure - Dolly Varden
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
It's nifty to be thrifty
Just watched River Cottage on Channel 4 plus one (I so take back what I said about a channel solely playing the same schedule at a later time being rubbish, I live there now bedtime always clashes!!).It was left overs night at the restaurant and Hugh and Tim came up with a host of inventive dishes. It was funny because I'd just been thinking about being thrifty as i made a stock out of my asparagus ends, carrot peelings and parsley stalks, amongst other things. I can't bear to throw food away and I love the promise of stock that out of waste comes something delicious and unexpected, whether a soup or risotto.
I'm reading Life with God by Richard Foster at the moment and he's just been talking about spiritual discipline and exercises and he lists frugality as such a thing. I'd never thought about it in that sense but I totally see it. Being creative should be a hall mark of faith, as is gratitude for and nurturing of resources and it's amazing what a sense of achievement I get out of making the most of things, or at least trying. Like Hugh at River Cottage I'm determined to honor the growth of food, whether meat of veg or grain by doing it full service.
I guess Kirsty's Home Made Home bought into this with all the digging in skips and rooting round antique shops and reclamation yards. It's amazing how snobbish we can be about 'junk' if we're not looking at it creatively. It's great to think too that the tide may be turning and rather than throwing things away at the drop of a hat we might really start to buy items for keeps, re-use and truly recycle.
On that theme I've just taken charge of real, cloth nappies. Blossom will be the third or fourth baby in some of them, which seems very sustainable. It's always hard to know with the energy versus landfill argument, especially as we've been using biodegradable, non-chlorine bleach, non plastic disposables to date. But I guess we'll still do a mix of both.
Hugh also examined bread, with all it's dodgy additives, that alongside not being able to find a decent loaf these days has me itching to try making my own but I'm not sure if I've got the staying power to get beyond the brick phase. Never was very good at practice makes perfect but who knows...
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Something in reserve?
Tonight I met with a great friend, when we parted a song came into my mind that I hadn't heard for years. My heart often forms prayers for people that way.
It had been a really busy day with loads of visitors and as I cleared up a mountain of washing up and a chaotic house, there was something reassuringly therapeutic about restoring order and something peaceful about the methodical washing, drying and wiping, collecting, folding and tidying. It was a very spiritual calm and taking the washing off the line in the fading light it felt like tidying the day away and putting all that had been to bed. You know that feeling of having had a gloriously full day and collapsing into bed exhausted but buzzing? Kind of like that.
Then we had a powercut.
Thankfully I'd restored order and had settled down to surf the web so no real harm done. I lit a few candles and got out our super powerful torch to read by but it lasted about 3 minutes before dying. How typical! The only time we've needed to use it and it had no charge left.
I thought about that as a somewhat cheesy metaphor for faith, I could just imagine it in a less than subtle sermon "are your batteries charged enough to give you light in the darkness?!" I guess the thought occurred to me after my previous thankfulness for that song.
And it led me to wonder what I've read or listened to recently that might become useful in future? And I felt a lack of anything sustaining. In fact I'd been bemoaning an absence of anything uplifting or happy to read to Auntie Flower recently. Whilst I've read some great books, fascinating writing, it's all been a bit doom-laden and whilst that has it's place, it can all too easily lead to unhelpful navel gazing, false comparisons and negativity if one's not careful.
Mulling all this over tonight I was reminded of the words from Romans...
Do not be conformed to this world but be transformed by the renewal of your mind ...I love it when I either make the effort to search out those things, people or experiences that enable me to find that renewal or when I'm able to just stop with God in order to let him change something in me or show me something new in Him.
Tonight in the garden after bagging the washing I stood listening to the evenings activity and giving thanks for all the thinking, conversations and experiences that had happened in this house. I'll be sad to leave it's been such a special home but I know I've received a wealth of reserves here that will power me up for whatever the future holds.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Thanks
Thanks to the friend who recently reminded me to take off my slippers, feel the carpet beneath my feet and give thanks.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Simple Supper
Have been making a conscious effort to try some new recipes again, after falling back into the same old ruts and the Mighty W came up with this brilliantly easy recipe on one of it's recent pamphlets...
Salmon Teriyaki with Tenderstem Broccoli
4 tbsp Teriyaki Paste
1 tbsp Chilli Paste
2 Salmon fillets
4 tbsp Vegetable Oil
200g Tenderstem Broccoli
1. In a shallow dish mix together the teriyaki paste and half the chilli. Add the salmon fillets, turn to coat in the mixture and leave to marinate for 10 minutes
2.Heat half the oil in a frying pan over a medium heat. When pan is hot, add the salmon skin side down and cook for 2-3 minutes until deep golden. Then turn over and cook for another 2-3 minutes or until the fish is cooked through. Add the marinade and bubble for 30 seconds.Set aside.
3. Meanwhile heat the remaining veg oil, add the remaining chilli paste and broccoli and 3 tbsp of water and stir fry for 3 minutes or until al dente. Serve with the salmon, sauce and steamed rice.
Thoughts...
To make it even easier you could just steam the brocolli and not worry about frying it with the chilli. We used mixed basmati and wild rice which gives great texture and flavour. The salmon is also great topping a vegetable and noodle stir fry!
Enjoy...
Salmon Teriyaki with Tenderstem Broccoli
4 tbsp Teriyaki Paste
1 tbsp Chilli Paste
2 Salmon fillets
4 tbsp Vegetable Oil
200g Tenderstem Broccoli
1. In a shallow dish mix together the teriyaki paste and half the chilli. Add the salmon fillets, turn to coat in the mixture and leave to marinate for 10 minutes
2.Heat half the oil in a frying pan over a medium heat. When pan is hot, add the salmon skin side down and cook for 2-3 minutes until deep golden. Then turn over and cook for another 2-3 minutes or until the fish is cooked through. Add the marinade and bubble for 30 seconds.Set aside.
3. Meanwhile heat the remaining veg oil, add the remaining chilli paste and broccoli and 3 tbsp of water and stir fry for 3 minutes or until al dente. Serve with the salmon, sauce and steamed rice.
Thoughts...
To make it even easier you could just steam the brocolli and not worry about frying it with the chilli. We used mixed basmati and wild rice which gives great texture and flavour. The salmon is also great topping a vegetable and noodle stir fry!
Enjoy...
Monday, May 18, 2009
Noticing...
A long while back I spent a while trying to be conscious of God in the ordinary bits of my job, I just came across to reflections I wrote as a result and thought they may resonate with some of you youthworkers out there...
Locking up
With the turn of a key, I am alone in the darkness.
The chill air stings my cheeks still flushed from the chatter, the games and the sugar.
My breath is silver against the night.
Breath of life,
Given by You.
Breathe life into all who have just left this place,
Breathe into them possibility and life unfolding.
Breath of life,
Breathe life into me again.
Fill this tired body, weary mind and anxious heart.
Breathe life into me again,
Here in the darkness,
Finally alone.
Diary
People, places, times and venues
Days filled, hours crammed, minutes packed
Where are You on these pages,
You who holds forever?
You are in the blanks and the lines and the full stops.
Teach me to seek you out underneath and in between these inky distractions.
To pause before each new entry and acknowledge your presence,
in all, through all and for all.
Locking up
With the turn of a key, I am alone in the darkness.
The chill air stings my cheeks still flushed from the chatter, the games and the sugar.
My breath is silver against the night.
Breath of life,
Given by You.
Breathe life into all who have just left this place,
Breathe into them possibility and life unfolding.
Breath of life,
Breathe life into me again.
Fill this tired body, weary mind and anxious heart.
Breathe life into me again,
Here in the darkness,
Finally alone.
Diary
People, places, times and venues
Days filled, hours crammed, minutes packed
Where are You on these pages,
You who holds forever?
You are in the blanks and the lines and the full stops.
Teach me to seek you out underneath and in between these inky distractions.
To pause before each new entry and acknowledge your presence,
in all, through all and for all.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
13 weeks
Blossom is 13 weeks old and it's incredible how she's no longer a baby...I mean of course she is but that initial distant, dependent stage seemed to be over so quickly.
Johnson and Johnson have a sickly ad that says "when a baby is born so is a mother" and once I finished wretching I had to admit this is in many ways true. Although my maternal powers existed long before she did, thanks to experience of caring for younger siblings and a team of younger work colleagues who I seemed determined to mother!
But it is interesting how your frame of reference grows along with a child and also how you re-access your childhood. The other day I found myself singing to her,
Jesus loves me this I know, for the bible tells me so, little ones to him belong, they are weak but he is strong. Yes Jesus loves me, yes Jesus loves me, yes Jesus loves me the bible tells me so.
I wasn't really sure where it came from or how a knew it growing up in a largely non religious household. (Turns out it was my Mum, funny the hope "God bless" was also uttered every night as the bedroom door was closed, religious no, spiritual yes).
It reminded me of an amazing seminar I attended by Kenda Creasy Dean, author of The Godbearing Life. It was all about adolescence and how we form our identity and how people around us influence that. It was also looking at how we walk with teenagers through that to best help them find community, creed, hope and ultimately through these things faith. She started one of the sessions getting us to think about our experience of teen age and how we felt about ourselves, with all our insecurities, hopes, longings, fears and experimenting and she got us to sing that song from that place.
The power of that truth; that we are loved even in the midst of the shifting sands of our becoming was immense and is still with me ... I hope I can have the grace to share that gift with my little one, both when she is weak and strong.
Johnson and Johnson have a sickly ad that says "when a baby is born so is a mother" and once I finished wretching I had to admit this is in many ways true. Although my maternal powers existed long before she did, thanks to experience of caring for younger siblings and a team of younger work colleagues who I seemed determined to mother!
But it is interesting how your frame of reference grows along with a child and also how you re-access your childhood. The other day I found myself singing to her,
Jesus loves me this I know, for the bible tells me so, little ones to him belong, they are weak but he is strong. Yes Jesus loves me, yes Jesus loves me, yes Jesus loves me the bible tells me so.
I wasn't really sure where it came from or how a knew it growing up in a largely non religious household. (Turns out it was my Mum, funny the hope "God bless" was also uttered every night as the bedroom door was closed, religious no, spiritual yes).
It reminded me of an amazing seminar I attended by Kenda Creasy Dean, author of The Godbearing Life. It was all about adolescence and how we form our identity and how people around us influence that. It was also looking at how we walk with teenagers through that to best help them find community, creed, hope and ultimately through these things faith. She started one of the sessions getting us to think about our experience of teen age and how we felt about ourselves, with all our insecurities, hopes, longings, fears and experimenting and she got us to sing that song from that place.
The power of that truth; that we are loved even in the midst of the shifting sands of our becoming was immense and is still with me ... I hope I can have the grace to share that gift with my little one, both when she is weak and strong.
Thursday, February 05, 2009
Let them eat cake...
Just made some chocolate brownies from my Aussie neighbour's recipe, perfect with a cup of tea after coming in from the snow!!
Melt 185g dark chocolate and 125g of butter together
Stir in 1 cup of sugar and 2 eggs (one at a time)
Fold in 1 cup of plain flour and 1 cup of chopped walnuts (I used mixed fruit and nuts as it was all the cupboard provided!)
Cook at 180/gas mark 5 for 30 minutes
To be really naughty ice with...
Mix 2 cups of icing sugar with 2 tbsp cocoa
Melt 1 tbsp of butter and add, along with milk, to the above until you get the right consistency.
Yum!
Melt 185g dark chocolate and 125g of butter together
Stir in 1 cup of sugar and 2 eggs (one at a time)
Fold in 1 cup of plain flour and 1 cup of chopped walnuts (I used mixed fruit and nuts as it was all the cupboard provided!)
Cook at 180/gas mark 5 for 30 minutes
To be really naughty ice with...
Mix 2 cups of icing sugar with 2 tbsp cocoa
Melt 1 tbsp of butter and add, along with milk, to the above until you get the right consistency.
Yum!
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
The poetic version
You're by Sylvia Plath
Clownlike, happiest on your hands
Feet to the stars, and moon-skulled
Gilled like a fish. A common-sense
Thumbs-down on the dodo's mode.
Wrapped up in yourself like a spool,
Trawling your dark as owls do.
Mute as a turnip from the Fourth
Of July to All Fool's Day,
O high-riser, my little loaf.
Vague as fog and looked for like mail.
Father off than Australia.
Bent-backed Atlas, our traveled prawn.
Snug as a bud at home
Like a sprat in a pickle jug.
A creel of eels, all ripples.
Jumpy as a Mexican bean.
Right, like a well-done sum.
A clean slate, with your own face on.
Clownlike, happiest on your hands
Feet to the stars, and moon-skulled
Gilled like a fish. A common-sense
Thumbs-down on the dodo's mode.
Wrapped up in yourself like a spool,
Trawling your dark as owls do.
Mute as a turnip from the Fourth
Of July to All Fool's Day,
O high-riser, my little loaf.
Vague as fog and looked for like mail.
Father off than Australia.
Bent-backed Atlas, our traveled prawn.
Snug as a bud at home
Like a sprat in a pickle jug.
A creel of eels, all ripples.
Jumpy as a Mexican bean.
Right, like a well-done sum.
A clean slate, with your own face on.
Today's the day...
that our little Sprout is due. But I don't think he or she has any intention of arriving just yet.
Talking to Mum earlier we were reflecting on how quickly you forget the experience of pregnancy and although several people have asked if I was keeping a journal I've found it really hard to commit any thoughts about the process to paper.
In some ways I've been unwillingly superstitious after miscarrying last time, not wanting to create anything that may out-last this baby but recently I've come to a place where I think I can accept the pregnancy for what it is as a complete experience in and of itself now, before I even get onto thinking about life with my child.
I've been so well, a tiny bit of nausea and overwhelming tierdness early on but nothing more than that. In the last weeks I have the trade mark swollen ankles and am starting to feel like I am shrinking or at least am now as wide as I am tall.
I have loved the timetable that Sprout has kept, springing to life each night as my head touches the pillow and how it's striking a flamenco pose - one had by its head beating my bladder and two feet stamping by my ribs - and dancing earned it the name Ernest Fandango.
I have loved everyone's hopes, dreams and opinions on this child, how my half brothers and sisters named it Sedgley (?!) in a moment of familial madness and are almost bursting for it's arrival.
Reading up about it's development; a heart as tiny as a poppy seed beating at 6 weeks, seeing it yawn during a scan and taking turns to poke each other through my stomach.
It aches to think of those who couldn't wait on this earth to meet this new member of the family and intrigues me to see in what ways this child will carry their story on.
My waist measurement is 42 inches, I have no idea what I weigh. My hair and skin have been in amazing condition throughout, with no stretchmarks! I've been swimming every week, walking most days of maternity leave. Haven't craved anything to the point of having to have it but crisps, MacDonald's (yea gads), coca cola, sherry and everything I shouldn't eat (blue cheese, smoked salmon etc) have seemed awfully appealing. I went off coffee, tea and wine for two thirds of the ride but am now happily imbibing all three - in moderation of course.
Wierdest experience, heightened sense of smell. I swear I could have worked for the drugs squad in my first trimester, it was the most bizarre thing and not always pleasant
Will I miss life with a bump? Definitely. I'm wondering whether it will feel lonely for a while without an on-board friend.
Am I ready to give birth? Nature is a wonderful thing getting you to just that point of being so uncomfortable that you're ready to take delivery of this miraculous package.
Talking to Mum earlier we were reflecting on how quickly you forget the experience of pregnancy and although several people have asked if I was keeping a journal I've found it really hard to commit any thoughts about the process to paper.
In some ways I've been unwillingly superstitious after miscarrying last time, not wanting to create anything that may out-last this baby but recently I've come to a place where I think I can accept the pregnancy for what it is as a complete experience in and of itself now, before I even get onto thinking about life with my child.
I've been so well, a tiny bit of nausea and overwhelming tierdness early on but nothing more than that. In the last weeks I have the trade mark swollen ankles and am starting to feel like I am shrinking or at least am now as wide as I am tall.
I have loved the timetable that Sprout has kept, springing to life each night as my head touches the pillow and how it's striking a flamenco pose - one had by its head beating my bladder and two feet stamping by my ribs - and dancing earned it the name Ernest Fandango.
I have loved everyone's hopes, dreams and opinions on this child, how my half brothers and sisters named it Sedgley (?!) in a moment of familial madness and are almost bursting for it's arrival.
Reading up about it's development; a heart as tiny as a poppy seed beating at 6 weeks, seeing it yawn during a scan and taking turns to poke each other through my stomach.
It aches to think of those who couldn't wait on this earth to meet this new member of the family and intrigues me to see in what ways this child will carry their story on.
My waist measurement is 42 inches, I have no idea what I weigh. My hair and skin have been in amazing condition throughout, with no stretchmarks! I've been swimming every week, walking most days of maternity leave. Haven't craved anything to the point of having to have it but crisps, MacDonald's (yea gads), coca cola, sherry and everything I shouldn't eat (blue cheese, smoked salmon etc) have seemed awfully appealing. I went off coffee, tea and wine for two thirds of the ride but am now happily imbibing all three - in moderation of course.
Wierdest experience, heightened sense of smell. I swear I could have worked for the drugs squad in my first trimester, it was the most bizarre thing and not always pleasant
Will I miss life with a bump? Definitely. I'm wondering whether it will feel lonely for a while without an on-board friend.
Am I ready to give birth? Nature is a wonderful thing getting you to just that point of being so uncomfortable that you're ready to take delivery of this miraculous package.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Looks like I'm not alone...
As I've often said I love Simply Simon blog, always wisdom and solace and far better writing than I could ever hope to achieve! He posted this tonight...
just an angel
It’s the day before the day before Christmas, and it’s all ho-hum. To be honest, I feel less prepared for this celebration of Christ’s birth than I have for a long time. The anticipation that’s meant to mark the Advent season has drifted by, unnoticed. Busyness, weariness, lack of intention … despite my pastor’s best efforts to prepare me for the wonder of Incarnation, I’ve been a lousy congregant. Sorry Carolyn.
But then, as I walked home from work this afternoon, I noticed something. In the window of one of the old terrace homes that line my street is a Christmas tree. Nothing unusual about that; such things are a standard feature in house after house--elaborately decorated, colour coordinated, with fairy lights perfectly balanced top to bottom, left to right.
This one is different though. Awkward looking, slanted, no lights and empty apart from one porcelain angel dangling off centre, in solitude. I stared for a moment. It was odd, yet beautiful: no tinsel, no baubles, no flashing lights, just one off-centred angel, alone.
One of the most important books of the late 90s for me was Dale Allison’s The Silence of Angels. It was significant because it helped me to articulate what I had long intuited: that rapid advancements in technology and science have sometimes dulled our ability to discern transcendence and experience wonder in the everyday. Amidst the clutter and rationality of our demystified and explained lives, we’ve silenced the angels.
According to Allison, technological development has (i) eradicated silence, (ii) defeated any concept of darkness, and (iii) proliferated visual stimuli in every corner of our lives. Consequently, we’re losing the ability to hear, to see or to experience transcendence in the ordinariness of our days.
As I sit here at the window, the night before the night before Christmas, I can see a sparrow sifting through the mulch on my garden. From there it flies up into the shrub that fronts our house, with the twilight sky behind it. One bird, one angel, one child: the ho-hum is perhaps more sacred than I thought.
just an angel
It’s the day before the day before Christmas, and it’s all ho-hum. To be honest, I feel less prepared for this celebration of Christ’s birth than I have for a long time. The anticipation that’s meant to mark the Advent season has drifted by, unnoticed. Busyness, weariness, lack of intention … despite my pastor’s best efforts to prepare me for the wonder of Incarnation, I’ve been a lousy congregant. Sorry Carolyn.
But then, as I walked home from work this afternoon, I noticed something. In the window of one of the old terrace homes that line my street is a Christmas tree. Nothing unusual about that; such things are a standard feature in house after house--elaborately decorated, colour coordinated, with fairy lights perfectly balanced top to bottom, left to right.
This one is different though. Awkward looking, slanted, no lights and empty apart from one porcelain angel dangling off centre, in solitude. I stared for a moment. It was odd, yet beautiful: no tinsel, no baubles, no flashing lights, just one off-centred angel, alone.
One of the most important books of the late 90s for me was Dale Allison’s The Silence of Angels. It was significant because it helped me to articulate what I had long intuited: that rapid advancements in technology and science have sometimes dulled our ability to discern transcendence and experience wonder in the everyday. Amidst the clutter and rationality of our demystified and explained lives, we’ve silenced the angels.
According to Allison, technological development has (i) eradicated silence, (ii) defeated any concept of darkness, and (iii) proliferated visual stimuli in every corner of our lives. Consequently, we’re losing the ability to hear, to see or to experience transcendence in the ordinariness of our days.
As I sit here at the window, the night before the night before Christmas, I can see a sparrow sifting through the mulch on my garden. From there it flies up into the shrub that fronts our house, with the twilight sky behind it. One bird, one angel, one child: the ho-hum is perhaps more sacred than I thought.
Week 35
Auntie Flower pointed out to me that this year I am living my own advent ... we are in our 36th week of pregnancy which amongst other things may developmentally mean
"he/she now weighs about 5.25 pounds/ 2.4 kilograms and measures approximately 18 inches/ 45 centimetres from head to toe. His/her elbow, foot or head may protrude from your stomach when he stretches and squirms about. (Sure does!) Soon, as the wall of your uterus and your abdomen stretch thinner and let in more light, your baby will begin to develop daily activity cycles.
This week, your little one is now sporting fingernails and has a fully developed pair of kidneys. His liver can also process some waste products.
There's much less amniotic fluid and much more baby in your uterus, which has expanded to a thousand times its original size".
What a miracle happening inside of me and yet has this mystery placed a different spin on the advent story for me? Truth is I don't know an advent when I've had a more church-less, God-less experience. Actually between work, visiting and hosting friends, preaching elsewhere and just being exhausted by life that's pretty much been my year. I certainly haven't set foot inside All Saints since October and the thought of this afternoons Christingle is really exciting (not least because it's a service I love).
At the beginning of advent our vicar sent out this challenge...
"Advent is a time of preparation, of recognising the signs of our failures and setting our lives back on course as we prepare to celebrate the birthday of our brother Jesus.
Bill Hybels famously said: ‘The local church is the hope of the world.’ Our Anglican churches attract only 1% of the population on an average Sunday (maybe 3% if all the Christian churches are lumped together).
Advent is also about waking up to the signs of the times. Jesus went on at length about this. The signs seem to be that people see our ‘churches’ as hopeless rather than a source of hope.
So perhaps the times have arrived for us to set our churches back on course. (church = you and me, the church communities and how we express our faith when we are together and when we are ‘in the world’). The big question is ‘how?’
Do we know what are goals are? Are we just trying to survive? That doesn’t seem to me to be what Jesus meant when he commissioned us to go and make disciples of all nations.
Imagine this: If we as Christians were arriving in our villages for the first time this December 2008 what would we do and how would we be ‘church?"
I haven't really given much time to this brilliant question but tonight I think Jesus would be less interested in what we did and more in how we did it. How we love each other.
My home group leaders have given me calls to let me know their schedule this term even though they knew I couldn't make it, which is great but no one has called to see how or where I am which makes me a little sad. Not being in church regularly is one of my failures this year, (going back to Derek's opening statement) back in January I committed to being there at least once a month to enable me to someway be connected to the life of what happens there and to the wonderful people walking this journey together. That is my advent challenge, a day and a half is left and I want to think about what our church looks like and where I am in the picture, what I can give (and I don't just mean by doing more but by being more creative with what I do maybe). I certainly don't want to be just a consumer. How could I have handled my absence better, would it have been possible to keep in touch more? If I couldn't be there in body what about in spirit - have I been praying for all that happens there?
I wonder in answer to that challenge if we get better at looking after the church we have maybe that will be the best way to have a useful church for the future.
I pray in the services that I go to over the next two days that the lessons I need to learn will be really clear, in the carols, readings and community. At this point in time the final verse of In the Bleak Mid Winter (my favourite carol) seem really appropriate... and a great way to get back on course.
What can I give Him poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd I would bring a lamb.
If I were a wise man I would do my part.
Yet what can I give him?
Give my heart.
"he/she now weighs about 5.25 pounds/ 2.4 kilograms and measures approximately 18 inches/ 45 centimetres from head to toe. His/her elbow, foot or head may protrude from your stomach when he stretches and squirms about. (Sure does!) Soon, as the wall of your uterus and your abdomen stretch thinner and let in more light, your baby will begin to develop daily activity cycles.
This week, your little one is now sporting fingernails and has a fully developed pair of kidneys. His liver can also process some waste products.
There's much less amniotic fluid and much more baby in your uterus, which has expanded to a thousand times its original size".
What a miracle happening inside of me and yet has this mystery placed a different spin on the advent story for me? Truth is I don't know an advent when I've had a more church-less, God-less experience. Actually between work, visiting and hosting friends, preaching elsewhere and just being exhausted by life that's pretty much been my year. I certainly haven't set foot inside All Saints since October and the thought of this afternoons Christingle is really exciting (not least because it's a service I love).
At the beginning of advent our vicar sent out this challenge...
"Advent is a time of preparation, of recognising the signs of our failures and setting our lives back on course as we prepare to celebrate the birthday of our brother Jesus.
Bill Hybels famously said: ‘The local church is the hope of the world.’ Our Anglican churches attract only 1% of the population on an average Sunday (maybe 3% if all the Christian churches are lumped together).
Advent is also about waking up to the signs of the times. Jesus went on at length about this. The signs seem to be that people see our ‘churches’ as hopeless rather than a source of hope.
So perhaps the times have arrived for us to set our churches back on course. (church = you and me, the church communities and how we express our faith when we are together and when we are ‘in the world’). The big question is ‘how?’
Do we know what are goals are? Are we just trying to survive? That doesn’t seem to me to be what Jesus meant when he commissioned us to go and make disciples of all nations.
Imagine this: If we as Christians were arriving in our villages for the first time this December 2008 what would we do and how would we be ‘church?"
I haven't really given much time to this brilliant question but tonight I think Jesus would be less interested in what we did and more in how we did it. How we love each other.
My home group leaders have given me calls to let me know their schedule this term even though they knew I couldn't make it, which is great but no one has called to see how or where I am which makes me a little sad. Not being in church regularly is one of my failures this year, (going back to Derek's opening statement) back in January I committed to being there at least once a month to enable me to someway be connected to the life of what happens there and to the wonderful people walking this journey together. That is my advent challenge, a day and a half is left and I want to think about what our church looks like and where I am in the picture, what I can give (and I don't just mean by doing more but by being more creative with what I do maybe). I certainly don't want to be just a consumer. How could I have handled my absence better, would it have been possible to keep in touch more? If I couldn't be there in body what about in spirit - have I been praying for all that happens there?
I wonder in answer to that challenge if we get better at looking after the church we have maybe that will be the best way to have a useful church for the future.
I pray in the services that I go to over the next two days that the lessons I need to learn will be really clear, in the carols, readings and community. At this point in time the final verse of In the Bleak Mid Winter (my favourite carol) seem really appropriate... and a great way to get back on course.
What can I give Him poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd I would bring a lamb.
If I were a wise man I would do my part.
Yet what can I give him?
Give my heart.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
See Me
Last week saw the opening of LCET's latest art exhibition and if the chaos on the day before was anything to go by it's just as well they only happen every couple of years!!
The finished gallery - a former estate agents on the high street - was awesome though and it got some really good press coverage and more importantly about 300 (or more) visitors through the door.
The work - photos, instalations and audio - was all the work of around 9 kids we work with, not to mention the amazing Carter and Turner. Hearing the experiences of young people is always powerful, it was a great way to honour their request to be seen and as there was such great feed back from Social services hopefully this will improve their experience of the whole system.
Nice work LCET!
The finished gallery - a former estate agents on the high street - was awesome though and it got some really good press coverage and more importantly about 300 (or more) visitors through the door.
The work - photos, instalations and audio - was all the work of around 9 kids we work with, not to mention the amazing Carter and Turner. Hearing the experiences of young people is always powerful, it was a great way to honour their request to be seen and as there was such great feed back from Social services hopefully this will improve their experience of the whole system.
Nice work LCET!
Maternity leave
Well I've been off work for two whole weeks and so far am pretty unable to stay away! Not least because I wanted to help out with the amazing See Me exhibition about children in care and then I foolishly offered to copy 300 cds of The God Man, the song our kids wrote at summer camp. We're sending it out as a Christmas card to our supporters.
It's amazing to see what non-Christian, un-churched kids made of God's story - we gave them the first verse they wrote the rest of the lyrics...pretty cool. It was recorded in our basement, no expense spent, Holy Joely's done a great job though, especially with the tuning!!
The God Man - Joel and the summer camp kids
It's amazing to see what non-Christian, un-churched kids made of God's story - we gave them the first verse they wrote the rest of the lyrics...pretty cool. It was recorded in our basement, no expense spent, Holy Joely's done a great job though, especially with the tuning!!
The God Man - Joel and the summer camp kids
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Current reading.
It's been a phase for allegorical books recently. (Just had to check whether 'allegory 'was the right term, never let it be said my BA(Hons) in English was a waste of time!)
Our team book this term was The Shack which has been touted as a modern classic and called a modern day pilgrims progress. It seems a slightly odd premise for a story about the nature of God and to be honest I would normally give Christian literature a wide birth but this book was strangely compelling.
The story goes...
Mackenzie Allen Philips' youngest daughter, Missy, has been abducted during a family vacation and evidence that she may have been brutally murdered is found in an abandoned shack deep in the Oregon wilderness.
Four years later in the midst of his great sadness, Mack receives a suspicious note, apparently from God, inviting him back to that shack for a weekend. Against Mackenzie Allen Philips' better judgement he arrives at the shack on a wintry afternoon and walks back into his darkest nightmare.
The author does an incredible job of exploring the characteristics of God, putting that into words has to be a real challenge, after all it's often untangible and I guess different for all of us. But here there is something so familiar and beautiful, it really is heart warming but also incredibly challenging. How can you forgive the unforgivable, what kind of life change needs to happen to make that possible?
It leaves you feeling as if you've glimpsed a deeper meaning about this old thing called life. It also debunks a lot of the rubbish that comes with religion and get's straight to the heart of what it's liked to be loved.
I wanted to hate it, I now want to re-read it!
The second book I started last night was called Hind's feet in High Places and was a leaving gift from lovely Gingerkidjoe. Written in the 50's by a palestinian Nun it is the journey of Much-Afraid to find herself as God see's her and to freedom. I haven't got very far and it seems quite old fashioned stylistically, which is taking some getting used to but there's already been some wonderful passages.
This is my favourite to date...
"many a quiet, ordinary, and hidden life, unknown to the world, is a veritable garden in which Love's flowers and fruits have come to such perfection that it is a place of delight where the King of Love Himself walks and rejoices with his friends."
Our team book this term was The Shack which has been touted as a modern classic and called a modern day pilgrims progress. It seems a slightly odd premise for a story about the nature of God and to be honest I would normally give Christian literature a wide birth but this book was strangely compelling.
The story goes...
Mackenzie Allen Philips' youngest daughter, Missy, has been abducted during a family vacation and evidence that she may have been brutally murdered is found in an abandoned shack deep in the Oregon wilderness.
Four years later in the midst of his great sadness, Mack receives a suspicious note, apparently from God, inviting him back to that shack for a weekend. Against Mackenzie Allen Philips' better judgement he arrives at the shack on a wintry afternoon and walks back into his darkest nightmare.
The author does an incredible job of exploring the characteristics of God, putting that into words has to be a real challenge, after all it's often untangible and I guess different for all of us. But here there is something so familiar and beautiful, it really is heart warming but also incredibly challenging. How can you forgive the unforgivable, what kind of life change needs to happen to make that possible?
It leaves you feeling as if you've glimpsed a deeper meaning about this old thing called life. It also debunks a lot of the rubbish that comes with religion and get's straight to the heart of what it's liked to be loved.
I wanted to hate it, I now want to re-read it!
The second book I started last night was called Hind's feet in High Places and was a leaving gift from lovely Gingerkidjoe. Written in the 50's by a palestinian Nun it is the journey of Much-Afraid to find herself as God see's her and to freedom. I haven't got very far and it seems quite old fashioned stylistically, which is taking some getting used to but there's already been some wonderful passages.
This is my favourite to date...
"many a quiet, ordinary, and hidden life, unknown to the world, is a veritable garden in which Love's flowers and fruits have come to such perfection that it is a place of delight where the King of Love Himself walks and rejoices with his friends."
You
You are unique.
There is no one else like you anywhere in the world.
No one can replace you.
Simply because you exist, you are special.
Chew on that.
Monday, October 20, 2008
September's post...or should have been!
I was really excited to come back to work in September and no one was more surprised about that than me. Though I love the project with all my heart have found the last year really tough and have not found answers to questions about my role here.
But I was very excited and so much so I was in early to prepare for the new term and our first meeting as a new team. I'd planned a meeting to start with a prayer exercise about our feelings towards this term, as we were all in very different places, and it made me laugh as I sat at my desk untangling a pile of pipe-cleaners that were to become our mode of expression.
How typical of work at LCET and how lucky am I to be able to 'work' in such a playful way?! It seemed comforting to be sorting out and ordering as my first task, I hope this years experience will be much more like the finished pile, as last years seemed a bit like the former and we're still straightening out the tangle.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Food glorious food...or the longest lunch ever
Caught up with boss, Rg for lunch today.She's going to retake the reigns of the chaplaincy team while I'm off, having handed them to me when she was on maternity leave all very cyclical!
We went to Zza Zza's pizza place in town. It's a nice place that always scares me slightly since I saw the colour of the chefs once white apron and because one minute you see him making dough the next smoking a fag outside. But I have never actually been ill, despite feeling a bit queezy after most lunches!
We ordered pizza and once it came both thought it was overly salty, so plucked up courage to throw off our niceness and send it back. There was some story about two of the workers having salted the dough (too many or not enough cooks???) and after another 20 minutes more pizza arrived, still somewhat highly seasoned! We decided just to eat it as time was at a premium and when offered a free drink we accepted gratefully.
The pizza is huge and I had about a third unfinished and the waitress offered to package it up for me to go. She took it through to the kitchen and as she turned to get a box the chef threw it away! That would have been fine except that he then insisted on making me a new one...by this time 2 o'clock had been and gone and it was beginning to look unlikely that we'd ever get back to the office but it was such a nice gesture and his refusal to take no for an answer meant we spent a further, somewhat bemused 20 minutes waiting for it.
Thankfully the fun factor when it arrived made up for it...my own heart shaped pizza, charmers those Italians! And it was a good tale to tell at the office, not to mention the workers appreciating the food!
We went to Zza Zza's pizza place in town. It's a nice place that always scares me slightly since I saw the colour of the chefs once white apron and because one minute you see him making dough the next smoking a fag outside. But I have never actually been ill, despite feeling a bit queezy after most lunches!
We ordered pizza and once it came both thought it was overly salty, so plucked up courage to throw off our niceness and send it back. There was some story about two of the workers having salted the dough (too many or not enough cooks???) and after another 20 minutes more pizza arrived, still somewhat highly seasoned! We decided just to eat it as time was at a premium and when offered a free drink we accepted gratefully.
The pizza is huge and I had about a third unfinished and the waitress offered to package it up for me to go. She took it through to the kitchen and as she turned to get a box the chef threw it away! That would have been fine except that he then insisted on making me a new one...by this time 2 o'clock had been and gone and it was beginning to look unlikely that we'd ever get back to the office but it was such a nice gesture and his refusal to take no for an answer meant we spent a further, somewhat bemused 20 minutes waiting for it.
Thankfully the fun factor when it arrived made up for it...my own heart shaped pizza, charmers those Italians! And it was a good tale to tell at the office, not to mention the workers appreciating the food!
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Relearning (again) intimacy with God...
Just back from 3 weeks off and really aware that I shut down a bit during that time, not least because of grief (having lost our wonderful Nan and Grandma in the same week), exhaustion (completion of another school year and summer camp)and a degree of uncertainty (finding myself pregnant again after a miscarriage just a month and a half before).
I was also berating myself from having switched off from God too, not having been to church since heaven knows when (not that heaven's keeping a record)not reading or feeling particularly open to things spiritual then I read an interesting post from Simply Simon quoting an old Christianity Today article by Eugene Peterson and I think it really rings true for me and my good evangelical background...
Interviewer: "Many people assume that spirituality is about becoming emotionally intimate with God".
"That’s a naive view of spirituality. What we’re talking about is the Christian life. It’s following Jesus. Spirituality is no different from what we’ve been doing for two thousand years just by going to church and receiving the sacraments, being baptized, learning to pray, and reading Scriptures rightly. It’s just ordinary stuff.
This promise of intimacy is both right and wrong. There is an intimacy with God, but it’s like any other intimacy; it’s part of the fabric of your life. In marriage you don’t feel intimate most of the time. Nor with a friend. Intimacy isn’t primarily a mystical emotion. It’s a way of life, a life of openness, honesty, a certain transparency".
I think it's in those moments of shutting down that we're sometime most aware of God (maybe in hind sight)as the fabric of our lives, when we're fully living each moment or feeling most alive we can forget that weft and warp, as that's when we're busy embroidering our pattern on top.
I was also berating myself from having switched off from God too, not having been to church since heaven knows when (not that heaven's keeping a record)not reading or feeling particularly open to things spiritual then I read an interesting post from Simply Simon quoting an old Christianity Today article by Eugene Peterson and I think it really rings true for me and my good evangelical background...
Interviewer: "Many people assume that spirituality is about becoming emotionally intimate with God".
"That’s a naive view of spirituality. What we’re talking about is the Christian life. It’s following Jesus. Spirituality is no different from what we’ve been doing for two thousand years just by going to church and receiving the sacraments, being baptized, learning to pray, and reading Scriptures rightly. It’s just ordinary stuff.
This promise of intimacy is both right and wrong. There is an intimacy with God, but it’s like any other intimacy; it’s part of the fabric of your life. In marriage you don’t feel intimate most of the time. Nor with a friend. Intimacy isn’t primarily a mystical emotion. It’s a way of life, a life of openness, honesty, a certain transparency".
I think it's in those moments of shutting down that we're sometime most aware of God (maybe in hind sight)as the fabric of our lives, when we're fully living each moment or feeling most alive we can forget that weft and warp, as that's when we're busy embroidering our pattern on top.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
